In Gerald Moxley's time line it had been almost a week since he had put his plan into motion. He had forgotten that there was any plan at all. It seemed like the life that had slowly replaced his old one was the way it had always been. It wasn't the life he had imagined. It certainly wasn't according to plan. According to his carefully calculated machinations, his life was only supposed to improve with the removal of the selected humans from the 21st century. Three people was all it took to increase his fame and fortune he had thought. One animal rights activist, one chemist, and a contractor that had engineered an infallible system of building that made structures virtually disaster proof. The last one had only been for Gerald's perverse pleasure in seeing the Golden Utopia's biggest cities crumble under the frequent earthquakes and fires brought on by the quadruple suns.
He had forgotten all that as if it had never existed though. His life had slowly been replaced by something far more ordinary. His parents lived in a small one bedroom apartment, where he slept in the bathtub and worked all day at a horrible restaurant where they served something called 'hot oiled foods'. He came home every day smelling like grease and exhausted. His fortunes were gone. No longer was his father the fine diplomat that he had been, wining and dining the royalty and political leaders of lands far and wide throughout the universe. No. He was a government employee who went around collecting tithes from the Utopian subjects. His mother was no longer the beautiful wife of a diplomat. She was harassed and irritable and worked at a Laundromat. The sky was no longer clear and bright. Where there was once the glow of four suns lighting the world, there now hung a dense cloud of smog. People puttered through the great city in their gasoline powered motor cars, and Gerald had forgotten that he had invested in oil at all. His fortune lay hidden away in a nondescript local bank at the foot of a soot stained skyscraper in the middle of the city.
It was that day, a week after the experiment had gone terribly wrong that Gerald Moxley found a key. It was hidden away in the inside pocket of a jacket that he rarely wore and was glowing faintly. As soon as he touched it the glow melted away and a memory clicked into place. The key had been surrounded by a time lock that only Gerald could break through. It was for a safety deposit box.
He scratched his head curiously as he looked at the key from where he was getting ready for work in his bathroom / bedroom. He could have gone on to the restaurant but curiosity got the better of him. It was a long walk to the bank which was across town. The proprietor of the business eyed him curiously as if Gerald was not the kind of man to have anything worth saving, but the fact remained that he had a key and the proper identification. Gerald Moxley was the man who had reserved the box.
Inside, glowing faintly, was a computer. As soon as Gerald touched it, his memories came flooding back. The broken time line. Phillip. His original history, and everything that he hadn't realized he had lost. He wasn't supposed to replace his own time line. That wasn't part of the plan. He had been so careful not to displace anybody that had direct bearing on his own family, and yet there he was, poor as no Moxley before him had ever been. He had been so carefully. He muttered at the computer and pulled up his data on the screen. The holographic display glowed a faint green in front of him. Jerry Baum, David Rodriguez, and Catherine Jones. He hacked into the internet and quickly researched the detectives that had been shoved into the room at the last minute. They had no direct bearing on his life either.
"What is the deal?" he muttered to himself. He had researched the plan to within an inch of his and Phillip's lives. He went back through the video footage he had complied of the event. There was Mary and Phillip sitting on a bench. He paused for a moment and admired the blonde Adonis that he had created in Phillip with the mask that was such a far cry from the thin dark haired mathematician who had fallen on hard times. Even Gerald had to admit that the boy had a brilliant intellect. He shook his head and smiled a bit maliciously. Sending the loose end off with his captives had been an unexpected bonus. He only wished that he could have cameras in Chromia to document the event. He knew they would find out that Phillip was in on it with the Time Detectives there. It would be all over for the boy then. If his victims didn't get him, then surely the Royal Chromian Guard would.
He saw Jerry's loud wife screaming in the lobby. He saw David rescuing Catherine.
"Young love," he muttered to himself with a roll of his eyes.
Then the wife was making a loud scene again. She was screaming about the air being too cold where she had been seated to a mortified server. The server ran off to the corner towards a bus boy and a man in some sort of dog costume. Together they escaped the dining room. Gerald followed them with his camera through the halls and into the room. The room he had transported through time to Chromia.
"Shit," he muttered.
Those three were not supposed to be there.
He quickly pulled up a facial recognition program onto the hand held computer. It was not technology he was supposed to have, and once again he had to thank Phillip and his programming genius for being able to hack into government systems and provide him with such a tool. He zoomed in on Jody.
It was quickly revealed that she had no significant impact on time. Displacing her would only cause a few small inconsequential ripples. Ned had become a major proponent for the legalization of marijuana.
"That explains that," Gerald muttered, remembering his previous arrests for drug possession.
That left Jason. Gerald read about his art career, which seemed inconsequential when he was alive. The accolades only came after his death and he was lauded as one of the twenty first century masters. Gerald thought it had nothing to do with his life at first and that Jason would only cause the kind of ripples that Jody had. That was, he thought that until he researched his own history and found the missing link. Sometime in the late twenty third century one of the Moxley ancestor's had found a painting by the great Jason Simmons. It was a master work that had been thought to be missing and it caused a massive stir in the art world. Gerald's ancestor had sold that painting for millions of dollars and thus began the Moxleys on the path to fame, fortune, and influence in the world of high society.
"Fuck," Gerald said loudly. He managed to control his anger as to not throw the computer at a wall. Jason Simmons was not supposed to be in that room. He directly affected Gerald Moxley's own personal history and that was one minor ripple that Gerald could not live with. It had put he and his family in the poor house. Had he left time alone they would still be riding high in the world at the top of the Golden Utopia's massive skyscrapers with the suns glinting off their surfaces enfolding the city in a soft and warm light instead of at the bottom of a dingy building, in a smoky city filled with buildings no taller than two or three stories; a city where escaped griffins flew around terrifying citizens with their extra large beaks and hind cat claws leaving piles of practically unavoidable excrement wherever they went.
