Paradox (5 page)

“Changed things?” Zac said. “What do you
mean? Everything’s the same as far as I can tell.”

Bryce shifted in his seat and scratched
his forehead. “This is where things get a little tricky,” he said. “You see,
the few of us who have been in the program have been trained in how not to
interfere with things.
How to observe and gather data.
We all know the rules.”

“The rules?”

“The rules of time travel that we’ve
established at TEMPUS,” Bryce continued. “There are certain things you can and
can’t do.”

“Like what?”

“Well, the biggest rule is that we can’t
interfere with the natural course of history. We have to let things happen the
way they originally do… er… did.”

Dr. Ryger spoke up. “The reason I built
TEMPUS is to provide us with a way of observing the past, no matter how
distant. We can learn things that can affect our future for the better. But we
can’t go in and change the past.”

“Why not?”
Zac
asked. “What’s so bad about fixing things that went wrong in the past?”

Bryce leaned into the table. “Let’s use a
classic example.
Killing Hitler.”
Zac nodded in
understanding. “You know that Hitler killed millions of innocent people, how he
invaded countries and caused untold death and destruction, right?”

“Right.”

“So assume someone decides that they will
build a time machine to go back and kill Hitler before he becomes powerful and
can cause all that pain. Sounds good so far, right?” Zac nodded. “Okay, but
here’s the problem. Let’s say the person who built the time machine succeeds.
They go back and they kill Hitler. It’s a perfect ending, right?”

“Yeah,” Zac said. “All those people were
saved.”

“Wrong,” Bryce said. “It can’t possibly
work. Because the
reason
the person built the time machine was
so
that
he could go back and destroy Hitler. Now, with Hitler dead, his future
self wouldn’t have a reason to create a time machine. So his future self would
never
build
that time machine, and he would never go back in time. It’s
called a paradox.”

“You lost me,” Zac said, shaking his head.
Why wouldn’t it be possible to just go erase someone from history? It sounded
like it should work. “What about all those people that wouldn’t have died?”

“Don’t you see?” his dad said. “It can’t
happen.”

“I don’t get it,” Zac said.

“Let me try explaining it a different
way,” Emilee said, taking a deep breath. “Okay, forget about the whole reason
for building the machine and the paradox situation. Assume that one of us uses
TEMPUS to go back and change things. Maybe it’s major, maybe it’s minor, but
something
has changed.” She brushed a strand of black hair away from her eyes, but she
continued looking down at the table while she talked, letting her hands do much
of the talking for her. “If you change something, the effects could be small,
but they could also be huge. Let’s say you
do
go back in time and get
rid of a dictator. You may have saved a lot of other lives and prevented
something bad from happening, but in doing so, there were unintended
consequences.”

“Like what?” Zac asked.

“Like, maybe now, a new person rises up in
the place of the dictator that was killed. And this person is
worse
than
the one you got rid of. He causes far more suffering and death. Or he gives
rise to other changes that affect a wider scope of people.”

“So it’s a no-win situation,” Zac said.

“Possibly,” Emilee continued. “We can’t
know for sure if we do change things, because changing one thing in the past
can alter the course of our whole future.”

“So wait,” Zac interrupted. “You think I
changed something by going back in time last night? But I didn’t do anything.”

“According to
you
, you didn’t,”
Bryce said.

“I didn’t,” Zac said. “That picture proves
it. My dad would have remembered it not being there beforehand if it wasn’t.”

His dad sighed. “Not necessarily.” He put
his head in his hands, trying to figure out how to best explain the situation.
“There are two possibilities here, Zac. Either you’re right, and that photo was
always
there all along, or it wasn’t.”

“Huh?”

“What I mean is, by going back in time,
you might have now altered history and
this
is how it now happened,” he
said, tapping the picture. “We wouldn’t remember if it was anything different,
because now
this
is our history. This is what people remember.”

Zac shook his head. “I don’t see how my
being in a picture changed anything.”

“It’s not the picture,” Bryce said. “It’s
what you said or did. You went over to those cars to check on the people in
them. Maybe that’s how it always happened, and back on the day you were born,
your future self was there. But it could also be that you did something that
changed us here today.”

“But I—”

“It could have been someone you talked to,
something you said… anything, really,” Bryce said. “But the point is there’s no
way for us to really know. It’s all a theory. You dad calls it the Time Wound
Theory.”

“Time Wound? Like an injury?”

“Think of it
like
this,” Emilee said. “When you get a cut, what happens?”

Zac paused. “I bleed,” he said.

“Right.
So the
theory is that if we cause some sort of change in the past, the changes are like
a cut. And the effects ‘bleed’ down throughout the course of history. By the
time they reach us, it’s like a scab has formed and it’s a permanent part of
our time as we know it.”

Zac nodded. “I think I get it, sort of. So
how can we know if I changed anything?”

“We can’t,” his dad said. “This is our
history right now. Chances are you probably didn’t change anything. Like you
said, you didn’t do much. But we’re telling you this because if you’re going to
be a part of the project, you’re going to have to understand the ramifications
of time travel and causality.”

“Wait,” Zac said, sitting up, “part of the
project? You mean I’ll be working with you? With… what is it…
TEMPUS?”

Dr. Ryger shifted uneasily. “We discussed
it as a possibility this morning, if you should ever find out,” he said. He
picked up a pencil and began tapping it on the table. “For some unknown reason,
that prototype Wand you found responded to you. And we don’t know why.” He
stopped the tapping and looked around the room at Bryce and Emilee. “But we
need to know why this happened, because if the technology isn’t perfected, it
could mean anyone can use it. And the results of a Wand getting into the wrong
hands could be disastrous.”

