José never seemed to fit in with his peers. Raised by a single parent in a world of leave-itto-beaver suburbs, he was always the outlier in his group of acquaintances and fellow students.
In modern terms he might be alphabet labeled as ADHD or PTSD but in his time line he was just considered strange. The label was a misappropriation of terms, he was a science nerd and happy to display that badge to anyone who asked. No one ever did.
As befits his Mexican/Jewish heritage he had curly black hair, a somewhat dark skin tone and a weak frame. He wore thick glasses with the expected white tape covering the bridge, giving credence to his science-nerd credentials. His Tio kept purchasing new frames for his sabrino, replacing every set until the next fracture. José made it through high school with few friends and only a modicum of physical bruises. Mentally he was intact, or at least had a shell that functioned in the regular world.
Breaking through the TimeWall became an addiction for José. His first attempt with the TimeWall-cracking audio device worked and gave him a tantalizing view beyond the wall. It was exciting, seeing his time slices marching off to the past, crossing lines with history. Feedback from the banshee screams blew out the device’s transistors and vacuum tubes and José was forced to put his toy away and start the long, boring journey of exchanging effort for money.
He continue to accumulate the bits and pieces of electronic flotsam needed to build a new TimeWall device, but without access to the failed RadioShack™️ retail stores, it was a long slog. It took some thirty years to find replacement parts and rebuild the device. Retirement and a lifetime of work and experimentation led to the latest test of the time-breaker, ready to meet his
past & future. Now, in the Now, he could open the TimeWall at will and was determined to unleash Time’s secrets in what little time he had left on this Earth.
Stepping through Time’s moving wall was nothing like the TV tropes, there was no way to go back and change history or peek into a dubious future. As soon as he crossed the time line he was faced with his past; a virtual unending sequence of time slices, a slinky stuck together representing all he knew and how he lived. Once behind the TimeWall, it was gray and foggy, smelling of rot and mold, but it was his to explore where no one had been before.
José loaded up his Madre’s car and drove East on the narrow road running up the spine of the rolling hills above town. The knoll was high on the ridge line, far from civilization and was José’s quiet place. Out here he could run his TimeWall noise-breaker without questions. He parked his mother’s ancient Oldsmobile at the turn-out thinking, good, there’s no cars here. The last thing he wanted to do was disturb anyone parked in the roads’ impromptu lover’s lane.
It was still damp from the morning dew on Now’s end of the moving TimeWall. He unpacked his gear, then checked power levels. He stuffed a sandwich, snacks and some tools in the bike’s panniers in case he stayed longer than expected. Pushing a 15kg fat-tire bicycle up a grassy slope with an equally heavy backpack is not an easy task, especially for the elderly. José was an old-school scientist and did things his way, even if it meant risking exertion that could kill a younger person. The bike was his favorite, stored in his mother’s basement when he went to college. He updated his old ride with new tires, and spent hours polishing the candy-apple red frame until it sparkled.
His TimeWall-breaking sound generator backpack was tuned to local time. The AI interface he added homed in on distinct frequencies and patterns and quickly opened a small human-sized fracture in Time’s unending barrier.
It was disconcerting no matter how many times he stepped behind the shimmering TimeWall, seeing the dark-gray string of one-dimensional QtmBit connected replicants. “Oh well,” said José, “It must be worse for my slinkies to see a 3D-copy of their last me.”
He got used to the front Hims swapping faces to show emotion, every piece thin and unique. Each visage held a single expression but the same mouth which always let him know his Hims didn’t approve of what he was doing. He knew that he didn’t need to speak his thoughts out loud, there was no other human around, but his voice filled the gray empty space around him and made him feel safer.
At least the interaction with the leading Him was consistent, they always appeared angry and embittered at the intrusion. “Wait,” said José. “Isn’t the first one a duplicate of my last expression? Do I look like that?”
The front facing Him nodded in agreement and stood with the same bike and backpack José had when he stepped behind Time. José smiled, the Him’s one-dimensional bike didn’t sparkle like his tricked-out wheels. A win for the host, he thought.
At least he brought his bike this time. Exploration is so much better on a Schwinn. The fat tires and simple 5-speed dérailleur let him travel with ease.
“Where do you want to go?” asked José.
The front Him answered for the line:
Does it really matter? We’re stuck to you like glue.
