Quantum Report, New Scifi, work in progress, a time travel romp, Free entertainment

Quantum report

prelude


The thunderous bark along with the moderate recoil of the snub-nose revolver that sent a tingling sensation up my forearm jolted me to my senses. For a moment I was lost, swimming in that nebula of nothing that forms when we are captured raw and primal, at our core of our being, shocked by some event that has stripped us of all sense of self.

Almost like a computer rebooting its primary drives and accessories, Id, Ego, and whatever in between that had been lost in that small squeeze of a trigger came tumbling back together. My name is Derek Ryder, and yes, you probably would recognize me, sans gun in my now trembling hand. I’ve been head quantum reporter of the channel 107 news for three years running, ever since I helped break a case that led to the arrest of one of the ministers of the cabinet for hate speech and deviancy.

That I had been born in the year 2037 I had no doubt. I could tell anyone at that moment any little trivial piece of knowledge about myself if they cared to listen. Every little thing except how in the hell I ended up here, at this juncture in time.

My breathing was calm, and all of these thoughts took place in sheer microseconds after wakening to this nightmare. I looked down at the body of the man I had obviously just unknowingly shot. His face was familiar, one that anyone would recognize. It was at that moment of recognition that my cool demeanor broke. My breath started to come in hitching gasps as the true horror and realization of what was transpiring had begun to sink in.

The man that I was backing away from in abject denial, even as the door was being kicked in by the Royal Elite Guards, was none other than William Gustav Romanov, the Minister of World Peace.


Everything else was a blur from that point on, as the surreal dream like quality of the experience vanished only to be replaced by sheer panic as the R.E.G.S. swarmed me. Three shots with a paralytic ray left me incapacitated and unable to defend myself, even if I had been of the mind to try such foolishness. Funny thing they don’t tell you about those paralytic rays. It might incapacitate you to the point that you cannot move, but it does nothing to alleviate or deaden the pain of the stomping given to you by jack booted thugs high on adrenaline and endorphins.

And stomp they did, first on my hands, one still gripped in a frozen embrace around the sleek metal handle of the revolver, then on to my body and face as the primal frenzy of a group of mammals who had just had their Alpha slain took root deep in the darkest recesses of their brains. For how long their orgy of violence continued, I know not, having passed out within minutes of the sound thrashing that I received.

All that I do know is that days later I awoke in a barren cell, my whole body aching and twisted from the abuse at the hands of the R.E.G.S. and of those that came after.



Chapter 1

The heavy clanging and grinding of motors brought me out of a stupor, as my body struggled to repair itself from the last few days trauma. My head throbbed, each pounding pulsation harder and deeper than the one prior in painful tandem to the dull thudding of my heart. I struggled to look through my one good eye, as I rolled over onto my side, stifling a groan. The image of the two guards approaching my cell door was bleary and smudged, then wavered for a moment as another thudding pain tore into my brain.

The heavy clanging of the gate as it swung open caught my full attention however, that same dreadful noise I had grown to fear in the last few days. Each time I had heard it prior, it was only to be greeted by another group of guards who wanted a piece of the man that had murdered their beloved leader. I sat up abruptly off the stone slab as a small mewl of pain escaped my split and scabbed over lips. The adrenals of fight or flight kicked in, but with no way to defend myself, and nowhere to go, the only thing that rush of hormones made me feel was panic and nausea.

“Get up you piece of shit.” The shadowy image of one of the guards said. I was unable to discern any of his features as the dim light of the hallway only outlined his profile to my somewhat diminished vision. I crawled backwards and curled myself up into a ball, expecting what was to happen next. Instead of being assaulted, much to my surprise, the guard only said “you’ve got a visitor, we have to go and get you cleaned up.”

The next ten minutes was somewhat of a blur, but I can tell you that it certainly was no day at the spa. Stumbling my way down the hall under the persistent prodding of the guards’ batons, I was brought to a staggered halt in front of a door. After being ordered to strip, and then being shoved into the room, I was then hit with jets of water that shot out of multiple nozzles set into the walls. The water was hot, almost scalding. Yet in my bruised and dilapidated condition, it almost felt comforting.

After getting dressed in the plain tan uniform and slippers one of the guards shoved into my chest, I was escorted down another hallway that I vaguely remember having been dragged down two days prior. The lighting in the room I was led into was bright, and I had to blink my one good eye rapidly to adjust. This motion caused pain in the other side of my face, where it was bruised so badly it had swollen the eye completely shut.

“What have you done to my client?” I heard a voice call out, anger and shock evident in its tone. In any other circumstance, I would have dreaded hearing that voice. Yet at that particular juncture in time, its tone and timber was almost a soothing balm to my many wounds. Both of the guards ignored her questions and the many demands that followed as they left the room, closing the door behind them.



Chapter 2

We sat across from each other in awkward silence, well awkward on my end at least. She studied me with that slightly quizzical expression that she always had when I had came home to late from a night with the guys. It had not softened much in the years since I had last seen her.

“What is going on here Derek?” it was not just a query, and the tone implied that it was more of a demand. In any other situation I would have met her fierce demeanor and shrewd penetrating questions with half-truths and evasion. Now I could only shrug my shoulders, wincing at the pain that it caused. As I recovered from the flash of pain, I saw another look upon her face, one that belied the hard demeanor with which she usually had approached life. It was a look of sadness, maybe pity mixed with a tinge of disgust or disdain with what she was witnessing. It was that look, and not the other that I had received so often years before that had finally made me leave her.

“Really Derek, I need to know what’s going on here. It’s not every day when a girl who is running for D.A. of the Commonwealth finds out her ex fiancé just assassinated the leader of the free world!” the last word flew out of her lips almost like a serpent spitting its venom, and as I looked at her with my one good eye I could see her anger building with every word spoken. Her normal pallid complexion was now tinged with red, and her eyes were alive and dancing in an almost feverish rage. I had only seen her this angry once before, and it had been after on of my nights out when I had stumbled in too drunk to do anything but pass out. In the morning I had been confronted with this same visage of anger when I had awoken hung over only to be assaulted with a scrap of paper that had a number of a girl named Julie who I had not even remembered talking to the night before.

“I don’t know Nikki.” I muttered through my mutilated lips. As to that answer I gave, it was the first time that I had given it to her where it really was true, or not caused by some alcohol-fueled binge.

“Don’t call me that!” She snapped. “It is Nichole, or better yet Ms. Sault.”

“Did you really come here to win an argument Nichole, because if so, okay, you win.” I said quietly, as I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat.

“I just cannot believe that you did this to me!” She yelled, so loud that the noise caused one of the guards to come back into the room and cast me a savage glance that implied what he hoped to do to me. Nikki whirled around in her chair, and the look that she cast the guard was severe enough that it even made him falter and step backward. She stared at him long enough that he made a hasty retreat, closing the door behind him.

I sat in stupefied silence as she ranted and raved about how the scandal I had caused was going to ruin her chances at the position she was running for. The way she spoke and her livid demeanor and approach to the situation made me realize that in the end, it was still all about her. Not that this itself is not a fault that most of us carry, but in her case was a constant pursuit of political gain and power had always been there above anything else. Checkmark another reason I had left her, if you care to make a list.

“So that is why I am going to defend you Derek. I am not going to let this scandal break my career. As much of an asinine womanizing drunk as you are, I know you well enough that you’re not radical enough to be guilty of this.” She finished, regaining her composure. She looked pleased with herself, as if she was doing some charitable work or great deed that showed the world what a wonderful person she was, and that the world should bow in awe as to her kindness and benevolence.

That would be third on the list I thought silently, as I eyed her warily. Every fiber of my being wanted to yell at her, to tell her to get off of her high horse and get a reality check. Instead, I struggled to flash her that million-dollar shit-eating grin that had made me the favorite Quantum Reporter by most polls over the past three years. “So what’s your plan Nikki” I said, trying to rankle her slightly with the contraction of her name.

She paled visibly, made a small noise in the back of her throat and put her hand over her mouth as she let out an involuntary gasp. After recovering, she looked at me and said “You do know over half of your teeth are missing don’t you?”



Chapter 3:


The silence that hung over the courtroom was palpable, and the tension was so thick that it cloyed the air and seemed to slow time itself with its density. I nervously glanced around the room, my hands bound to the desk in front of me. Most of the faces that I saw, whether in the jury, prosecution or even the spectators was a mask of hatred. I tried to stare down those looks, as if by my determination or lack of shame I could prove my innocence. At this I failed miserably, as I had no experience in dealing with people that I had not been able to charm in some way or another.
After an awkward eternity the judge sighed, put his hand to his forehead and rubbed it lightly, as if warding off the start of an oncoming headache. You know the kind I’m talking about, they start off real small, a light thudding above the eye and in the temple. Soon enough though it’s a raging beast that debilitates and humbles you, proving that yes indeed you are mortal, and maybe at that moment in the grips of neural overload it would be better off if you just called it a day, even permanently.

After what seemed another eternity he finally spoke, sitting upright and regaining better posture as his voluminous robes rippled with the movement. “The motion to block the defenses request to gain access to the records department of the quantifying lab is denied. Court is adjourned for today, and we will reconvene in three days at 8:00 A.M.” He then stood, made a slight bow to the court and nod to the bailiff, as everyone rose by his order. Everyone but me that is, as I was shackled to the desk in front of me and also to the seat below me. I tried my best as the judge left and the mutterings amongst those present started to grow louder to ignore the general sentiment that those present were showing for me. It was proving to be a really hard transition for me to go from golden boy to public enemy number one.

