It's really crazy. Downstairs, in the living room, Edgar and Paris are talking peacefully and I, in the bathroom, have another Paris who asks for and has my undivided attention.

—Time travel, remember? —she says to my astonished face. Although I understand, it's not easy to assimilate—. Anyway, there's no time. Eric, it's going to get ugly. Isaak Backer was really pissed off when he found out that we had tricked him and he was able to find out something about me: what I was studying and where I lived. He told Edgar everything when Edgar contacted him to sort it out...To top it all off, Professor Meyer, whom I trusted so much, testified before the authorities, charging us both with a crime of rebellion and theft of digital data. The Provincial Police are about to arrive at the house to search it and arrest us. You and me.

—What about Edgar?

Right now, my bastard ex-boyfriend is warning me about all this I'm telling you. He's asking me to go with him, because the Scofield family can protect me. He's asking me, right now, that in case of a trial I can blame it on you, that you're just a slave.

—But... your father? The time machine?

—I'm afraid there's nothing we can do for now. The Scofields and the Provinces don't think I'm involved in anything, so the important thing is that we run.

—What do I have to do? —I ask, nervous.

—We still have a few minutes. The Scofields will take ownership of the house and everything in it, so we need to get everything we can out.

We slyly run to Paris' room, where she transfers all the information from her computer to a small storage device. We have to secure the research project. At the same time, I grab some clothes, my mother's Bible, the gun and place them in my backpack. Paris from the future hands me the metal storage object.

—Protect this with your life, Eric. We need it.

—Are you saying I'm going to die?

—No! I'm saying it's very valuable. It can't fall into the wrong hands.

—You're from the future! Tell me what's going to happen! What do I have to do!

—For the moment, go down there and knock Edgar down with a punch. When you are in the airmobile flee in the opposite direction to the cliff. You have to get out of the United American Province.

I am trembling, but I am filled with courage to do what she asks me to do. We have angered two sleeping monsters and now they are coming for us: the Provinces and the Tecnofield Science Company. I don't know how we're going to get out of this. May the almighty Goddess give us a hand.

—Oh, and Eric, don't even think about kissing me when the shooting stops—she warns me as the white mist is taking her away. —. Not a good time—. She disappears.

I go down the stairs two at a time. Edgar is yelling at Paris, very close to her face, as he grabs one of her wrists. She's struggling to get away from him, but she can't. She closes her eyes to each of Edgar's screams. She cries.

—Come with me! —he shouts.

—No! Let me go, let me go Edgar!

The scandal has attracted Mr. Stonecraft who arrives from his workshop wondering what's going on and two seconds later is trying to get Edgar away from Paris.

—Get away from her, you little punk! —I threaten him. I feel a fury inside me that wants to give Edgar Scofield his due. This prick has always screwed everything up. I don't know how Paris can be in love with him.

—You! You are the guilty one! —he points his finger at me—. You have indoctrinated Paris and made her dream of fantasies that are nothing more than fairy tales. You must pay with your life for all the evil you have caused. A dirty slave!

I can't hold on any longer. I run towards him who, frightened, releases Paris, and I jump to drive my fist into his face. Knocked out, he recoils, but I throw my other fist at his neck. He falls unconscious to the ground.

—Shut up now! —I yell at him when he can't hear me. Matt and Paris look at me, dumbfounded.

—The Provincial Police are coming! —It's my warning to Mr. Stonecraft who quickly gets up from the floor, where he had been left with Paris when he struggled with Edgar.

—You have to go! You're taking the machine with you! —He says, pointing to the wristwatch Paris is still wearing—. I will destroy everything I can....

—Dad!

—It is my duty, Paris. I was a coward once. I won't be twice. I could never forgive myself again.

The two melts into an ephemeral embrace and Mr. Stonecraft disappears. Paris looks at me, frightened. I throw her the backpack with the few belongings the other Paris has collected for her and we run to the garage. She starts the airmobile and we take off into the New American sky. We hear sirens and, on the horizon, approaching, becoming more and more visible, all-black Provincial Police airmobiles with blinding green flashing lights.

—No! —I say—Turn! We must flee to the north! —Going to the cliff would endanger the Goddess community.

—How the hell did you know?

—You told me—I show him his storage device—. Another you, I mean.

She stops looking ahead, for a moment, to give me an expectant look, as if she wants to know more. But there is no time because the Provincial Police airmobiles have started to follow us and are getting closer and closer.

—Speed up! —Appreciate Paris.

—I can't run anymore!

Several pops force me to look in the rearview mirror. The policemen are pulling out their electric shotguns and firing at us. Their discharges embed themselves in the airmobile, which seems to wobble in the air each time it is hit. They are going to get us. I take off my seatbelt, open the window and pull the trigger of my bullet pistol, which barely grazes the metal chassis of the police vehicles. I only manage to stop the co-driver from firing at us for a few moments, but he returns to the charge. One of his electric shocks passes close to my head and back into the airmobile.

At our feet there is no longer a city, but the wide and deep ocean. We have no where to land to continue fleeing on foot.

—You are under arrest! Surrender! —We heard through the loudspeaker of the police airmobiles, which have reached our height.

