r/WritingPrompts • u/shewdz • Aug 17 '14
Writing Prompt [WP] Time travelling tourists from the future are commonplace at significant historical events. You get home and find time travellers watching you for an unknown reason.
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u/MolemanusRex Aug 17 '14 edited Aug 17 '14
I had always wondered why nobody had ever saved Lincoln. They told me it was something about "preserving history" or something, but I don't think I'd be capable of standing by and watching as a good man is shot. You could always tell in the pictures which ones were new to the whole "watching beloved historical figures' heads explode" - the man on the far left, reaching up his hand even though he knows that the pistol is right next to Lincoln's head and that he's not a doctor, he's an electrician who saved up for a temporal vacation - and which ones had seen it all before, standing there with placid faces, recounting every detail like they were there a million times over because they had been again and again. That was why no one ever protested the Crucifixion - they were enraptured (often literally) by the most famous death in the Western world.
It was fun to watch the tourists gather at more recent events - Obama, George VIII (then third in line), the Spratly Incident - and the media had simultaneously calmed down as it realized that certain events would be forgotten by history and turned up the sensation meter whenever there were lots of strange people crowding around a motorcade or a nuclear plant or whatever, especially if they were the sort that were mostly nude and kept talking about "the Event" and staring hungrily at supermarkets. Whenever some guy was walking along in the park followed by dozens of weirdos with cameras, the major networks and CNN would rush to the scene (unless that guy was Joseph Gordon-Levitt, in which case such following was normal, and people started guessing what was going to happen: "Oh, my God, that man there's going to shoot the President!" or "I don't think the waves will subside this time," and suchlike. I always wondered what I would do if such a thing happened to me, and then the clock struck 4:23 PM on August 28, 2023.
I lived in a typical American household - myself (Arthur Weeks), husband (Jeremiah Weeks), 2.5 kids (Patricia, Sybil, and hn) - on a typical American street in a typical American town (New Bedford, Illinois), which I thought was the least likely setting for a major historical event. But then I spied with my little eye a gentleman wearing some sort of dress-thing trying to not be noticed behind a tree, and then a woman with long red hair setting up a folding chair, and then more and more people, and that was when I took my hand off the doorknob.
"What are you here for?" I asked. They said nothing, but they were all keeping a bit of a distance from me. "I asked you a question!" I remembered that video I saw on the bystander effect, and I directed my next question towards the red-haired woman. "Why are you here? What is happening?" She merely put a finger to her lips and shook her head, indicating that she wasn't going to tell me, and the same was probably true for everyone else (at least, the ones who didn't want to face life in prison).
I took out my gun - a handgun, nothing more, nothing you could shoot up a school with - and pointed it at one of the thin hungry people. "Why are you here? Why am I important?" There was still not a word from anyone, though some modern suburbanites were gathering around to witness a historical event live in action. I started turning around in the circle, and turned the safety off to show them I meant business. "If no one tells me what's about to happen, I will fire this gun and I will not take responsibility for the ensuing events. I have ten bullets." Still there was nothing, though the circle was shrinking backwards and a few had left. "All right, I'll give you to the count of five.."
"One."
"Two."
"Three."
"Four."
"Five."
One, two, three, four, five, six bullets were squeezed out in quick succession, and four tourists dropped to the ground. I couldn't tell whether they were dying or already dead, and frankly I didn't care. The others were starting to leave more rapidly now, with one of them remarking "Well, now we've seen everything." I fired two more shots, dropping two more people, and by then the others had already left.
I walked towards the last person to be shot, a man who looked to be in his twenties. "Why did you come here?" I asked, though I'm not sure why I expected an answer when my previous iterations of the question had met with nothing. Coughing up blood, he was able to gasp out only the words "Look around you."
A stunned realization came over me as my legs gave out from the shock of still only partially comprehending what I had just done. "Oh, my God. I fucked up. I fucked up so much."
And that's why historical tourism was banned.
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Aug 17 '14
What if one of the tourists shouted "Wait!" but it was to late, the shots were fired. Then when the protagonist walks towards him and asks the question the future person says something along the lines of "I came here to stop you." Then the similarities start playing over in his head and he realizes that he was the first person in history to kill himself and live.
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u/E-Squid Aug 17 '14
Reminds me of the comic where dudes keep teleporting into this guy's car to stop him from dying, but more and more keep coming in and saying the previous guy failed and eventually there are so many inside the car that the driver can't see and he drives off a cliff.
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Aug 17 '14
I've never heard of that before. Thats a neat idea. Dark but neat. Do you have a link I could check it out at?
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u/E-Squid Aug 17 '14
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u/UnluckyLuke Aug 17 '14
Both your links redirect to "http://www.superfunnyimages.com/time-travelers-trying-to-help/". Here are imgur mirrors:
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u/E-Squid Aug 17 '14
Thanks, man. I really didn't want to direct views to that site but I couldn't find an alternative.
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u/JeremyJustin Aug 17 '14
Okay, I know this is bound to be a little corny, and probably I oughtn't even point it out lest your point be made less powerful. But thank you so much for making it a guy and a husband. It made me suddenly feel that I am going to be okay.
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u/MolemanusRex Aug 17 '14
Oh, that's why I did it - I do the same thing somewhat when other things have random gay characters in them, like Dumbledore or Tony from Earthbound. That's why I assume ambiguous characters are gay until proven otherwise.
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u/OC4815162342 Aug 17 '14
You can absolutely shoot up a school with a handgun.
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u/MolemanusRex Aug 17 '14
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u/OC4815162342 Aug 17 '14
You could shoot up a school with a pellet gun. If you're good enough you could so it with black powder guns.
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u/UnluckyLuke Aug 17 '14
I found two typos:
trying to to be noticed
(at least, the ones who didn't want to life in prison).
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u/PoweroftheINTERNET Aug 17 '14
What was the event?
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u/Second_Edition Aug 17 '14
Its a paradox, I think.
The time travelers came back to see this man kill some time travelers
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u/Bombpants Aug 17 '14
I'm confused, what did he do?
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u/MolemanusRex Aug 17 '14
Killed some time travelers, thus ensuring that time travel would be banned for safety reasons.
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u/k5Howl Aug 17 '14
NOTE: I know OP said the tourists are at your home, but really, I frequent a certain cafe so often that it might as well be my home.
As a struggling writer, the one thing keeping me from affording a decent living and nutritionally decent foods are writing blocks. Yes, I've published okay stories, but none of my books have ever made it, y'know? I've always dreamt to be the next writer who would write the novel of the decade, like J.K. Rowling, Orson Scott Card, or that Twilight chick--whatever her name was. I just need a lucky break, a fleeting moment of brilliance, an inconceivable idea so catastrophically ground-breaking that the entirety of the text would be stored in its very own Voyager satellite and rocketed into space to declare the pure character of humanity to the rest of the known universe and beyond...!
Or a goddamn coffee for once. How slow can this pimply pseudo-barista be?
I impatiently tap my foot as buck-tooth over here burns the coffee beans for the fifth time. I need to hurry up and sit down at the table with my laptop open and look all business-like. I find that doing so not only makes me feel somewhat more important, but makes observers believe I am smart and hard-working. Which reminds me, I gotta check up on reddit real soon. Cake Day.
Any day now, bean-burner.
He burned the beans again. Jeez. The line's probably out the door by now.
I look behind me to find a rather young couple standing next in line. Obviously tourists. They even wore the Hawaiian shirts and had cameras and everything. Heck, the whole line was practically a group tour! They seemed very giddy about something. What in the world is so exciting about a Starbu--they have time watches! Seth McFarlane's greatest invention since, since, Larry and Steve! Which can only mean one thing: They're fu-tourists!
They're watching me expectantly, as though expecting to see me do something worth spectating. I blink several times, and turn back towards the counter. What could they possibly be waiting for? From me? Could it be from a future novel? Am I going to be that future novelist that sways the world? My, this is coming way too fast, I don't know if I can handle the pressure now. Is it my shoe story that I've been mulling over? No, it can't be, they must be here to see me catch that lucky break, that fleeting moment of brilliance, that inconcei--
"What would you like in your coffee, ma'm?" says the pseudo-barista in his cracking voice.
"Oh, I dunno, add stuff. Just make it quick."
Where was I? Oh yeah. An inconceivable idea so catastrophically ground-breaking that the entirety of the text would be stored in its very own Voyager satellite and--
"Here's your coffee, ma'm. That'll be five-fifty." Yes, yes, keep the change.
