Aleskei's Revolution

A time-travel short story, first published in The Sword Review

Part One: Tyrant

Aleskei Volchenkcov, the CEO of Concupi Science, Inc., felt giddy, almost weightless, as he passed by the final Trespassers Will Be Shot sign. Two armed soldiers stood outside Research and Development. Neither moved as he entered, humming to himself.

The night before, his wife had grunted at him and turned from his touch, but her ritual of neglect had bothered him very little. Instead, he had lain awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking of this moment; or, rather, thinking of long-ago days spent in the arms of Lilya Datsyuka. The thought of her now made his heart race, and he calmed himself, not wanting to aggravate his condition.

The waiting crew of scientists and engineers greeted him professionally, though in their eyes he saw a hint of discomfort, as if they did not trust him with their new machine. Normally, he would have pulled himself upright and met them eye-to-eye until the condescension gave way to fear and trepidation. They would have seen that age and diabetes-induced obesity had not softened the will of this corporate dictator. With eyes as cold as his deeply graying hair, he would have made them quiver to their toes, but, today, he could not be bothered. Lilya Datsyuka, still young and perfect, awaited him.

The time machine looked a little like the old-fashioned salon-style hairdryers, being comprised mainly of a bell-shaped contraption they would lower over his head. As he slid into the accompanying chair, several voices talked at once, either highlighting the capabilities of the machine or reminding him of the transmittal procedures. He listened to none of it. He had only one thing in mind: his destination.

Then the cacophony died away, and one clear voice spoke in his ear. “Though you do not physically travel back, what you cause your younger self to do will alter time. Don’t make significant changes of any kind. Your entire life could be turned on its ear, and you’d never know it. When you returned, you would remember only that new life, nothing of the old. Be careful. This is real.”

Aleskei smiled broadly. “This had better be real,” he said. “I’m counting on it.”

After a moment’s hesitation, the man spoke again. Aleskei now became aware of the nervous, little twig of a man addressing him, Ichansky, the Chief Science Officer. Ichansky wiped away the perspiration that beaded on his weasel-like face. Anxiety amplified his every movement, and his voice cracked when he spoke. “Sir, I don’t think you appreciate the severity of what we’re saying.”

Aleskei flashed his practiced, don’t-cross-that-line smile and met Ichansky’s gaze until Ichansky turned his head like a scolded dog. Aleskei hissed, “I know what I’m doing,” and motioned for the others to proceed.

The Chief Science Officer had the power to shut down the project. Had Ichansky the backbone, he could have thrown Aleskei out on his rear, but Ichansky had been Aleskei’s choice for the position. He had chosen a man he knew he could control. True to form, Ichansky skulked away, and the others jumped to follow Aleskei’s commands.

They lowered the helmet. For a moment, as the metallic jar cut off air and light, he felt a wave of claustrophobia surge within him. He fought it off, more than willing to go through torture, let alone discomfort, for the experience that lay before him. Then a fresh breeze of air brushed against his nostrils and a soothing light pulsed before his eyes. Everything was going to be just fine.

As they had trained him to do, he thought back to the time in his life he wanted to revisit. He could go back, they said, to observe and experience. They had warned against the urge to right past wrongs and ease old regrets. Minor changes in time could have far-reaching, unanticipated results. Aleskei pondered what he could possibly want to change. He had hurt people along the way, and perhaps that was unfortunate, but it had also been a necessary part of the man he had become. All of it was a delicate balance, and he cared to change none of it. There were, however, a few particular moments he wanted to relive.

He focused on the convention in Brussels when he first met Lilya Datsyuka, and he chose the timing of his reentry very carefully. The evening had been a long, delicate negotiation with a potentially vital client. He had outdone himself that night, impressing Lilya, the company’s representative, and wooing her all at once. He dared not mess with that performance, but instead waited until uncertainty gave way to inevitability. Then he entered the conscious mind of his younger self as he and Lilya stumbled into her hotel room, locked in a passionate embrace.