“Quantum time elastic,” said José. He was always precise when talking about concepts and felt it was his duty to correct any mis-stated fact, even from Him-self. This trait never failed to impress his friends and family throughout his life, if being shunned by others was a goal.
“Com’on, let’s explore. I want to see what timeworld is all about.”
It was early on both sides of the TimeWall and the bike trail wrapped gently around the grassy mound above the town. On this side of the wall, there were no birds singing, just the gentle buzz of noise slices to indicate that a sound happened only a moment before. He was at the top of the knoll overlooking the village and had no place to go but down. With his bike, he was able to take shortcuts and the cemetery was in his path, located on a small bluff some distance from the town’s center.
José sped down the path and approached the graveyard. A half-dozen Hims rode on their copies of the bike and human. The unbiked Hims followed, stretched thin, trying to keep up, with only the QtmBit strings keeping them connected. In the distance, a team of past Hims break away from the pack and ride parallel to his path, young replicas on the same bike, years away.
There’s a newly dug grave a few time-slots downstream. José swings wide behind the mourners hovering around the final resting site of a newly interned person. His Hims stop and the front facing slinky starts shouting.
Did you have to bring us here? We know you have death issues.
José said, “Quit complaining. I’m trying to get over it. You should be proud of me.”
The faces shuffled, a loud face at the fore.
You can’t go there, it isn’t safe!
José stopped and looked back at his Hims frozen in time. “What’s the problem? We’ve crossed slinky lines before. Don’t be such wimps. The dead can’t hurt you.”
The Him’s faces continued to shuffle, looking for the right emotion to display. Concern won this hand.
They can’t hurt you. You’re not from here. Please wait for the slinkies to melt away.
José turned to the lead slinky. “Look. I know you. I’ve had fears like that before too. All you’re doing is picking up on an echo of my old self.”
We don’t care, we’re not crossing until the grave is sealed.
José thought about it as his slinkies dithered, flipping through their personalities but saying nothing. I’ve never acted like this, even when we buried my Madre. Why would my replicants be like this?
“Fine. I’ll go on and you can stay there, unconnected. Maybe we can catch up later and reboot, without meaningless fears, I hope.”
The Hims turn in among themselves, planning, talking, molecular fog stirring and rising above their one-dimensional heads.
OK, we’ll follow, but we’re not responsible for what happens to your past.
“Responsible for what? There’s nothing here we haven’t done before.”
José picks up his bike and crosses the stream of slinky mourners, giving them wide berth, in case his Hims were right. His line of Hims fit neatly between the other slinkies and follow their host around the grave.
“See. There’s no danger, it’s just like every other crossing.”
His Hims stutter and pull back. José looks over to see a new slinky, ghost like, rising from a nearby grave, embracing one of José’s Hims, dragging it to ground.
A wave races up and down the line, echoes of fear and pain arcing forward. Every Him trembles as the lost soul cries out, a thin banshee wail disappearing in the gray void. The wave front hits José and he starts shaking, a memory is lost and his history broken.
The nearest Him flips to an angry face.
We warned you. Why are you trying to erase your memories?
José sees the multiple faces quickly flip by, including a blank placeholder. That’s disturbing, thinks José. “Sorry, I didn’t expect that to happen. Don’t worry, I’ve lots of memories and there are some I’d like to lose. Is there a way to select what disappears?”
We swear. If you don’t respect us, we’ll leave and you’ll be empty.
“Fine. I’ll be more careful.”
And listen to us?
“Yes, yes, just don’t bug me. Too many people have tried to tell me what to do and I’m not okay with it.”
The mourners have all left the grave-site except for one young girl who approaches the gravestone and lays down a flower. She places a small stone on the granite marker. The static line of slinkies dipping into the earth wiggle and flip. The host’s last slinky, an old woman, moves to the front. The young girl and the deceased slinkies intertwine. The woman reaches out and caresses the girls last face.
On the other side of the moving time wall, the girl looks up, touches her cheek as a tear rolls down her face. The slinkies tremble and roll back, sliding into the dirt above the grave. The girl’s slinky moves away as the Now-girl leaves the site. José steps carefully around the old lady’s last slinky and his Hims give the site a wide berth. None of his Hims are captured as they move down the road. José let’s out a sigh and the leading dozen repeat the sound.
We’re all happy that you’re meeting your fears, but please do it on the other side of the wall. You don’t understand the repercussions.
