10 April 2037

“This is it! Today we’ll make history. By remaking it!”

The control room burst into a flurry of crisp white lab coats and military uniforms as Institute scientists enthusiastically broke from the huddle around their dear leader and rushed to finish preparations for their historic undertaking. The air was electric, buzzing with the business‑like babble of engineers and the hum of charging capacitors.

It was all too much for David, a simple history teacher in a sea of brilliant technical minds. He extracted himself from the fray and slunk into the comfort of the background.

He was drawn to the yellow-tinted window at the front of the control room and stared down into the Time Machine’s enormous spherical cavern, watching as a crane lowered a large steel ball into position.

The final precious piece.

A pair of David’s students sat cramped within the reinforced pod. Harry and Matilda. Teaching them had been the highlight of David’s career and each was wise beyond their twenty-two years. They were the bravest people David had ever met, for they were about to leave. Forever.

They were Chronomad One and Two. Humanity’s first time-travellers.

History’s greatest scientific achievement – a technologically plausible theory of time travel – had been discovered in the ashes of its most devastating calamity.

The Long Day.

Memories of the carnage flashed through David’s mind. Brilliantly colourful auroras streaming across the sky. Blank phone screens. Empty plates. Long forgotten illnesses. Violent gangs roaming the suddenly lawless land. The death toll was catastrophic, easily orders of magnitude greater than any famine or plague.

But a decade later, civilisation was mostly restored. And if his students’ journey to the past succeeded, some parallel version of humanity would never need to experience its greatest tragedy.

David recognised a distinct voice amongst the control room chaos and turned to watch his childhood friend, the most brilliant physicist of the age, darting around to confirm that everything remained in place. The Institute’s tireless leader caught David’s gaze and angled towards the yellow window.

“The capacitors are almost charged and the vacuum is nearly ready,” Sam updated upon arrival. “Let’s see if this was all worth it.”

“You’re sure you got your calculations right?” David jibed.

Sam elbowed David in the ribs. “Of course they’re correct! The military wouldn’t fund all this if everything wasn’t up to scratch. I just wish they’d given us a little more time. Ironic really. But for the real question, are you certain these two are the right ones for my inaugural Drop?”

Sam’s playful riposte hit a nerve. David had grappled with the question for years.

Matilda and Harry were just one team from an entire cohort of budding time travellers. Chronomads as Sam had taken to calling them.

As headmaster of the Institute for Temporal Relocation, David had identified fertile periods of history – times of social or scientific growth that preceded great upheaval – and trained his students in everything they might need to journey back to their allocated period. Science and medicine. Economics and politics. Even ancient languages and music.

The Chronomads became Jacks and Jills of all trades and each was tasked with imparting their knowledge on the past to kickstart an early Renaissance in their new timeline. With technological understanding growing exponentially, the early introduction of modern scientific concepts meant that a future civilisation could be much better equipped when the Long Day’s solar storm inevitably struck.

Chronomads were initially planned to be sent into the past alone as the fledgling wormhole technology meant space was the key limitation for each mission. However, by limiting their possessions and reducing safety margins, David had eventually succeeded in postponing the departures until two-person teams could be sent.

The Institute’s military sponsors hadn’t been happy with the delay – some unnamed bogeyman state was perpetually ‘just about to catch up’ – but they begrudgingly agreed when David pointed out that pairs of Chronomads would provide redundancy and greatly increase the chance of success.

The Chronomad candidates were hastily reorganised into pairs that best matched in period and region. Matilda and Harry established an amicable partnership and appeared to have avoided the…romantic entanglements that had plagued other pairs. But while Harry remained the Chronomad program’s posterchild, equal parts charismatic and knowledgeable, Matilda’s brilliance had paled in comparison and she wilted in his shadow.

Even so, they were David’s leading pair and the Institute scientists had lobbied for Matilda and Harry to be Chronomads One and Two, arguing that the relative spatial and temporal proximity of their planned destination – medieval England – would be the simplest to tune with their fledgling Time Machine.

The machine was still in development and could only open a small portal. For a split second. Just long enough to send Matilda and Harry back to the past. And without another enormous Time Machine and its accompanying nuclear reactor waiting for them in the past, there could be no contact when the portal close. Return was impossible.

David had performed the ethical gymnastics required to justify exiling someone from existence but still had his reservations. The Institute scientists told him that they couldn’t send multiple teams back to the same destination, something about space-time ripples jeopardising an already successful Drop. So he had campaigned to postpone again, until Sam’s wormhole technology matured enough to send larger teams to the same location, but a Headmaster’s authority wasn’t enough. His concerns had been overruled and the scientists got their way.