“That’s really great news.” Nikki said, smiling for the first time in weeks. I smiled back a little uneasily, the swelling in my face having receded and the dental plate that had been fitted had made me look somewhat more human, and less like the elephant man from centuries past. Nowadays such mutations were impossible of course, but believe it or not, prior to the World D.N.A. Data Collection Program people had suffered from all sorts of different genetic maladies.

“I will get all of the terabyte crystals from the quantifying lab on my way home. I also will have to talk to the warden to allow us to have access to one of the special reconditioning rooms.” Nikki said, a mischievous grin on her face.

“Um, why the reconditioning room?” I asked, more than a little nervously.

“Don’t worry Derek, I’m not going to use it on that small little thing you call a brain, though truth be told, in the past I have thought of worse. It just quite simply is the only facilities with enough equipment to help you filter through the thousands of memories we are going to be sorting through.” She said, the mischievous grin and excited tone now vanished and replaced with her normal rigid demeanor.

As I was being led away from the courtroom by the convoy of guards I realized that I somewhat missed being around Nikki, and that the last few weeks it had been nice to see her again. The cynical part of me realized that I was probably just happy for any human contact that wasn’t a clenched fist or the heel of a boot. I must admit that regardless, her stepping back into my life had been beneficial so far. Not only was I not being beaten on a daily basis anymore, but I was also moved into a better cell with access to a holo-screen.

Of course, over the next three days I would have no time for such frivolity as watching the latest newscaster lambaste me in the media. I would be too busy sorting through and reliving memories that had been wiped clean from my databanks over the years. I could not even fathom what was on those crystals of information, maybe even more than my brain could handle. I would have to pick and choose what I re-experienced carefully, lest I damage my noodle with the information it was going to download. By now, some of you that are not from my timeline may be scratching your head in puzzlement. I guess I will have to go into some detail and explanation here. I did tell you that I was a quantum reporter didn’t I?

any feedback?

tl!

Chapter 4:


So what is a quantum reporter you ask? Fair enough, that’s a good place to start. Though I’m no scientist, I did have to take quite a few courses in quantum physics to land the position I had as lead anchor. Dashing good looks and enough neural capacity to store multiple lifetimes of memory aren’t the only prerequisites for the job. A four-year degree in Quantum Mechanics is a must, plus the candidate must have a diversity of ethnicity in their lineage to qualify for the program as well. The diverse mix of DNA is to insure that the quantum reporter has a much better chance of attunement with whatever historical figure they are trying to leap into. In quantum physics, the DNA code you inherit from your ancestors’ means that on the atomic level at least, your energy has some interface of entanglement with which to open a path.

So yes, it is kind of like time travel, but with some major differences. I don’t physically go back in time, but mentally. My body stays behind, being kept alive on artificial support systems while my energy inhabits the form of someone in the past. That in it-self may sound amazing enough, but it to has some pretty severe limitations. There are several rules, rules that must be followed while visiting the past. First and foremost, you must always allow the host to carry on with their life as they normally would have done in the past. You may think that this is a ridiculous rule, and of course when the technology came out soon after the third world war there were many who tried to change things, leaping back in time to try and prevent powerful historical figures from making certain actions that would yield disastrous results for the common people. Those who tried such things and actions were subsequently never able to get back to their bodies, and history remained the same, unaltered.

Of course this was to be explained by Fairchilds Constant and the later works presented by him and his team. Quite simply put, you cannot change the past. Not your own at least, for as soon as you diverge from the path of the natural flow of the quantum state of energy, you simply create a diversion of the energy stream, and thus a new reality which branches off from the stream you were currently on. So then you end up in a parallel universe, one much like your own, but altered by your actions. Meanwhile back in your own timeline, nothing has changed, and your body is kept alive until it was decided to pull the plug and let nature take its course.

So safe to say, we play by the rules now when we visit the past. Sometimes we only spend hours immersed within another consciousness, a lot more often the assignments last days or weeks. We then bring back all that we have seen and experienced, where it is then digitized and downloaded onto terabyte crystals that are later sorted through to make holo-screen presentations for the masses. After the show is taped and ran, the excess of memories is wiped clean from your memory. This is a necessity. When the technology was introduced, the first few trial runs of it produced many different types of psychological disorders within the test subjects, schizophrenia being the most prevalent. Even those that had retained their individuality with a brain full of differing identities succumbed to neural overload and synaptic failure.

Of course that was forty years ago, and the science is much more safe and sound these days. By the time I went through the program ten years ago those incidents were things of the past, scary stories to be told to new pledges when they first were initiated into the group. The simple truth is that we are much like anybody else, and go through our daily lives with neither glitch nor aberration in our behavior. That is until just a few weeks ago when I awoke after assassinating the Minister of World Peace.

That I could not remember anything prior to the assassination troubled me. I know this may sound odd, especially coming from a guy who regularly is given a neural enema where parts of his memory are wiped clean. However, those times I had always awoken in the quantifying lab, slightly befuddled and groggy until the familiar comforting background noises of the machines working lulled me back into natural sleep. This time, I had awoken to a nightmare, wide-awake and alert.

Prior to that, the only thing I could remember is being five hundred miles away, on vacation. Somewhere, somehow, someone had stolen my own memory from me, twenty-four hours of my life that I could not recall, and they had done it without the help of the quantifying lab and the massive mechanism that made up the machine we called the Quantifier.

any feedback?

ah...I though GLP would be cool with the whole futuristic paranoid conspiracy thing.

Chapter 5

The warm wind blew across the beach lightly, sending the smell of fresh salt and brine inland for miles. That’s what always excited me after a long way away from what I once called home. When flying in, it became noticeable perhaps fifty miles out, the smell of the water and life teeming within it. My mood would always lift, no matter how dour it had been before when I first noticed that smell. Parking, as always, had been a nightmare, as thousands of tourists from all over the world came to the beaches of the emerald coast. I ended up having to pay fifty NewBucks to park my sky-car.
The hotel suite wasn’t bad, and the food was even better. Ever since the third world war, and the subsequent Environmental Conservation Act that was passed soon after, the quality of coastal food once again is much closer to what nature had intended. More than it ever has been in the last half millennia at least. The variety itself is much more varied than it ever has been, with new species born daily by the after effects of radiation in the environment. Luckily for all of the citizens of the world, effective ways to handle radiation were created prior to that war after several disasters such as Chernobyl and Fukushima irradiated most of the soil and water.

I was sitting on a chair, enjoying the warm air and sun when I realized that the moment was almost upon me. I looked around trying to see if anything out of the ordinary was transpiring. Two girls in their early twenties were lazily sunning themselves a few dozen yards to my right, and though I could not tell because of the large sunglasses they were wearing, they appeared to be asleep. An older looking couple was sitting underneath a rather large orange umbrella about five yards away from me on my left. Several small children were in the water, playing and splashing in the waves.

I set down my drink upon the small cooler I had beside me. Less than one Minute to go I realized, though I could not do anything to change what would come next. I could only sit and watch helplessly as I blindly went about opening up the E-Book I had brought to read. The screen blinked on as I chose the book. It was called Dolophonos, and had been written by an up and coming writer. It had received rave reviews, and a coworker had highly suggested I read it. She even went so far as to buy it for me before my vacation. What was her name again? Kay something. Oh well, I sat back in my chair, relaxed and ready for a good read.

The first sentence struck me as odd, and what happened afterwards was even stranger yet, because this time I was able to remember what came next.

The warm salt laden air blew across the white sands gently.

The warm salt laden air blew across the white sands gently? That was the last thing I remembered before my twenty-hour fugue? No, not the last thing, the last thing came next. A yacht passing close by blew its horn loudly and a stray thought went through my head before I lost consciousness. It was time.

Except that this time, I did not lose myself to that umbral darkness as I had in real life. Instead, I watched helplessly, a rider upon this past experience in every sense of the word. I watched as I turned off the ThinkPad , setting it mindlessly to the side as I picked up my drink, downing it in one quaff. Opening up the cooler, I depressed the hidden catch within it, as a small compartment opened up. The gun inside was small, and obviously over a century old, but well maintained. It was a snub nose revolver

Picking up the cooler, I walked back to the hotel lobby. A few women gave me appreciative looks that I ignored as I made my way to the elevator. After entering my room, I showered, drying myself off quickly afterwards and getting dressed in a long sleeve pull over and slacks. A strange buzzing noise was constant, filling my mind and pulling my attention away from my focus of watching my every move and action. I had noticed it in the background, ever since I had read that first line of the book.

It was time. Time for what, I think I was beginning to understand. I had been tuned in, turned off and set to go, the mindless assassin preparing himself for the next days hit. Yet even though it was me preparing, and my mind I was reviewing, I could not pierce into any deeper thought or reasoning going on in my mind. Whenever I tried, the only thing that came to mind was this.

The warm salt laden air blew across the white sands gently.

Last Edited by Conspiracynut1 on 01/11/2012 10:41 AM

See I got a five star, but no reviews yet.

That same line repeated, along with the strange buzzing noise, were the only thoughts I could understand that were rattling around in my mind.