“Isn’t it your job to teach me?” asked José.
The Hims flipped faces, and finally came to rest on an older Him, almost in tune with his current state.
Listen, you dolt. We’re only representations of your past in a single point of time. We’re not alive, but you can destroy us and your memories with foolish actions.”
Who does my Him think it is, calling me a dolt? “I’ve never been so insulted. How dare you say that!”
His current Him snorted, gray molecular dust rising with an accompanying rude noise.
Wrong. You’ve been insulted a lot worse than this. Shall we call up the chess club incident?”
José shook his head, a tiny memory crept in. “No, please. I don’t need to visit all of my past; you can keep it. Hidden, if you don’t mind.”
José jumps on the bike, pedaling fast to leave his memories behind. His Hims follow, connected with stretched QTmBits.
Approaching the center of town, José comes across an accident. Smoke merges with Time’s gray fog, flashes of fire tearing through the barrier. He sees a couple of young kids milling around the wreckage, one of them is pushing on the TimeWall looking lost and confused.
José’s leading Him switches to a concerned face.
Don’t you want to help them?
“What do you want me to do?” asked José. “They are stuck where they are. I’m don’t have a map to the River Styx.”
The front Him insisted:
Turn on your backpack noisemaker and open the wall.
José hesitated, ready to tell Himself all about the tools and abilities of his TimeWallcracking ‘noisemaker’ as Himself called it, but thought better of it. It was Himself, after all, and should know the specifics of the equipment.
“And do what?” said José. “It will just prolong the suffering. Best to leave well enough alone. Would you have me running around forcing all the newly dead back to life? Have you thought of the consequences?”
well, no. But how bad could it be if…
Before José could continue the argument with Himself a distant sound caught his attention.
The sound became a weak guttural cry for help. “That’s not right. There aren’t sounds like that behind the time wall unless it’s from me or my slinkies.”
José wasn’t quite right, there were sounds, but they were time slices, an indistinct gray buzzing tinnitus of Time noise. Before José could figure out how to stack time to make it into a playable record he saw a tiny figure in the distance, calling out for his attention.
José thought, Whatever this is, it’s better than dealing with the newly dead. They’ll figure it out soon enough – the cemetery isn’t too far away I’m sure they’ll reunite with their timeline soon enough.
A tiny figure approached, resolving into a biped, stumbling along, dressed in dirty rags.
I could just take off. I know it can’t catch me on my bike. thought José. I didn’t think to bring any weapons. What would even work in this timeless world?
The raggedy person got closer, followed by its broken line of Hims.
Interesting, thought José. It looks like it’s another traveler from the other side of the Wall. Could the University have breached the TimeWall too? I know they would leave someone behind at the blink of an eye, if it was to their advantage.
“Do I know you?” asked José. The person looked familiar, but the dirty unkempt beard and slouch hat didn’t ring any bells.
“You’re José Davidovich, aren’t you?” said the slouch-hatted biped. “We met at the Timeless BarBQue last month. Don’t you remember?”
José took off his glasses, gave them a quick wipe and said, “Not quite.”
“I’m not surprised. Look, my past is getting chewed up and I can’t remember anything either. You wouldn’t happen to know where the TimeWall is located? I’d like to get out of here.”
José was careful to keep the TimeWall near and just pointed to his right.
The visitor started walking, then said, “I forgot to ask. Do you have a sandwich? I haven’t eaten for a while, I think.”
“We need to stick together,” said José. “Here‘s half of a tuna sandwich. I hope you don’t mind dill-rye bread and mayo?”
He took the sandwich but not the advice, “Thank-you so much kind sir, I’ll be leaving you now.”
“I don’t see a sound generator,” said José. “How are you going to open the wall?”
The empty-handed and destitute man looked confused, but José figured if there was a better technology than his huge back-pack, he needed to learn about it.
“Oh, that. I guess I lost it when the Chupacabra attacked.”
“The mythical monster of my youth? I thought those were my Madre’s and Tio’s stories to scare me out of the basement and off to bed. Does everyone else know about the Chupacabra too? Anyhow, I don’t think a myth can hurt you.”
The old man looked askance at José and said “You better watch out. Monsters will eat your memory. At least I think they can. I’m not sure at the moment.”
“I see you have a broken line of Hims,” said José. “Are you telling me a mythical
monster did that?”
