Ethan frowned at the strange pen. How was he supposed to sign something without ink?
“Don’t take all day, bro. Just sign right there.” The delivery boy pointed to a light gray area on the pad.
He hated the way this punk kept calling him ‘bro,’ but he put the strange pen against the surface. As if by magic, the first letter he wrote appeared on the screen in black. Ethan paused to marvel at this newfound technology.
“Hurry up, bro! Geez, I ain’t got all damn day, yo.”
Ethan scowled at the kid then proceeded to draw a phallus with two large hairy balls on the pad. After concluding his masterpiece, Ethan gave the writing instrument back, pushing it hard against the guy’s chest, nearly knocking him off balance.
He managed to recover himself before falling flat on his tight pants and then sauntered off with as much pride as he could manage — which wasn’t very much. No doubt Ethan had caused offense with his brusque demeanor. Well, too damn bad.
Ethan picked up the package and retrieved the keys from his pocket. He slid one into the lock, hoping it worked. It did.
When he walked inside the apartment he stopped a moment to absorb the sight. Everything was undisturbed, exactly the way it had been left since he was last here.
An unidentifiable feeling swept over him. It was almost like nothing had happened; like this should just be another day coming home from work. There wasn’t even any dust on the furniture.
He looked down at the package and ripped it open. Inside was a newspaper wrapped in plastic. He tore the plastic and withdrew the folded up paper. A note was appended to the front page:
‘KNOWLEDGE CAN BE A DANGEROUS THING’
Ethan tossed the note aside and opened the newspaper, staring in shock at the front page. No! It can’t be true! His fingers curled around the pages and for a moment he just stood there, uncomprehending. Then he ran to a window on the far side of the apartment.
They’re gone! Ethan looked back down at the article. Its blaring headline read:
‘HIJACKED JETS DESTROY TWIN TOWERS
AND HIT PENTAGON IN DAY OF TERROR’
The date on the top margin read September 12, 2001. His own words came back to him then, what he had said to Wallace only hours before, “You can’t go around screwing with history like this — think about the cost of such actions!”
Wallace’s reply had been, “Someday the cost may be worth paying, my friend.”
The outdated copy of The New York Times fell from Ethan’s hand and fluttered to the floor. Its subsections spilled about, framing the front page, where a picture of the Twin Towers engulfed in flames and billowing smoke was prominently displayed. The photo had just been permanently seared into his mind. Now he knew the reason behind the strange unsettled feeling on the drive over here from the airport. His subconscious had known.
He tore his gaze away from the cityscape where the two majestic buildings had once stood, and reached inside his pocket to retrieve the watch. Such a small device, yet capable of such incredible things. Is the cost really worth paying?
A sudden ringing sound erupted from inside the room. Ethan glanced about, looking for its origin. It sounded like a phone, and yet it didn’t. Finally, he found the source. It emanated from something on his kitchen table that looked like what the taxi driver had showed him — a ‘cell phone’. How did that get there?
Tentatively, he picked up the device and examined its screen. How the hell do I even answer this damn thing? The words ‘Slide to answer’ were lit up, with an arrow indicating the direction. He pressed his thumb against the arrow and moved it across from left to right. There was a faint click and he brought the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
A familiar voice came through the speaker. Wallace.
“Do I have your attention now, Mr. Tannor?”
EPILOGUE:
Tar and Away
Over two and a half years at this job and still Deanna McClammy remained busy. Her friends always laughed at her, asking why she spent time digging up bones from ages ago when there was so much more to look forward to in life. Such demoralizing quips never got the best of her, though. Besides, what was the purpose of the future if people didn’t understand or learn from the past?
She sat on a sturdy piece of lumber suspended a foot from the surface of hardened tar. It was messy work, but she loved it; finding a new species every few months was what kept her going. She’d been digging in this quadrant of the excavation for a while now. Taut strings held by stakes in the black muck were all around her, marking off squared sections one meter at a time.
The heat of the California sun had been steady the last few days of the month. Yet Deanna was glad to be busy, despite the sweat and tar stuck to her face and hands. Construction on the museum had begun the previous year, and she knew it was going to be magnificent. Someday people would come from all over to see the fossils that had been extracted from the depths of Pit 91.
She, too, was amazed at the collection that had been put together, polished and displayed in the lab. Wires and rods would soon be placed on the old bones to hold them suspended along the corridors of the future museum.
Sweat dripped from her forehead and along the bridge of her nose. She wiped it away with the back of her hand before gravity pulled it into the pit to be claimed as well. Deanna tilted her wrist to note the time. She was almost done for the day; just two hours left until her shift ended.
She pulled a thick chunk of tar out and placed it in the now full bucket that sat beside her on the makeshift seat of wood. Then she stood, hefting the bucket and balanced her way at a steady pace to the edge of the pit. She set the bucket aside, only to grab an empty one.
“You done for the day?” a voice called out.
Deanna looked up and saw Felton, one of her colleagues, hovering at the edge of the drop zone and watching her with a smile. A tall, lanky man of about her age, he’d always noticed her efforts on the dig. She never knew if it was her he was interested in, or what she pulled from the pits. At the moment he appeared a little too intrigued with her bucket.
“Just about,” she said. “But don’t wait for me; I’ve got to finish up a quadrant.”
“Catch you later, then.” He waved and sauntered away but not before turning his head and grinning at her once more.
Deanna tight-roped back along the beam and sat down again. That was when she noticed a tube-like object jutting from the tar. It was odd and out of place among the bones normally found within.
She glanced around to make sure Felton was gone before turning back to the new find. A quick tug on the object told her it was firmly in place. She set to work, her interest now fixed. Time sped by unnoticed as she uncovered the object piece by slow piece. She didn’t even remember turning on the working night lights.
Deanna knew she probably should have called in hours ago about the discovery, but everyone else was gone for the day. That wasn’t what really held her back, though. She wanted — no, she needed — to uncover this for herself. If not, one of the men on the crew, Felton included, would surely steal the credit for this discovery.
Hours later, she was able to pry the item loose from Pit 91. For a moment, she stared at it blankly. Deanna thought she knew what the object was, although it looked like none she had ever seen before. She put it aside for the moment and dug a bit longer. Then she pried another item out. This one seemed like it should be familiar but it too was different.