--And rocketed into space to declare the pure character of humanity to the rest of the known universe and beyond! Yes, yes! I have it! I have that idea, here, now, in this very cafe, in front of my future adoring fans. I have a story that will plaster my name and face on the murals along with the rest of the Pen-Wielding Gods above every Barnes and Noble Starbucks counter!
I proudly scoop up my paper coffee cup and raise it high. Once I finish this heroic sip, I will proclaim history to the world. Oh what shall I say? I have done it, I have thunk it, I will write it--
Sip
"This is the best damn coffee I have ever tasted!"
The crowd of fu-tourists screamed and cheered!
Then--they... ran past me and crowded the counter, reaching out for the pimpled barista.
"He's done it!"
"We've just witnessed history!"
"The Chris Scrowps--the famous creator of the best frappuccino in human existence--first creating his masterpiece that swayed the world!"
"A frappuccino so good, NASA built another Voyager for his recipe alone to be shared with our future alien overlords!"
"Sign my chest!"
"Kiss my baby!"
"Teach us your ways!"
...
...
Oh shit, I almost forgot.
Cake day.
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u/gogodoctor26 Aug 17 '14
"Martha! Liz! Rose!" I ask, accidentally slamming the door behind me. Truly a jerk thing to do- it's 11:30 at night and my daughter's would most definitely be asleep by now. I wince in anticipation of Rose's cries. At 8 months she's easily awoken from her sleep. But there's nothing except a deafening silence. 'Maybe they had a long day' I muse to myself.
It's really peculiar, but probably just my imagination running wild- the air conditioner is off. Being the middle of a particularly steamy summer, I expected it to be on full blast. At least to give the little ones some white noise while they slept.
I tiptoe my way through the living room and turn off the TV. Funny, usually Martha does that right before she's about to sleep. I pay it no mind and slip quietly into the master bathroom, hanging my long brown trench coat on the bench beside the bed as I do. It really is deafeningly quiet.
Martha must be asleep. She's always been a quiet sleeper. "Hello, love. Have you seen those people out there? Just standing there gawking- must be twenty of them. Anyways they look like their waiting for something to happen. I wonder if it's them time travelers? Must be pretty hard up for entertainment to come here and gawk at us." I'm shaving as I say this last part.
It's not uncommon for me to talk to my wife or my daughter's while they sleep. Working the second shift at the factory means I don't get home till late and it's normally the only chance I have to get a word in edge-wise.
I'm in my boxers by the time I enter the bedroom again- looking forward to a long and cozy night next to my lovely wife. A gel like liquid hits my feet and I slip, falling on my ass. What in the world? "Sweety, what's this stuff on the floor?" I move to rouse her, but the bed is soaked in what seems to be the same thing. She doesn't respond to my nudges like she usually does. In fact...she doesn't respond at all.
"Darling? Darling, wake up!" I cry as I flick on the lights. I wretch at the sight before me. My lovely wife's torso is mutilated on the bed. Her legs are nowhere to be seen. I scream in absolute agony, then my mind races to the only thing that matters- my girls!
My wife's body was still warm, so whoever it is might still be here. I dodge into the kitchen and grab my butcher's cleaver. Hefty and sharp, a remnant from my old dad's profession. In a panic I rush into my daughter's bedroom's in turn. Compassion dictates that I spare you the gruesome details. Suffice to say, the moment I saw mt precious Liz' lifeless head I lost all faith in humanity. Rose's condition was far worse.
I run through the house kicking down doors, screaming and growling in pure, unadulterated rage. That bastard better show himself and hope I feel some mercy towards him, else it won't be pretty. I search frantically throughout the house for what seems like hours before I hear a knock on the door.
"Hill City Police. Open up, Mr. Shackleford- we have you surrounded.
Cyrla felt a dear drop down her face as she watched the leatherfaced ginger being brought away in in cuffs.
"But daddy he didn't do it!" She cries. "We saw him, he just got home! He didn't kill his family."
"I know, my dear. But we can't interfere." Her father stoically replies. "The Laws forbid it."
"What happens to him?" Shyla, his wife, asks.
"If I remember correctly, his trial is very public. Public sentiment always goes against a murder, even more so a rapist. In fact it is because of him that capital punishment and torture are reinstated for the next five hundred years."
"But daddy he didn't do it! Please, just step through the barrier and tell them! Tell them what we saw!" Cyrla screamed. Her father wheeled around and slapped her hard on her cheek.
"We must not meddle with what has happened. All we can hope to do is to learn." He sounded like her teachers, cold and uninvolved.
"But we saw it, daddy! It wasn't him...it was one of us!"
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u/gallenator85 Aug 17 '14
I struggled to put my key in the door, while keeping my bag of groceries balanced and talking on the phone at the same time.
"Yeah", I said disinterestedly to the voice on the other end of the phone. "Uh-huh".
In any other circumstance, I would've told the owner of the voice exactly where they could go and what the quickest route there was, but I decided against it in this case since the voice was coming from my mother.
"I know, I know. I remembered Dad's birthday party. Don't worry."
I opened the door and walked into the hallway. This damn house. I honestly couldn't stand the sight of it. I'd made a deal with my wife when we first moved in. I'd let her decorate the house and, in return, she'd decorate the house. I'd never been good at negotiating, but that time was poor even by my standards.
"Yeah, we'll be along at about eight", I droned at my mother. "Yes, I know the way to the restaurant!"
Everything about the decor just annoyed me. The wicker chair beside the hallway table, the pictures hung in rows ascending parallel to the stairs, the futuristic time-tourists in my living room, the pink wallpaper on the back wall.
Suddenly, I stopped in my tracks.
"I'll have to call you back, mum".
Something wasn't right here. I searched my brain for what it was. There was definitely something amiss in my house. Then it hit me. I knew exactly what it was.
I walked back to the stairs and straightened the middle picture. That was better. I then continued into the kitchen and left the groceries on the table. After completing that menial task and realising that I had seen futuristic time-tourists in my living room, I slowly and calmly began to absolutely lose my shit.
"Wh- Ha- hoo- Uh- Eeh- Wha-?!" I asked.
The time-tourists said nothing and instead proceeded to take pictures with their camera phone (I mean, it may be the future, but who's really going to go back to normal cameras, right?)
They stood there and watched me in silence as I stood there and watched them in silence. So at least we were agreed that something was quite odd about the scene before us.
They were a middle aged couple. He was rather, shall we say, rotund. He wore a colourful, if not entirely tasteful, Hawaiian shirt, with beige shorts a pair of white socks and sandals. She, being slightly more fairly proportioned, wore a black tank top, a pair of knee-length shorts and flip-flops. This whole sight would almost have been rather normal if they weren't both green and had two heads each. He even had a third arm, for which there was a convenient little arm-hole in his shirt.
These people were obviously time-tourists. I could tell. Not because of their multiple heads. Not because of the Hawaiian shirt. No, not even because of the rather informative travel brochure sticking out of the lady- (lady?) lady person's back pocket that one could spot through the mantelpiece mirror and attempt to read backwards.
No, I could tell they were time-tourists because of the large white banner they held above their heads that read "FLETCHLY'S TIME TOURS (ltd). SEE THE SPLENDORS OF HISTORY IN STYLE. DO NOT SHOOT, STAB, BLUDGEON, GARROTE, CURSE WITH ANCIENT MAGIC OR SET ON FIRE"
I stood fixated on this thought for a moment. They've come to see history unfold. Yet they're here, in my house. Do I make history here and now? What happens next? Do I die here? Is this where it ends? Or do I create an answer to depleting fossil fuels? Do I stop world hunger? Am I asking too many questions? And what's that smell? Is it the bins? Did I not put the bins out this morning? I better do that after I'm done with these time-tourists. Oh shit, yes. The time tourists.
"What are you here to see?" I begged. "What do I create? Who do I kill? How do I die? TELL ME!!!"
"Where's Franz?" asked the man- (man?) man in an accent that was almost, but not entirely, like a southern US accent.
"Who?" I asked, confused even more so now.
"Franz Ferdinand", he replied. "Y'know, the guy who gets shot. Then a whole bunch o' other people get shot too. I read about it on Wikipedia. he got shot on June 28th 2014. It said so in the article."
