Brink by Mikel Parry
Chapter 7 - Brink

CH-BRINK

Still not comprehending everything that had happened, Thomas had wandered aimlessly for what seemed like hours. How had it happened? Was it an accident or was there something more—something he’d failed to see? For a man who could usually recollect everything, he was coming up blank. Perhaps the man had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Stewing on him immediately took him back to the organization. He couldn’t stall any longer. He had already wasted enough time.

Finding his way back to the door that led into the enigmatic building, he knocked. It seemed preposterous to him that such an unexceptional door led to such exceptional things. His images of what a secret organization should look like had been replaced by the mundane reality. It was still just a workplace. But if what they had told him was true, it held some real power; power that he now had a great interest in.

There has to be a way.

Suddenly the door opened and before him stood the figure of authority he now knew as Roslin. Roslin’s face looked tired and upset. Thomas could plainly see that he had had little to no sleep. Things were far worse than he had supposed.

“Come inside. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Thomas did as he was told. He was starting to understand the routine. Assimilation into the system was the only way to keep things fluid. Walking into the building, Roslin was quick to direct him back to the same room he’d left Thomas in before. He escorted them through the doors to the inside.

“Take a seat. Agent Mathers will join us in just a moment, along with someone else who’s going to get things started.”

“But I still haven’t said anything. For all you know I could be taking a walk.”

Roslin slammed his fist into the table. The forceful impact made it rattle.

“Take a seat.”

Thomas didn’t know what to say. He’d never seen this side of Roslin before. All of his sarcastic jests would have to be placed on hold. It was obvious that things had escalated. Reluctantly, he did as he was told. Right as he felt the cold chair press into him, the doors to the hall rushed open.

“Mr. Ghune—I’d like to introduce you to someone.”

Thomas looked up to see Banks staring back at him earnestly. And he wasn’t alone. To his side was a very odd looking man. Thomas stood up to greet him. As he did, the man’s odd appearance came into full view. He was a portly man, wearing deep, thick glasses with wide brims, topped by waxy, brown hair. He was wearing a quirky shirt that paid homage to an old rock band. He appeared clumsy and off-balance as he stood there.

“This is Julius Orson, one of the lead scientists here.”

Julius approached Thomas, rapidly jutting a hand out to greet him. Thomas watched as the soft hand grasped his and shook it weakly.

“You can call me Jo. It’s a lot easier that way. Everyone I know here does, which isn’t that many. We’ve all got our nicknames around this place. I’m assuming you’ve met Banks or Man in Black as we call him behind his back. You’d swear he never smiles. A real storm cloud that one.”

Thomas started to respond when his mind latched onto Jo’s matted hair. Layers of what appeared to be greasy clumps of straw jutted this way and that. Mesmerizing—so many patterns on such an odd head—it was almost magical.

“Is he okay? He’s staring at me.”

Roslin swirled a hand through the air.

“Mr. Ghune, are you there?”

Thomas shook his head. His brain had been spinning in circles over the frivolous details of Jo’s overtly nerdy appearance.

“I’m fine. I was just thinking.”

“Can we please do some thinking at the table?” asked Roslin, sounding annoyed.

Thomas obliged Roslin and headed back to his chair, leaving Jo behind, still staring blankly. Thomas’ weird introduction had put him off, but he too reluctantly followed suite. Once at the table, he sat down cautiously. Banks sat beside him, keeping his eyes locked on Thomas at all times.

“Right, let’s get started. I’m sure Agent Mathers has clued you in on some of this, but Mr. Orson is the real wizard here. As I’d rather not waste any more time, let’s just get all the questions you have out of the way now.”

Thomas shifted in his chair, examining Roslin nervously. He didn’t know why, but something about the man made him feel uncomfortable. Or maybe it was the fact that Banks was staring at him like a piece of steak he was ready to gnaw on.

“Right now, I only want to know how and why. You all claim to do something absolutely ridiculous, and yet I still find myself sitting here. And by how I don’t mean the nitty gritty. I just want to understand what exactly I’m getting into. After that, let’s find the why.”

Jo’s eyes lit up with pure jubilance. His on switch had been pressed. Roslin looked at him and nodded.

“It’s really something, isn’t it? Taking the very fabric of time and rolling it out like a red carpet. The immense number of complex singularities, energy patterns, and possibilities is truly mind-boggling.”

“Jo, get to the point,” said Banks, interrupting him.

Jo cringed. He looked upset by everyone’s enthusiasm.

“Fine . . . we created a form of time travel, only it’s probably not what you’re thinking.”

