He picked up the pill, and popped it in his mouth.
At first, nothing.
Then, searing pain in his neck, at the base of his skull, through his head, to the forehead, and out through the temples. An explosion in the brain.
His heart raced. His entire body dripped with sweat.
His thoughts spun out of control.
He was psychotic.
Frenzied.
But focused on a purpose with such laser-sharp intent that he practically moved under reflex.
He set the chronoporter controls. Stepped to the pad, and activated the device.
His mind seemed to be speaking to itself, a future self speaking to the present.
It told him that the original pill plan did not work. The self-deception had failed. That the future self knew this and had instead found a way to save both women.
It felt good; it felt right. Yes. Save them both. It could be done!
Ammon found himself once more at the scene of the accident. It was right about to happen, just like it always did.
He looked down at his hand and saw another note, and another pill.
No!
What could this mean?
Cringing, he read the note.
You must take the pill, and let Esther die. It is the only way. All other scenarios will result in both their deaths.
The note was written in his own, unmistakable hand. His mind reeling, his heart aching, and the seconds speedily ticking away, he placed the pill on his tongue, and swallowed it. His mind swam in a drunken stupor for a mere moment, then all became crystal clear.
Ammon looked at each of his beloved women. Almost in unison, they turned away from him to look toward the commotion of a careening red truck.
Their faces turned from joy, to shock, to horror.
Knowing what he had to do – what the pill seemed to be compelling him to do – Ammon launched himself through the air toward his wife and knocked her down, wrapping his arms around her and rolling as they hit the ground.
The truck’s front tire brushed against the sole of his shoe as it flew past. The tire rubber screeched as it burned against the road and spun around the corner.
The out-of-control vehicle struck Esther, tossing her up into the air. She came down across the truck’s tailgate and bounced off onto the ground where she fell in a lifeless heap.
Ammon stared as the truck disappeared up State Street to the sound of more honking horns.
Ammon crawled quickly across the ground toward his beloved daughter.
She rested upon the asphalt crumpled in an unnatural position, perfectly still, a pool of dark red blood forming under her head.
Ammon cradled his baby in his arms and wept.
She was gone.
Ammon felt sick to his stomach, and his head suddenly burst with pain. His limbs seized up, he fell back on the ground and started shaking uncontrollably, then all went black.
#
He awoke on a familiar bed in a familiar room.
He blinked and looked around to see the face of Jim Mayne.
“Jim?” he mumbled. “What happened? Where are Emma and Esther?”
“Ammon, Esther didn’t make it. She died at the scene. I’m so sorry.”
Ammon struggled to sit up, and Jim assisted him by grabbing his shoulder and pulling gently.
“Where am I?” Ammon asked. “What is this place?”
“This is a special recovery suite at the University of Utah Hospital. Emma is upstairs in ICU. She bumped her head pretty good. Don’t worry – she’s going to be fine. We just have to keep her in a chemical coma for a few days – maybe a couple of weeks – while the brain swelling is reduced. But a neural scan checks out – she will heal completely, in time.”
“Why am I in here?”
“We’re keeping you here for observation – and because we can’t have you leave this room until we’ve figured out what’s going on with your physiology.”
“What do you mean?”
“You seem to be in fine health, but there’s something happening with your brain. Nobody can explain it just yet. Your brain is producing a strange kind of quantum radiation – and it’s causing some kind of interference with time-based technology – anything with an internal chronometer goes haywire in your presence. Look at my watch – it’s running backwards just from being near you.”
Ammon’s eyes shot open wide, and his mind raced. “Jim, Jim! I can fix it. I can bring Esther back. My chronoporter – bring me the equipment from my lab. I’ll complete the project right here, and then go back and save them both.”
Jim stared at Ammon. “I thought you said it wasn’t ready.”
“I did. But I think I can make it work. I know I can. Bring it to me. Bring it to me!”
“Okay, okay, Ammon, I will get it all set up in the next room. Get some rest while I take care of it, okay?”
Ammon nodded and laid back down, his head throbbing.