After his brief trip in time, the chauffeured ride home seemed more pleasant than usual. Even his aches and pains troubled him less. No longer were they something he would never again escape this side of the grave. Now, he could elude the rot of aging any time he chose. He could be that young sales representative again, full of life and immortality and embraced by Lilya’s perfect touch.

His home, a great stone structure with high, gothic arches, overlooked the sixteenth tee. The driver brought him to the front door, and Aleskei stood in front of his house, studying it in the dwindling light. As with every spring, the wasps had returned to build their nests. A great, two-story arch loomed over the main entrance, and at its peak several dozen of the creatures danced in agitated loops. They would soon die by the gardener’s hand, and in some way that was a shame. Their swarming presence gave the home a menacing presence, a touch of character that he enjoyed. 

The wealth and power he now accepted as his right had once seemed forever beyond his grasp. He had married the daughter of a powerful man, but as Lilya had once told him, that would only take him so far. He wondered what Lilya thought of him now. He wondered if she still lived. It was a sign of her character that she had never popped up again, wanting to make things difficult for him. Still, even if she had, what could she have done? His wife had discovered the affair. The company would have frowned on his committing infidelity with a client, had things gone badly, but that had not happened. In the end, morality was measured in profit and loss, and by that standard he was a saint.

He stepped into the great hall, and for the first time in years he paused to appreciate the beauty of the staircase as it swept upward in its gentle arc. It would have been a welcome sight to see a young wife poised at the top of the stairs dressed in a skimpy negligee. As it was, neither he nor his wife was in any shape to climb those stairs or to wear sexy nightclothes. Those delights were left to the young. 

He found his wife, Natasha, in the atrium, trimming flowers. She wore a colorful pants suit and her favorite, floppy hat. She caught his eye and returned his beaming smile. “Well, I can see you had a good day.”

They kissed and the first pang of guilt pulled at his heart. “We’re almost ready to introduce a new product to the cabinet of ministers.”

“Oh? Which product is that?”

“Top secret. National defense and all. Let’s just say that it will assure our superiority in the region, perhaps indefinitely.”

“Daddy would have been proud.”

Though he politely refrained from saying so, this last innovation would put her father deeply in Aleskei’s shadow. Still, he had to admit that he had always admired the man, even now, after he had surpassed his achievements in almost every way. In only one area had her father outdone him, and that was with the women. Up until his death at the age of eighty-seven, his “little flings” had been a constant, ingrained part of who he was. It had also been the one part he would not let Aleskei imitate. 

When Natasha told him about Aleskei’s affair, her father had sat him down for a talk. The old man had leaned back in his favorite chair and sipped at a gin and tonic as he spoke. “I understand what’s happened, believe me, and I’ll make things right with Natasha.” Aleskei’s heart had soared, and in that instant he had imagined that he could keep it all. “If it were just you and me, I’d find a way to make this work. I understand that’s a fine looking woman you’ve got on the side, and I hate to make a man forgo the pleasures of life.” Slowly, Aleskei’s euphoria slipped away. “The trouble is, I’ve got Natasha to consider, and she means more to me than anything in this world. You are going to break off the relationship. I’ll see to it that there are no business ramifications from all of this, so you just take care of it as quickly and neatly as you can.”

“Yes, sir.”

Her father then finished his drink, set down his glass, and looked him in the eye. “I want you to understand how bad you’ve hurt my Natasha. If you had died, she would have suffered less.”

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

He had held his gaze for several seconds more. “Good, because I’ve taken steps to see that she never suffers like this again.”

That had been harder to fathom, but soon the meaning had become clear. His next act of infidelity would cost him his life. Aleskei had a price on his head.

Natasha gathered her pruning sheers and pulled off her hat. “Dinner should be ready soon. Why don’t we both wash up?”

One thought sickened him as he followed Natasha to the mudroom. It was possible, he supposed, that her father had been the reason Lilya had never surfaced again. He might have paid her off. He might have even had her killed. Having enjoyed the afternoon in Lilya’s exuberant company, it filled him with a fresh sense of loss to think of her being dead these many years. What a waste. Oh well, all was not lost. Tomorrow, they would be together again.

