JENNY ENGLAND

As darkness faded into light, I could just distinguish my landing place as a vacant alleyway. I watched as shadows turned into the stark sides of buildings, windows, doors and garbage bins. Perfect. Out of sight and secure. When it was light enough, I checked my Space-Time Locator to make sure the co-ordinates were correct. They were. I checked the date and time: 0910 hours, 3rd October 2013. My time was limited, I estimated I had just less than an hour to make things right. As soon as I had fully materialised, I pulled my laser from my pocket and marked a cross on the brickwork beneath my feet, then headed out of the alleyway into a busy street.

      The constant whirring of the traffic, the smell of the exhaust fume, the bustling crowds and flashing neon lights of the city were unfamiliar to me. Where I had come from there was no need for such archaic forms of transport and most of the time people spent their nights in virtual worlds. Still, I found it rather exotic as I jostled my way along the hectic sidewalk. I quickened my step as I remembered the seriousness of my mission. I also recalled for a moment, the life I had just left behind, the course of which I was now attempting to reverse. All my previous attempts had failed. I had not been able to go back far enough. This time, having made it, it had to be done.

      When I glances around, I realised I need not have worried about looking out of place. I was amazed at the variety and styles of attire of the people in the street. My tall slender body dressed in a white triellic jumpsuit probably looked no stranger than many of those who passed me by. I also wondered whether any of them could possibly imagine how science was about to change everything, not only their access to resources but by the genetic manipulation of the population in order to make everyone uniform in a quest to create the perfect human being – strong and healthy, resilient bur obedient and controllable.

      I heard a crackling sound and felt a quiver beneath my feet.

      “Hey, man, did you feel that?” a passerby asked as he grabbed me by the arm. I shook him free. I didn’t reply but knew exactly what it meant: my time in the past was starting to run out. I quickened my step once more until I came to the right street where I interrupted a couple standing in a doorway.

      “Excuse me,” I began as I pulled the key from my jacket pocket and read aloud from the tag on the back. “159 Regent Street. Unit 4C. Is this the apartment block?”

      “Yes. That would be the basement apartment, down there,” the young woman said pointing to a door beneath street level. “I don’t think there’s anyone home though. It looks empty,” she added politely.

      I scurried down the nearby set of stairs after thanking the young woman and stood at the door, key in hand. I thought it rather curious that Professor Dalton had kept the key all these years. Perhaps deep down he had an inkling of what was to come. I won’t be home. Use the key, but make it look like a break-in, he had told me when we first met. Then take the report from the briefcase and destroy it. It may not stop it completely being developed but will definitely slow it down. He may now be 91 years old and a bit physically frail, but he still had his wits about him, I mused.

      The key turned effortlessly, and I cautiously stepped inside. It was dark and dingy, but I didn’t want to turn any lights on, but I didn’t want to turn any lights on in case it attracted attention. The briefcase was easy to find, leaning against his desk in the study. I check inside and pulled out a neatly bound wad of paper that looked like a first draft. I ran my finger across the title on the cover page – The Genetic Modification of the Human Species by Professor J Dalton.

      Before I had a chance to trash the place, as instructed by the Professor I heard and felt another crackling. It was now definitely time to get a move on, so I ran out and up the stairs clutching the report tightly under my arm. After a brief survey up and down the street to see if I was still undetected, I raced back to the alleyway, zigzagging my way through the oncoming pedestrian traffic.

      You’re the perfect person for the job. It should be seamless if you follow my instructions, Professor Dalton said at our second meeting about a month ago. Since hearing of your time travel missions into the past I had to see if you could do it for me. I really want this done so I can die with a clear conscience. The mistakes we make…without knowing the possible repercussions. It’s now time to set things right. Are you sure you are not GM? he asked me for the last time, just before I left. Because if you are…well you know what that would mean,” he added.

      “Yes. I am sure I’m not GM,” I lied once again as I really wasn’t sure.

      As soon as I reached the alleyway, I threw the report into one of the garbage bins, followed by the key. I set it alight with my laser. Now it was time to head home. When I got back, if I got back, I would be content knowing I had done something positive for the future of humanity, despite possible consequences. I stood as still as I could on the cross I had marked earlier. Then, as I watched the flames dance high in the bin, I typed the homeward bound settings into the keypad on my belt, pressed the start button and felt my body disappear back into the darkness again.

Jenny England    ©    2024