#
Over the next week, Ammon worked furiously to complete his invention. He came to a final riddle in his calculations, but his constant thoughts of Esther helped him solve the puzzle, using her name as the key.
Finally, the machine was ready. He tested it, and it worked.
Ready to go back and save his daughter, he powered up the machine.
Suddenly his brain was on fire. Everything went white. He collapsed to the floor in agony.
At his moment of triumph, his mind simply collapsed under the strain, and he passed out.
#
Ammon awoke in a hospital bed. The room was well lit. This was not the room he’d been in before.
He looked at the door on the opposite wall.
The door opened.
And in walked Esther.
Tears came to Ammon’s eyes. “Esther? Esther?”
“Yes, Dad, it’s me. Dr. Mayne said it was okay to see you.”
“You’re alive? You’re alive!”
Ammon’s mind exploded. He realized that the final pill he’d taken on the street before the accident was the original pill, designed to deceive him and plant the hallucination of his daughter dying. He had really saved both women. In fact, he had saved them all along. It had always been a deception that either or both of them had died.
The past had been fixed.
He had fooled himself.
He had been blind to reality all along, just so that he could successfully build the chronoporter. Although part of him had believed he was going mad all along, part of him knew all along that there had been a greater driving force and guiding hand in all of this. It had been his own future self all along, setting up the whole scenario so that his invention could be born.
He had not only successfully deceived himself.
He had deceived the paradox.
Esther came to the bedside and bent over her father. Ammon hugged his beloved daughter tightly.
“Oh, my dear, dear Esther – let me look at you. Are you real?”
She nodded, smiling.
How is Mom?” he asked, releasing his embrace.
“She’s fine. She’s just in the bathroom and will be right here.”
“So, she’s not in a chemical coma?”
Esther’s face changed. She looked concerned. “No, Dad. Of course not. She’s just fine. Here she is now.”
“But – but what about the accident?”
“What accident?”
Emma entered the room and approached Ammon’s bedside, taking his hand in hers. “Hello, Ammon. How are you feeling?”
He felt her warm, soft hand in his. His eyes roamed her face, free of any injury.
“I – I’m fine. I’m just a little confused.”
Dr. Jim Mayne walked in.
Ammon tried to sit up. “Jim! Jim, what’s going on here? Where’s the chronoporter? I think everything worked – I went back in time and fixed everything – see, they’re both all right! But, something doesn’t feel right. Where am I? Where’s my time device?”
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“Ah, poor man,” said Jim. “Ladies, I am very sorry. He’s not doing as well today as I had hoped. Still talking about time travel and other nonsense. I thought he’d be more lucid following the rest he received. Ah well. Here, Ammon, take this pill. It will help you feel better.”
“What is it?” asked Emma.
“Just a little concoction I’ve worked up. I give it to all my patients on the mental ward – helps to soothe the nerves and hopefully bring patients around to reality. Open up, Ammon.”
“No. No! Noooo!” cried Ammon. “It’s been you all along, hasn’t it, Jim? You’re the one who’s been controlling my perceptions, twisting my reality – all with your pills! How long did you have me in captivity doing your bidding? You manipulated me! And all so that you could get me to perfect the technology and then steal my work! You’ve taken the chronoporter, haven’t you? Where is it? Where is it?”
“I’m sorry, Emma and Esther, that you have to see him like this,” said Jim, as if Ammon was not even in the room. “It must be unpleasant for you. You can leave if you want. I’ll get him his meds and he’ll rest, and we can try again tomorrow.”
The two women nodded somberly and left, Emma looking back sadly at Ammon before closing the door.
Jim leaned in close to Ammon and whispered. “Yes, Ammon, that’s right. I’ve got the chronoporter. It’s mine now. And I managed to get you to make it fully functional for me, and completely mitigate the paradox effects. And now, I’m going to go use it to change…everything. Starting with whom Emma marries, my old college buddy. Goodbye, Ammon. Ha ha ha ha!”
THE END
© 2015 Michael D. Britton/Intelligent Life Books
All rights reserved.
MORE BOOKS AT WWW.MICHAELDBRITTON.COM
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