A Paradox Broken, page 4
With a yawn, I asked out loud, “Ah-yaaaaaah. How long was I out?”
Only a few hours. My nanoids are leaps and bounds more efficient at healing than your human body is. It’s like the difference between a single lion trying to eat an entire elephant one bite at a time, or an entire pride of starving lions hopped up on Mountain Dew!
“I … I don’t like that comparison.”
Which part?
“The part where you are trying to explain how a lion eating an elephant is like how you heal my body …”
Oh. Well, if you want to put it that way …
“I didn’t put it that way, Tim! You did!”
“Would you look at the time,” Tim said, manifesting his avatar above my metal arm rather than the Clepsydra and pretending to look at a watch on his little puppy wrist. “The question-your-AI-companion-who-has-saved-your-leg-butt-countless-times hour is over! Now, it’s listen-to-Tim o’clock!”
“Fine. What’s the plan?” I asked, rubbing away what little sleep had built up in the corner of my eyes.
“Like I suggested before,” Tim began as a hologram of the countless colorful time streams blipped to life above him, “you are going to take us back to the tesseract.” A 2D image of me appeared in one of the rivers before jumping into another with jerky movements, like a freelance animator working on his first project. Which was a stark contrast to the movie-quality graphics of the environment, further proving Tim chose to depict me in such a low resolution on purpose. “Then we will hop into a neighboring timeline to try to find Alison’s research again.”
“I think we should start farther away from my home timeline?”
You’re afraid of the potential collateral damage? he asked inside my head as his avatar blipped away.
“You pronounced likely wrong.”
But I didn’t … Oh. Ha. Ha.
“Seriously, Tim, we watched that guy destroy an entire universe, did we not?”
As best as we can presume.
“Then, yes, I’m concerned with him destroying my home timeline, even if he does it on accident while we are only a hop and a skip away.”
So you want to go farther from our home stream?
“I do.”
There’s, ahem, only one teensy-weensy thing wrong with that.
“What now?” I sighed, squeezing my eyes shut and lifting my face upward.
Well, as I have briefly mentioned before, I theorize that the further we stray from our home stream, the more drastic the timeline differences will be.
“Meaning?” I groaned, already knowing the answer.
Alison’s research could easily be one of the things that changes.
My eyelids squeezed like a serpent, making me see colors as bright as the streams of time, while my fists trembled as if they were the last line of defense for my building rage before it spilled out.
Through clenched teeth, I summarized, “So either we move to a nearby timeline to try and get the rest of the research, risking Retnuh’s wrath … or we go to a ‘safe’ distance,” I said in quotations, “but run the likelihood of the answers being compromised.”
If it’s there at all. Yes, Tim concurred. That about sums it all up. And what’s worse is I don’t know which option is the right one. That’s only something you can decide, Andrew.
My eyelids and fists went limp at the same time as a feeling of nothingness flooded my veins.
“There’s no right answer … is there?” My voice was cold, devoid of any semblance of warmth.
Well … uh, the-the-they could both be right answers! We simply can’t know until we pick one.
A notion came over me—a gut feeling, if you will.
“Let’s start with five over and up,” I said, picturing the parallel streams lined up like endless chessboards standing on their sides.
I guess that’s as good a place to start as any!
As I was about to mentally prepare for the jump, something nudged at my thoughts.
“Tim … where’s Retnuh’s arm?” I asked, looking around the empty wormhole.
Yup! Five up and over! Gooooood solid number. Mm-hmm!
After a few seconds of looking down at my arm, where Tim’s hologram had been, I decided I didn’t want to know. Picturing the tesseract while inhaling deeply, I winced at feeling my mended ribs creak in protest and willed myself forward while exhaling.
CHAPTER 6
Through my closed eyes I could see colors rush by, but differently than before. Whereas the first time I knew the vibrant sands were flowing over and through me from front to back, now they were zipping from my right side to my left. It was like looking out of the backseat window of a car speeding through a rainstorm of watery paint. Reds were followed closely by blues before being swallowed by yellows and greens. It felt like each color had the task of seeing how many times they could fly across my closed eyes in an attempt to beat the others.
As if hitting pause, the rushing spectrum of light froze, and I opened my eyes to see a large room solidifying once more. Not waiting for the scene to finish coalescing, I turned my attention to the bookcase against the wall and began to take long, quick strides over to it.
I was slightly aware of a gentle impact, like accidentally kicking a tumbleweed made of fluffed cotton, and looked down to see a tiny explosion of color from where I had kicked what appeared to be a coffee table.
With a scowl, I watched as the room finished forming, seeing it was indeed a now disfigured coffee table, but not in the way wood and glass should have deformed after being kicked. Instead, it was like someone dragging a finger through warm candle wax that hadn’t fully solidified after the flame had been extinguished.
“That … wasn’t there before, right?” I asked, pointing at the warped table which stopped just below my knees.
Is that important right now? Tim pointed out. I mentally shrugged before turning back to the bookcase.
Closing the distance, I crouched down, ran my index finger over the VHS tapes, and stopped at Alice in Wonderland.