That night, Aleskei made a list of all the dates he and Lilya had shared and eagerly looked forward to reliving each and every one. In the following weeks, as his visits to Research and Development began raising eyebrows, he started going after hours, with no one but the guards to witness his comings and goings. His aged body showed no ill effects from the rigorous activity of his youthful self. They remained separate, while his consciousness made the journey.

He returned home, late again one evening, sat at the dinner table and smiled at Natasha. She passed the vegetables, and he thanked her. Not long before, he had dined on the Riviera with Lilya at his side. He had ordered a thick, rare steak and for desert, cheesecake. He had eaten with abandon all the things that had long since been restricted from his diet. It made the bland, healthy meal before him now seem an impossible drudgery, but his body was hungry. He forced himself to chew and swallow.

His every evening was filled with food, dancing, and sex, in any combination he chose. He relived and rewrote his youthful vigor, enjoying it more now, he thought, than he had the first time around. No longer, as they say, would youth be wasted on the young.

Still, every night he was obliged to go home. Every night he stared into the settled, quiet face of his wife and muddled through his doctor-prescribed diet. The forced smiles grew more difficult, and eventually stopped entirely, and he found himself sitting across the table from a woman he loathed.

Then, one day she looked at him with pain in her eyes. “Work has certainly been keeping you away these couple of months.” He saw her loneliness, but the guilt it stirred only made him resent her more. 

“Someone has to pay for all this.” His voice was abrupt and harsh. The very sound of it startled him.

“I don’t like you staying out so late.”

“It’s the only time I can really get things done. Maybe I can arrange to be here more during the day. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

She nodded noncommittally and stared down at her plate. “I thought it would be nice to get away for a while. We could take a vacation, go to Rome. I’d like to see Rome again.”

Aleskei exploded. Before he knew what was happening, he was on his feet, screaming, and his chair capsized behind him. Blood pounded in his temples. His heart raced so hard it hurt. He heard himself yelling something about Natasha never being satisfied; he had just told her he would arrange to be home more, but that was not enough. It was never enough. 

He saw the shock and fear in her face, and felt his own legs begin to tremble. He turned and stumbled away from the table. She was screaming now, but he could not focus on what she was saying. The pounding in his ears was too loud, and the room was spinning. He pressed his face against the china cabinet. The cold glass felt good. A wet washcloth. He needed a washcloth and a pill. Then he would be all right, but he couldn’t let her take him away from Lilya, not now, not again. 

He tried to move towards the kitchen. He took a step, but somehow his foot couldn’t find the floor. He felt nothing but space, cool, black space that rushed up to take him in its arms.

He woke in a hospital room with tubes in his nose and arm. It came as no surprise that he was alone. The bedside chair where a worried wife might have sat was empty. Though unsure what that meant, the possibilities troubled him little. He had Lilya again, and Natasha was only getting in the way. Besides, she would be happier without him. It was the best for both of them. Her father’s threat had kept this from happening before, but certainly, it had been inevitable from the beginning. Though he had never been able to admit it until now, they were never meant for each other.

Doctors and nurses came and went, and then, as the day drew on into evening, the door opened and Natasha walked in. She stood by the foot of his bed and looked down at him. For a long time, neither of them spoke. For Aleskei, all that was left was for her to say the words. She was leaving him. He had become impossible to live with in his old age, and she was leaving.

Though it took longer than he had anticipated, she did at last speak. “How are you feeling?”

The question caught him off guard, and he had to think about it a moment. “Like a puppet whose strings were cut.”

She nodded. “I’m not surprised. You’re too old to carry on like this.”

He shrugged. “People lose their tempers. Mine was bound to boil over eventually.”

“I don’t mean that,” she said. “You’re going to have to stop seeing her. It’ll kill you otherwise.”

Several silent seconds passed before he realized his mouth was hanging open. “What are you talking about?”

She clasped her hands and took a deep, shaky breath. She sounded like she was on the verge of crying. He noticed now that the flesh around her eyes was red and puffy. Apparently, she had been crying for a long time. “I didn’t want to believe it,” she said at last. “At your age and in your condition, I just couldn’t see it happening, but you haven’t acted like this since you carried on with that Lilya person.”

