“There,” a voice said. “I think that’s it.”
“You sure?” somebody else replied.
“I think so. His neural pathways are restoring themselves now. With any luck, he should regain his full memory within a matter of minutes.”
“And you’re telling me that all that was done to him with this little pill?”
“That’s right. We found it inside his stomach when we cut him open. Fortunately, it was only partially digested, so it hadn’t taken full effect. Had he gotten here a few minutes later, though, there might not have been a way to save him. You brought him to us just in time.”
“Jesus. Who would have thought something this small could wipe his memory?”
“The pill doesn’t work like that, Dr. Skivinski. It didn’t wipe his memory—it just stopped him from being able to access it.”
“So you’re telling me all his memories should be intact?”
“That’s right. When Mr. Stamp ingested the pill, a chemical was released that created a barrier around all his thoughts and experiences, locking them away from the rest of his mind. Even his most basic brain functions were blocked, from his ability to understand language to the processing of visual images. For all intents and purposes, that pill was able to turn him into a vegetable in a matter of seconds.”
“Bloody hell.”
“Trust me—this man is lucky to be alive. The damage to his mind was so great, it’s a miracle his body even knew how to breathe.”
“But you say you were able to repair it?”
“We think so. Once we were able to isolate the chemical compound released by the pill, all we had to do was synthesize an antidote, which began to break down the barriers forming in his mind the moment we administered it.”
“And what about the wound in his back?”
“Oh, that was easy. The bullet missed his spinal column by a few inches and didn’t puncture any major organs. We were able to stop the bleeding and heal the wound up with some regeneration gel in a matter of minutes. When he wakes up, he should feel just fine—”
Geoff opened his mouth and made a noise that sounded a bit like a cross between a long yawn and a zombie moaning.
“He’s waking up!” one of the voices said.
Geoff opened his eyes. He was lying faceup in a bed, his head nicely cushioned on a big, comfy pillow. To his left, he could see Eric standing over him, leaning against the back of a chair. To his right, a man he didn’t recognize was scribbling furiously on a clipboard. That’s not to say the man looked angry about what he was scribbling—he was just doing it very quickly.
Geoff groaned again and moved his elbows to lift his body into a more upright sitting position. As he rested his back against the headboard, he noticed that a long white curtain had been pulled around the bed, making it difficult for him to see the rest of the room.
“Wait here,” the man on the right said. “I’ll get the others.”
He stood up, put his clipboard on the chair, and ducked through a gap in the curtain. As the curtain parted, Geoff caught a glimpse of the room beyond. He saw cream walls. A few other beds. Medical equipment. A couple of nurses. Unless this was a movie set designed to look like a hospital ward, he was in a hospital ward.
“I don’t believe it,” Geoff said. “It’s happened again! Why is it that every time I come to the future, some psychopath tries to wipe my memory and I end up in hospital?”
“I don’t know,” Eric said. He walked over to the other side of the bed, picked up the clipboard that the man had left on the chair, and sat down. “But it seems to be a nasty habit of yours.”
“Well, it needs to stop,” Geoff said. “Do you have any idea how inconvenient it is when people try and make me forget things all the time?”
“Please, Geoff—calm down. How are you feeling?”
“Okay, I guess,” Geoff replied. But as he spoke, his mind was suddenly overcome with a flood of memories. He remembered what Continuum was really up to, how the world would one day become addicted to their technology, how Jennifer Adams needed to be stopped.
“Eric,” Geoff said, “how long have I been here?”
“You mean in the hospital?” Eric replied, stroking his long white beard. “I’m not sure. Just under a day, I think. The doctors were operating on you throughout the night.”
“Just under a day?” Geoff said. “You mean it’s tomorrow already?”
“What are you talking about?” Eric said.
“When you found me, I’d traveled back in time by one day, right?”
“Right.”
“So do you mean to tell me it’s been almost a full twenty-four hours since I arrived?”
“Yes, almost,” Eric replied.
“My God,” Geoff said. “Quick—what time is it?”
Eric looked at his watch. “I make it eleven forty in the morning.”
“Jesus—I need to get to a phone,” Geoff said, tossing his sheets to one side and swiveling his body out of the bed. “There’s no time to lose!”
“Hold your horses,” Eric said, placing a hand on Geoff’s shoulder and pushing his body back against the headboard. “You’re not going anywhere. Not until the doctors say you’re okay.”