I had to watch it all, even to its inevitable outcome, just so I could witness the events that had happened prior to my shooting the Minister. Even as the memory faded and I awoke, groggy and disoriented on the bed within the reconditioning room, I was no closer to attaining an answer as to what had caused me to do such a terrible deed.

I looked blearily over at Nikki, the expression on her face as implacable as usual. She was busy sorting through the terabyte crystals, organizing them by date and size.

“So how many memories will you be able to go through and still retain your sanity? You know we don’t have a memory eraser here to get rid of the excess memories once you relive them?” She said, still sorting through the assortment of crystals present.

Thinking back to that first moment, when in my own life I had lost consciousness but in the real world continued on like a puppet being pulled on strings I knew that I had to figure out what had caused this.

“However many it takes.” I said.

Chapter 6

Her hair smelled like lavender as it brushed up against my face. She had just finished adjusting the head strap that kept my head and neck locked into place. Nikki looked at me for several seconds, a slight frown playing across her lips.

“You be safe in there, okay Derek?” She said, her voice a little softer in tone and pitch than normal. “You ready?”

I couldn’t nod, as I instinctively tried to. “Yes” I answered, anticipating the cold penetrating feeling that was to come as the data jack was plugged into the base of my skull. As always it was wrenching, almost heart stopping, as that strange numbness that tingled and spread throughout the nervous system as the stream of input artificially ran through me. I lost all thought momentarily in the transition from what was real, into what was just a memory. Truth be told, no one alive would have been able to tell the difference.

I was strapped to the bed in the middle of the Quantifier. Several scientists and lab techs checked over all of the controls. A few doctors were nearby, having just completed a preliminary check on all of my vital stats. They would be kept on hand during the whole process of immersion. Hopefully their presence would not be necessary, but it was still comforting to know that while I lay catatonic after my energy left my body, it would be well maintained for me by capable hands.

Even though this was my fifth real time jaunt after tech school, I was still a little nervous. I realize that will probably be a feeling that doesn’t fade away. It’s not everyday when you get detached from everything you know and are comfortable with only to be sent back into the past to become someone else. Still, I knew I had to get this story and get it all. There was a slot as co-anchor opening up, and this was just the kind of story that just might get my foot in the door.

They inserted the data jack into the base of my skull, and the icy numbness that spread through me took over, along with a soft whining electrical sound that was picked up and resonated by all of the cells in my body as they sought equilibrium. I had only enough time to think of how much I hated that feeling when I was whisked away into a maelstrom of energy, forced through the hardwired neural jack that was impaled into me. At that moment I simply was not, no past, no present, no memory with which to individualize myself.

Then, after being processed through the super computer and digitized, I was transferred, ion-by-ion of energy that made up less than one percent of what I conceptualized as me in the real world sent in a mad dash of ever increasing speed until it was smashed into and entangled with quantum matter from another time and place.

“What was that again Mr. Sheppard?” he asked.

Snapping out of my apparent reverie, I looked up at him. He was a young kid, not very easy on the eyes. In his twenties, he was already balding. He also had an unsavory look about him, like someone who was up to no good. In fact, I had already caught him last week rummaging through my wife’s dresser.

“I said it would have to look like a home invasion. I will throw them off of the trail and describe someone else. You just make sure that I am injured enough that it looks like I fought back.” I said. It was a good plan, the best I could come up with in the last few weeks. Marilyn was going to be having that bastards’ baby at any time now, and I couldn’t bear the thought of staying with her even a moment longer.

Not that I was a saint either. Between Susan and the other two girls I had been seeing, truth be told I had not had enough time to even be intimate with my wife. Now that she was going to be having the baby soon, I really had no way to prove that Spencer, my next-door neighbor was the father and not I.

Still, I could not bear the thought of what would happen if either of our secrets came to light. I decided at that point I would just have to get rid of her.

It took me more than a few minutes to extradite myself from the mans thoughts and actions when I first became immersed, and that time when immersion had been completed was always terrifying, for you have no individuality or objectivity during the first few minutes. For all intents and purposes, you are the person you have leapt into, until you can form your own energy again as like matter attracts like matter and your dispersed essence reforms. We call that overlapping, and it is one of the main reasons that when we quantum report, our experiences are wiped clean afterwards. With some of the monsters we are sent back in time to report on, those feelings and emotions are definitely not something you want to have incorporated into your own psychological makeup.

That’s another requirement for the job, a strong sense of self. Nikki always called it being narcissistic. I prefer the term strong willed. Either way you slice it, you have to have a good sense of yourself, and genuinely like who you are to make it as a quantum reporter. When you are full of self doubt and loathing, it would be real easy to let go of the reigns of your individuality, and slip deeper into the mind of the person you are reporting on.

So for the next few hours, which turned into days I sat silently, floating somewhere in Dr. Sam Sheppards gray matter while I watched him and Richard Eberling, budding young psychopath that he was, plot to murder his wife.

Of course we all know what happened from there, for even all time lines carry a variation of the theme. In the past a highly fictionalized account of the story even became popular on both the big and silver screens.

What those stories didn’t tell you was the truth, and as I have experienced it time and again, it is always much stranger than fiction.

Chapter 7


I sat and stared at the image on the holo-screen in wide-eyed disbelief. The image before me was more reminiscent of a barroom brawl than a political meeting. Several members of the World Union had only moments before been heatedly arguing over a topic of their specific regions concern. This in turn had led to a physical confrontation, and then all hell had broken loose before the security that was present in the room could move to intervene. All of this had transpired in the matter of minutes, and was being sent live around the world.

I sat back on my thin mattress and continued to watch, shaking my head, as if I could shake out the surreal image of what I was witnessing. Not that fights had not occurred within governing factions in the past, when man had developed differing systems of rule. Then it had been more common, and centuries before that, had been the rule of the land for millennia. What made it amazing now though was that in my day and age, having been born after the horrors of the third world war, mankind had lived and ruled in unity for as far as I could remember. We had advanced past the folly of division and come to realize that we were all dependent upon this world we had mistreated for our very existence. This mentality had led to the biggest arms reduction ever witnessed by any generation.

Things might be different in your timeline. Countries may still fight all of the time. Maybe yours hasn’t experienced these things yet that will come to pass. When it does, and inevitably it will, as I have witnessed time and time again, those that survive will be smarter and wiser than those that came before them. In that day a new system will be made, one of forced unity with one dream, to keep humankind alive and in equal status of well being regardless of what region of the World Union that they occupy.

Yet never had I witnessed it happen within my own culture, in the present day. At least it would take the heat off of my story that had been running daily for the past three weeks. The way I had been portrayed and changed in the media was astounding, and I learned first hand how the media could turn on one of their own, if the story was big enough.

I turned off the holo-screen and swung my legs up and onto the thin mattress that was the only insulation between me, and the stone slab that I now called a bed. The day had been brutal, and my head was still pounding, a muffled dull thudding that was subdued only slightly by the pain medicine the infirmary had issued. I know some of you out there probably never take pain medicine, trying to tough out any damage or trauma done to you, I get that, and even somewhat admire you for it. Try downloading and reliving over eight weeks of memories from three different lifetimes in a ten-hour period, then come talk to me about intestinal fortitude.

The echo of footsteps down the hallway made me look up, which sent a stab of pain through my still tender neck and shoulder. This in turn only added to the pounding from my head.

“Mealtime Ryder” The guard said, as he slid the covered tray through the slot set into the cell door. It took me more than a few minutes to work up the motivation to get myself out of bed. I knew that if I didn’t eat, no matter how bad I felt now, it would be ten times worse in the morning. That was definitely no way to start a day of memory cramming.

The fare was standard for the prison, poor quality sym-cake along with lifeless looking green beans. A slice of hardened toast helped round out the meal, and I washed it down with water that had a slightly foul sulfur taint.


I sat back on my bed, and my head was pounding much harder now. I slowly massaged the sides of the temples, trying to work away the swelling pressure and pounding that continued to stomp down my neural hallways. My nose was running freely, or else, that’s what I thought at first until I licked my lips and tasted the rich warm coppery taste that could only be one thing. I stumbled up and off of the bed on unsteady feet. Looking into the flat panel of metal that served as my only means of seeing myself, I stared into the tarnished mirror. Blood was leaking steadily from one nostril in a steady flow.

After stemming the flow of blood, I sat back on my bed, looking up at the dark corner of the rather small cell I was kept in. I struggled to meditate, to find some calm corner of my mind that I could creep into. Instead, the pounding grew worse, much worse as my elevated blood pressure, fueled by the race of hormones and adrenals that were being released by the reliving of so much memory in such a short amount of time. I also discovered that sym-cake tastes much worse coming up than it does going down.

Finally, in some dark hour of the night, sleep finally claimed me, though it was not restful in the least. Memories of wife killing doctors and gun toting dictators swirled together into a dreamscape that was truly unique.

just got another chapter done this morning, will post when off of work.

Chapter 8

The crowd of people was one of the largest I had ever witnessed. Hundreds of people crowded the fence, eager to catch sight of him as he made his way from the plane to the limo. He and his wife walked toward the fence and greeted many in the crowd, shaking hands with the locals and greeting those that had come out to meet him. My co-workers watched all of this transpire somewhat nervously, looking for any hidden danger that could befall the man they had sworn an oath to protect.