Memories of her father’s threat came flooding in. “Natasha, you’re crazy. How could I possibly be having another affair? I swear to you, Lilya was the only other woman I’ve ever been with, and that ended over thirty years ago.” He almost smiled at the irony of the truth in what he said.

“I know you, Aleskei.”

“Check with the office. I spend my evenings in Research and Development. The soldiers on guard see me going in and out every day. Ask them.”

“You’re cheating on me again. You are, and it’s going to kill you. I’m not ready for that, Aleskei. Heaven knows why, but I want you around.”

Again his mouth fell open. She wasn’t leaving him.

“You need help. I’ve contacted a psychiatrist, and we’re going to meet with him and work through this.” Her words were sharp, crisp, and clear, and he marveled at how well she handled something that had to be incredibly painful. Then, at last, having said what she meant to say, she turned and left him alone in his room.

Aleskei tried not to panic as he considered the ramifications of what had just been said. If there were a contract on his head, the passing of thirty years might not mean anything. The money, he imagined, could still be out there, waiting to be claimed, and once word got out that he had been unfaithful, his life would be over. By contacting the psychiatrist, Natasha might have sealed his fate. Something had to be done.

There was, he thought, one possibility. He had to get back to the time machine.

Over the next few days, Natasha returned faithfully to visit him. He behaved perfectly for her, and her stays gradually increased. After a week, he was allowed to go home. “We’ll see the psychiatrist tomorrow,” he promised as he left the obligatory wheel chair and slid into the limousine. “Everything will be just fine.”

As the limousine entered traffic, however, a black sedan pulled in a few cars behind. Aleskei watched as the sedan matched them turn for turn. Time, he knew, was short.

He turned to Natasha. “There’s something that needs attending.” He told the driver to make a brief stop at the office.

“You’re not well enough for that,” Natasha protested.

“Just this one thing,” he promised, “and then I’m all yours.” She tried to give him a look of disapproval, but he knew he had already won. She turned from him, her face darkening, and he felt a fresh surge of guilt. He had never been the husband she deserved. Perhaps, had he realized that years ago, had he cared, he could have changed things. Now, the time for that had passed. She needed to come to her senses and leave him. She could grow old in peace, and he would have his Lilya.

Without another word between them, Aleskei left Natasha in the car and marched straight to Research and Development. The soldiers saluted his return, and the engineers and scientists cheered. He thanked them all and explained that he needed one short trip in the time machine, that was all.

He glanced at Ichansky, the Chief Science Officer, wondering if he would object, but even he seemed happy to have Aleskei back. He figured Ichansky would feel differently, if he knew what he intended. He would have said that the ramifications of such a plan are inherently unpredictable. Change the path of a mosquito, and, at least in theory, you could doom humanity.

Aleskei tried to smile and look full of anticipation, as if this were just another joyride. The project team could afford to ponder theories. Aleskei could not. If he walked out that door with nothing changed, he was a dead man, but if he could arrange it so Natasha never knew about the affair, then there would be no contract. In fact, she wouldn’t even think to suspect an affair now. All he had to do was make that one small change. In the grand scheme of things, it would be almost meaningless. The only possible ramification, as he saw it, was that when he took that helmet back off, he would be a free man.

Suspecting nothing, the project team willingly obliged him and had soon fitted the helmet over his head. The fresh puff of air blew against his nostrils, and the soothing lights flashed before his eyes. He focused his thoughts on the last date with Lilya before Natasha discovered the affair. He could have gone back to the beginning and stopped the affair before it ever happened, but then it would have been truly erased. It would cease to exist in his memory. He could never go back and recapture it again. This way, he could end the affair and yet keep it going forever.

Be quick, he told himself. Don’t give Natasha time to wonder what you’re up to.

The date he chose was a quiet evening at her apartment. When the door opened, revealing Lilya in a little, black teddy, Aleskei was tempted to linger. Given time he could have enjoyed the evening and then broken it off, but there was no time to give.