“You don’t understand. I need to speak to Tim!”
“Oh I understand, son,” Eric said. “I understand that you were this close to having your entire memory erased!” He pinched his index finger and thumb together, leaving the teeny-tiniest gap between the two to show how close he meant. “Now, please, let’s just wait for the doctors, okay? Let’s see what they say.”
“I feel fine, Eric,” Geoff said. “Really, I do.”
“Your phone call can wait,” Eric said. “Do you have any idea what kinds of injuries you just sustained? Have you seen the thing they removed from your back?”
“No, but I’m guessing it was a bullet, right? Quite a large bullet?”
Eric blinked. “How did you know that?”
“That was the thing that sent me back to yesterday. It’s called a temporal bullet, and it’s fired from a kind of gun that can program each shot to send its target to a particular point in time on impact.”
“Huh,” Eric said. “Do you have any idea who shot you?”
“No, but it must have been someone from Continuum.”
“Continuum, eh? We thought this was something to do with them. What were you doing there, anyway?”
“Tim sent me to spy on them—he wanted me to find out why they were hiring so many Time Reps when they didn’t really need them, and what they might have had to do with my future self appearing on Tower Bridge with a bullet in his back. It turns out the only reason they are interested in hiring Time Reps is to put Time Tours out of business, but while I was there I discovered a much darker secret. Something horrible. I tried to get away, but some goons from their customer support team gave chase. In the commotion, one of them must have shot me.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Eric said. “If these guns work as you say they do and can be programmed to send the target anywhere in time, why would they send you back to a point like this, when you could still warn others about what was about to happen? Why not send you somewhere you couldn’t do any harm, like the distant future?”
“I don’t know,” Geoff said, “but speaking of the distant future, I have a question for you.”
“Fire away,” Eric said.
“Nice choice of words, considering I’ve just been shot.”
“Sorry,” Eric said. “I meant—go ahead. Ask your question.”
“While I was at Continuum, I had a long chat with an old friend of yours.”
Eric sighed. “You mean Jennifer.”
“Yes—Jennifer Adams. She told me something about your supercomputer, and I wanted to know if it was true.”
“What did she say?”
“Well, you know how the computer’s simulation shows the Earth being completely deserted in 100,000 years’ time?”
“Yes?”
“You once told me that that was because one day, humanity would leave Earth to explore other galaxies, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Okay. So here’s my question: have you actually seen that happen in the simulation?”
“What?”
“I mean have you personally seen the moment when humanity leaves the Earth to explore other galaxies for yourself? Did you watch that moment with your own eyes?”
“Not exactly,” Eric said, rubbing the back of his head. “I didn’t really have time to watch all the simulation footage generated by the computer. But the reports are very clear, and I have it on good authority that—”
“Jennifer lied to you,” Geoff said, folding his arms over his chest.
“What?”
“She’s the one who told you that story, right?”
Eric looked at the floor. He said nothing.
“Well, she made it up. Earth doesn’t eventually become deserted because humanity leaves this world for a better one. It becomes deserted because the entire population of the planet gets addicted to her Continuum experience, and disappears into their own fantasy timelines. Jennifer discovered that this was going to happen back when she was working at Time Tours, running all those simulations of the future for you. Knowing you would probably try and stop this from happening if you ever found out the real reason the planet appeared deserted in 100,000 years’ time, she covered the whole thing up, writing false reports about humanity flying off to distant galaxies to throw you off the scent.”
“That’s impossible,” Eric said.
“No it isn’t,” Geoff said, looking the old man in the eyes. “In fact, I saw it for myself when I tried out the Continuum experience. That’s why Jennifer tried to wipe my memory, and why they tried to kill me when I almost escaped. In the future, humanity doesn’t go off to explore other galaxies—it simply vanishes without a trace into millions of alternate realities, where mistakes can be undone, dreams can be realized at the push of a button, and all achievements are worthless.”
“I don’t believe it,” Eric said. “That little—”
At that moment, the curtain surrounding Geoff’s bed was pulled back by the man who had run off earlier. He was accompanied by twenty or so men and women, all wearing white coats.
“Out of this man’s way!” Eric said, pulling Geoff out of the bed and helping him to his feet. “He needs to get to a phone right away!”