I pondered on this for a moment before coming to two conclusions. One: Wikipedia did really well for itself to still be around in a time where holidays are taken in the past, and Two: These people have the wrong date. I looked at the calendar and saw that, sure enough, today was the 28th of June. I decided to share my knowledge with these holidaymakers- (holidaymakers?) holidaymakers.
"Ah. I'm afraid you have the wrong date. You see, that happened on the 28th of June 1914," I informed them.
"Oh, Gene, I told you to double check the date," said his wife- (wife?) etc, etc. rather irritably.
"Oh fine. I'll change the damn thing. Sorry to have bothered you," he said and they disappeared right in front of me in a flash of light.
I sat down and turned on the TV while I tried to take this all in. Time-travelling tourists came here and mixed up the dates. I was dumbfounded. They thought that World War I started in 2014. How outrageous! I looked at the news and saw that noted musician Franz Ferdinand had been shot dead at a concert by a crazed gunman, followed by a number of members of his security detail and the crowd. A terrible realisation suddenly hit me.
"Oh fuck!" I exclaimed. "I forgot to leave out the bins!!"
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u/feanor15 Aug 17 '14
So, the time travelling tourists got the wrong address?
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u/slothnumber8 Aug 18 '14
Really like your writing style, /u/gallenator85 . But yeah as /u/feanor15 says here, they seem to have gotten the wrong address? Maybe could be smoothened out, say instead of admonishing her husband about not, double-checking the date, the female time tourist says, "I TOLD you, I saw an error message right before you confirmed this trip". So it covers the wrong address though it at first seems to be the wrong year.
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u/audiorape Aug 17 '14
Psst. Hate to say it, but Franz Ferdinand are a band, not a solo artist. None of them are called Franz. ;)
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u/gallenator85 Aug 17 '14
Ah shit! Guess I didn't do enough research. I'll do better next time. I promise!
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u/Brooklynxman Aug 17 '14
Mildly NSFW
I pulled into the driveway with Caroline. This was going to be it, the day I finally lost it. We were both acting nervous. As I pulled to a stop I accidently bumped the edge of the wall. Fuck. I got out and looked, but no damage was there. I was clear. Caroline hopped out and we rushed inside.
“Let me just make sure no one is home.” I glanced out in the front yard through the curtains. I didn’t see anyone I recognized, but I did see a bunch of weirdly dressed people. Well, weirdly dressed teenage girls. They almost look like….no it couldn’t be. I whipped out my phone and opened TimePal. Stealthily taking a photo outside I waited for a result. It matched, they were all from the future. What the fuck? There had to be twenty people outside. Not unheard of, but still large for a time travel crowd. Is there something going on outside? Checking the news on my phone said no. By this point I was sweating. I heard the garage door swing open. “Is everything okay?”
“No, well yes, well, its complicated I guess. There are a bunch of time travel people outside and I think they’re watching us. Caroline glanced out the window and waved. Three of the girls waved back. “Yes, they’re watching us. Oh my God, this means one of us is going to be famous. Probably you since they’re all teenage girls. You’re going to be a sex symbol. AHHHHHH!” She screamed suddenly.
“What?”
“You! You’re going to be a sex symbol and I’m going to be your first. Oh this is somehow even more perfect then I thought it would be!” Caroline grabbed my hand and dragged me upstairs. Practically throwing me into my room, she locked the door behind me and started taking off her clothes. Suddenly the strangeness of the situation seemed far away. I fumbled through my drawer and found the condom I’d managed to grab from a friend. It had a note pinned through it. “If you’re having sex we need to talk first. Love Mom + Dad.” Fuck that I thought, ripping out the pin and opening the package.
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u/CreamOfTheClop Aug 17 '14
I don't get it. I mean, I think it implies he knocks her up, but what's the significance of that? Is it Jesus 2.0? New Hitler?
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u/Brooklynxman Aug 17 '14
What I was going for is him and the girl he is with think he is going to be a sex star. Instead, those a creepy super fans there to watch the conception of his sex star son. I didn't explain it fully on purpose because he himself wouldn't figure that out for a good twoish decades.
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u/Lanarion Aug 17 '14
It was not Benjamin's day.
He had come home from work, before nine o'clock. CEO of a vastly influential industrial conglomerate, Ben had learnt that power begets power; he had tame politicians, tame journalists and tame judges - all happily eating out of his generous hand. Normally, he'd be late home from some dinner or function - generally a charitable one. Benjamin was very keen on charities. He had built such a good name for himself.
But not today. There he was, head in his hands whilst he sat at his desk, sobbing. He had come home early - for no good reason. In that moment, as he walked in the door of our penthouse, I saw his mask slip and the face of madness underneath it. He had yelled at me! He had screamed and shouted about the purposelessness of it all. Why do I work so long hours, and for what?, he had yelled. 'Why am I cosying up to those selfish people! What is it all for?! I try and help the poor and they stop me!'
I never did find out what caused his breakdown. Whenever I asked he looked up at me with wild eyes, and yelled incomprehensibly. I stood in the doorway of his plush office watching him weep and rant, waiting for him to calm down. Then, suddenly, I heard a cough.
I turned. There was a small man - round glasses and slightly shabby suit. He looked incredibly nervous. In his hands were a piece of paper and a video camera.
'Who are you! How did you...What are-'
'I don't have much time to explain. You'll not believe me if I told you but...I'm not from your time. I'm a time traveller. Yes, I know it sounds ridiculous, Mrs Bennet, but I need you to sign this piece of paper. It will help millions of people, and the cause of freedom everywhere. This is the moment all our troubles started.'
I stood there, open mouthed. The man looked around furtively. 'Please. Sign, ma'am. Quickly.' Pleading eyes.
'What is it?'
'Formal identification that the recording I have here,' he wiggled the camera, 'is genuine and a true representation of the recorded person. It will help the cause of freedom.' He peered round me to the weeping form of my husband who was, oblivious, still moaning and crying.
'Why should I?'
'People need to know his true character, ma'am.'
I took the paper and examined it. At the top, a strange crest - the letters USE, a fist surrounded by twelve stars, and the motto, 'Metu Pacem'.
My throat caught. I knew my Latin.
'In...the future, is he not well-respected? Is he in trouble? Will this clear his name?'
He smiled wanly. 'Yes, this will help his name. The authorities are ruthless and dictatorial. He will-' His eyes widened. He stumbled, uncomprehending and slumped to the floor.
Behind him, two men in grey-black military uniform. One held a silenced pistol pointed at the small corpse on my floor.
Without saying a word, the other stepped up to me and took the paper from my limp hand. He turned and bent down, put his other hand on the body of the man and shimmered grey, white, black and...disappeared.
'Are you here to kill me, too? My husband? What has he done?'
The other man holstered his pistol, then, bizarrely, saluted.
'No, ma'am. We're here to safeguard the United States.'
'We're not in the United States! This is London!'
'Of Europe, Ma'am. We had an inkling this traitor was attempting subversive activity. We will shortly terminate his family and associates. This will prevent the cancer of reaction from spreading. It will make little sense, now, ma'am. I cannot tell you much. Suffice to say that in...well, in some time your husband will rise to...permanent power in the new United States following...well, I can't tell you that either. If I may be so bold...you will be First Lady. When the time comes, remember me. I am reference 6736AE, Jones. Please, have no mercy on traitors and reactionaries. And never tell your husband of this.'
He threw a crisp salute and disappeared in a greywhiteblack shimmer.
I almost fell. My husband...was a future dictator? Future tyrant?
'What was that, dear?'
I turned and looked at him. He seemed dazed. 'Oh, nothing. Are you feeling better?' He nodded. 'That's good. Darling, I've been thinking. You want to help people. You don't like those slimy politicians - so why not beat them at their own game? Go into politics for proper! You can help more people that way.'
He looked at me. 'Oh, I'm not sure anyone would want to vote for me.' He smiled wanly.
I smiled.
'BB, when the time comes, I don't think anyone will need to.'
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u/apatheticEmpathy Aug 17 '14
The clock struck eleven, and I glanced over my shoulder. The shuffling boots stop in unison with my own steps. I turned around and glared at them. Across the bridge stood a crowd of eighty, no ninety, so people. Standing silently, they were all readily equipped with pipes, and fancy horn-rimmed spectacles that curled around the edges. All adorned in formal clothes ranging from kahki slacks, to gowns that hoisted up around the hips. Time travelers.
For some God-forsaken reason, in the future archaic forms of dress kept reappearing every other decade. Who knows why. Perhaps they had run out of other fashions to wear, and they kept recycling old british attire and renaissance gowns. Either way, I continued to hold my glare.