I froze as I gripped the box, squeezing it a few times and recognizing without question that something was wrong. The memory of sensation was recalled by my brain, and I knew without having to open the box that there was a VHS tape inside.
My other hand nearly blurred through the air as it almost ripped the box apart.
A rectangular, plastic VHS tape clattered to the ground.
“Wha—What?” I breathed out, feeling my throat constrict and pulse quicken.
N-n-now, no need to worry, Andrew. Heh-heh, Tim tried—and failed—to reassure. I’m sure her research is here somewhere.
Tossing the ripped box away, I started randomly grabbing VHS boxes off the shelf, shaking them as I did. Jurassic Park. The Matrix. Predator. Even the double-stuffed Titanic all rattled with the familiar sound of tapes inside.
On another shelf below, I noticed a pattern of children’s movies and crouched lower.
My frantic gaze flowed over each of them, hoping one would jump out at me from its immense importance and connection to my daughter. However, none did. All remained the preferred home video format that dominated the nineties.
As hope began to deflate from my heart, my left hand seemed to move on its own, placing an index finger at the top of the boxes and pulling them down. Beauty and the Beast. The Lion King. Aladdin. Even The Rescuers Down Under all plopped to the ground with a familiar thud as the plastic tapes inside slightly rattled.
Peter Pan was next, and when it hit, it sounded like dropping a box of nails.
Everything froze in me, including the hope that was now curious as to whether or not to continue deflating or gather the troops and return to my heart.
Once again, my left hand moved, opening the box which contained the hard drives.
“Peter Pan?” I asked, never personally feeling a connection to that movie, even when I was a kid.
It’s definitely no Hook starring the genius that is Robin Williams, but down the rabbit hole and off to never-never land both have a similar feel to it, wouldn’t you agree?
“Ye—Yeah,” I admitted, grabbing the last metallic stick and bringing it to touch my left forearm.
Shouldn’t we start with the first?
“No. I don’t want to risk being interrupted again, so we’ll start with the last and move toward the first.”
Oh, I see, because we already have the beginning portions of her research from our home timeline.
“Exactly,” I said with a snarl I hadn’t known was forming as I thought about Retnuh stopping me from getting the answers I needed to save my beautiful wife and baby girl.
No problem. Let’s get these bad boys downlo—Oh …
“Oh?”
There is a problem.
“And what’s that?” I grumbled, having already been ready for bad news. That was just my kind of luck.
The, uh, encryption on this hard drive is … odd.
“Odd in what way, Tim?” I asked as I moved to the couch, setting the box of hardware in my lap as I plopped down with a grunt. A layer of dust puffed into the air from worn cushions with wear lines darting across like tiny fault lines.
Odd in that I seem to be unable to access the files within.
“I thought you could break into anything.” I was actually interested in the fact that something technological was standing in Tim’s way. To me, it was like watching a strongman get trapped inside a refrigerator box.
Oh, I will be able to crack the egg, but it might take some time.
“How long?”
Not sure at the moment. Once I figure out this intricate configuration, I should be able to crack the others with little to no issue.
I leaned back on the couch while holding the stick to my arm, letting Tim do his thing.
“What makes it intricate?” I asked, filling the time.
It’s constantly evolving, meaning if I do not decipher it within a limited timeframe, the entire encryption resets.
“How—”
Imagine a Rubik’s cube that is one hundred squares long, tall, and wide.
“Okay,” I said, doing as he requested, though instead of taking the time to imagine one hundred squares even, I just let my brain imagine a cube that had a shitload of blocks.
Now imagine that every second, the entire configuration changes, and you are supposed to solve the entire cube between the one-second intervals.
“Oh.”
“Oh” is right, Andrew. But I undersold it when I said one hundred, simply because that’s the limit of what your mind can properly picture. And I’m willing to bet you didn’t even mentally picture one hundred properly, did you? Tim asked. I could almost hear his little puppy arms cross over his chest. You probably just pictured a buttload of cubes. Come on, tell me the truth. How close was I?
I stifled a chuckle at his surprisingly on point guesstimation.
“So what’s the full size, then? If one hundred tall, wide, and long is underselling it.”
Um, heh, that’s the thing.
My eyebrow arched.
I’m having trouble calculating the dimensions of this hypothetical Rubik’s cube.
“Oh … sooo … you don’t even know how big it is?”
That’s what she said, Tim muttered under his breath. I almost took the bait to comment on how that really didn’t make sense, but decided to focus on the fact he was deflecting.
“How are you going to solve it, then?”
I am having to create an array of subminds to aid in calculating the entire encryption at the precise same time. And I mean precise in the literal terms, not just hyperbole with the intent of being dramatic.
“Because no one would ever accuse you of being dramatic,” I said under my breath.
What was that?
“Hmm? Nothing. H-How we looking?” I asked, pretending to search around the room.
I took note that even though we were still somehow in a basement in Florida, this lab had a respectable kitchen at the end. It even had generic, unpainted cabinets bought off the shelf at any hardware store, along with a dint-and-ding fridge that had probably been on clearance. Surprisingly, it also held a small island, which appeared to be nothing more than a butcher block haphazardly placed atop a row of cabinets.
