Out of Time by Ryan Matthew Harker (uplifting books for women TXT) 📖

relentless in his lust for TRU. Remorseless, with no regard for human life, his soulless interior is as cold as the Antarctic ice shelf (and that place is cold, I know ‘cause I've been there). I’ve seen him gun down innocent woman and children in his attempts to end my life. Why, one time he even ran an old man down with a sports car as I led him on a heck of a car chase through busy city streets. I fact, with all the times he’s tried to kill me, it really makes me wonder why he left me alive, stranded in a familiar time period with access to all my accumulated wealth and the influence that comes with such?

Well there’s only one way to stop the incessant wonderings of my temporally deranged mind and that's to get up, get ready, and get out of here.

 

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ACT THREE

 

I’m back in the future, or as Wolfman explains it, another universe’s future. Glittering towers of light fill the breadth of the skyline, jutting from the lowly asphalt, illuminated edifices of mankind’s architectural genius. These buildings are like none I’ve ever seen, not made of brick and mortar, concrete or steel, they appear to be alive; grown from the very streets they light. Bioluminescent, the structures softly pulsate; like they beat with the life of some unseen heart buried deep within their cores. This future is surreal. I’ve only been here ten minutes and I feel lost, more than a man displaced in Time, a man displaced of perception. My fondest experiences in altered states of chemical fantasy could never have prepared me for what I’m witnessing in this year, 400,000,000 AD: a mere 95,420,637 years from Wolfman’s revelation of our supposed extinction as a species.

People are all about me. Dressed in a fashion I can’t quite comprehend, silvery strands of material that reflect prettily the glow from the buildings about us, they wink into, and out of, existence in an ethereal dance of light and movement: their own rhythmic cadence concurrent to some Siren’s song only they can hear. I must stand out horribly in this psychedelic madness of a far flung mankind, like peach blossoms blooming on a cold winter day it's dreadfully apparent I don’t belong here. But, except for curious sidelong glances as they go about their business, these alternate descendents pay me no heed. Not that it would matter if they did, my new SEAID works perfectly and I have it set to Travel at the slightest hint of aggression.

For just a moment I wonder what Wolfman would think about the fact that I’ve brought a new SEAID into existence. He’s already concerned enough about there being two Temporal Reconfiguration Units floating around on the timestream, and now there’s three. Like a pesky mosquito I brush the thought from the arm of my mind and contemplate the building nearest to me, pondering ways to penetrate its seemingly impenetrable brightness. There’s no immediately discernible orifice supplying access through the building’s glowing exterior, and I know the look on my face must accurately reflect my stupefaction.

“May I assist you in some fashion, sir?” The voice that tinkles from behind my left shoulder is polite and well mannered, but, nevertheless causes me to jump out of my skin like a molting serpent.

“Holy crap!” I exclaim. “Where the heck did you come from?”

“Excuse me, sir?” I contemplate the perplexed young man standing before me. The look on his face must match my own as he puzzles over my foreign garments... as I am over his. From a distance it appears all the citizens of this utopia are garbed in the same attire. Up close, however, I see there are subtle differences in design not readily apparent at a distance. His raiment preclude any comparison to what I would consider normal dress. The silvery strands are interwoven in intricate patterns to cover most of his thin form. Interspersing the weave of silver are fine filaments of colors; red, blue, green, and purple, which complement and enhance the overall ghostliness of his appearance.

“Never mind,” I hastily reassure the concerned fellow. “I was just wondering how I get into this building here,” I inform him.

He looks me up and down again and I can tell his confusion is only compounded by my comment. “You just enter, of course,” he replies.

I contemplate my options for a moment: I can either stand out even more than I already do in this farfetched future by inquiring further as to what this young man means, or I can throw caution to the wind and act on wild assumption; I choose the latter.

“Thanks,” I tell him.

“A pleasure to be of assistance,” the youth replies and vanishes before my eyes in a twinkle of colored silver. I’m surprised by his sudden departure, but only just barely. After so many years paddling for my life against the timestream’s whitewater rapids I’ve been party to enough impossibility that my quota’s about filled.

Instead of succumbing to surprise I turn my attention back to the pulsating edifice before me. It’s composition holds absolutely nothing that makes sense to me. At nearly a hundred stories tall, shorter than some and taller than most, it towers above me mythologically: like something straight out of the Old Testament of the bible, its presence looms like the finger of God; high and all mighty, unapproachable and unforgiving. The soft, glowing biorhythm of its heartbeat does nothing to sooth its ominous shadow. There doesn’t seem to be anything for it except to throw caution to the wind, so I step hesitatingly forward.