He hesitated a moment as doubt nagged at his soul. This was a change like nothing they had ever tried before. For the briefest of moments, he considered a different series of choices: spend the evening in Lilya’s embrace; don’t risk making the change; accept death. 

Change the path of a mosquito, and you could doom humanity. Possibly, but what else mattered, if it cost him his own life? The answer came clear and certain. Nothing else, no one else, was more important than his own survival. Hoping to make it quick and simple, he looked Lilya in the eye and told her it was over. “I can’t see you anymore. I’m sorry. Don’t try to call me. We’re through.”

Then he turned and walked away. He gave himself enough time to actually leave the apartment building and only after the street door locked behind him did he return to the present. As he became aware of the flashing lights, his remembered universe turned in on itself and emerged as something new.

Part Two: Rebel

Aleskei Volchenkcov stood outside his lover’s apartment building and marveled at what he had done. He yanked at the door, but it had locked shut behind him. He buzzed her apartment, but she would not answer.

He stood back at the edge of the sidewalk, teetering on the edge of the street and looked up at her window where white curtains of lace hung slightly parted. He started to yell, but thought better of it and held his tongue. Even this was too much. He had the look of position and wealth about him. People would notice. Someone would connect him with Concupi Science, Inc., his employer. 

He was leaving himself open, especially now as Lilya Datsyuka came to the window. She had covered herself in a silken robe, one hand holding it together at her throat. Even from here he could see that her face was puffy with tears. Anyone on the street could easily see the same. He hesitated, unable to risk calling out to her, and then she turned away from the window and was gone.

Aleskei slapped his hand over his mouth as if to stifle a scream, but he made no sound. Instead, he closed his eyes, sucked in deliberately through his nose, and then walked away down the sidewalk, looking he hoped very little like a man who just ended an affair.

He was young, trim and good looking. Lilya had been a surprise, but now that he had found himself able, certainly he could manage it again. Still, he fought the urge to look back over his shoulder, and instead pulled his woolen coat tight to him. Another block and he would be in his car. There he could find the time to think, to ponder this out.

Pondering, though, would not solve this mystery. He had come to her door, anticipating an evening of bliss, and had, instead, told her they could not see each other again. There was something else, something that had been at the back of his mind. His wife, Natasha. He had needed to hurry because his wife was waiting. She was in the car, waiting for him just outside the doors of Concupi Science. Again, that was nonsense. His wife was at home, blissfully unaware of his little fling.

Haunted with a sense of unease, he drove home to their townhouse with the view of the river. Leafless trees stood like sentries guarding the approach. An orange moon hung low on the horizon, showing itself briefly between the buildings and over the water. The house was dark but for the light that burned in their bedroom, on the second story, overlooking the water. He saw its glow as he slowed to make the turn. He imagined Natasha pacing before the great picture window, sobbing as she held the phone to her ear. She was on the phone. Somehow he had not doubt of that.

He also knew his world was about to end.

He pondered the strangeness of it as he trudged the last few steps to his door. If Natasha was on the phone, if Lilya had called her, then his sins would have, at last, come to haunt him. Yet, had he not ended the affair, he could have spent the evening in Lilya’s arms and no one would have ever known. He paused at the door and wished he could go back in time and change this horrible day, but, that being impossible, he worked the lock and pushed open the door. The sound of Natasha’s stifled sobs drifted down to greet him.

Lilya Datsyuka was the representative for an important client. He had met her at a convention in Brussels and had won both her business and her bed. In losing Lilya he lost the client, but with her phone call he lost much more. He had married a powerful man’s daughter, but as Lilya had once said, that would only take him so far, and it had not taken him so far that she could not tear him down again. He lost everything: wife, job, and home. He lost his very future.