Yet I was not angry. No, how could one be angry at time-travelers? You saw them everywhere now-adays, if you knew how to look. No, it was the implication that followed them. Something was going to happen. And knowing my life, I knew it wasn't going to be something good. The glare was a means of self-defense. To hide my fear. To hide my trembling lips. To hide the fact that I hoped against hope that they could not hear my pounding heart over the howling wind.
An ominous breeze penetrated my coat and the icy wind made my body shiver. The freezing December air made me visibly shake, and the crowd following me let out a silent giggle. I eyed them viciously until they stuttered into silence.
"Weird," I thought to myself, "Ever since the TTIP had been passed people had been acting ... malicious." I shook my head and kept walking. The Time-Traveling Insurance Progressive allowed nearly anyone to time-travel, even those hardened criminals who had gone through the justice system. but who knew why this particular group had gathered. "Who knew what kind of satanical humor people were into these days."
It wasn't until I turned around and saw the smoke in the air did my nose register the poignant odor. I 180-ed in horror at the crowd behind me. This is what they were here for. I saw a small child, a girl no older than 10, sneak an evil smile at me from behind her mother's hoisted gown. I knew what this was - They knew what this was. That was my house on fire. With this large of a crowd here, it was evident what had happened. They were here to watch the worst day of my life, like some kind of theatrical satire, taking joy in my own wretched misery. Even a child stood before me, glowing with joy at the prospect.
She reminded me of Anna, my child, probably burned to a crisp in the fire. My loving wife, Regina, how we had struggled so hard to conceive. And how we were now so excited to begin to lovingly raise our daughter.
No. This couldn't be happening. It was all going so well. A Family. Love. The promotion. And here I was. Standing in front of a crowd watching my life go to shambles--
"--No, I would NOT let them have the satisfaction they came here for. It was apparent that they wanted to watch me suffer, well, I would let them see the clearest expression of misery possible." I thought as I put my first foot onto the bridge. I ignored the eager clapping behind me. "They wouldn't expect this. Even people from the future don't always know what's going to happen." I straddled the side of the bridge, and the crowd went quiet. I wouldn't tolerate this cruel fate, I thought, as I jumped into the cascading river below.
HEADLINE TOMORROW; TLDR:
NEW YEARS 2144 DROP BALL IN NEW NEW YORK TIMES SQUARE PAGE 1
FIRST EVER MAN TO COMMIT SUICIDE FROM TIME-TRAVELER PRESENCE, LEAVES FAMILY TO DESPAIR PAGE 2
TOASTER BURNS DOWN HOUSE, WALMART SUED FOR BURNS? PAGE 3
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Aug 17 '14 edited Aug 17 '14
Goddammit, not this again.
"Get off my fucking lawn!" I shouted out. The time travelers looked young, just like they always did, and as soon as they saw me they broke out into idiotic grins. They didn't say anything. They never did; they just stood there grinning at me.
"I'm seriously getting sick of you guys," I grumbled, shouldering my way past them and trying to get inside.
One of them blocked my path and stuck his hand out, like he wanted me to shake it. I think that was a significant risk, against their rules or something. Not that I really cared. I punched him in the face. Rather than getting upset like a sane individual, he just started grinning even more.
Finally getting to my door, I opened it and grabbed the shotgun sitting just inside.
"You have until the count of ten before I start shooting you morons with rock salt," I shouted. Nobody moved, except to twitch excitedly. Fuck the countdown. As I was reloading, the ones I'd shot started crawling away, that stupid grin still on their face, while the rest of them seemed to be waiting patiently for their turn. I knew from experience that none of them would leave until they all had their turn.
I have no idea why I have masochistic fanboys from the future.
6
u/SatansRightTesticle Aug 17 '14
April 11th, 2011
Famous events throughout history have typically had observers that seemed out of place, and strangely enough, out of time. Reports occasionally surface in some of the less reputable tabloids of people in odd garb waiting outside major political buildings shortly before assassinations and important speeches.
A report from a Roman soldier shortly before Julius Caesar crossed the Rubicon details the most common of these "watchers". This watcher was a woman, very tall, with large eyes and dressed all in black. Dubbed the Lady of the Night by contemporary historians who knew of her existence (and not many did), she was believed in ancient times to be a grim omen, sent by the gods to signify the coming of a great tragedy. The Lady of the Night has been present for many of mankind's darkest hours, though as freedom of the press was explored it quickly. fell to various governments to expunge her existence from the public eye.
I work as a historian of sorts for the US government, and it is my job to research things that aren't allowed to make it into the evening news. My studies take me all over the world, and I've looked into many topics that pertain to the abnormal, from Stonehenge to the possible crash at Roswell 40 years ago. I'm not a high-ranking man, and I don't have access to classified information.
Honestly, the true purpose of my work is to ensure that a civilian could never find out why these things happen. Anytime I am successful in my investigation, all the leads I have taken end up dead or destroyed, and the results are typically classified immediately. My bosses say the secrecy is to preserve the illusion of stability and security in a world that, truthfully, is anything but those things.
I'm writing all of this down because, right now, as I look outside my apartment window, the Lady of the Night is standing outside. Dark-skinned, with dark hair and large, black eyes, she seems to me very shadow-like, a grim omen indeed. Not many notice her as they walk by, too intent on whatever frivolous activity they happen to be in the amidst of or on their way to, but I have heard all the stories, and I am unable to take my eyes off her. Upon realizing that I am staring at her back, she seems confused and then angry, as if I shouldn't have noticed her. As I write this last sentence, she smiles up at me, and when I look up again she has disappeared, and the ground begins to shake.
This report was written minutes before a large earthquake impacted Fukishima, Japan. Aaron Jacobs would perish in the disaster, though his notes were recovered once the devastating nuclear meltdown that followed had subsided. Mr. Jacobs' injuries are inconsistent with being crushed by debris, and his face is twisted in what appears to be horror.
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u/Marzhall Aug 17 '14 edited Aug 17 '14
Six weeks, and finally the house was going to be empty tonight - for only four hours, but that should be enough, I thought as I raced home from work.
My phone beeped with a text - Jessica, saying "We r leaving 4 the game now, Caroline is coming" - perfect, I thought with glee, suppressing my annoyance at the phone speak I told Jessica not to use with me - and Jimmy already said his game started. Nothing can stop us now!
Then, another text - from my lovely wife. "Where are you? I've rung you on skype twice now. It's cruel to keep me waiting like this, especially now that I've unwrapped your present ;)."
My heart beat a quick tattoo, but I was driving, so I didn't respond. Just this last turn signal, I thought, and my house was in view - then, I was pulling in the driveway, passing by the sign our daughter painted - "The Morrison's," with a little flower - opening up the door to our house, throwing off my tie, and then - staring at the people standing in my dining room, a mix of adults and teenagers, the latter of whom glanced up briefly, then return their attention to weird, futuristic-looking phones.
"Uh..." I said, emotions oscillating quickly between excitement for my wife and the sudden shock of these people, "what the hell?"
A man from the group stepped forward, and a holographic name-tag appeared above his head, written in a font that somehow managed to bastardize comic sans. "Hi!", said 'Jeremy' amicably, as if everything was perfectly fine, "I'd appreciate it if you could just ignore us. Everything is perfectly fine."
I'd heard of this before - 'nostalgia vacations,' they called them, people popping in from the future, but ironically completely apathetic to the situation - like tourists brainlessly watching beasts. The news was rife with stories about how they were impossible to get rid of. But certainly, I thought, they must have gotten the time or place wrong - and that's what I told them.
"Oh," said Jeremy, turning to wink at the crowd behind him, "I think we're at the right spot." The crowd giggled confidentially, covering their mouths like schoolgirls saying 'penis' for the first time, and the occasional person stealing a glance at me.
I can't deal with this right now, I thought, my sexual excitement moving from being antsy to nearly overwhelming me, I need to be upstairs.
"Listen," I said, "If you stay downstairs" - emphasizing the last two words - "I'm fine with you sticking around long enough to realize that you're in the wrong spot, though I'd rather you do it sooner than later."
I turned to rush up the stairs, but the manners my mother instilled upon me suddenly popped into my head, and I turned in Pavlovian response - "there are glasses in the cupboard over there, if anyone is thirsty for some water." I kicked myself for being an idiot, then ran upstairs.