“They’ll do just fine,” David eventually replied to Sam, also reassuring himself. “Harry’s my most accomplished student and they’ve both beaten all of our tests. Matilda’s brilliant, in her own way. Provided she’s got her textbook.”

Sam shrugged. “Give me nuts and bolts any day. There’s a right and wrong answer with this technical stuff. It’s black and white. There are just too many shades of grey when you throw in the human element. It’s impossible to predict. You can keep that.”

The control room’s productive atmosphere shattered as the door burst open and the Institute’s flamboyant spokesman entered, inanely nattering away. Harry’s gruff father and Matilda’s distraught family trailed behind him, fresh from their final farewell. Matilda’s mother clasped her young son’s hand, her eyes red and puffy.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“This man is an utter idiot,” David hissed to Sam as he left to intercept the spokesman. “No tact at all. These people are about to lose their children!”

David marched over to the families and gave a consoling smile. “Welcome, everyone. I trust that Harry and Matilda appreciated your company as they loaded the pod?”

Harry’s father grunted and Matilda’s mother wiped her eyes. David had longed to say his own final farewell but respected the need for privacy in those precious final minutes.

He brusquely dismissed the spokesman, noting the families’ visible relief as the man left to prepare for the post‑Drop press conference.

An engineer announced that the capacitors were fully charged.

Not long now.

David withdrew an analogue radio from his pocket, a rare piece of technology since the Long Day. “We’ve got enough time for one final farewell.”

Phone conversations always felt impersonal, never as good as the real thing, but Matilda’s mother beamed with unbridled excitement as David switched on the radio.

“Hello? Are you there? It’s David. Can you hear us?”

The line went to static before the first distorted words crackled through the speaker.

“David?” came Matilda’s distorted voice. “Can you hear me?”

“We sure can,” David replied with a grin as Matilda’s family lit up with joy. “I’ve got your families here and they’d love to speak with you both. Who wants to go first?”

There was a brief silence before Harry’s voice chimed. “This isn’t really a time for ladies first, is it? Dad and I should go first so Til can have the last goodbye.”

“So chivalrous,” Matilda said with a choked laugh. “Looks like you’re ready for medieval life. Sounds good.”

Harry’s father took the radio from David and slouched over to a private corner, leaving Matilda’s family looking forlorn.

Hoping to provide a distraction, David crouched to the level of Matilda’s younger brother.

“Hi Richie. Have they shown you how this all works?”

The boy nodded.

“Tell me,” David nudged, gesturing at the giant machine.

The boy led David to the viewing pane and pointed out the Time Machine’s key features, leaving Matilda’s parents to their mournful embrace.

“Tilly’s going back to help the King,” Richie said matter-of-factly, “to teach him medicine. And science. Those lasers in the walls will make a door to the past, right there in the middle. But after it closes, it can’t open again.”

Richie continued, impressing David with the level of technical detail he understood about the process. Only eight or nine, he was well advanced for his age. Just like his sister.

“And that ball just above the centre is…where Tilly is,” Richie said finally with an involuntary sob.

David gave the boy’s shoulder a consoling pat and returned him to his mother.

Harry was just finishing up. “…love you Faj.”

“Love you too son. I never said it enough. Your mum was always better at that, bless her. You take care now.”

Harry’s father handed the radio to David and briskly left the room.

Making a mental note to send someone to collect him before the Drop, David handed the radio to Matilda’s mother and showed her how to use the archaic device.

“Tilly? Tilly? How are you doing in there? How are you feeling?”

Static.

“I’m alright Mum. I didn’t know if David’s surprise would work.”

Matilda’s mother fought to hold back tears and savoured her daughter’s final words.

Sensing her mother’s mood, Matilda continued. “It’s so surreal. I’m torn between excitement at doing the thing we’ve worked so hard for and the impossible sadness of saying goodbye to all of you. It feels like only yesterday that I was bouncing around home in my Institute uniform, begging to leave for the new school.”

Matilda’s mother nodded furiously but silently broke down and handed the receiver to her husband.

“Always the excited one, Til. I’ve never seen a twelve‑year‑old so eager for homework. Channel that enthusiasm when you reach the other side. You’ve put in a decade of hard work and we’re all so proud. Words can’t describe how much we’ll all miss you but it’s reassuring to know you’ll be out there saving the world. I’m still hoping your colleagues might work some of their sciencey magic to find you again.”