As autumn chill gave way to a snow-covered winter, Aleskei drank himself to death, or, rather, he drank himself as close to death as he could afford and then settled into a shadowed alley and waited for the cold to do the rest. At first, despite being drunk, he could feel the chill air as it nibbled at his fingers and nose. Then he felt the frosty night embrace him with a hold so strong he found it difficult to breathe. At last, though, the pain and discomfort subsided, like when the sheets at first are cold and then warmth comes rolling in on the tide of a good night’s sleep. He could feel the tide now, tugging him out of consciousness. He was almost under when footsteps echoed in the alley. He thought a street gang had found him and it was apt. Even the end could not come painlessly.

Instead of beating him, the hands that reached down to him lifted him up and gently placed in the backseat of a car. Confused, but still too sick to care, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Eventually, he awoke to a stern but beautiful face staring down at him. She was a petite woman with hair that was either a light brown or a dark blonde. She had small hands and strong shoulders and a smile they conveyed the best of man’s emotions. Staring into her face he saw not a shallow beauty but the deep promise of things to come.

"Don't try to move," she said, her voice like the lilt of angels. He would never stop loving the sound of that voice, not as they grew old, not after the throat operation to remove her cancer, not ever.

Her name was Tanya. When he recovered from his alcohol poisoning she was the one to introduce him to his new world. The resistance–working against the government and, by extension, Concupi Science, Inc.–had taken notice of Aleskei’s fall from grace. 

At first he played along out of bitterness toward the company. Slowly, though, Tanya taught him to let go of his hatred, and to see, instead, that their work was not against an institution but for a people who needed their freedom. 

His own needs, his own life, dwindled away to something insignificant. This new vision of himself made it particularly difficult to ask for Tanya’s hand in marriage, but he bowed down on one knee and told her that he wanted only the chance to make her happy. To his delight, she accepted.

A new life, a new future, opened for Aleskei as he and Tanya raised their children and grew old together. They never had much, but with faith, family, and their work, they always had what they needed. When he looked back, he saw a life he could truly call blessed.

Then word came that Concupi Science had invented an unimaginable weapon, a time machine, and the resistance leaders urged Aleskei out of semi-retirement. The mission required that the ultimate price be paid, a price beyond even death itself. The thought of it tore his heart, and he expected, maybe even hoped, that Tanya would refuse and cling selfishly to the memories of a life they both dearly loved. Instead, she blinked back her tears and faced what lay before them with her characteristic and unwavering sense of duty.

"We've had our lives," she told him. "Even if all memory of our existence is wiped from this planet, we have had a wonderful life together. What matters now, is keeping that opportunity alive for the next generation and for the generation after that."

He noticed that she did not say for their children, and their children after that. If their plan worked, their lives together and the children they loved would all be sacrificed. In an instant, they would cease to have ever been.

Sensors made it impossible to sneak weapons into the Concupi Science building, but with a little inside help they could slip Aleskei in, unarmed and alone. Given a few a minutes with the time machine, he could change his history and from there change the world. He would go back and stop the affair that had ruined his marriage and career, but that would not be enough. This new self needed to know the dangers of the time machine. It needed to be ready to stop the threat. Their plan called for him to write his younger self a note, explaining as much as he could about the time machine, his mission, the affair, and the man he would need to become were he to change things. It would be the last artifact remaining of the life he had once known. 

To Tanya, he protested, "There's no guarantee that I'll take my note seriously. If I'm part of Concupi Science, I might not see the threat the time machine represents, and if I don't see that, then no amount of power will matter."

She smiled and gripped his face in her hands. "You will do what is right. You are good and selfless, and you would be so without me. It is who you are and who you were meant to become. You'll see. It is simply the nature of Aleskei Volchenkcov."

Believing that with all his heart, Aleskei broke into the Concupi Science Research and Development department. He intended to follow the plan, to go back to Brussels and stop the affair. Then he could claim a place of power within the company, and, when the time came, he could undermine the time machine project. Yet, once he started the machine and sent himself back in time, everything went wrong.

He found himself back at Lilya’s apartment. The door swung open, and, posed before him in black lingerie, she beckoned him to come to her. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “I can’t see you anymore. I’m sorry. Don’t try to call me. We’re through.”

He waited until he was on the sidewalk outside her building, and the door had locked behind him, before he re returned to the present. 