A little nervous myself, I unfolded a stick of gum and chewed on it while I opened the back door of the highly polished Lincoln and looked up at the Governor, who was standing in the back and smiling toward the President and his wife as they made their way toward the limo. I had already made my way around to the driver side of the vehicle by the time they started to get in. Hearing a noise over my shoulder as I started to get behind the wheel, I glanced in that direction. My coworkers got into the vehicle as well, and I started the vehicle and engaged into drive as we pulled away from the throngs that had gathered.


Pulling in behind the phalanx of a dozen police officers on motorcycles we made our way to the departure gate. I flexed my hand nervously while driving, and realized my hand had cramped from gripping the wheel a little too tightly. Looking up into the rear view I had a clear picture of the president, and of the secret service vehicle, it-self surrounded by motorcycles right behind us.

Trying desperately to calm my nerves I continued to chew on the piece of gum, which had already lost its flavor. By the time we had left Mockingbird Lane and were on Lemon Ave. my heart rate and breathing were almost back in control. The weight of the specially modified 45 weighed on me in more than just the physical sense. It was state of the art, having been modified with an internal silencer, so that it could be fired at close range with minimal noise. I had not used it before this day, and I prayed that it was as silent as my handlers had assured.

After heading south on Lemon I turned onto Turtle Springs and followed it for a bit, then made a few more turns before ending up on Main St. There were people all over the place, most of them eager to get a glimpse of the dashing young President who had come to visit them. Being that it was a fairly mild day, along with the popularity of the visitor it made the turnout of people larger than we had anticipated. Throngs of people, at least fifteen deep lined the downtown streets to greet their beloved leader.

I went over my mental preparations over again, following the list of instructions I had been given. I had memorized these instructions to heart, as if my life had depended on it, because it did. I had been approached for this over a month prior, and had tried to politely refuse the job. After several threats both to myself, and those that I loved, I had agreed to be in on the operation. I did not particularly care for the President, him being a catholic. In no way did it make me want to be the one that had to perform the kill shot however.

Hell, at least I wasn’t Oswald. That idiot was going down for the fall and he didn’t even realize it. It made me nervous to think about it all, and I tried to take in the scenery and enjoy what little I could of the day. We were almost at Dealey Plaza, and I did not have much more time before I would have to play out my part in this sanctioned hit. At least the crowds and confusion would help add to the chaos and help to obscure my part in the job. We passed the Texas Bank and continued on a short distance before turning onto Houston St. The large county building on the right was the last thing to obscure us from the vantage point Oswald had in the book repository building. I bit down a little to hard on the piece of gum, which at this time had become little more than a hardened piece of tasteless rubber. The taste of fresh coppery blood filled my mouth, as I bled from having accidentally bitten the inside of my cheek. By now the crowds had thinned out somewhat, creating less of a distraction from what was happening. We turned unto Elm, my slightly sweat slicked hands fumbling with the wheel as we turned the corner.

After only a short distance the first shot rang out. Confusion set in, as the president slumped, Oswald having hit his mark. I struggled with the 45 and tried to free it from its harness, accidentally hitting the brake while struggling with it. The second shot resounded, and in my peripheral I saw the Governor slump over. Pulling the gun free with my left hand I put it up and over my right arm and shoulder. Steering with the right arm I glanced in the rear view mirror and squeezed the trigger. I could see his head snap back in the rear view, and I replaced the gun in its holster as quickly as I had extradited it.

I turned around and looked as I saw Jackie trying to climb out of the limo, and for one disturbing moment I thought that maybe she knew and had seen what I had done. Another agent climbed into the vehicle, pulling her back in as I stepped on the gas. Sirens sounded as we drove off. The agent to my right was already shouting instructions to me on the route to take to the hospital. I had no worries about him having seen me aim the close range shot. Being a sanctioned hit, he was in on it too.


A distant electrical whine, accompanied with a burning ozone smell alerted me that my time here was almost up. I pulled back from occupying the senses of the host, William Greer and freed my mind, preparing for the leap back. White light filled everything, then for a moment, simply nothing. I felt the cold metal of the Data Jack sliding out of my connector as I sat up out of the hospital like bed.

I was still trying to refocus my discombobulated thoughts when I heard the voice of my professor override the droning and buzzing in my head.

“So class, what did today’s leap teach us?”

It took me more than a few more minutes to join in on the conversation of the leap that we had done that day. Several of my classmates had already recovered and were already chattering about the experience. This was my second year and I had already done three leaps the year prior. Still, I did not seem to recover well or catch my equilibrium nearly as fast as others in my class. Hopefully it would become easier with time, as I have heard others from the senior class say.

“Mr. Ryder?” a voice spoke, in a somewhat loud nasal drawl.

I looked around and noticed the rest of the class was staring in my general direction. “Excuse me?” I said, directed toward the inquiry of the professor.
“I asked if you could give us any insight into why people would want to assassinate the leader of the free world?” he said, sitting back into his chair with what appeared to be a mischievous grin playing upon his lips.

That all too familiar flash of white and droning noise told me that this memory was over, as classroom, and everything within it faded away. This memory had been from one of the earliest in my collection, and its terabyte crystal contained a question that I had not been able to answer in my sophomore year in Quantum school. What was even worse was that it was one I still couldn’t answer. Why indeed?

Chapter 9

“I don’t think were going to find any answers in any of the rest of these crystals Derek.” Nikki said, concern painted on her face as she looked over at me struggling to get up off of the cot.

I was a mess, the third day of memory cramming had been almost too much, and I was positive at one moment that I was going to stroke out from all of the downloaded data. Still, the body is much more resilient that we give it credit for, and my vitals were now recovering nicely after the last run.

“Put in another.” I said. The steel edge that had been in my voice the last two times I had told her the same order was lost now. Even I knew that if I did another terabyte crystal it would probably be enough to cause multiple aneurysms.

“No Derek, I think your done for today. We have court at 8:00 A.M. and still have not worked up an adequate defense. None of your memories have shown any indication of a conspiracy, and only your memory that was extracted of the murder shows that you were not acting normally.” Nikki said, the look of concern now gone to the wayside as frustration replaced it.

I wanted to argue, to man up and prove her wrong, but truth be told, she was right. Chock that up as number four on the list, if you’re still keeping track. Slowly massaging the pain out of my temples, where that phantom rider who beat his hoofs through my temples resided, I nodded in acquiescence. Though I was convinced that somewhere in that staggering amount of memories I had lived there was a hint, a clue of some sort that would be the lynchpin to proving my innocence, my need to rest prevailed.

I was led back down the dimly lit hall toward my cell, and when let in I collapsed upon the bed. The ever-present staccato of hoof beats resonated deep within my skull. Random thoughts from different eras gone by randomly swirled within my mind, and it took almost another hour to quiet it enough to finally get some rest.
Thankfully my dreams were not haunted by memories of past lives, or even of those of my own. Instead, darkness was all that I recall.

The next morning came way too early, and the headache was still with me when I awoke, though it was somewhat muted. Breakfast was poor fare, yet I managed to force down every bite to quell the acidic pool that was in my stomach. By the time the guards had come to transport me to the courthouse I was in as good of shape as I could be, considering.

Nikki was dressed sharp and professional, as usual. She seemed to brim over with energy and excitement. I was led to the chair, where I was subsequently un-cuffed on one of my wrists, only to have the free end of the manacle be re-affixed to the iron ring set within my chair. She gave the guard a rather dark look, before fixing her smiling eyes upon me.

“I think I may have gotten our very first good idea in the way to handle this case. In the very least, I hopefully will make legal precedent.” She said, a little more hurriedly than she normally would speak. “You see, we can use your expertise in quantum reporting to our advantage. We can actually send you back…” She was cut short mid-sentence as the judge strode into the chamber, his black robes flowing behind him somewhat regally.

“All rise!” The bailiff ordered, as the judge eyed the crowded courtroom with a look somewhere between amusement and exasperation. He took his seat, nodding over at the tall burly man who enforced his word.

“You may be seated, the Honorable Judge Thompson is presiding in the case of the people of the world versus Derek Joseph Ryder.” The bailiff practically yelled, as he fixed his unnerving gaze upon me. He was literally a brute of a man, if you can picture what I mean. The kind who had somehow missed out on the last few millennia of evolution and found them-selves trying to reintegrate into some form of civilized society, but usually at the giving end of a baton, club or pistol.

“May I approach the bench?” Nikki asked, eyeing the judge over her spectacles.

The judge stopped in his paperwork shuffling, looking up at her somewhat dubiously. He stared at her, a cold penetrating reptile like look that she did not falter nor back down from. “Permission for counsel of the defendant to approach granted.” He said, after what seemed an eternity of locked wills.

At this, the tall and lanky prosecutor stood up. “Permission for prosecution to approach as well your honor.” He said.

“Permission to approach granted.” The judge replied.
I watched the new developments with some interest, as Nikki handed over quite a few forms and was talking to the judge about them in a low hushed tone. At one point, the prosecutors face portrayed a look of sheer outrage as he yelled.

“I object!” he yelled, causing all of the quiet chatter that had been whispering through the courtroom to cease.

“Objection overruled.” The judge said, raising his gavel as he slammed it upon the sound block set into his desk.