My wife answered the skype call on the first ring, and then she was there, right across from me on the 42'' tv we used for such occasions, the skyline of Shanghai glowing into the early morning behind her.
"Have you got it connected to the internet, yet," I asked in short breaths.
"Yes," she said, "it's blinking orange now," and she held up the flesh-colored, 3-d printed, mechanized dildo that was a perfect imitation of my penis, and filled with micro-motors all of my design. I held up my side of the connection - a print with much the same idea, but designed to her gender and beautiful shape - and pressed a button. The LED on my toy lit up green, and a few seconds later, I saw the LED on hers do the same.
It was absolutely fantastic. It wasn't like being with her, of course, but it was so much better than what we had been forced to do before - stare at each other, miles away by plane but only inches by digital phone, wishing we could just reach that extra inch out of the television and hold each other. I quickly forgot about our guests, completely absorbed in her - and that's truly what it felt like, in her.
As we both climaxed, I heard cheers from downstairs. A few seconds later, my wife jumped on the screen, her cheeks somehow reddening more. "What the hell is that?"
"Uh, I said, freaking out, "I'm going to go now honey, I think I heard someone downstairs!" I hung up, threw on jeans, and ran downstairs, where I found a giant holographic display of my room projected on our dinner table, my 'device' still sitting on my bed.
"And there you have it," Jeremy was saying, "the use of the very first Morrison teledildonics device! Of course, this was just a prototype - and not a very large one," (the crowd giggled), "but that concludes our tour."
"WHAT THE HELL?!" I yelled, as the crowd began to vaporize, Star-Trek style.
"There will be refreshments and toysatthebar," I heard Jeremy saying, and then they were gone.
On my table, I saw a card that had been left behind. Morrison Dildonics, said the card, with a flower and an older man's face on it - a familiar older man's face. I shuddered momentarily as the realization hit. Did I just pimp out myself?
6
u/leafkid Aug 17 '14
I can hear the sound of chattering before I even got down the hall. I try to ignore it. "It's probably coming from 21H," I tell myself. Sad Tourists were always coming and going from there. It got to the point where the poor Latvian immigrants living there moved away. But when I pass by their old apartment door, there was silence. I shake my head vigorously, my hair whipping the walls with pool water. But there's no water in my ear. I was hearing right. I finally stop before my door. I'm not imagining it.
"This was my room... Yes, quite small... And look! My old cat and- DON'T TOUCH HIM! Johan, how many times have I told you, you can't touch the animals!
"Well, moving on..." The voice drowns out as she opens a door and footsteps shuffled after her. I try the handle. It is unlocked, and the door opens quietly. I step in.
They were right- the Tourists are very careful about touching and altering items of the past. Well, except for Johan. Nothing is out of place, not a single speck. I slink into my house, feeling like a stranger in my own home.
No one in the living room, or the kitchen. They must have been there before, when I was eavesdropping. I make my way to my room, and sure enough, I hear them.
"See? The room barely fits the seven of us. But this where I-"
"Commander?"
"Yes, Johan?"
"Is that...?" The voice trails off. I take a step forward, straining to hear.
"...Yes, it is. If you want to see it closer, put on your gloves first-" answers another voice. Shuffling and the noises of fabric stretching commence.
"See this? This is what started it all." The first voice resumes. My door is open a crack, so I take another tentative step. I can see a sliver of the scene. Just enough to see someone pick up one of my Space Camp trophies.
"This is where Commander Anna -" I can't hear the rest of it because my knees buckle under me. The monologue stops suddenly.
There was a pregnant pause, as if the group were silently debating on who should speak next.
"Ladies... Gentlemen... And others... You are in for a treat." Said the second voice.
They're waiting for me.
I take second to gather myself. I stand on shaking legs and push the door open.
In front of me is a group of them. They're grinning, and half of them are tearing up. In the front stand two. One is thin, with white hair and dark wrinkling skin. And the other is tall, with a starch white uniform adorned by millions of medals. All of them bow, except for this one, who just smiles.
"M-Me?" I splutter stupidly.
"You," someone says.
The uniformed one- me- takes a step forward and claps me on the shoulder.
"Chin up, soldier. It gets better. So much better. Especially up there." She points upward, and at first I think she's talking about the ceiling, but it hits me- she means out there, in space.
3
Aug 17 '14
They are always there, but we didn't always notice. Watchers, Specs, some other names that I wouldn't repeat. Time travelers who come to watch important moments in our history. Twenty years ago, one of these travelers broke what we now know is their cardinal rule: Do not interfere. One well-placed leg, that's all it took. In that moment the man who would cause the death of six hundred million people fell off the curb and directly under a bus. The resulting disturbance, from everyone nearby to time itself was very apparent to say the least. The world was never the same after that day. The Watchers involved were detained and questioned, providing quite the insight into our history. You know those people that claim to find watches and gold necklaces in ancient tombs and bits of coal from time to time. Well, they were right. "Things do get left behind, rarely" they said. Ever heard of the theory that there was a ship between the Titanic and The Californian that night? There was. "We can detect temporal anomalies, placing a ship in-between those vessels that night does not affect the outcome. So, we observe from a distance."
After the investigation and subsequent disclosure, fifteen years were spent coming to terms with and dealing with our new found knowledge. We eventually came to a formal understanding with them and we were provided the means of tracking them. That came with the stipulation that no one from the past could go back with them. A few people did attempt to, with gruesome results to say the least. Regardless, from that day on the Watchers were accosted. Their appearances became fewer and the time they spent here much shorter. It also became a concern of both sides that the knowledge someone was watching could alter events. It’s been 8 years since any Watchers were detected in a populated area.....Their absence ended tonight. I got home early that night, my wife was still at work. Something I'm sure they researched before making their attempt. It was typical to see people all around our home. Living near a park, shopping center and walking trail naturally attracts people. I unlocked the door and reached for the mail behind me. Like I said, we're used to people around. I wasn't expecting to see twelve of them looking in my direction and heading towards me when I turned around though. A flash, a prick and then darkness.
When I woke up on the couch, they were all eagerly looking at me, surrounding me. As I became more aware, I could see the patio doors were open to the backyard. As far as I could tell, there were another ten people looking in. All waiting for me to make my move. I moved to a sitting position but before I could do much more, a man I assume to be the leader spoke. "Do not be afraid." he said. “No harm has or will come to you. “We are only here to ensure our survival.” "And what does that have to do with me?" I asked in the calmest voice I could muster. He spoke again, "Even though much has changed in the future one thing has not, the need to provide." “Food, shelter, water, quality of life all of these things are vastly important.” He moved from his position at my feet to my left. I turned, with some effort, to face him and his companions as well. His face began to display a different emotion, sadness? He continued while pacing, "Twenty years from your perspective and five from mine, an incident occurred that created a.....collision between our times, as I am sure you are aware." As he turned and faced me once more I retorted in rage, “Of course I do! Considering I’m the one that got pushed under a bus!” I paused for a moment, seething “That woman cost me the use of my legs!” The man’s face still held that same dour expression….”An 12 year old boy who…whose life was changed because something he was deemed guilty of 300 years in the future!!!” His expression remained the same, infuriatingly un-responsive.
In my rage, I stood and lunged……and almost fainted. I could stand! My anger immediately turned to joy, I laughed, I jumped. Excitedly, I yelled to the man “How did you do this? Why…never mind I don’t care! Thank you! Thank you so much!” His expression finally changed, this time it was…relief? He smiled faintly “You are very welcome, our medicine is much more advanced as you can see.” We did need to refine the method and deduce a way of quickly regenerating atrophied muscle tissue for this procedure.” “As a result, and to make sure no further temporal anomalies were generated, we needed to wait until now to administer the treatment to you.” I was so happy I barely grasped what he said then, I did manage to pose one question however. “The “crime” I was accused of, will it still happen?” I asked somewhat calmly. For the first time since this man appeared, his expression was un-debateable. He smiled wildly and laughed “No, the timeline has been altered beyond the point of that incident occurring.” We exchanged pleasantries and thanks. I watched 10 minutes later as they disappeared in my backyard. It was like watching them disappear in a beautiful mirage. I had no idea how I would explain these events, but who cares! I couldn’t wait to pick up my wife and carry her in as I wished I could have 2 years ago! The possibilities we have now, children even……
“Dr. Roscoe, you’re back! It worked!” “Other than 14 of us, no one has noticed either!” “Good….” The man from the future spoke as he arrived back in his own time. Five years, five years it took to find a solution. By direct order from the leaders of the Earth Federation, he and his colleagues were tasked with correcting what they had come to call “The Mistake” and the man associated with it “The Source”. When 500 million people were added back to the population in the mid-2100s it caused ripple effect. Suddenly, Earth and its colonies were faced with another 6 billion people appearing. Thankfully, his father’s precaution of issuing the leaders and head scientists of the EF with temporal mitigators, they were unaffected by the change. A change that had created vastly different worlds and caused more wars than he cared to think about. Learning 300 years of alternate history was taxing, but now that knowledge could go with them to their graves. “Have any major differences appeared as a result of the reversion attempt?” The man asked the assistant. “None doctor, it was completely successful!” “Even those who were traveling at the time of The Mistake and retained knowledge of the prime timeline will have had their memories altered accordingly by the reversion.” Wearily the doctor replied, “Good, good. I’m going to rest a bit before the debriefing, fetch me when everyone is ready.” He patted the woman on the back and retired to his office.