“I’m not even believing it at this point, let alone thinking about it.”

Jo’s smile returned. Roslin’s incredulous challenge had been accepted.

“Picture the world as you know it now, only flattened out and stretched. On this flat floor are all of the energy patterns created by gravity, electrons, and a literal smorgasbord of other things. But in the end, it’s all energy. This energy creates patterns that exist in instances throughout time; your first birthday party, your first kiss, your first time with a woman . . .”

Jo blushed at the mention of the word woman. His vivid imagination was getting the better of him.

“These instances are tied to you. You’re forever bound to them. From conception until the end, you have a unique pattern; a pattern that can be traced and accessed. We’ve merely figured out how to access that moment in which your instance existed. There we create a temporary distortion allowing you to go back in time!”

Thomas rolled his eyes.

“Are you kidding me? That’s insane.”

“Insane, yes, it’s absolutely, deliciously insane. That’s what makes it awesome!”

Jo closed his eyes for just a moment, relishing his show of intellectual superiority.

“But we have limits. Picture that same flat floor. To access an instance taking place when you existed in the past, we bend it, like a donut. A scrumptious, sugar coated donut!”

“Jo!” scolded Roslin, getting annoyed.

“Nobody likes metaphors? Anyways, it takes an astronomical amount of energy to do so. This makes the time in which you can be there short. It also makes the window narrow. And on top of that, everything would be relative. Your current self would exist in a temporary time lapse where things would be happening around you at an almost snail-like pace. It’s like being on super speed; the rush of a lifetime!”

Thomas’ mind had already formulated a plethora of questions. But he quickly organized them into a hierarchy of what he cared about most.

“So you’re telling me that I could hop back in time, but only long enough to take a power nap? And then what am I supposed to do? Come back and just say everything looks great?”

Jo clapped his hands. Thomas’ inability to understand it was thrilling him.

“Normally, yes; we do it all the time. Ever been alone and felt like someone was watching? Ever thought you saw a glimpse of something that wasn’t there? Ever feel like something changed without you knowing it? We’re the ghosts in the shadows, the watchdogs of time.”

“But it’s those watchdogs that are being murdered, including one last night!” exclaimed Banks with high emotion.

“Wait, wait a second. You were following me, weren’t you? At the bar, that man, he was one of your guys!” yelled Thomas furiously.

“We told you we’d be watching, Mr. Ghune. There was no way we were going to let you just walk away after being here. This isn’t that simple,” continued Roslin.

“That man’s dead! I watched him get ripped apart by an out of control bus! Don’t lecture me on what’s simple!” screamed Thomas passionately.

“And don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I haven’t regretted that decision? I’m not going to apologize for doing my job and making the hard decisions. But you have to understand that our line of work comes with risk. Risks that can sometime require the ultimate sacrifice!” bellowed Roslin.

“That man was a friend of mine—a good agent—he didn’t deserve to go out like that,” added Banks soberly.

Thomas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His emotions were getting the better of him and he needed to take it down a notch. If he was going to beat this he needed to stay immune to it all.

“Ok, I’m sorry. It’s just disturbing is all, and to be honest, horrifying that someone can do that with such a slight yet calculated sleight of hand. So how can you stop someone who’s hopping back in time? You said it’s all relative for the traveler, but what does that really mean if we collide?”

Roslin looked at Jo who resumed his gleeful babble.

“I thought you’d never ask. Your instance and theirs would coexist. But your windows would have to be the same. As all things are relative, his window could pass in the blink of an eye, leaving you none the wiser should he arrive at a different point in time. There’s no way of knowing when he jumped back; all we can do is trace the event, the ripple. We would be placing you within that variable time frame that we can support. If you’re lucky, or judging by current events unlucky, enough to meet this person head-on, you both would adhere to the same physics or laws. This also means either one of you could die. I’d imagine that to be a last resort.”

Thomas cringed at the mention of death in Jo’s sentence. He felt as if the room’s walls were somehow closing in around him. There would be no turning back.

“So why are they dying now? Why didn’t whoever this is just go back and push their tricycle out into the street and call it good?”

Jo shook his head.

“One thing you need to understand here are the instances themselves. Your past is, for lack of a better explanation, in the past. It’s happened. Its energy pattern has been made. To change something like that would be utterly impossible. But our future, the here and the now, well that’s wide open. If you could foresee a pattern and calculate a response by changing tiny details of the past, you could alter the future, or as in our case, murder. It’s the most elaborate game of chess you’ll ever play, using all of the pieces to finally get what you want; where past movements eventually force a result in the present.”