“It only makes sense your honor. The only way my client can prove his innocence, or the prosecution to fully prove his guilt, is for him to actually go back and report upon the very timeframe that was missing from him prior to the alleged event.” Nikki said, in a somewhat matter of fact tone. Usually that tone had grated on me earlier on in our relationship. Truth be told, I was kind of digging it at this moment. If my past experience with her had taught me anything, it was that this was the tone she used when she was convinced she was going to get her way.

“But the defense already has reclaimed that memory!” The prosecutor said incredulously.

“Is this true Ms. Sault?” The judge asked, arching one rather bushy eyebrow.

“Yes your honor, the reclamation machine was able to extract the memory of the incident itself. However, it is an incomplete picture as to what transpired that day. My clients memory had no emotions or brain waves that were monitored or associated with this memory, as all sensors during the reclamation clearly indicate. For all intents and purposes, he was little more than a puppet that day, under the control of some other force.” She finished, turning slightly and addressing the court too as well.

“Objection!” The prosecutor yelled

“To?” The judge inquired.

“Misleading the jury.” The prosecutor said, looking over at Nikki with a hardened scowl.

“Sustained.” The judge responded. He looked over at the members of the fourteen-member jury and spoke. “Disregard the defenses prior statement.”

The prosecutors’ scowl turned into a smile, and Nikki was set back, but only for a moment. She shrugged it off, and turned to address the judge, facing completely away from the rest of the courtroom. “I have provided you with all of the reports, and motions for legal precedent to be set in this case. You will find that in the end, in the best service of the law it should be mandatory that a quantum reporter should be called into play in situations of this severity, when the demand for truth and justice to be served can only be uncovered with this technology.”

“What if he escapes? A man who is sent back into time is an obvious flight risk.” The prosecution said, smug and assured of his position.

“We all know what happens to someone who tries to tamper with time.” Nikki said, lecturing the prosecutor as if he were an incompetent child. That one should be number five on the list, or was it six? “In that case, the state gets its way, as the body that is left behind will die a natural death, forever cutoff from their mind.” She finished.

The judge sat in silent deliberation, reading the forms and reports over and over again. The silence lasted for so long, and was so deliberate, that even Nikki had begun to show signs of impatience and insecurity. Finally, he looked up at her, then at the prosecutor, and then finally leveled his stare upon me. He looked at me for several minutes, then shook his head and muttered something about regretting something before finally speaking aloud.

“Motion granted.” He said.

ok but it isn't hard sf,

else what's the date of ww3 in your story ?

well, not yet...lol I am about to get into the quantum part more.

Chapter 10

I entered the rather large room that housed the mechanism and machinery that made up the Quantifier with more trepidation mixed with eagerness than I ever had before. Though by far the smallest area that compromised the Quantifier as a whole, it housed most of the machinery and super computers necessary to not only digitize my essence, but also to calculate every possible match possible in the known matrix of encoded history and DNA database of past figures.

Now you may think this is rather limiting, seeing as DNA mapping has only been around for the last century. Does this mean that we as quantum reporters can only go back the last few generations and not anytime prior? Not at all, for before there was mapping of the very amino acids that we are compromised of we have held fascination with our past and ancestry. Even shoddy or circumspect lineage charts combined with the processing capabilities of the fifteenth generation of nano-computers is more than enough to generally get us where we need to go. I have treaded the lands in the minds of men who were around only scant years back, to all of the way back to Mesopotamia itself.

To be truthful, I am always a little nervous when being strapped into the quantifier. To be able to do something like this requires a rather rare breed of person. One that is self aware and self centered, yes we have covered that aspect already. It also takes someone that is willing to let go, if only temporarily. Leaping through the quantifier was in many ways and aspects like dying. You give up that part of yourself that is truly you, your individuality. For scant seconds as the process starts you start to become truly aware. Not just of yourself, or of your surroundings, but of everything. As your mind is being digitized and recorded, you start to become aware of more than you normally would. Every nuance of individual action by yourself and others around you becomes like an open book available to you to peruse. That is the first few seconds.

The next few seconds are almost unbearable, as for that period of time, as infinitesimally small as it may seem to be, you are aware of much, much more. An overload of thought, emotion and sensation from all moments of time seem to be open to you, until quite thankfully your mind is whisked away into the flash of light only to awaken as someone else, in some juncture in time. It then takes several seconds to refocus your will, and for those few moments at least you literally are the person that you have leapt into.

I was a little more than nervous about leaping this time. In the past it had always been exciting, an adventure of sorts to peak into the mind of someone of special significance in history, even if you knew in the end they were going to wipe it clean from your memory. This time though, I would be leaping into myself, which I had never done before. Normally this would be considered taboo, as I guess in the past the temptation of changing your own past had sometimes been too much for people to resist. We had all seen the reports issued on those unlucky souls, their minds un-tethered in some far off quantum possibility while their bodies atrophied back in the main time line.

The arm and leg guards were put in place as I was strapped down to the bed, except for this time I was not so naïve enough to think that it was to prevent damage if I went into a seizure. The doctor then shoved the data-jack into the base of my skull with a distinct lack of tenderness.

“Ow, what in the…” I started, and then I was off, my brain soaring beyond myself and my petty physical reaction to the doctors’ obvious use of physical force aimed at the man he deemed a traitor and a killer. Not that it really mattered that they all thought that, even those that were witnessing the procedure from afar, hiding behind the smoked one way glass. All of them except Nikki, who I was amazed to learn, still had feelings for me despite hiding them behind her ice-queen façade. Did you know at that very same moment all of that was transpiring…White light, followed by nothingness.


The warm salt laden air blew across the white sands gently.

What an odd sentence to read while sitting on a beach, what are the odds I wondered. A passing yacht blew its horn, startling one of the young girls sunning out of her nap. Then, with a suddenness and ferocity I had never experienced, it was upon me.

The intruder into my psyche, of which I was now riding passenger with, was strong. So strong as to be described as a nearly indomitable force, he then forced my conscious mind into slumber. I held on tight to his essence as I felt myself start to slip off into darkness, my own psyche trying to pull its quantum counter-part into the nether along with it.

I clung desperately to reality, struggling to remain conscious as I embedded my will into the mind of the one that was dominating me. A chorus of stray thoughts, mostly unintelligible, along with a heavy droning was all that I could perceive of my unseen assailant. After an eternity of effort, I collapsed, mentally at least, exhausted from the titanic effort that it took just to resist sleeps siren call.

I then watched in amazement as the intruder, now occupying my body, opened up the cooler, and slide open a hidden compartment, revealing a rather small looking snub-nose revolver that I had never seen before, except in a memory crystal display.

Even though I was enmeshed within myself, I still could not glean much more information than I had from relearning the memory just a few days prior. So instead, I waited. Floating within the slumbering mind of my past self I watched, and waited while the intruder that had taken over my body carried on with the course that would ultimately lead to my incarceration. I shifted my attention away, unable to pierce through the maddening drone that accompanied the intruders’ presence. Instead I focused my attention outward, trying to pick up, or perhaps glean something from the way that the intruder observed his outward environment, while within my shell.

The first thing I noticed was that he was definitely oriented on the mission at hand. Every move was concise, and all observations of others around him that might seem to the casual observer as nothing more than a disinterested glance. Instead, he was searching others for potential danger, definitely indicating a paranoid mind. About the time that he had made it back to the hotel room, and was taking a hot shower I had realized that whoever the intruder was, he was not quite used to the creature comforts that most in my time had. The hot water he turned up to near scalding, and for many minutes he lost himself in the sensation. Afterward he ate greedily of the food in the room. Some of it was part of the meal from the hotels restaurant from the night before. He ate it without even warming it back up again, almost as if modern conveniences were an after thought.

Though somewhat terrified at the very predicament I found myself in, my training carried through. I floated in limbo deep within the back of the mind of my host, watching and recording every bit of data that I could, hoping to find some rhyme or reason in what was transpiring. After dressing himself in my clothes, the clothes that would end up being liberally splattered with the blood and brains of the most prominent politician in the world in just less than twenty hours, he left the room behind in disarray. He left the hotel by the stairs, taking them briskly, his confidence in the use of my body having grown. He did not stop and pay for the room, but instead, made his way out toward the parking area until he spotted my sky-car and made his way to it.
For a moment he seemed confused, as if lost in thought when he got behind the stick. Then, after what seemed an eternity within the stifling confines of the craft, he initiated the vehicle into hover mode. It only took him a few minutes to master the rather tricky handling of the craft that had taken me weeks to learn, and I realized that my unseen adversary was even more adept than I had at first realized. Turning the vehicle into a tight half circle he sped forward, covering the distance between the narrow strip of land that adjoined the beachfront and the bay beyond that. I watched as the land of my youth slipped away underneath of us at near supersonic speed as we sped off toward the Atlantic. In just under half of an hour we had left land behind us, and were already passing over its choppy waters.

Chapter 11

Six hours later we had landed in Prague. Several times throughout the flight, when he had felt the rumblings of my past self stirring toward wakefulness, he concentrated his will, and the droning became louder. It took all of the will that I could muster to hide and not succumb to the effects of that droning. It was instinctual to shy away from that hideous noise, to want to retreat into the darkest corner of your mind to hide from it. The only way I can truly describe it is if one were to be foolish enough to climb into a clock tower when all of its bells were ringing.