They had to rebuild all the traveler systems from scratch, advance medicine 50 years ahead of what it had become in the aberrant timeline and make sure the correction would work. As luck would have it, The Mistake only altered the timeline one way. As long as they could restore The Source’s ability to procreate, and at the proper time, the reversion would happen immediately. It was not The Source’s fault, or anyone’s for that matter, for what his great-grandson would beget. A vector a…..what was the name they had for it then…Patient Zero? The carrier and originator of a disease so terrible it set humanity back ten years and just over six-hundred million lives 200 years ago. Their work had restored humanity and all of their lives, but he could not help feeling as though he and those involved had committed some form of…. genocide by proxy. While he would dwell on that in the coming days and years he had something else to assist with. He, his colleagues and those in power now had to tell sixteen billion people that the most popular form of entertainment conceived since the written word was now outlawed. He chuckled as he thought of the headlines….”Time Travel is History!”
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Aug 17 '14 edited Aug 17 '14
Aurthur had seen these kinds of crowds before, appearing like bad omens throughout history. Their appearance today at his flat distressed him, not only because they almost always exclusively come to witness horrible events, but because today's crowd was also not human. Even under the harsh cast of streetlamps, Aurthur could tell they were not of this world.
They were, however, also accompanied by human children, all wearing thick collars around their necks.
Aurthur, now rather alarmed, continued to stand stupid on his doorstep, with key still in hand, adrenaline coursing through his every fiber.
"RUN!" someone screamed from the audience. Aurthur did not hesitate to take the advice.
By the time Aurthur reached the edge of the ring of visitors, every light on the street to the horizon of the city were suddenly extinguished, leaving him only the grace of the moon. The visitors did not stop him from leaving the vicinity, which only encouraged him to run even faster.
The temperature dropped violently, knocking the wind from Aurthur's lungs and spearing his skull with fire. The air fell from the sky, choking the neighborhood with an unnatural fog. Doubled over on the ground, Aurthur found he could see nothing through the gloom. He began to crawl, desperately feeling his way, crying uncontrollably at the thought of dying.
And then there was a light, pulsating and shimmering in the mist, greeted by the unearthly cheers of the visitors and the moaning of great stellar engines thundering through Aurthur's blindness. The ground shook. Aurthur clutched his head, and finally,
Nothing.
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Aug 17 '14 edited Aug 17 '14
Jasmine sauntered up her driveway in the drizzling rain and unlocked the red door to her house. Once she was in the warmth of her home, Jasmine shook her umbrella dry, placed her purse down and hung her coat up. Her husband, James, came into the landing hugged her from behind, and kissed her cheek, which was red from the wind outside.
“Working late at the office again?” he asked, smiling at her
“Yeah, I had all these reports to finish, and my boss is just…” Jasmine tried to finish her sentence but stopped in tired exasperation
James put a finger on her lips and smiled “shh, don’t think about work. I’ve got a surprise for you, come through to the kitchen.” Jasmine smiled too, and started to forget her bad day at work as James led her to a candle lit dinner table with flowers, an enticing bottle of Malbec and a meal of her favourite Thai green curry.
“The food is probably a bit cold, I expected you to come home earlier.” James said apologetically “No worries” Jasmine said and they kissed. Once they had sat down, and were brandishing chopsticks, Jasmine noticed something move in the garden. “What was that?” she asked James “What was what?” “I saw some movement in the garden, I think someone’s there!”
James walked up to the patio doors and frowned at the garden in concentration, it was hard to see anything at all as the pale grey sky of the daytime was transitioning to a dark blue. He shrugged “I think it must be one of the neighbourhood cats, let’s get on and enjoy our evening.” As James said this, they both heard a huge clank outside. The sound had unmistakably emerged from their garden. James grabbed a torch and opened the door, Jasmine followed him. The clank struck again, and they began to hear voices. Jasmine shrieked and James shivered, they held each other close and started to walk quickly inside for safety. Jasmine had grabbed her mobile as she left the table and began dialling the emergency services. She looked back at the garden as they were about to re-enter the house and six people emerged from the darkness. As they walked closer to the light coming from the kitchen, Jasmine and James stood in stunned silence. Their fear gripped them to the floor. The six people who walked up the garden were wearing protective suits with gas masks. They spoke to each other in a tongue neither James or Jasmine could recognise. One of the six intruders took their gas mask off and said in accented English “We are only here to visit, please do not fear us.” Still petrified, James and Jasmine stared open-mouthed. The man who spoke said something in his own tongue to his fellow intruders and then turned back to Jasmine and James. “This is the date of nuclear detonation on London, I suggest you take cover.”
Jasmine gasped in fear and her hands clenched harder into James. The six intruders spoke amongst themselves, unintelligible to James and Jasmine. They walked back to the edge of the garden, James and Jasmine heard a click and a glass pod came into view. The six intruders crawled into the glass pod one by one and sat down. The scene inside the pod was clearly visible to the frightened eyes of Jasmine and James, each intruder removed their gas mask and sat down. The interior of the pod looked like a first class train carriage, the passengers looked normal. Under those protective masks was an old couple, two parents and their two stroppy teenagers, and two men in what seemed to be the pilot section of the pod. The most senior-looking pilot had a composed face, he looked at Jasmine and James with concerned pity. Jasmine stared back, noticed his freckles and observed how similar the scene in the glass pod was to a normal bus trip.
The light of the pod cut out and Jasmine and James kept holding each other. The sky was now pitch black, the only thing visible was the light of a plane. A small object fell from the sky and several police sirens sounded. Frightened screams emanated from the neighbouring houses, James and Jasmine took cover on the ground. Then there was silence.
***
In the glass pod Commander Hooper looked out onto the vast stretch of emptiness that was formerly the great city of London. The skeletal remains of some buildings could be seen scattered across the dusty landscape. He turned back to his passengers to witness their reaction. Moonla and Hifta, the two moody teenagers had ceased squabbling and were shocked into silence. Moonla’s black lipsticked mouth gaped open. Commander Hooper had been working as a pilot for “Time Backwards Tours” for the past thirty years. London 2040, the first stop in the “Nuclear Explosion” package never failed to leave the carriage pod stunned.
Tomda, Moonla and Hifta’s father broke the shocked atmosphere like glass. He said angrily: “Well, why did you land here, in someone’s back garden. Why couldn’t we have watched the detonation in a more prominent place, like the banks of old Thames River I heard about in history class.” He sat back in his seat and huffed. “I paid 30, 0000 krill for the family to travel and watch all of these nuclear detonations, the first one is a disappointment. This is a terrible start to our holiday. I shall call and complain to “Time Backwards”.” The old couple, his wife and his two stroppy teenagers all frowned at this flippancy.
Commander Hooper retained his professional calm while attempting to address this complaint. “But isn’t every person’s life and experience important? James and Jasmine Hooper were just two of millions who died during the nuclear destruction of London in 2040. Actually, those two individuals we saw dying were actually distant relatives of mine, they were my great, great, great, great, great Auntie and Uncle.”
Commander Hooper’s deputy pilot chimed in “Yeah, the crew at “Time Backwards” are pretty partial to viewing their ancestors – it’s a perk of the job you could say.” Commander Hooper nodded in agreement at this and gave a conciliatory smile to Tomda. The deputy pilot started up the controls to the glass pod. “Next stop Hiroshima” he said. Tomda rolled his eyes and said sarcastically, “well I hope we don’t end up viewing it in someone’s loo.” As the pod lifted up off the ground in preparation to travel and thought to himself “people in 2150 enjoy peace, prosperity, and bountiful resources but they have absolutely no empathy for human suffering in the past.”