“That is no myth, sonny! Now, do you have a way to get out of this mess or not? If you can’t help me, I’ll be on my way. I’ll figure it out myself, thank you very much.”
José’s Hims turned and flipped back in time, looking to help their source, checking his past.
It’s Hector. We found the link and you know him.
José realized that his Hims knew what they were talking about and this was his old friend and mentor. At least they’re good for something, thought José.
“Hector,” exclaimed José. “It’s me, your old friend José. Don’t you remember?”
Hector looked at José, his backpack and bicycle and said, “Of course I remember. José, you say? Didn’t we meet earlier? You know, I never forget a face. And you’re my old friend?
Glad to meet you. Now help me get out of here before nightfall when the Chupacabra comes out.”
José wasn’t convinced his friend knew who he was talking to, but felt that he had no choice but to play along. Maybe when he got back on the other side, his mentor’s memory would improve. Although, looking at his string of missing Hims, that might not be the case.
In the distance, a dark shape came into focus through the fog and appeared to be a fourlegged animal. Walking, sniffing, and looking for something.
“We need leave, Chupacabra comes,” said Hector.
The gray beast began running, bouncing off the TimeWall. Opportunity-time bubbles exploded in bright rainbow colors around the canine-like monster.
“Work faster, he here and wants eat my memory.”
José thought, I do believe he’s losing more memories, and a verb or two. I better speak in short declarative sentences, to be safe.
José reached into his backpack, pulled the batteries, took them out, cleaned the tips and licked them before putting the freshened batteries back in the holder.
“What! You didn’t bring spare batteries?” said Hector.
“That’s rich, coming from someone who lost all their equipment. Now be quiet, I have to reboot and tune up the generator. I’ll need all the power I can find if we’re both going to leave.”
“Chupacabra near, remember?”
José recalled why he and his mentor separated. The guy never seemed to have the time for patience and introspection.
On the other hand, the Chupacabra was almost on top of them, every broken opportunity-bubble highlighting its hot breath and timeless eyes. The monster hissed, closing in on its new meal, which looked a lot like José and his Hims.
Listen to your mentor. Get a move on, we don’t want to be sucked into its belly!
“Everyone calm down, I’m working as fast as I can.”
That went over as well as a deflated opportunity-bubble. José’s Hims, his mentor and his Hims were becoming frantic.
“He’s got my memory,” screams Hector.
The Chupacabra latches onto a molecular wide representation of Hector and shakes it like a rag doll. A gray Him disassembles and disappears into the monster’s maul. Wailing echoes throughout the dank fetid air and fades to silence.
Hector grabs José’s bike and tosses it at the Chupacabra.
“Hey! That’s mine, you can’t just toss things around that don’t belong to you.”
“Okay,” said Hector. “You go talk to the monster and ask for it back. Now TURN ON your machine!”
Intense wailing of the banshee songs ran up and down the spectrum as his machine warmed up. The edge of time wavered, weakened and split open. A hole appears and envelopes the two, then slowly closes as the wall disappears.
The Chupacabra, with the bike in its jaws, sticks a clawed paw through the self-sealing TimeWall, seemingly waving a fond farewell to its prey. The hand disappears as time moves forward. A chewed piece of metal tubing, candy apple red with sparkling highlights, clatters to the ground.
“Now look what you’ve done! I loved that bike and now it’s lost to time.”
“Don’t worry little boy, I’ll buy you another one, with a real basket this time.”
José shook his head.
“That was close,” said Hector.
“What will happen to my Hims?” asked José. “Will I lose my memory? What did you do to me?”
“Not to worry. The Chupacabra only seems to eat Hims when the host is around, otherwise it sticks to the freshly departed, especially those who haven’t decided which side of the TimeWall they belong.”
“And you know that, how?”
“I’ve been behind the TimeWall for a while. I observe things and if I had my laptop, I’d show you.”
“About that,” said José. “What are you going to do now?”
“What I’m going to do is take a bath and change clothes. Do you live nearby? Can you cook?”
José, clearly obligated after saving both their lives said, “You destroyed my bike. We’ll have to walk. You remember how to do that, don’t you?”
“Just watch, youngster.”
“We have to climb this ridge,” said José. “My car is in the parking lot turn-out. Try to keep up.”
Time continued, surrounding and infiltrating every action as the two explorers huffed up the hill traveling in the Now, as always.
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