Aleaskei’s memories confused him, as if they were not his memories at all. Instead of going to Brussels, he had returned to the last date with Lilya before Natasha discovered he had been cheating. He broke off the affair as he had before, illogically and without reason but with great determination as if his whole life depended on it, as if changing nothing would change everything. 

Maybe there was something wrong with the machine. Maybe he had lost his mind.

Nothing changed. He still lost Natasha and his job, joined the resistance and fell in love with Tanya, just as before. Now, back in his own time and confused by the failure, he slipped the helmet off and looked into the faces of several screaming strangers. Two armed soldiers burst into the room, and Aleskei raised his arms in surrender.

Part Three: Revolution

The soldier’s ushered Aleskei Volchenkcov to a small, gray room and filled his veins with drugs. When the interrogators came, he told them everything. Under the influence of the drugs he could not refuse. The resistance had foreseen this possibility, however, and the base and even Aleskei's home would both be empty.

As they grilled him, he could think of no reason for why he had been unable to change time, but he could not make himself regret the failure. Had it worked, he would have removed the helmet not as a stranger but as a power broker within Concupi Science. The life he loved would have been wiped away, and in its place he would have the memory of a life lived with his first wife, Natasha. The men who now held him captive would have welcomed him as their superior. He would have lived on in wealth and power, but he wanted none of it. If he were to die, he welcomed the honor of dying as the man Tanya had taught him to be. 

He heard one of the interrogators say, "It sounds like we got lucky. He couldn't get the time machine to work."

A door slammed shut and a high-heeled staccato echoed off the walls of the small room. The interrogators made respectful murmurings, and Aleskei looked up to see Natasha, looking severe in an exquisite business suit. 

She studied his face for several seconds, and then, without smiling, said, "You look good Aleskei."

"We both look old."

She ignored him and verified with the guards that he had been drugged. Then she peppered Aleskei with questions. What had he planned to do on his time trip? What actually happened? As he talked, he could see excitement grow in her face. Eventually, she even smiled.

Without addressing anyone in particular, she said simply, "I do believe Aleskei's trip was a success.” She glanced at the interrogators. "He does not understand his trip and considers it a failure because that is the only moment of his old life left remaining.”

She leaned forward and stared him in the face. "We owe you a great deal, Aleskei.    You've cleared the way. With that machine, we will dominate the region. Perhaps, used well enough, we will learn to rule the world."    

She turned to leave, but something brought her to a halt in mid-step. When she turned back to him, the smile on her face had turned sinister. "I wonder about that old life of yours Aleskei. Does it eat at you to know you've changed everything but can't remember how?" 

She grabbed a chair from a nearby table and sat down facing him. "I suggest we do a little exploring. I want you to concentrate on your trip in time. Return to it. Relive it."    

Aleskei nodded.    

"You have told us what you did then, but I want you to look deeper now. You were in your old mind then, full of old memories and old thoughts that no longer make sense to you. Tell me, Aleskei, what were you thinking, what was in the back of your mind as you broke off the affair with that girl?" 

Aleskei tried to fight the impulse to obey. That segment of his memory was so disjointed, so out of place, that he felt an instinctive desire to avoid it, to deny the problem entirely. The drugs, however, won over instinct. He remembered the trip and the ever-present nagging thoughts that had moved him along his course.

"Change the course of a mosquito, and you can doom humanity."    

Natasha waved the notion aside. "Yes, yes. What else? Other than your concerns about the trip itself, what was on your mind?"

"I had to hurry."    

"Why?" 

The answer to her question shocked him. It came first as a memory of Natasha, aged as she was now, but different, softer. She had been crying. Aleskei understood none of this, but still the drugs pumping through his system compelled him to answer: "You were waiting."    

Natasha paused. The smile faded. "Was I? Where was I waiting?" 

"In the car, outside this building." Slowly, he saw his own discomfort written in Natasha's face. "You didn't know I was using the time machine," he explained. "I had to hurry."    

Natasha spoke as if reading from a text. “The trip was the catalyst that changed time, but the catalyst itself remains unchanged."