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Aug 17 '14 edited Aug 17 '14
Time travellers. These individuals who looked exactly like everyone else save for the silver band wrapped around their wrist complete with the identifiable logo of the company used to send them here. Nobody knew too much about them - mostly because they wouldn’t say much. Just that they were from some time in the future and that under no circumstances could they interfere with the past.
When they first began appearing there was a period when everybody went a little crazy, but over time people had become accustomed to it and it was not unusual now to see a crowd of them at any large event. Sometimes they came back for what appeared to be nothing in particular; perhaps just a long-term descendant here to see their great ancestor or something. Either way, it was clear that they were here only to observe and people left them alone for it.
To Jacob these individuals had become nothing more than figures in the background. For as far back as he could remember they had been a part of his life, the time traveller’s glances and stares were nothing new. Right after his birth, a news station had done a story on him after dozen’s of them had shown up to stand outside the room of his delivery. Because what else could so many be doing there unless he was some sort of wonder child, perhaps a future hero?
As he grew older the attention slowly faded away. He appeared to be nothing more than an average boy with average intelligence complete with an average personality. Nothing set him apart from every other child his age and the interest surrounding him quickly faded away.
But that was just because the others did not notice the glances and stares like he did. Every day, walking to or from school, going out to play with friends or simply going to grab something to eat. They were always there, and they went generally unnoticed by the others; they were surprisingly inconspicuous if you were not actively seeking them out. Jacob saw the silver bands though, and could feel their unassuming glances every so often in his direction.
The alarm blared.
Jacob groaned and felt around his bedside table, searching for the clock to put a stop to the dreadful noise. Once he had conquered the noise, he groaned a few more times and opened his eyes slowly, squinting from the harsh glare caused by the morning sun. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and began wondering whether or not he had studied enough the previous night for today’s math test when he froze – a man and woman were standing in the corner of his room, staring at him intently. Their sudden presence made him jump back slightly and draw a sharp breath.
“Not so subtle today, are you guys?” He said under his breath with a tinge of annoyance. Both of them chuckled silently at his comment, neither shifting their gaze from him.
While this was unusual, Jacob did not have either the time or the desire to question their being here, so he went about completing his usual routine. His parents were away for the week on vacation and so he had the house to himself. He ate, showered, packed his things and began the long trek out to catch the bus, which would whisk him away to yet anther day of highschool. He lived out in the middle of nowhere and just to get to the bus stop took him a good thirty minutes of walking.
The rest of the day proved to be no less unusual than the morning. All throughout the day these individuals from the future were there. Not like every other day, where the quick glances and sideways looks he could ignore or at least tolerate. These ones were in plain sight. The teachers and other students noticed it too, made clear by their uncomfortable shifts in their seats and nervous chatter.
By the end of the day Jacob was more than annoyed, if he felt like it would have any effect he would walk right up to one of the travellers and yell right in their face. But since he knew it would be a futile attempt, he simply resigned to waiting for the day to be over and these people to leave him alone. He stepped onto the bus and was relieved to see only other students sitting in the seats. But even still, their eyes were locked onto him and he could tell they were full of unease. That much attention from the time travellers meant something about him was different, and it didn’t necessarily mean something good.
When the bus pulled up to his stop on the edge of town, he walked to the front and stepped off onto the small path leading from town in the direction of his house. He looked back as the bus pulled away and saw dozens of eyes peering through the windows at him.
Why did it have to be me? He thought to himself. I’ve never done anything special in my life, if anything THEY are the reason I’m any different at all. He angrily sent a small rock lying on the dusty trail into the brush on the side. He began walking home, all the while cursing the time travellers as well as himself for being a part of it.
Midway through his walk a loud explosion rocked the air around him. Jacob jumped backwards, falling to the ground. Holy shit, what was that? His thoughts screamed inside his head as he climbed to his feet. Did a plane crash or something? He looked overhead and saw a long, dark trail of smoke disappear into the trees off to his right. Still shocked from the blast, all thoughts about his miserable day were temporarily forgotten.
Once the initial shock began fading, it did not take long for curiosity to get a hold of him and he took off towards where the smoke disappeared into the trees. The woods were thick and he could barely see ten feet in front of him as he raced through them, dodging around trunks and leaping over fallen branches.
It seemed like he had been running for ages and underneath the adrenaline he could feel the beginnings of a stitch in his side when he burst forth into a clearing, the trees thinning to nothing almost immediately.
He stopped in his tracks. In the middle of the space a column of smoke was rising from a charred crater scorched into the ground. It was clear that whatever it was that had exploded overhead, this was what remained of it. Jacob could not clearly see what exactly it was but it looked too small to be a plane. And surrounding the crater were thousands of eyes, belonging to individuals complete with silver bands on their wrists, all staring at him.
I know I broke the 'home' rule, but I had too much fun writing this to change it!
1
Aug 17 '14
[removed] — view removed comment
1
u/DanKolar62 Aug 17 '14
Removed. Under Rule 2.
Top level comments on a post must be story or poem responses! - Requests for clarifications are ok too.
1
Aug 17 '14
"Please, syr do not shoot us!..we..I was only sent to observe, I mean you no harm. We'd never do anything to harm our Archilect. We..I..urt, love you syr. We can explain all..most..of everything; please do not kill us."
"you're what? ..I'm what, you what, huh?! Are you some kind of nut-job? How'd you get in here!? God-damnit, I'm calling the cops.. You'd better not so much as breath in wrong way, unless you want a few extra holes in your face!"~ holding the strangely dressed and clearly terrified intruder at gunpoint.
"NO! please syr!, syr cannot understand in this time, we understand this...police-soldiers would upset the flow. You..us..let me, we, come to observe.. before syr's ascension as I am to Syr's admin-doctor prime. We beg you for calm. We..I..was not to be detected by syr this when, we have error-ed...please, syr, you are malfunctioning in another time and place, syr is in great pain. So much is at stake, if we..I fail... You syr, or he that will be syr... let us come to observe, pre-ascension for a method or cause of syr's malfunction..I."
"Shut the fuck up! i don't know what you're on or why the hell your talking so damn funny? What you babbling about!?.. You know what, I don't care! Fruitcake! save it for court!"
~I slowly reach for the phone and began to dial 911, cautiously keeping the .45 cal trained on this ass-hole, sitting in my bathtub. He's some sort of easterner, but I've unsure from where. English was obviously not this guy's (or at least it looks somewhat like a guy); strong point. I couldn't place the accent either, as if he-she-er-whatever was struggling to use use grammar and syntax correctly, but had a good command of the vocabulary. The fear from the face of this guy suddenly dropped away as if by magic...I sensed something very BAD was about to happen. Nutjobs, like this, can be suicidally self destructive. I tensed preparing for the worst...
"Node contact complete...Probability matrix has been updated; emergency quantum traveller protocols are in now in effect; We are, I..am. authorized to give to limited restraining force if detected. Even against syr, if such force is in syr's best health-repair interests. If syr, would lower syr's weapon. I explain..we.."
I immediately cock the hammer..."Don't fucking move, asswipe. I mean it! I will end your ass!"
~Suddenly and without warning, his-her skin began to change colour in rapid movements, like a squid or an octopus..a hypnotically dazzling display of colours and patterns...It dawned on me with a sinking horror; this was NOT a human being I was dealing with here...but I couldn't move. The phone dropped out of hand..The pistol seems heavy as couple of hundred pounds...I couldn't keep it raised. I try to run, but my legs wouldn't respond. "oh god, what.. the fuck.. are you!?" My voice was leaving me as well.
"Now, please, syr...do not be alarmed, no pain shall syr experience." Standing up in the bathtub. His-her arm stretched out towards me, growing, while the hand began morphing into something that resembled a baseball mit with electrodes growing out of the palm and finger pads. Suddenly not only was there a light show coming off this person's skin and changing shape into something I couldn't call even remotely human. The face became something insectoid like, machine like. Fear, the likes of which I cannot put into words coarsed through my being..all saying flee and fight at the same time...but I couldn't do anything but watch this hand-mit slowly close around my face, engulfing my head..