—It's the moment of truth—I say to Paris—, for this kind of occasion you bought yourself a little slave—. I make her smile amidst all the chaos, while the gunshots shake and sap our airmobile. The vehicle's onboard computer alerts with a beep and an image on the screen that we have fifty-eight percent of the airmobile damaged.

—What do you say? —Paris won't let go of the controls.

—Do you trust yourself? —I ask, taking one of her hands and looking into her eyes. If Paris has visited me from the future, it means we're out of this. Her silence is a yes. She lets me do it and I push the steering wheel down. The airmobile swoops towards the sea at full speed. The Provincial Police don't know what to do and follow us, descending slowly.

I point Paris to her watch and she fiddles with it. She sets up a quick jump from the last one. She presses the start button and we shake hands. The vehicle is about to hit the sea. I find it hard to breathe, everything goes black. When I try to take in oxygen again, I can't. My eyes open and I'm underwater. Have we hit the ocean? Haven't we traveled back in time? Where is Paris? I try to move, just as she taught me, but I struggle to move forward. A hand tugs at me and pulls me to the surface. It is Paris.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

—Is that why I got myself a little slave? —Paris reproaches me, laughing. She hugs me—. At last, the shooting has stopped! The sound is very unpleasant...

Was that the sign the Paris of the future had given me? I pull away from Paris' embrace and kiss her hard. I bite her lips. And she responds to my kiss and laughs again seconds later. Edgar is no more. Now it's Paris and me. That's why the Paris of the future had warned me when to kiss her.

—It looks like we're back—she says, looking around.

Several onlookers look sideways at us because we are swimming in a small lake inside a green park, which I recognize as Central Park in 2020 New York. I think of my mother. However, my senses perceive other colors and smells in the city. The smoke and the feeling of pollution are sharper, and in the distance, I think I see buildings that were not there before.

We left the lake, wet and smiling. Shedding the tension, we have lived through. Indeed, we are in pre-Collapse New York, so our only option is to go to Lunetta's house. We cannot return to the United Provinces of our time, as we will be the two most wanted fugitives from justice. Our faces will appear on posters in every town and city, the news will expose our photographs, talk shows will talk about our actions, our past, our friendships. They will discuss if we are a couple, if I have kidnapped her because I am a slave. Real scavengers. We will be better off here, lost in another world. Time, now, is our best ally.

A rumble in the sky disturbs us. It reminds me of the sound aircars make as they speed along the airways, but it is much more outrageous. We look up and see a very large metal vehicle, with wings, flying low over the city.

—They don't look like such a poorly developed civilization—Paris tells me.

—Look at that plane! —Two boys sitting on park benches are surprised.

—He's going to crash...! —We heard.

The plane, as they have named the vehicle, moves between the skyscrapers, very close to them, until it crashes into one of the two tallest towers in the city, causing a gigantic explosion. Paris and I look at each other, worried, like most people who have seen what we have seen, knowing that something terrible is happening.

—Is it the Collapse? —I ask, stunned.

We went out into the streets of New York, completely cut off by four-wheeled pneumatic vehicles, filled with the screams of people who don't quite know what is happening, the sirens of firemen and police... Everyone wants to get closer to the scene of the accident.

—At last, I find you!

The face of the man who stands in front of us is familiar to me. He wears sunglasses, a plaid shirt, and has brown hair.

—Eric and Paris, right?

Paris and I gave each other a knowing look. Again, someone is ahead of us in the time jump!

—I didn't believe it. I couldn't believe it. Until I saw that plane hit...I didn't believe it—he repeats it over and over again.

—Excuse me—says Paris—, what year is it?

—2001! September 11, 2001!

I know who he is. It's Lunetta's fifth-floor neighbor from 2020. I didn't recognize him because he's nineteen years younger.

—The boy warned me that just today, when the plane crashed, you would come. I didn't believe it. Come on! Follow me!

There is someone who knows our every step over time and is helping us. He did it with Lunetta, and he has done it with us twice. But why, who is he, and can we trust him?

The mysterious man guides us to the residential building we already know. He takes us up to the fourth floor and hands us some keys.

—It's your home. He said you would arrive a little disoriented and would need to rest. You'll be safe and sound here. It has three bedrooms, two bathrooms...A luxury for New York City. Anything you need, anything at all, don't hesitate to ask me. I'm the neighbor on the fifth floor. I'll be there for anything you ask me.

—What happened? —Paris refers to the fireball caused by the plane.

—It appears to be a terrorist attack.

He leaves us at the door of the house that, nineteen years later, we will knock on, asking Lunetta to open it for us. For us, only a few hours have passed. When we enter, we find money, food, and books. Mind you, the house is hardly decorated as it was in 2020. I don't know who is lending us a hand, but we owe him our lives.

We open our backpacks, made of waterproof materials, looking for dry clothes. We take a well-deserved hot shower.

—Could that attack have something to do with the Collapse? —I ask Paris again as we settle in.

—In 2001? We know that in 2020, this world is still alive and kicking.