“So here’s my idea,” Bryce said. “We’ll
train you, and you can use this Wand until we’re able to set you up with one of
your own, one that is uniquely programmed to recognize you as the user.”

“If this is some kind of joke—” Zac said,
hesitating.

“No joke,” Bryce said. “I’ll take you and
train you. I’ll show you what TEMPUS is all about. And if you still want to,
you can be a part of the group.”

“The group?
Who
else is there besides you guys?”

Bryce stood up and pushed his chair in.
“Let’s go meet them,” he said.

Bryce led Zac down the concrete corridor
and toward the room with the blue pentagon. When they arrived, it was lit up
this time, a brilliant white light illuminating everything.

“Welcome to TEMPUS,” Bryce said. “Here is
where we do our thing. Here is where the impossible happens.” He smiled.

The air was filled with a loud humming
noise, and the floor began to vibrate.

“Stay here,” Bryce said, nodding toward
the glass that surrounded the blue light.
“Looks like he’s
coming back.”

“Who?”

“Rock,” Bryce said. “He went to collect
some data for us. Watch this.”

The light inside the glass cage flickered,
and then bright flashes pulsated as loud popping noises filled the air. Zac’s
teeth tingled as if electrical impulses were emanating from the source. He
pushed his fingers against his teeth.

“Got fillings?” Bryce said, straining to
be loud enough to be heard over the whirr of the machine.

“Yeah,” Zac said. “Is that normal?”

Bryce nodded. “It’s just the resonant
frequency. You get used to it. I don’t even feel it anymore.”

“What is it?” Zac asked. He was nearly yelling
now, the machine was so loud.

Bryce pointed at the pentagon, where it
looked like the form of a person was materializing. “There’s a tremendous
amount of energy coming into this room right now. That’s why we’re underground;
this room is surrounded by concrete,” he said. “What you’re seeing is the
wormhole opening back up, bringing Rock back.”

The lights grew dim and stopped
flickering. There was a pause as a sense of anticipation hung in the air. With
a loud hiss, the glass door swung open, and Rock stepped out, careful to keep
his balance.

“Man, I love that,” Rock said, rubbing his
face and smiling. “What a rush.” He was tall and muscular, with dark skin. The
muscles seemed to practically erupt from his arms and legs.

“Rock works with TEMPUS?” Zac asked. “But
how—”

Rock stepped forward, extending his hand
to shake Zac’s. “How can a jock
be
working with a
science team?” he said, finishing Zac’s question. “You know, just ‘
cause
I’m tough doesn’t mean I can’t think. I’m lucky enough
to have brains
and
brawn.” He smiled, and Zac realized that Rock wasn’t
offended at his question. Rock turned to Bryce. “So you guys decided to bring
him in and tell him after all?” He walked over to a notebook that was in a
plastic file holder on the wall and began writing in it furiously.

“Actually, he came to us,” Bryce said.
“We’re going to train him.”

Rock smiled. “Right on,” he said. “I could
use someone else to have my back out in the field.” He handed the notebook to
Bryce. “I got the intel we need. Call it in to the authorities. I think we can
stop anything else from happening.”

“Thanks,” Bryce said. “Hey, do you mind
showing Zac around while I go take care of this?”

“Sure,” Rock said, “and do you want me to
take him through the training scenario, too?” His face grew serious.

“No, I’ll…” Bryce trailed off. “I’ll do it
tomorrow.”

Rock shook his head in astonishment.
“Okay. But you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Are you ever gonna tell the
Doc—”

“No,” Bryce interrupted. “And neither are
you. That’s between us.”

“Okay,” Rock said. “Cause if the Doc knew,
I don’t think he’d be
wanting
you to do the training
with Zac here.”

“I’ll be fine,” Bryce said. “It’s just an
observation.” He turned to leave and went up the ramp, Rock staring at him.

After he was gone, Zac asked, “What’s the
observation? Why don’t you want Bryce to do it?”

Rock snapped back into the present. “Huh?
Oh, the training. Yeah, I can’t tell you anything about that. But a while ago,
Bryce told me something about his past that he doesn’t want me to tell anyone
else. Not even your dad. And I’m not going to ruin his trust.”

“I understand,” Zac said.

“But you know, he might tell you if you
ask right. He doesn’t trust many people. He and I go way back.”

Zac nodded. “Hey, I think I remember
seeing you around at school a long time ago… You won a lot of medals in track
and field. Roderick, was it?”

“Whoa,” Rock said. “Nobody calls me
Roderick but my mom. But yeah,” he said. “Bryce told the Doc I was looking for
a job, so your dad took a chance with me. I’m glad he did.”

Zac paced around the room, looking at
everything for the first time in the light. It seemed so different, yet still
as mysterious as before.

“So where should I start?” Rock asked.
“They tell me you already know about the wormhole manipulator here. How was
your first time?”

Zac stared through the glass frame
surrounding the platform. “Not too pleasant,” he said.

“Did you puke?”

Zac looked up, embarrassed.
“Yeah.
Twice.”

Rock laughed. “Everyone pukes the first
time.”

“What were you just doing, writing things
down a few minutes ago?”

“That?” Rock said. “Oh, that’s just part
of what we do for the project. We observe and collect information. How much did
your dad tell you?

“Nothing yet,” Zac said. “They just got me
really freaked out that I might have disrupted human history, that’s all.”

Rock waved it off. “It’s fine. And
besides, if you did, is anything here really bad or different?”

“No.”