He made his way to the nearest public computer terminal, which happened to be at the library. He was going to have to put things right. It was the only way he could put his life back in order, and now that he knew what he was missing, he knew that he couldn't continue to be a cook in a dead end job forever. He was so much greater than that, and there was still time to prove it.
He had forgotten all that as if it had never existed though. His life had slowly been replaced by something far more ordinary. His parents lived in a small one bedroom apartment, where he slept in the bathtub and worked all day at a horrible restaurant where they served something called 'hot oiled foods'. He came home every day smelling like grease and exhausted. His fortunes were gone. No longer was his father the fine diplomat that he had been, wining and dining the royalty and political leaders of lands far and wide throughout the universe. No. He was a government employee who went around collecting tithes from the Utopian subjects. His mother was no longer the beautiful wife of a diplomat. She was harassed and irritable and worked at a Laundromat. The sky was no longer clear and bright. Where there was once the glow of four suns lighting the world, there now hung a dense cloud of smog. People puttered through the great city in their gasoline powered motor cars, and Gerald had forgotten that he had invested in oil at all. His fortune lay hidden away in a nondescript local bank at the foot of a soot stained skyscraper in the middle of the city.
It was that day, a week after the experiment had gone terribly wrong that Gerald Moxley found a key. It was hidden away in the inside pocket of a jacket that he rarely wore and was glowing faintly. As soon as he touched it the glow melted away and a memory clicked into place. The key had been surrounded by a time lock that only Gerald could break through. It was for a safety deposit box.
He scratched his head curiously as he looked at the key from where he was getting ready for work in his bathroom / bedroom. He could have gone on to the restaurant but curiosity got the better of him. It was a long walk to the bank which was across town. The proprietor of the business eyed him curiously as if Gerald was not the kind of man to have anything worth saving, but the fact remained that he had a key and the proper identification. Gerald Moxley was the man who had reserved the box.
Inside, glowing faintly, was a computer. As soon as Gerald touched it, his memories came flooding back. The broken time line. Phillip. His original history, and everything that he hadn't realized he had lost. He wasn't supposed to replace his own time line. That wasn't part of the plan. He had been so careful not to displace anybody that had direct bearing on his own family, and yet there he was, poor as no Moxley before him had ever been. He had been so carefully. He muttered at the computer and pulled up his data on the screen. The holographic display glowed a faint green in front of him. Jerry Baum, David Rodriguez, and Catherine Jones. He hacked into the internet and quickly researched the detectives that had been shoved into the room at the last minute. They had no direct bearing on his life either.
"What is the deal?" he muttered to himself. He had researched the plan to within an inch of his and Phillip's lives. He went back through the video footage he had complied of the event. There was Mary and Phillip sitting on a bench. He paused for a moment and admired the blonde Adonis that he had created in Phillip with the mask that was such a far cry from the thin dark haired mathematician who had fallen on hard times. Even Gerald had to admit that the boy had a brilliant intellect. He shook his head and smiled a bit maliciously. Sending the loose end off with his captives had been an unexpected bonus. He only wished that he could have cameras in Chromia to document the event. He knew they would find out that Phillip was in on it with the Time Detectives there. It would be all over for the boy then. If his victims didn't get him, then surely the Royal Chromian Guard would.
He saw Jerry's loud wife screaming in the lobby. He saw David rescuing Catherine.
"Young love," he muttered to himself with a roll of his eyes.
Then the wife was making a loud scene again. She was screaming about the air being too cold where she had been seated to a mortified server. The server ran off to the corner towards a bus boy and a man in some sort of dog costume. Together they escaped the dining room. Gerald followed them with his camera through the halls and into the room. The room he had transported through time to Chromia.
"Shit," he muttered.
Those three were not supposed to be there.
He quickly pulled up a facial recognition program onto the hand held computer. It was not technology he was supposed to have, and once again he had to thank Phillip and his programming genius for being able to hack into government systems and provide him with such a tool. He zoomed in on Jody.
It was quickly revealed that she had no significant impact on time. Displacing her would only cause a few small inconsequential ripples. Ned had become a major proponent for the legalization of marijuana.
"That explains that," Gerald muttered, remembering his previous arrests for drug possession.
That left Jason. Gerald read about his art career, which seemed inconsequential when he was alive. The accolades only came after his death and he was lauded as one of the twenty first century masters. Gerald thought it had nothing to do with his life at first and that Jason would only cause the kind of ripples that Jody had. That was, he thought that until he researched his own history and found the missing link. Sometime in the late twenty third century one of the Moxley ancestor's had found a painting by the great Jason Simmons. It was a master work that had been thought to be missing and it caused a massive stir in the art world. Gerald's ancestor had sold that painting for millions of dollars and thus began the Moxleys on the path to fame, fortune, and influence in the world of high society.
"Fuck," Gerald said loudly. He managed to control his anger as to not throw the computer at a wall. Jason Simmons was not supposed to be in that room. He directly affected Gerald Moxley's own personal history and that was one minor ripple that Gerald could not live with. It had put he and his family in the poor house. Had he left time alone they would still be riding high in the world at the top of the Golden Utopia's massive skyscrapers with the suns glinting off their surfaces enfolding the city in a soft and warm light instead of at the bottom of a dingy building, in a smoky city filled with buildings no taller than two or three stories; a city where escaped griffins flew around terrifying citizens with their extra large beaks and hind cat claws leaving piles of practically unavoidable excrement wherever they went.
He made his way to the nearest public computer terminal, which happened to be at the library. He was going to have to put things right. It was the only way he could put his life back in order, and now that he knew what he was missing, he knew that he couldn't continue to be a cook in a dead end job forever. He was so much greater than that, and there was still time to prove it.