For the first time in several weeks, we can relax. Trapped in time, we are away from the clutches of the Provinces. So, we prepare a dinner with wine and candles that we have found in the house. We toast with a few bottles of beer because we are still alive, remembering with sorrow and anger Paul. It's just Paris and me.

—I admit that I loved the first kiss—Paris tells me, after the third glass of wine—. It bothered me so much just because of that because I hadn't felt anything like it, and I wanted more...

—I am your slave...

—No one owns anyone—she recalls the words of the first priestess and the Bible.

Even though my slave ID number is still there, tattooed, I feel free. I feel the same as Paris. That's why I kiss her. I grab her hair and kiss her. And she kisses me. Edgar is just a bad memory. I feel that I want her, that she wants me. That we've forged an unbreakable bond. Love overflows us. My lips and my hands lose themselves all over her skin, her neck, her chest, her belly, her thighs. Her fingernails are left etched on my back. Our bodies fit together one in two. We fall asleep after the ecstasy while out there, the two towers of New York collapse. They won't be there in 2020.

We spent the next six months in 2001 in New York as if we belonged in this world. As if we were a carefree couple making plans for the future. Living together. Cursing and crying. Missing our time. However, we get used to this life. I don't consider myself a slave but a person with rights and obligations. We have enough money still, and we are safe from the police of the Provinces. Paris and I quarrel and argue often, but we cannot be without each other. Now that there are no barriers or impediments. I love her. We make a good couple as if we have forgotten all our former life. She spends her days reading and studying, discovering how much History this world has. She devours every book she has at home, buys the ones that interest her, and borrows from four different libraries in the city, of which she has a library card. She perfects and finalizes her research, even if she is missing some unknowns of the Collapse.

It was not bad in the United States of America at the beginning of the 21st century. There is no slavery, and the problems of the people of this era are more about the clothes they are going to wear or deciding what career to choose in college than about hunger, work, or religion. We are two different worlds, but injustice seems inherent in any civilization, and that makes me impotent and angry. The television and the books of Paris tell us about very murky issues that happen on these five continents. Millions of people have no access to water or food in poor countries. But in rich countries, millions of people have jobs that take them the whole week to get just enough money to survive and that do not allow them to have good access to education or hospitals. Thousands of people live and sleep daily on the streets of every city. Young people are consumed by drugs, and politicians themselves provide them to avoid riots. Terminal illnesses take people's lives much sooner than one would expect.

Six months after our arrival, it is already 2002. It's a late March night when Paris and I are watching a movie on the television. The events take place in Paris, the capital of France. A few days after coming to this time, Paris inquired more about the city that gave her name, which was thousands of miles away from New York. And the story she told me was true, as it has a tower, the Eiffel Tower, where young people go to swear eternal love to each other. We have thought of going there many times, but we don't dare. If we have to return to our time for some emergency, we don't know what will happen to the time machine being so far away from our destination. The film continues. The protagonist, an idealistic and dreamy writer, falls in love with a courtesan who works in a restaurant where men go to eat, to see the dancing and singing show of the women, and, if possible, to sleep with one of them. The protagonist, in love, sings to his courtesan while climbing the Eiffel Tower and protecting himself from the rain with a red umbrella. Paris is the city of love. I embrace Paris and kiss her on the cheek. It is a scene that leaves her pensive.

—Eric, we have to go back to our time—she says when he finishes.

—What? We can't! We have fled from justice...If they catch us...we'll spend all our lives in jail if they don't condemn us to death. Are you in bad shape here?

—It's a little selfish of us, Eric. Our whole life is there. I miss my father and my mother now that I have her back...The Goddess and the communities are waiting for my project. They need it. And we spend our days here, reading, walking and eating.

—You have learned a lot about this world. It was necessary. And you can still learn more. Can you imagine? Writing a book about the History of the World before the Collapse? It would be something even more incredible than the Goddess and the Provinces... If we stayed...

—Don't you see, Eric? I'm the one who teaches my great-grandmother that there once was a faraway city called Paris! And she'll tell my mother about it! Think. This is the house where Lunetta, your mother, the first Priestess, will live when she arrives. When we leave, we will leave the keys with the neighbor on the fifth, who will tell us where your mother is in 2020. Maybe it will be ourselves, but in the future, who will have helped us with this house, with the money...

—Even if you're right...I'd love to stay here. We're together, you and I—I stroke her hair—. There is freedom... And we are together as equals.

—Millions of slaves are still enslaved in our time. The Goddess needs us... What are you trying to do? Live here as if nothing were happening in the Provinces? As if a Collapse were not coming here, and we would have to survive it? I have the research finished. It has to see the light and serve a purpose, as we agreed, Eric. Or do you want to stay here alone?

—It's no use arguing, you've already made your decision—I say—. Make me not regret it.

No, we can't turn a blind eye. This time here has been like being in paradise with Paris, but all good things come to an end. I still want to change the world for everyone, not just for me. And it's in our hands. We pack up our things and leave the house half-tidy. We hand the keys to the neighbor on the fifth floor and give him some instructions for 2020.

Paris activates her watch and enters the date and coordinates. We're heading for the lion's den. I shake her hand.

—Here we go.

—By the Goddess.

The white fog covers us. I can't breathe. Everything is darkness.