Jo’s eyes watered with emotion. The mental exercise and intricacy of the problem was captivating him deeply.

“This is insane. So, if I’m understanding all this sci-fi hoopla, potentially, I’d be traveling back to a time that puts me on a crash course with some psychopath, where I’d then have but minutes to figure out what this looney has changed and link it to the present? That’s like me pushing a pebble down the mountain and then trying to tell you if an avalanche is going to happen. This isn’t some game; this is the puzzle of a lifetime.”

Jo began to respond but was cut off by Roslin.

“One that you’re going to have to solve, Mr. Ghune—that’s why you’re here—we wouldn’t have pulled you into this world had we not ran out of other options. The truth is we aren’t winning. The truth is there’s too much evil out there that needs to be fixed and we don’t have the resources to do it.”

“Resources? You mean talent—some freak like me—why don’t you guys just call it what it is? You only need me to save you. I’m nothing but a means to an end. Then what? I miraculously save the day and get an honorary recommendation? You’re just going to let me walk away from all this?”

Roslin put a hand up to his head. The incessant questioning from Thomas was whittling him away.

“This isn’t about us or you. This is about what’s right. I’m not at liberty to say more, or care what you decide to do with yourself. It’s up to you to decide what you think is right.”

Thomas shook his head. There were so many things he didn’t like. So many parts of the story that still seemed wide open. But he hadn’t stopped to ask the very simple question; what did he think was right? What was right to a man who had lost everything? Did he even know the difference between right and wrong anymore? Or was he floating somewhere above it all in the selfish pursuit of purpose and vindication. There was only one true way to find out.

“Let’s say I’m in. Where do we go from here?”

Banks moved forward on the table.

“You’d be partnering up with me. With the recent murder of Agent Stathis, that leaves only two of us. If you were to join, that’d put that number to three. We’ve lost three agents thus far. Our odds aren’t looking good. But the longer we wait, the more whoever this is will accomplish. Everybody is at risk here.”

Banks pulled a watch-like gadget from his pocket that mirrored the one he was wearing and placed it on the table.

“It’s yours. You need to be trained, but from then on you’ll temporarily be a part of this team. It comes with all the responsibilities of wielding something like this. We don’t give gifts like this lightly.”

Thomas looked down at the incredible device. It sat silently, beckoning him to pick it up. A part of him wanted to without question, but his pride held him back. How did they know what was and wasn’t possible? How could anyone possibly understand the complexities of time? The amount of arrogance in the room was repugnant. But he didn’t really have any other choice. Slowly, his hand worked its way out of his pocket and grabbed the watch. He twisted it around his wrist and latched it tightly.

“Good, good, let’s not waste any more time than we already have. We’re way behind so we’ve got to do some serious catching up. Agent Mathers can show you the ropes. Use Mr. Orson for anything else. If you need me I’ll be around,” Roslin said as he rose to his feet.

“And where are you going? Have some other, more pressing, issues to deal with?”

Roslin responded over his back as he continued without pause.

“You have no idea.”

“I think it’s time you really learn just how complicated things can get. We’ll teach you how to use what we call “the brink” to take glimpses back. I’ll show you the ropes of something you never would have imagined possible. But I cannot stress enough the importance of never losing your device or damaging it. The implications could be disastrous.”

“Brink, glimpse, and disaster—who could possibly say no to all that?” remarked Thomas sarcastically.

Jo let out a sudden burst of laughter that he quickly contained. It appeared he was enjoying Thomas’ dark, morbid humor. Banks gave him a very upset look that shushed Thomas on the spot.

“Mr. Ghune, you need to start taking this seriously. If you don’t, you will lose—I promise you that.”

Thomas felt the sharp comment stab at his pride. Immediately, his defense mechanisms heightened in preparation for retort. But he was quick to calm himself down. He couldn’t let his ego demolish the few flimsy bridges he’d built so far.

“Alright . . . I’ll try. You just have to understand how ridiculous this all seems upfront. I’m still having difficulty processing.”

Banks put on a microscopic smile that faded quickly.

“You sound a lot like I did all those years back. Don’t worry; it gets better. Soon it’ll become almost second nature.”

The group huddled together. The explanations that came were astounding. The brink was nothing short of spectacular. All of the years of research and secret funding had created a true epitome of human creativity. But this brought another question; just what else was there? If the brink program existed, how many others did as well? These questions needed a place and time to be answered, but it wasn’t now. As the hours dragged on, the only thing that mattered to Thomas was the only thing he couldn’t change—the past.

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