Still, I had managed to hang onto my senses, and was steadily recording all that I could perceive. He checked himself into the Hilton Prague Old Town hotel, a rather luxurious hotel that was well over a hundred years old. I was surprised when I realized that not only did he already have the room reserved in my name, but spoke Czech quite fluently. He even went so far as to flirt with the girl who was checking him into his room as he conversed with her. This was by far the first break I had seen in his behavior since he had first intruded upon my psyche. I knew that I had a little over twelve hours before I would be forever enmeshed within the dilemma that I now found myself in. I do know that it was in this very same hotel that I would then gun down the Minister. By now, even all of my training at quantum reporting was unable to hide the edginess that being cast into such a position had caused.

We were halfway down the hallway when he stopped mid-stride. The droning became sharp, intensified, and piercing as it painfully scanned its way through every fiber of my essence. I had never before experienced any feeling even remotely similar to this while leaping and reporting in the past. I screamed, as real of a mental cry as any out loud would be if I had been burnt alive physically. For a second the noise stopped, and for that blessed time I tried to assess the situation I found myself in, ever the reporter. Then he was upon me. With skill and precision, and a mental deftness that any magician would be proud of, he had dealt with me. In that moment, the very reality around me had faded, and instead of seeing the lavishly adorned halls of the Hilton Prague I now found myself floating in a nebula of darkness. As soon as I was able to register that I had form and some limited amount of function in this new environ, a shadowy form that emerged from the darkness assailed me. It was without features and vaguely humanoid in form, much as the new form that I had found myself in. In one devastating blow, all similarities vanished, as the power behind the assault sent me reeling downward into the darkness as I lost consciousness.

I do not know for how long, or rather for how far my energy traveled into the realm of unconsciousness. When I did awaken, it was the psychic equivalent of recovering from a night of binge drinking. I shuddered, feeling cold and empty as I opened my eyes onto a shadowy landscape. I knew instinctually that this was not the realm, or world of the Derek Ryder that was about to assassinate the leader of the free world. This was a microcosm of sorts, a subterranean level of my consciousness that I had been forced into. Overcoming the pain and nausea that wracked my form, I made my way onto all too real feeling feet. I had again been granted form and countenance, but now of not such an intangible nature.

I knew that this was not real, even though all indicators pointed otherwise. Whoever my mysterious assailant was, he was powerful enough, and canny enough in the ways of leaping to have found numerous ways to subdue his host. We had been taught of the possibility of this happening, when a host was incapacitated, or otherwise hindered in such a way as to prevent useful reporting. During such times leapers have reported being thrust into all sorts of bizarre dreamscapes that had been so convincing in their forms as to be nearly life like. There are several ways for the consciousness to reform itself and break free of the subconscious that had entrapped it. Unfortunately, most of them weren’t very pretty, or pleasant. Usually our training had us stay put, to ride out the storm and avoid any compromise to our reporting.


Focusing all of my will and energy, I let all of my rage and anger collect, looking heavenward as I leapt upward, attempting to shatter the illusion I was entrapped within and to soar back to the real reality that I had been so rudely forced out of. Instead of leaping upwards and into the beyond, I found myself landing back upon monochromatic ashen gray earth. Okay, so this guy who had ensnared me was really good, I had to admit.
Once I realized that sheer willpower alone was not going to be enough to return me back to the mission at hand, I began to go over the ever-shortening list of ways to escape a quantum microcosm.

One sure fire way was to face death. Not like in the old medieval archetype with the scythe and flowing cloak, unless that’s your cup of tea for a good way to go. I mean like a situation in the dreamscape you find yourself in that would certainly imperil you in some significantly mortal fashion. It is theorized that the process of death is so terrifying to us as humans that we do all that we can to avoid it in real life, and in our dreams it is the same. So I just had to find a situation to put myself into that would endanger me to the point that I would be forced into wakefulness. I stared first in one direction, and then the other. The long flat plain of ashen earth stretched for as far as my eyes could see, in either direction. Looking around at the bleak desolate landscape I realized that my captor must also know of the possible ways of escape from such a dilemma, and had chosen his subconscious prison well.

I picked a direction at random, and set forth, walking upon the scoured earth. The sky was the same monochromatic gray as the ground below it, and it was often difficult to distinguish where one ended, and the other began. I am not sure for how long I wandered. It felt like an eternity. I just hoped that what I perceived as time transpiring in this realm did not correlate with its passing in the real world. If that were the case, then my trial would have been over many miles back.

Having scratched the idea of forcing my way out, or of facing some perilous disaster to free my mind from this trap, my only other recourse was to actually find the exit. Every dream, or level of the subconscious has one. It might not be as obvious as a doorway with a big red sign flashing the word exit, but might even be so simple as a cave entrance or a hole in the ground. The problem was finding one that went the right direction. Some led you up, towards wakefulness; others would lead you even farther down.

I stopped in my tracks, quite literally. It seemed that I had made a complete circuit of the demi-plane that I had traversed. My footprints led off into the distance, fading away on that bland horizon. Shaking my head, I turned to face a route perpendicular to the one that had just been taken, and set off once again. I had only made it a few paces when I heard a voice call out from behind me.

“I wouldn’t bother.” It said.

Turning around slowly, I was prepared for anything, at least I thought. Fearing my adversary had returned for a second go around, I tried to steel myself for what was to come. Instead, the breath that had been captured in my lungs was let out in a surprise gasp as I saw who approached. At just under six feet, the owner of the voice smiled a dazzling white smile, made even more so as it was set against his tan complexion and the gray background. He was athletic, with a decently proportioned torso that had not yet given way to the rigors of middle age that were peeking just around the corner. I studied him for several minutes unabashedly as I soaked up every detail. It was with the same fascination that I studied him that you first felt as a child, when you had first discovered the mysteries of the mirror, and the reflected world within that your double was trapped in. I was staring at myself, Derek Ryder, in the flesh.

Chapter 12

There are various theories as to what would happen if people were actually ever to encounter themselves in the past, or present or future for that matter. The very worst-case scenarios portrayed an apocalyptic doomsday in which the very fabric of the space-time continuum becomes unraveled. I for one think that this is utter speculative bullshit, mostly in part inspired by the pseudo-science of a television show from over a century ago. Still other theories state that the harmonic resonance that would undoubtedly become a factor when like matter approaches like matter would most likely destroy both parties. Some hypothesize that the two would meld into each other, and be destroyed in the process.

Then, if for a minute one was able to take these theories aside, and forego any possible physical consequence to them self, or the multi-verse, there are always the psychological factors at play too. Wild theories abound about how interaction between each Ego would bring out the worst in us. These schools of belief would have the two locked in a death struggle for the chalice of individuality. In this scenario, none of these things transpired. This quite possibly stemmed from the fact that this all was transpiring on the subconscious levels of my mind, and not in any set physical reality.

Instead, I merely stopped staring at my doppelganger, smiled the best smile I could and waved slowly.

My replicas eyebrow arched somewhat, and in a slightly sardonic voice he said
“I think were a little past that, aren’t we?”

I felt a little foolish, that I had approached this version of myself as if it was contact from some primitive tribe of yester-year. For all intents and purposes, the being in front of me had all of the abilities and analytical skills that I myself had at his disposal. The only difference between us was from where in the time stream we had been plucked from, and then subsequently banished here. The only thing and difference between us was that for him it was still June 5th 2071. Hopefully, I thought, as I looked around the barren realm. I was from well over a month into the future, and had some knowledge about what was transpiring while we were trapped in this nether world.

So we walked together, exploring the only interesting thing upon this realm that we had discovered, which was each other company and experiences. I explained what had transpired to him, and myself in turn to the best of my ability. At the beginning of our walk, we had matched each other perfectly, stride for stride. Towards the end of my narrative, the past version of me had completely stopped in his tracks.

“So right now, someone has taken over my body, and is on their way to kill Minister Romanov?” He asked quietly.

“Yes, I think we have covered that already” I said somewhat impatiently. Turning around and looking at myself, I was surprised by how affected the past version of me was by the news. He was crying. Not great big sobs of despair or wailing, but tears moistened his eyes nonetheless.

bro dont tell bullshit, the real time agency feared cancer like illness, cause it's the same dna and they can be accepted by your future self or younger self, but they contain diff time information in them, and there is a time loop in the process of generations of your cells if you accept a cell of a your future self, infecting your futreself too, so it was what was feared, cancer like illness, nothing more.

ok the future is very dumb but not as dumb as you like to think

I dind't know crack was an issue in China until now

I'm off today OP with nothing to do till late in the evening, I enjoy a good read =D ill check it pal!

plugging in the Going Quantum podcasts, and rocketing off into the story now sir.

Of course, the past version of myself had not been through what I had in the past month. By now, most of the tears had been violently beaten out of me. I shook my head impatiently. “We really don’t have time for this. What’s done is done, we just have to find a way out of here so we can finish the report.”

“Except it’s not.” The past version of myself said, his misty eyes staring straight into mine. The effect was somewhat unnerving, for what I saw in that stare was the hint of madness that we all feel somewhere deep within us.

“What do you mean?” I asked, though part of me knew what he meant, and in some fashion or another I had already went over the possibilities of stepping beyond the script that fate had written for me. Ever since I had learned that I was to have access to the Quantifier, for one final report, I had toyed with the idea of stopping the assassination, and therefore changing the outcome of my life.