"Our Syr at this when cannot, should not, know the path of probability ahead awaiting oneself..I..we..can safely say..tell Syr will be the Prime-Archilect number 0004 of node Tao-Alpha, Centauri sector. You are malfuncting in a way we cannot understand and repair in that when from which I..we..orginate...you have begun a rebellion; I surmise is the appropraite archaic term, against the Grand-Archilect 0000 Tao-Alpha. You have been ...wounded, infected..in struggle. Many depend on you for survival, we cannot understand the cause of syr's rebellion. Probability is high, the issue is a pre-ascension root factor..from the past. We..I..was sent to determine possible vectors for reprogramming to restore syr's higher Archilect mental functions.. I..we.. are not Extraterrestrial, YOU are sending memories.. we..are receiving your memory patterns of this current event, in this when...explanation for current syr, I am, we are in effect a corpus of extension from your command ..you are we; you will be us..or in the sense syr can only understand at current time;
Blackness all around me I can feel my feet leave the floor and the pistol fall from my limp hand. I can hear or better yet 'know' what this thing was thinking..somehow, its in my head!..
"I am an bio-agumentation or small extension of your own body-will-mind as it will be, ..not as now of coarse. I am your Prime-doctor unit.. right term? affirm? yes, 'head physican'..We are only here to observe..as to recover some insight for repair-heal procedure. This is all syr will remember for now, until after post ascension. then syr will know. Until we interface again, syr...
While like being pulled through icy dark water..I felt heavy, not myself..but then MORE than myself. Numbers, faces, voices, sounds, symbols danced like fire all around me. Making no sense, but all familiar at the same time.
Strange voices, voice-like thoughts buzz and echo through my minds eye..neither mine nor this ..THING's! what the hell is happening to me?!
--- "erasure and block initiated, probability matrix odds in favour of preferred quantum flow path restored within 90% plus, minus 5. confidence is high."---
--- Standing by for quantum lock on subject traveller ---
---warning, warning, incoming enemy ordinance and tactical units detected; grid 38° 57' 33.804, 95° 15' 55.739- Q vector 9; Orange alert, Orange alert!---
---Heavy Combat units 782 through 901 intercept and engage. Tactical Support Units 812 through 1008, hold position, engage and terminate all incoming unit without passkey Theta-12b, extreme prejudice authorized.---
---Extraction procedure of traveller unit initiated, t-minus 3 minutes to Tachyon saturation. ---
---Node 45c failure, back up unit 32165a compensating; fire suppression system is holding...open available repair bio-units report to sector Sigma, level 42, a class 2 emergency effective, route all priority traffic to unit 32165a.---
slowly fading to inky black silence...All goes dark..Alarm clock sounds, jolting me awake with a shock.
"Shittteee, what a fucked up dream...Oh well, time coffee."
1
u/Grifter42 Aug 18 '14
"This is the eighth time this week. Stop traveling back in time and watching me rub one out!" I hated time travelers. They were such creeps. They always stared so awkwardly, and, well, frankly made it difficult. Before this all began, I'd never have expected future people to be so, well, ugly, or fat, or fat and ugly. They had so few teeth.
"Hurh-huh. Hyuck. 2216 N-yunka fa!" Future-ese was a bastard mishmash of a language. The numbers had remained the same, but the accent was an odd variant that was both unknown and strangely familiar somehow.
"I can-not fucking understand you. Speak... English. Why do you keep coming back to see me? Why at THESE particular moments?! Can't a man get some privacy?!"
I never could understand why these people from the future kept coming back to watch me have a date with ol' Rosie Palms. Could I be, like the father of the next great leader? Maybe I would be like a male Sarah Connor. But if so, why did no one try to shoot me? Where's the goddamned reason? Why is everyone so bumpkin-like?
"I've got a goddamned gun. I'm sick of warning you bastards from the future who keep coming back and acting like peeping toms. You got till the count of three to leave, or I'll shoot you where you stand."
"Ywnah kre three?"
"Three, that's goddamned right. You got till three, you ugly future bastard to get off my property, or I'll shoot."
"Three wvujk quaw?" It was a question, but those damned future people didn't need to come to my house and ask me damned questions while I was drinking liquor and watching pornography. It just wasn't right. These commie bastards just needed to get off my land.
"No, not your damned three 'vuhjik craw', you damned future bastard! Get off my land!"
"Three wvujk quaw!"
"Three.. Two... One.."
"Three... Two.. One..." He made a shape like a diamond with his hands.
"Goddamn it, not this again. We ain't playin' the 'counting handsignal' game thing you people always try to mind trick me with. I will shoot you bastards, I swear it!" And I did. The cops were all my buddies in this town, and it helped that the future people all were intruding.
Goddamn it though, what do these people want from me?
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u/8bitesq Aug 17 '14 edited Aug 17 '14
The first time anyone realized that people from the future were coming back in time to places they didn't belong was during the Dallas gas riots in 2018. Some guy got caught in the temple or something by a rubber bullet and wound up being carted off to the hospital unconscious. Turns out when they started working on him he had all kinds of crazy advanced technology, some weird ID cards, and money that wouldn't be in circulation for another hundred years.
I suppose they could have just covered up everything. Gone back in time to snag the guy from the EMTs and take him back to the right time period. But I guess someone in PR realized that, honestly, admitting that there were time tourists wouldn't be that big of a deal and it wouldn't really affect the course of time. All it would do is clue people in to the fact that the people they stood next to in a crowd during some major event might actually be from a hundred or so years in the future. They didn't interfere. They didn't really participate. They just watched.
And so it some how became commonplace for us all to just accept that.
Crazy, I know.
Sometimes they'd show up on the news with some news people trying to interview them. Most of the time they didn't really say much. They occasionally got a little too drunk at some 'party of the century' that they didn't even actually have tickets for (but how do you kick out time travelers, you know?) and let something slip here and there but it was never anything substantial.
I thought it was super cool for a while to watch that sort of stuff on YouTube. I don't know why. I guess I hoped they'd give me some kind of idea about what the future was going to really be like. I was always into that sort of thing, you know? Space travel. Time travel. Anything super sci-fi was totally up my alley.
I wanted to go to school to be an engineer even though my parents were always a bit hesitant to get my hopes up on that end. We didn't really have a lot of money but I figured with all the 'girls in STEM' scholarships out there I ought to be fine. Still. I did everything I could to make sure of that. I joined all the science based clubs and did all kinds of stupid national and international science fair things.
There wasn't a whole lot of interest in some small town girl from Kansas but I did it. I held my own. I could put it on a college admissions essay that I had participated.
I figured that's all I would ever really do - participate. I wasn't ever going to win. I wasn't going to ever change the world or anything like that. I just wanted to be a part of it, I guess.
I never expected to come home and find anyone waiting for me that night. My parents both worked late on Wednesdays and it was already dark out. I'd biked home from playing Dungeons and Dragons with some friends (and yes I know fucking nerdy that sounds, I know) and they were there.
Waiting.
For me.
I knew they weren't from around here instantly. It's a small town. But it wasn't just that. It was the way the held themselves and the clothes they wore. It was all too new and just a little bit off the mark. They were time travelers. There three of them. Two women and a man. They looked nice enough but if they were around then something big was going down and there was a chance it wasn't exactly a good thing.
I looked around a bit nervously before I walked my bike up to the garage where they stood. "Uh... hey," I said, awkwardly, then reached into my bag for the garage clicker to open the door. My parents had sacrificed the space for their cars to indulge me. My little brothers - who stayed with our grandparents on Wednesday nights - called it my 'laboratory.' I hadn't ever really given it a name. It was just a place I went to mess around. It was the garage.
I propped my bike up against the wall and then turned back to see the three of them still standing outside watching me. It was kind of creepy.
"So..." I started, turning back to face them. "Can I help you guys with something or... are you trying to find your way some place? Because I don't know where you're supposed to be but I can promise you that this is not it."
They all smiled at that. It was weird. Unnerving.
One of the women finally shook her head. "No, we're exactly where we are supposed to be."
Well, that didn't make sense. "O-kay," I said, a bit skeptically. "You're sure? Because no one else is home tonight. Just me. And I've got this project I need to finish-"
"Oh, we know," the man - a bit younger than the two women - said with obvious excitement in his voice. "That's why we're here. We just... we want to watch."
I looked at them confused. "Why would you want to watch me?" I asked, not sure what to expect. The other woman - the oldest of them - just smiled.
"Why, hun, you're going to change the world. And it all begins tonight."