Then she turned abruptly and barked at everyone else in the room, "Leave us alone!"    They bowed in obedience and filed out. As the door closed, her façade of strength cracked, revealing traces of emotion. Aleskei watched as she struggled with the revelation that he had changed both their lives. After a moment the look of strength returned. "You went back to end the affair. Why?"

He started to give her the same answer he had before, but she cut him off. "Stay focused on the trip. What was on your mind then? What was your purpose?"

Aleskei struggled to answer, but the reasons conflicted in his mind, confusing him.    

To calm him, she gently touched his hand. "Let go of what you meant to do. When you were on the mission, something changed. You had a new reason for breaking off the affair. What was it?"

It took a moment to focus, but she waited. At last, Aleskei said, "I had to keep you from finding out. That knowledge was complicating things."

"Complicating what?"

"I don't know. I can't remember. You were crying. Your eyes, they were red and puffy. You were waiting for me. We were going home."

Familiar lines creased the flesh between her eyes, and she breathed out a melancholy sigh. "We were still married." She sniffed and briefly dabbed at one eye with her finger. "I can believe it. Even after that woman called me, I didn't want to leave you. It was Daddy. He insisted. It wasn't my feelings he was concerned about so much as the company. You made the company look bad."    

She squared her shoulders, drew her mouth taut and spat the words at him. "Aleskei, you were a horrible excuse for a human being."    

"I know," he said, "and I'm sorry."    

She thought that over a while and then settled back in her chair, letting go of the stiff, formal posture.    "So, this time you meant to go back and stop the affair from ever happening?    That would have been nice.    Nothing's ever hurt me that much."    

A mocking light glittered in her eyes. "I suppose I could let you try again, but then what? You and I would still be married. You'd be running the company by now, and I would be the housewife I thought I always wanted to be. It's funny, though, the way things change. I'm the Chief Science Officer, now. Did you know that?" 

He nodded.    

"Of course you did. You've been spying. Well, the truth is that as painful and difficult as my life has been, I'm rather fond of it. I like who I've become, and I don't want to give that up."    

He let that thought linger a moment before saying, "If the time machine were to be passed into full service, it would be out of your hands. The government would use it as they see fit, and who knows where their changes would bring us?"

She looked ready to disagree with him, but a moment's consideration changed that.    Instead, she said, "Look at what you did with it. You must have been one of the most powerful men in the country and now what are you? You're nothing. Nobody."

"I am," he said, "who I want to be."    

"So am I," she whispered.    

"We could keep it that way. The time machine doesn't have to work. My trip could prove that it’s flawed. The whole project could be scrubbed."    

Natasha looked up at the ceiling and sniffed again. Then she drew close to him and kissed him gently on the cheek. "Had Daddy been the one to find you, he would have had you shot."

"And you, what will you do with me?"

She put a finger on his wedding band. "Do you love your wife?"

"With all my heart."

"Are you good to her?"

"I am what I should have been to you."

She touched the ring finger on her own left hand, and though it was now naked, he saw a tan line encircling it where a ring had been not very long before. "What changes a man that much?"

He had asked himself that same question many times over the years and so answered without pause. "For me, it was being helped to stand again, after the fall."

"Purified in the fires of life." She sighed deeply, and rose to her feet. "If that's the case then Tanya ought to thank me. Tell her that, when you find her again." She hurried to the door, but instead of opening it, she placed her palm flat against it, holding it shut.    

Without turning to face him, she said, "There are so many different directions our lives could have gone. There must be better, happier alternatives, but if we go back and remove the pain, perhaps we become something less, not something more."

"Perhaps," he said.

"I guess we'll never know, since the time machine clearly doesn't work."

She turned again to leave, but he called out to her one last time. "Natasha, I am truly sorry I hurt you."    

"I know,” she said.  “We gave you serum." She put her hand to the knob but let it pause there a moment longer. "And I forgive you, Aleskei."    

The door shut behind her, and he was left alone in the room, listening to the echo of her retreat.

-End-

Thank you for reading,

I’m Thaddeus Thomas.