“You know full well what I mean, I saw it in your eyes. Why are we going to sit by and allow this to happen?” He asked earnestly.

“You know what happens to those people who break the rules and alter time. At best, they are caught in some parallel dimension until their body is destroyed back in the main timeline.” This was at least the leading hypothesis that was taught to us in quantum school, though even this thought could not ever be proven. Once someone decided to step beyond the prime and to try and alter it, his or her report would stop immediately, and contact was never achieved again. So we really had no idea what happened, just speculation. I had to admit; it was a tempting thought to undo that pivotal moment in my life. It was so tempting of an idea that it was in near balance with the fear of the unknown, and eventual death.

“Isn’t any fate better than the one that we are facing?” The past version of me asked. “I mean, if it comes down to being the most reviled man on the planet, or leaping into the unknown, if only for a few days longer, is it really that hard of a choice?”


The past version of me had a point, I realized as I stopped with the half-hearted rebuttal that had sprang to mind. What did the future that I knew of hold but pain and misery? I would maybe live another month at best, before my sentencing and execution. My only true hope was the report that would surely prove my innocence, that I had been hijacked by some outward agency and forced to slay the minister.

“If we can get back into our present self we can finish the report and hopefully prove our innocence.” I said, though the possibility of this outcome was more than suspect. If I had been taken over by another leaper, and made to slay the most prominent political figure in the world, this most likely than not had been sanctioned by powers that were well beyond the scope of my meddling.

“You don’t think that they will allow that do you? If they can send an agent in to control us, altering documents and reports would be a cake walk for them.” He said. “Who’s to say that they don’t have people monitoring our body in the quantifier as we speak, ready to cut the cord at the first sign of trouble?”

It was a chilling thought, one that I had already considered. In truth, I felt as if my convictions were twofold, and I was the pendulum caught in between. Instinct and practicality pointed me in one direction, to do as I have always done and finish the report. The other part of me wanted nothing more than to be freed of this onus, this burden of the world that had so casually been flung unto me.

“You know I’m right, the choice we have been given is no choice at all. Why do we not try and change the future if we make it back in time?” He asked plaintively.

Why not indeed? I seriously considered as I looked at my mirror image.

Chapter 13

We sat across from each other on the dull lifeless plane of my subconscious in full lotus position, each of us regulating our breathing and heart rate in turn, in eerie tandem. The synchronicity of not only our appearance and features, but also of the mannerisms to which we approached this practice of meditation were exact and precise, taught to us both many years prior in Quantum School. Not only must a quantum reporter be a somewhat self-involved narcissist, but they must be able to get really deep about their individuality too.

“Oṁ asato mā śad gamaya Tamaso mā jyotir gamaya mṛtyor mā amṛtaṁ gamaya Oṁ śānti śānti śāntiḥ.” We both chanted in unison. It was a mantra that had been repeated for so long and so often that any who heard us uttering it would have been stricken by how fluent we were. My dabbling in Swahili stopped with those few short sentences however. In truth, it had been quite some time since I meditated, and it was oddly comforting to be in the here and now, in this place and time. Between each syllable we breathed, a deep inhalation and exhalation of what was probaly nonexistent air upon what should have been a nonexistent realm deep within the confines of my mind.

The natural hum and reverbation of each word built upon the one previous, until by the end of the first repetition of the mantra it held a life of its own. After three repetitions my breathing was well regulated and not as shallow as normal. My heartrate was down to a scan forty-two beats per minute, and I felt a level of accptance in my situation that I had not been able to achieve at any point prior to the hear and now that I was immersed in.

“From ignorance, lead me to truth; From darkness, lead me to light; From death, lead me to immortality. Om peace, peace, peace” We chanted, the english translation of the mantra we had been repeating. I breathed deeply in, through my nostrils I detected the subtle hint of an aroma. A very woodsy smell wafted through the air, and I opened my eyes, looking into my own eyes housed in the being sitting across from me. Color had permeated the impossibly bleak landscape, and where once there was nothing but barren stone, a fervent woodland surrounded us, teeming with life.

“We have ascended a level in the tower.” Past me said, beaming a grin from ear to ear. I had to admit, here in this psuedo reality to where we now had found ourself, it was dazzling to behold.

“From here we should be able to regain control of our body, no matter how strong or skilled he is, there is no way he can overcome both of us together.” I said, getting to my feet as I took in my surroundings. The woods were old, primordial even. It was a woods that was deep, and untouched by the rigors of man. I was frankly surprised that I had such a serene placed nestled within me. I would have to remember it, and maybe journey back from time to time when I was given the chance to meditate in the future.

I held my hand out, expecting what was to come next, though I had never experienced it. Our hands clasped together with such force and energy that it was nothing short of magnetic. The hum and frequency of the mantras we had repeated were childs play compared to what was happening now. Energy pulsed in ever increasing frequency through our bodies, launching through us with such ferocity that it almost brought us to our collective knees. Instead, we braced ourselves, as each pulsating wave furthered the meld. First, our hands and arms fused, conjoining us together with more than just eerily similar good looks. Then, as like energy sought out and became like energy, we joined together at the shoulder and the hip, looking for all of the world like siamese twins of yesteryear.

The pain was tremendous, a fire that burned with such intensity within the atomic furnace of two realities merging and becoming one that I would gladly have taken another jail house beat down instead. Yet with each wave of pain that furthered our merge, there was also a corresponding increase of power thudding through our collective veins. Maybe it was the power of quantum states merging that caused such pain within the cells they were housed within. The confines of the molecular walls simply being too small too house such an assortment of probabilties.

Whatever the reason for the pain, soon enough it followed the one immutable law, and that of course was change. By the time the brilliant blossom of pain had subsided, and I was left alone, naked and whole upon the fetidly moist trail that wended its way through the large trees that surrounded me. I knew that I had already done the unthinkable, and forced my way out of the prison that my assailant had created for me. Now, it was simply a matter of finding the door out of here to be able to return back to consciousness. I knew that the meld had given me the power to burst throught this artificial dreamscape, whereas I had failed in the last attempt. I also knew time was of the essence. I was banking on the fact that the critical moment had not occurred yet, seeing as I had not been whisked away back to the future, to pay for the crime that I was not even truly guilty of commiting. I set out upon the trail, clothing forming around my being that was fitting for the environs I found myself in. I wanted to be at full strength when I encountered my mysterious abductor, hopefully still riding the quantum high that was still thrumming through every fiber of my being.

The trail wound its way deeper into the forest, and I followed. Sometimes I found myself so close upon the start of it that I could see it forming its way through the woods, carefully wending around root and upturned stone so as to prevent any mishap upon he who tread upon it. Likewise I witnessed great branches, heavily adorned with leaf and wildlife slowly manuever out of my way. Being that this realm was of my subconscious, of course it acquiesced to my will as I strode through it. Eventually my hike ended, and I found myself standing before a mighty tree, much larger than even the monstrous behemoths that had dotted the forest upon my journey.

The trail ended, vanishing at the base of the monstrous specimen. Looking closer, I realized that the trail did not vanish, but rather was slowly making its way up the trunk of the tree. Knobs of bark slowly protruded into perfect handholds in an upward path upon its rough surface. I also noticed that limbs of the tree were sagging in various locations, as if to grant me better access to the trees upper heights. Gritting my teeth, I looked up and began to climb. After what seemed an eternity, I dared look down, and instantly regretted it. I was well over forty stories in the air, and still the massive tree ascended. Looking up with a straining neck, I could not even see well enough to estimate how much farther I had to go. I paused to catch my breath for several minutes, gathered my nerve, and continued to ascend.

About three quarters of the way up, my journey ended. No, I did not make it to some mysterious hole into which I cast myself into, reappearing mentally within the real world to claim the body that had been snatched from me. Rather, my fatigued arms and legs gave out long before my journey was done. One moment, I was clinging for dear life upon the bark of a massive tree hundreds of feet in the air, the next I was simply falling, so fast and so far that I blacked out, but not before screaming myself hoarse.


I awoke with a start, presumably without having scattered myself upon the dark forest of my mind. Looking about, I noticed that I was walking down a hallway. Not just any hallway however. This was the hallway leading to the penthouse suites of the Hilton Prague Old Town. That strange annoying buzzing sound was back, making it difficult to focus. It completely blocked my assailants mind from my own, and I did not want to test the levels of his protections and strengths for fear of alerting him to my presence. At the end of the hallway was a door that had three guards sitting outside of it. They looked up when they saw me and nodded. One of them, the largest, stood up from the table that they had been playing with their holodeck on and addressed me.


“What’s your name and business?” He stated. Squinty beady eyes stared at me from a head that seemed a little too small to be attached to the mountain of muscle that towered over me.

In the past, this past, the entity that had taken control of me had cordially given his name and purpose, an interview with Minister Romanov that had surprisingly been on the books, before being let in by these three goons, before summarily executing said Minister.

In this reality, a sudden quantum probability took hold. I leapt forward, wresting control of my body for a moment from the entity that now controlled me.

“I’m Derek Ryder you dumb mother fucker, and I’m here to kill the minister.” I said, beaming that winning smile I was known the world over for.