My eyes next landed on the couch once more, reminding me of how different it was compared to the timeline we had just been in.
“Hmm,” I hummed while leaving the hard drive stick on top of my left forearm and gliding my right index finger along the surface of the black leather couch. Without meaning to, I drew out the letters ASA, my heart nearly stopping once I realized what I was doing.
My finger was poised frozen over the last bit of the letter A, and I let it slide back to my side, drawing with it an elongated line that felt prophetic somehow—like it was me who had messed up our ASA-Day.
Something cold glided down either side of my spine starting at the base of my skull. It felt like feathers soaked in liquid nitrogen, yet with their flexibility left intact somehow so that each curve and crevice of my back was able to be frozen.
“Tim … ?” I asked, slowly pivoting my head all around while rubbing at the back of my neck.
Busy! the helpful AI responded in a singsong.
Grabbing all the sticks from the VHS box in my right hand, I stuffed the hard drives in my pants pocket before slowly lifting myself up from the couch. I noticed that the metal device on my forearm remained affixed as if by magnets and decided to let Tim keep doing what he was doing rather than risk putting it with the others.
There was only one feeling worse than that of being alone, and that was not being alone but being unable to see whoever was with you.
My gaze danced to every shadow, anticipating twin glowing eyes staring back at me. The moisture in my mouth evaporated, leaving a desert from the tip of my tongue to the base of my throat.
Without knowing why, I swiftly moved to the island in the modest kitchen, dropping the Peter Pan box along the way, and crouched behind the cabinets so that only my eyes and the top of my head remained in view.
A glowing silhouette of a man bloomed into existence just behind the couch, and I knew in an instant who it was.
Moving my head below the wooden butcher block, I repositioned to the very side so that only my right eye was poking out.
A fully formed Retnuh came into view. I was somewhat surprised that he was in a neutral stance as he eyed the wall in front of him.
Tim, I whispered inside my head.
Why are you whispering? You are speaking to me menta—Oh my science. Is that Retnuh?
What do we do?
Better question, what is he doing?
Tim and I watched as Retnuh moved to the bookcase, dropped to one knee like a baseball player, and began sifting through the VHS tapes.
Uh-oh, Tim said.
I was about to ask why, until the answer became obvious.
Uh-oh, I mentally concurred as Retnuh picked up the discarded tape that I knew to be Alice in Wonderland.
The Clockman scowled as he turned the video over in his hands then dropped it back into the pile.
Hoisting himself to a standing position, Retnuh looked at the bookcase full of VHS boxes and lifted his hand, palm out, toward the videos.
What’s he— I started to ask, when one by one, the boxes began bursting apart into colorful grains, leaving behind black cassettes in their place. In a matter of seconds, every cover had been deleted from existence, drawing a dark feeling inside my guts.
With a grunt of frustration, Retnuh’s gaze flew across the floor from wall to wall, scanning.
My eyes saw something in my periphery, and I dared a glance to see the ripped-open box of Peter Pan staring just a few feet away from me. It wouldn’t take long for him to see it and walk over, where he would surely find me. And I couldn’t just reach out and snag it while he was actively scanning the area.
Not knowing what else to do, I instinctively reached for the handle inside of my back left pocket.
What are you doing? Tim asked, this time whispering himself as if we could somehow be heard.
I’m going to shoot him with the nanite gun and be done with this. Even though my voice was a mental projection, I could still hear how the words were tinged with anger, as if I were speaking through clenched teeth.
Think, Andrew! If you shoot the nanite gun and the entire room is destroyed, then we might never find Alison’s research!
Well, that depends, I responded, willing the nanomachines to form into the deadly weapon that could erase someone permanently. Does the gun remove him from this timeline? Or all timelines?
If the answer is all timelines, Tim said, then the research will be eradicated along with him! If it’s not all timelines, then—
It is all timelines. Otherwise, Davix and Traze would still be here.
Oh, right, Tim agreed. But—But the research! Not to mention the close proximity to yourself, Andrew.
The research is in my pocket, I said calmly as I moved to aim the weapon from around the counter.
But if there’s no basement to store it in, how will we find it?!
That froze me right as my finger was about to squeeze the trigger.
Andrew, we are so close to getting the answers you desperately need. It’s not worth the risk!
With bared teeth, I removed my index finger from the trigger guard, let the weapon revert back to a handle, and reinserted it into my back left pocket.
Retnuh’s scanning stopped as he eyed the coffee table.
Oh shit.
Almost done with the encryption! Tim said with rampant hope filling his words. Or maybe it was urgency tiptoeing toward panic.
Retnuh moved so that I couldn’t see him, forcing me to slowly inch further outward while remaining as hidden as possible behind the kitchen island. I knew it was a mistake, but I needed to keep my eye on the unpredictable man.
From my point of view, I witnessed Retnuh bend over the side of the couch and run his finger across the cushion. The same cushion where I had written …
“I know you’re here, Frost,” Retnuh purred as he righted himself, his hand already glowing a bright blue.
