Resetting the Clock
By Ashley Redden
Copyright 2013 Ashley Redden
Image courtesy of chrisroll / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Resetting the Clock
“Are you prepared,” asked the machine who functioned as the sender?
“Affirmation,” answered the man who would soon be sent.
“Please initiate the final check sequence,” directed the machine.
The man began to depress several of the myriad of lighted buttons, none bigger than his thumbnail, nestled across the broad console he stood in front of. The man watched numbers and sequence phrases poll across the prompt at dizzying speeds. Only moments later, several of the buttons began to beep steadily, emitting an irritating high pitched buzz.
The machine silently turned its mechanical imitation of a head to also observe the console. After a moment it inquired, “Is the final check sequence proceeding without incident?”
The man depressed more buttons. The beeping stopped. The man studied the information still flowing across the main data prompt of the console.
After several moments of carefully scrutinizing the data stream, he answered, “Yes, the final check sequence is proceeding without incident.”
Man and machine stood as they were, in quiet contemplation for a time. The man, average height and build, sported a shag of brown hair, close cropped but still unruly in its own right and deep brown soulful eyes. His companion wore a parody of its human companion’s form. The machine sat upon a triangular track with an ordinary human form chassis, two arms and a head, like a dark silver mannequin sans the legs. Where a face should have been, the machine featured a curved optical array that had a flat and bland look from a distance, but closer observation revealed a dizzying semblance of structure. The entire array measured approximately one square linear foot.
The console beeped again, but failed to noticeably startle either observer. This time, the chime did not ring out continuously, but sounded three long notes and then fell silent.
The man looked at the machine and said, “The final sequence is complete. All equipment is operating at or above normal requirement parameters.” He paused, frowning as if deep in thought for a moment, than asked, “Will the ship function properly under the predicted conditions of the mission? After all, until today time travel was purely theoretical.”
“Yes,” answered the machine. “The ship is designed to function properly under any and all possible conditions that may occur during the mission. The ship will withstand the rigors of the future/past mission.” It turned its head and focused its multilayered optical array upon the man, its equivalent of a human stare, and inquired, “Can you function properly under current and predicted conditions?”
The man did not answer the question but instead replaced it with another.
“Why are all these people leaving?”
The man turned to regard a great assemblage of people surrounding a large highly reflective silver sphere. The man and his mechanical companion stood upon a twenty foot platform overlooking this virtual sea of people.
The man’s eyes clouded and his brow furrowed. Still grimacing he asked, “Who are all these people anyway?” He looked around still frowning and added, “There must be several hundred. Why are they here? Are they here for some purpose?” The man looked back at the machine and said sheepishly, “I…I don’t seem to be able to remember. I think that I should, but for some reason, I can’t.”
Below, in the crowd, people were beginning to look bewildered, as if they were lost. Many began wandering aimlessly, while others simply stood where they were, blinking and obviously confused. Slowly, the crowd gradually, aimlessly, began to disperse, their interest in whatever reason had brought them to the clearing fading away.
The machine pivoted on its three wheeled struts to observe the milling people below.
“Your observation is correct,” explained the machine. “The crowd of people below consists of a gathering of well wishers. Oddly enough, the crowd seems to be dispersing as if all of the people who came here have lost focus, how very odd.”
The head of the machine pivoted and its optical array whirred silently as it scanned across the crowd below. Its optical array still slightly buzzing, it said, “The people in the crowd are beginning to leave even moments before the event for which they have come to see occurs. I believe that I have an explanation.”
The machine turned its back and continued, “Your mission has been, will be, at worst a partial success. The strange behavior of the crowd below and your sudden loss of memory could be construed as strong evidence, however unsubstantiated it may be, as proof of a change initiated by the future/past mission.”
“Successful?” asked the increasingly confused man. “How can you possibly know the outcome of the mission?”
He paused, his eyes registering something, not panic exactly, but a close relation. After a moment the man continued, “Why did you call them well wishers?”
“I referred to them as well wishers because they came here, to this place, this park, to wish you success on your future/past mission.”
“The mission. That seems to be all I can recall.” The man looked around his eyes wide and continued, “I no longer remember who I am.” He fixed the machine with a hard stare and asked, “What is my name?”
“It is inconsequential at this point,” replied the machine. “Parts of your memory have been removed so as to not impair your ability to function within the confines of the strict parameters required for the future/past mission. Still, you should recall more than the information of the mission alone. It is most puzzling.”
“Oh,” replied the man quietly sounding more sure than he actually felt.
They stood there silent and still, man and machine. The crowd below dispersed quietly, aimlessly returning back to the city from whence they came.
“I believe that I have the answer, though it is merely conjecture,” said the machine.
“What question?”
“The answer to the question of the seemingly inexplicable loss of memory that is affecting yourself and the now dwindling crowd. The loss of memory denotes a change in real time events branching directly from a past time event or events. This enigmatic loss of memory would further support the assertation I made earlier that the future/past mission was at least a partial success.”
“But how could you know any of that? And why do you continue to refer to the mission as future/past? How can the mission be both? Shouldn’t it simply be one or the other? I don’t understand?”
“The mission will occur in your future, but also in your past. Once initiated, the ship will transcend the space-time barrier transporting you back in time. After arrival in the past, your activities will change the future. When that occurs the reality that you see around you will become an alternate reality stemming from the root change that you will directly illicit. Thus there is a paradox.
“You will travel into the past and the future/past mission will be to some extent a success. This is not a deduced statement but is rapidly becoming a fact. It is a fact because the mission has already occurred, yet also will occur. History has already been changed. The present reality, or current history, has changed, is changing. But the results of a paradox in the past will not change the current history instantly. As strange as it may sound, the paradoxical effects may take some unknown amount of time to occur, a lag period if you will.”
The machine turned its head back toward the great spherical ship resting upon the park grounds, a contrast of shiny brilliant machinery dropped in a lush scene of nature at its finest. It finished, “In essence, it takes time for time to change.”
“The only way
, that much I still remember,” the man sighed. “To think that the only way to save such a prosperous society is to in truth destroy it before it ever is allowed to exist. How can the current level of technology possibly be created without the aid of spaceflight and the resources available throughout the solar system? That I knowingly will destroy the base for the world in which we now stand without ever knowing the outcome is a hard pill to swallow.”
The man sighed again, a sad tired sound and continued, “I find this more disturbing than I can put into words.”
“Alas,” answered the machine turning its optical array back upon the man, “That mankind’s fundamental question, are we alone, was ever answered at all. To think that such a simple answer to such a seemingly simple, yet in reality unimaginably complex, question could bring about such catastrophic results could not have been foretold. That such steps as the future/past mission would or could be