Matilda started to reply but gave a sob, followed by a long static. David sometimes forgot, with all Matilda’s brilliance, that she was still just a young girl forced to say farewell to her family forever.

“Thanks Dad,” she eventually croaked. “I love you all so much! And hey, the Institute has some really clever people so who knows? Perhaps Richie could figure it out, he’s smarter than me by far.”

Little Richie’s chest swelled at his sister’s words and he snatched the radio from his father. “I’ll do it for you Tilly! Maybe if I can get the photoms to travel faster...?”

Static, as Richie dropped the receiver in his excitement.

Matilda’s strained laugh carried through the radio. “Faster photons would definitely do it. We’ll be talking again in no time.”

Short static.

“Hey Richie?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you promise to look after Mum and Dad for me? You’re the only fun one still at home so make sure they don’t get too boring. And try to eat all your vegetables. But mostly just look after Mum and Dad.”

“I promise Tilly,” Richie replied solemnly. “Even the mushrooms.”

An engineer at the back of the room announced that ideal vacuum had been achieved. It was time.

“Sorry,” David interjected as gently as possible. “We need to start the final stage of the process. Can you please say your goodbyes?”

David stepped away to give the family some semblance of privacy for their final moments, holding back until Sam shot a particularly stern look. He moved in to take the receiver offered by Matilda’s grateful but distraught father.

“Hey, Matilda? Harry? It’s David.”

“Hi David,” they replied in unison, understandably flat.

“I know you’re both tired of hearing it but we really are so proud of you. You’re doing something truly amazing today. You’ll be in every history book and spoken of in every household. I promise.”

“I’ll totally hold you to that,” Matilda replied sarcastically, prompting an amused scoff from Harry.

Static.

“You both go and change the world,” David said. “We’ll all be thinking of you.”

Static.

“David?” Matilda added. “I know it’s not your job. But. Could you please look after my family for me? You know, just check in on them every now and then?”

David smiled. “That was always a given Matilda. You have my word.”

“Thanks, so much,” Matilda choked. “For everything. You’ve been so much more than a teacher. For all of us.”

“It’s been an honour.” David paused. “Matilda, we really have to say goodbye now. The vein on Sam’s head is about to burst.”

“Ok. Thanks again David.”

“Goodbye Matilda. Good luck.”

There was a final click as David turned off the radio. He gave the all clear but Sam was already barking orders. There was a final flurry of activity and then, all of a sudden, the room was silent. Tense.

David heard his heartbeat in his ears.

An engineer started the countdown. “Portal in 30.”

David ran outside to collect Harry’s father before hurrying back towards the yellow‑tinted viewing pane.

“Ten.”

A red light began to flash in the control room.

“Nine.”

Matilda’s mother wept silently into her husband’s shoulder.

“Eight.”

The cavern lights went out. A single spotlight illuminated the Chronomads’ pod.

“Seven.”

Sam joined David by the window.

“Six.”

David looked out at the pod, hoping that Matilda and Harry could see them all watching.

“Five.”

A photographer’s camera let off a flash, recording the historic moment.

“Four.”

Richie’s head bumped against the glass.

“Three.”

David’s stomach churned.

“Two. Avert gaze!”

Everyone looked away from the centre of the chamber.

“One.”

The room froze.

Suddenly, there was a brilliant flash of light.

David managed to look back just in time to glimpse a small sphere of bright blue sky in the centre of the cavern and the shiny pod falling into it. The sphere of sunlight vanished, leaving the Time Machine a dark and empty shell once more.

It worked!

David was struck by a conflicting mix of elation and loss.

The tense silence of the control room evaporated and there was a frenzy of activity as scientists and engineers ran their various diagnostics. Machines emitted alarms and scientists yelled out numbers.

Matilda’s poor family crouched by the window in a tight huddle. An island of grief, weeping at the loss of their child and sister. Harry’s father was already gone.

The cries of the scientists continued.

“O2 and atmosphere normal.”

“Capacitor temperature well within safe margins.”

“Unexpected debris on the cavern floor!”

“Wormhole stability greater than anticipated.”

And then Sam called out.

“Lat-long confirmed! Quantock forest. Somerset, England. Elevation two hundred and twenty-four meters.”

There was a cheer from the control room.

Silence descended again before another scientist bellowed out the information they were all waiting for.

“Pulsar triangulation complete. Date confirmed. September 24, 1123.”

(C) Jay Pelchen 2024. All rights reserved.