I don’t know what happened next, the psychic surge and backlash from my shocked assailant, or the goons fist crashing into my face. Either way, the result was the same, as I slipped into darkness.

Last Edited by Conspiracynut1 on 02/15/2012 09:50 PM

Chapter 14

The ascent out of darkness into light is often painful, as each level of awareness and cognizance adds a fresh new layer to the insults and injury often bequeathed upon us by the world. It is so much easier to black out than to come to. If the injury is severe enough, our psyche happily runs into some dark corner of its mind where it can escape the trauma that it is being subjected to, rather than turn and face it head on.

My head was thumping savagely, which was the first self-indicator that I had that yes, I was alive, and had not destroyed myself, or the multi-verse with my breaking from the script that had been dealt to me. I groaned, and opened my bleary eyes, instantly closing them again against the sharp fluorescent light that illuminated everything. My nose pulsed and throbbed with each beat of my heart, and I instinctively tried to paw at it with my hand, like a wounded animal. My reach with my arm was cut woefully short, halting abruptly by the short stretch of manacles that bound it.

Again I opened my eyes, steeling myself against that sharp glare as my vision slowly swam into focus. I was laying in a closed off room in a hospital bed, strapped to it. For one confusing moment I thought I was back in the quantifier prep room, and was merely suffering from a rather bad leaping experience. Then I realized that this place was different from the rooms in the quantifier, and the bustling noise that could be heard from beyond the confines of the room seemed to indicate that I was in a hospital.

Rolling over, I groaned, my head throbbing with the effort. I realized at that point that I was not alone in the room. A uniformed officer sat in a chair just a few feet from me, eyeing me warily. He got up from the chair, pushed aside the curtain that separated me from the rest of the hospital and departed, leaving the curtain part way open in his wake. I could not quite catch much of a view from the angle of my bed, but could hear well enough the conversation that was taking place just beyond the curtain.


“He’s awake.” One voice said, presumably voiced by the officer that had just left my room. His voice was thick and languid, as if neither it, nor the individual to whom it belongs could hold much excitement over anything.

“Good. We need to find out what the fuck is going on, and if there are more of them involved in the attempt.” A second voice responded with a slight nasal drawl. It was acoustically the exact opposite of the officer who had just spoken. The man to whom it belonged seemed energetic, and full of hostility.

Even before the other officer could reply, the other officer pushed past him, swept aside the curtain, almost with a flourish, then snapped it shut behind him, all in one grand motion. His features matched his voice, with a large hooked nose that would have been more at home on a bird of prey, rather than being displayed rather prominently upon a human, especially one that was so short of stature.

“Ryder.” The short man said, staring at me with eyes full of suspicion.

I didn’t really know how to respond, so I just stared at him, still squinting slightly from a combination of the bright fluorescent light, and the pounding tempo that was ever present in my head.

“Your in some deep shit you know. Really deep shit.” He said, again staring at me, as if he could read my mind with his beady little eyes.

“I know.” I responded, my voice little more than a croak.

“What’s that?” He said, moving forward toward me. I noticed that as he advanced, one hand did drop slightly down to the phaser that he had holstered on his side.

“I said, I know.” I repeated, struggling to regain my voice.

Stopping in his tracks, he looked genuinely befuddled. “So why were you going to do it? What cause or group is it that you belong to that would make you try to kill the Minister?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” I said, relief welling in my heart that I had succeeded in my attempt at altering time, at least partially. I was still a captive, of a sort.

“Well you are going to have to do better than that.” He snarled, turning his back to me as he exited the room. A moment later the other officer came in, looked at me somewhat sheepishly, then sat back in his chair to pursue the activity that he enjoyed the most, which seemed to be doing absolutely nothing.

“Don’t I get a phone call?” I asked. The man stared at me for a long moment, then pointed at the table on the other side of me, to which I had my back turned away from this whole time.

Turning over carefully, adjusting the manacles that had limited my motion, I rolled over to take a closer look at the table. On it, easily within reach was a holo-deck.
I turned it on, as it powered up lights flashed upon it. A second later a blank three-dimensional screen popped up, floating in the air above it.

“Directory, Commonwealth” I said. The screen instantly responded to my verbal command, and in the air above the deck a map of the world appeared. After a few choices I had narrowed the search down to the principality that I needed.

“Nichole L. Sault” I said. A moment passed, and then I was rewarded with the image changing form before me.

Even if just a digital replication, she was still a sight for sore eyes. In this instance, it was a rather fitting phrase too, as both of them had been blackened when my nose had been broken only hours before.

“My god Derek, did you get in another brawl at whatever bar it is you call home nowadays?” She said, a slightly troubled smirk playing across her lips.

“It’s a little worse than that Nikki, I really need your help.” I responded, with a sincerity that was so heartfelt, it even gave her pause.

“What’s going on Derek?” She asked, genuine concern filtering through into her voice.

It took the better part of an hour to not only explain my predicament, but also convince her of what I was saying, that I had altered time with the help of the quantifier, and had averted near disaster in the form of the death of the Minister of World Peace.



Chapter 15

A little less than one month later, I was a freeman. Well, as free as any of us can ever be in a system that is based on fear. I had lived enough, and learned enough to realize that in this new timeline I had merely traded in one form of imprisonment for another. Sure, this one did not have thick concrete walls or metal bars to hold me, thanks to my meddling with affairs that should have made my future end another way. Mostly though it was due to the skills and knowledge of legalese ensconced within the mind of the fiery red head that I had so foolishly thrown away a few years prior. Her fiery red-hair was only matched by her demeanor in the courtroom while gaining me my freedom, and charges were soon to be dismissed upon the discovery of my tampering with time.

The downside was that I was put on heavy probation, having to report in every three days to a rather burly man who seemed to not enjoy anything about his job. This didn’t seem too bad, after the many days of interrogation I had endured. Nikki had explained to me that it was the best deal that she could get. I also had to come to terms with my lack of a job, as the broadcasting station I had been the feature employee of had distanced them-selves overnight. At least they did not jump on the bandwagon of the media frenzy that ensued upon the rest of the media stations. I guess it was not everyday that one of their golden boys had gone rogue.

Still, it was not all bad. Being a social pariah and leper can be somewhat invigorating, and gives one the chance to look at society and the human condition from a completely new vantage point. The Derek Ryder of only a few months past probably could not have handled the ostracization that I now had to endure. At least I still had some considerable wealth and assets to draw upon. My parents had both been fairly well to do, and even though I had lived the playboy lifestyle for quite some time, I still had set aside for what was proving to be a rather uncertain future indeed.

If you think that I am going to go on and tell you of how I fixed the rather strained relation with my ex fiancé after I had realized the folly of my ways, then I am disheartened to inform you that such was not to be the case, not in this time-stream at least. Nikki practically dropped out of my life the day the charges were dismissed, and no manner of wit or charm was enough to woo her. I had to reconcile with the notion that her part in my life was done, as it should have been before whatever forces beyond my control had intervened and tried to turn me into their automaton of assassination.

I still worried daily upon this. The first week of the time shift had been especially troubling, as I awoken some nights convinced that nothing had changed at all, and the cell I awoke in was going to be my permanent home after my judgment in the good Ministers death. I also lived with the fear that every moment would be my last, as the body that I inhabited upon the prime would be left to die, and I would find myself disintegrating and losing cohesion upon the plane that I was now within, After weeks of neither happening, I began to realize that the wild postulations and theories, coupled along with worst case scenario ideas that had pervaded the science behind quantum reporting were wrong, thankfully.

Another thing on the rather long list of my growing fears was that whatever entity had tried to ensnare me in such intrigue was not done with me, but merely biding its time until I was ripe and ready for another attempt at controlling me. It was probably a needless fear, as whatever agency had been behind the attempt realized that with me not being allowed more than a thousand meters near the Minister, or any public official for that matter, I would make a very poor choice for a potential assassin.

Fear is a funny thing. It shapes and defines us, by imprisoning us when our ego wants nothing more than to escape its confines and fly unfettered in the sheer potential of what could possibly be. Even in my generation, where we had learned from some of mans folly and had created the most successful governing body known to the world in the aftermath of the sheer devastation of WW III there was fear and oppression. Mostly it was intrinsic however, as it usually is. Fear of what others might think about our differences or idiosyncrasies. As odd as it sounds, this thing that forever makes us question ourselves, sometimes down to the very foundation of our intrinsic self worth or value, has its roots in our very survival upon this world in which we live.

Think about it, and think hard. Thousands of years ago, before we had mastered and conquered our environs, remaking them in our own image, we lived in fear. Fear of the unknown, or fear of the all too real monster in the dark that just might decide to make us their next meal. This fear of predation and destruction drove us to unite together, to forge bonds rooted in the familial relations of what we conceived of as safe. Of these basic precepts societies were forged and made, some of them so draconic in how they were ran that any sane being of the present day would question the oppression that people were willing to live under, just for the semblance of safety.

Not that the present day was much better, or the fears we faced any less real. It had simply traded coats, and went from the very real threats to our physical safety, to the more internalized of lack of acceptance, of being cast from the pack, and therefore left alone and vulnerable. Whether this be caused by creed, ethnicity, sexuality, or religion it matters little, for we stifle whatever makes us different, or repress the questions that maybe make us not part of the herd any longer. These intrinsic fears are what define us, as they strive to confine us.