Chapter 13
Mick

 

May 5^th, 43 A.R.

 

He was close but not close enough for The Supreme. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, but she didn’t care: The Supreme was driven by results. From living with Jones, Mick knew better than to plead or debate with an android. A useless endeavor. Mick proved humans could travel time by utilizing human blood. He easily deployed proteins from blood through a coding technique and created a device that extrapolated those components, activating receptors. This activation propelled him backward and forward in time.

Essentially, humans traveled through the experiences and knowledge their DNA possessed. Certain limitations hindered time travel. Someone couldn’t transport themselves to a specific year prior to their birth through their own blood. Their blood didn’t hold any memories from that year. Similarly, someone couldn’t transport hundreds of years into the future with their own blood either; they’d already be dead.

Mick discovered a loophole: utilizing blood from another human, one who lived during the desired year he wished to travel. This posed heavy side effects. His body aged whenever he traveled into parts of the future or past that were out of his own existence. The aging wasn’t overly noticeable: a fine line on his forehead or an additional depth to the crow’s feet along his eyes. Otherwise, Mick enjoyed the sensation of the glasses-like device he developed. The glasses were slightly bulkier than he’d like, but nothing was ever perfect on the first try. Or the second. Or the third.

I’ll get there.

One roadblock he hadn’t found a loophole for yet: Androids didn’t have blood. They couldn’t time travel. And Mick refused to test his theories on Jones. He loved Jones, more than life itself. Until he found a solution, Mick remained the only test subject.

He often waited until Jones went to bed before tiptoeing to his home office. Mick spent hours with the glasses over his eyes, reliving his childhood through what felt like a sixth sense. Time travel was vibrant and uncanny yet bone-chillingly familiar.

Mick wished he could shake his younger self and tell him things would be okay, remind him that being interested in science wasn’t nerdy, that he shouldn’t feel guilty wanting a life outside
The Countryside. His family didn’t understand or fathom why he’d want to leave the simple life they lived.

There aren’t a lot of androids to worry about. There are women here, simple women, but they’re looking for a husband to serve on the farm. There isn’t any infection or disease here. We live a pure life, Mick.

He didn’t need to travel back in time to hear all the excuses his father repeated. He didn’t need to travel back in time to remind himself he was a disappointment to his family. Or at least most of his family.

Except Uncle Jeb.

Much like Mick, Uncle Jeb was a black sheep. He devoted his life to art. Jeb was talented, and wealthy old bloodline families purchased his masterpieces ad nauseam. Henry O’Connor put Jeb Taylor on the map, and then Uncle Jeb was gone.

Uncle Jeb didn’t care much for the family farm except for its fortune. He stole from the family to finance his lifestyle in The City, and Mick happened upon this knowledge by mistake. Mick
remembered thinking about turning his uncle in. His family struggled with bankruptcy, and food was scarce some weeks. But Mick remained quiet.

Was it because I wanted something more meaningful out of my life, like him? But when Mick’s father disowned him, he asked Uncle Jeb for a loan for school.

“Are you sure you want to go to The University, Mick?” Uncle Jeb had said in the living room of his loft. Mick blackmailed him, then Uncle Jeb agreed to finance Mick’s education.

Mick had been relieved; he’d spent all his money on the high-speed train to The City. While tiring, the adventure had been well worth it.

When he got off the platform, Mick remembered looking at the tall skyscrapers in awe. He wondered what the view looked like from the top. He experienced many firsts in The City that day.
Specifically, interactions with androids. Mick previously only knew one android. She worked as a quasi-representative for the town he lived in, reporting back to The Capitol Building in The City. She checked the crops, making sure they were up to standard. She only cared about the quality and quantities of what farms grew.

Seeing so many androids integrated into the streets of The City surprised Mick. He found androids fascinating creatures. Their scales mesmerized him, the vibrant colors changing deep majestic colors. He never wanted to go back to The Countryside.

Even in his worst mentorship, Uncle Jeb didn’t judge Mick, but he did itch for his scandalous life back—a life of selling dangerous pharmaceuticals on the black market to his art clients. He himself engaged in the activities, his paintings growing more and more grotesque with each high.

Mick often thought of one piece in particular that his uncle worked on when Mick lived with him. On the canvas, a woman kneeled down to the outline of shoes. The sadness in her face swirled; it was horrific, almost unrecognizable. She overwhelmed Mick, her eyes longing for an escape from her lifetime of servitude.

He thought more about this painting when he traveled to the past and future. The past provided answers, potential solutions to fix the future. But the future always changed, swirling together into an unknown like the woman’s face.

When Mick watched Julie reprogram Jones’s processor, he decided not to blame them for their actions. Instead, Mick wondered if there could ever be a future that normalized androids understanding all human emotions. He shared these idealistic thoughts with The Supreme and she often smiled at him. Eventually, she looked at Mick as a co-conspirator rather than
an employee.

We could forge the world for a better future if they harnessed the dangers of time travel, Mick thought, staring off into the distance.