The building’s exterior yields to the pressure of my fingers touching it. The particles displace, compressing as kinetic force creates room for the mass of my hand within the almost gooey material. My skin vibrates with an almost electric tingle as the wall consumes my hand up to the wrist. The sensation causes me to jerk reflexively and the wall regurgitates my hand with a loud squelching sound. I look around to see whether my reaction was observed. It was: several silvery people are looking my direction, curiosity plasters their features. My instinctual fear embarrasses me and I feel it’s best to get off the streets. I don’t know anything about this society but, as sublime as it appears, I’m sure there’s still some sort of hierarchical order which defines it. When it comes to Humanity: one of the things physically hop scotching through parallel worlds and alternate dimensions has taught me is; the more things change, the more they stay the same. There IS an authoritarian faction at work here, and I aim to stay off its radar. My resolve strengthens as this old fear resurfaces so I throw my body into the jelly-like surface before me and surprise myself by stumbling into a large foyer...

...with a hundred faceless soldiers in red uniforms trimmed all in black, with little gold stars for cufflinks, and their fingers pointing at me like guns!

I take in this detail as (and let me say their tough leather boots have a shined finish like none I’ve ever seen and every one of them has their weight planted on their left feet) I fall flat on my face in a crumpled heap on the floor.

“Ah, so we meet at last Galileo.”

From far above me the words float and all the men who surround me shift their weight to their other foot.

Galileo??? My mind reels and stumbles as did my feet and I wonder at the man’s voice. He spoke my middle name with a familiarity of a long lost brother: younger with the reverence of one who looked up to me but with the spite of one whom had that reverence shattered with disappointment. I peel my face off the floor and search the room above me in a vain attempt to cipher this riddle. How can someone in this far flung future of an unknown universe know my middle name? Who are you? Where are you? My unspoken questions ring in my head and go unanswered while insanity tinged laughter mockingly dances in my ears.

“You’re confused I bet.” The statement is spoken with the rhythm of one who speaks to lull their prey into a false sense of security. I cringe instinctively at the sound and my memory succumbs to a past where the law was an adder named Marshall Clarence T. Hamerstock. “Confused, but curious as well, I imagine.”

I pick myself off the floor and casually brush imaginary dust from my trench. Red uniforms surround me on all sides as well as above, high above in fact, upon two tiers. My reply, as casual as my demeanor, I aim towards the upper tiers, “I’m curious as to how this situation became so confusing, that’s for sure.”

Another poisonous chuckle and the men perching upon the first tier part in the middle to admit a new fellow. He’s dressed in the same red color as the others but his head is covered with a black hat. Besides star cufflinks his uniform is embossed with decorative medals on his right breast pocket and some sort of symbolic patching stitched into the shoulders. I can’t make out what the medals or patches are exactly but there’s no doubt in my mind this is the leader. His hat is low on his brows, covering black locks, and his golden eyes smolder beneath its brim as they bore deep into my own. He looks awfully familiar but not in a relative kind of way and definitely not in a friendly brother kind either.

“All in due time Galileo. All in due time,” the stranger tells me and lifts his hand out to me palm up.

Almost laughably the soldiers directly in front of me advance with their deadly fingers still pointing and I decide enough is enough for the moment. “Khronos, travel,” I command.

“Travel prohibited Davey,” a mechanical male voice in my pocket calmly replies.

“What do you mean, prohibited?” I’m backing away from the soldiers knowing at any moment my back will touch the wall I’d just stumbled through.

“Travel prohibited. Temporal gateway access impossible.”

My new SEAID is an infant as far as self evolving A.I.’s go and hasn’t developed much of a personality during the limited number of test runs I’ve made before coming to this era. It’s emotionless inhumanity is a little grating at the moment, to say the least, but as my back tingles against the wall I persist in my interrogation.

“Access impossible? Define impossible for me Khronos!” The mystery man continues his insufferable laughter as my mind calculates my chances of escape.

Meanwhile Khronos’ narration drones on, “Gateway access compromised by unidentified Temporal location lock.”

I can readily imagine what Temporal location lock means. I inwardly groan and use my legs to push off, sending me through the gelatinous wall behind me. I springboard through the semi-solid substance and land outside on the sidewalk, this time on my backside. Hurriedly gaining my feet I ignore the startled stares of the silvery people around me and run from the towering building as fast as my booted feet will carry me. No more than a block away I hear a crackle in the air as a beam of pure energy passes over my left shoulder and disappears in the distance ahead of me. The smell of burnt ozone assaults my nostrils and I know that beam was meant to kill.

“Are we able to Travel now?” I scream to Khronos.

“I’m afraid not Davey,” Khronos assures me.

“How far does the temporal lock extend?” I pant as my feet instinctively stagger my body weight to the left and another beam of energy shafts over my right shoulder to fly past me.

“Five blocks Davey,” Khronos informs me.

Five blocks, great! I hazard a glance over my shoulder and note that my faceless pursuers are gaining on me. Man, they’re fast! I don’t think I’ll make it to the five block point, past the temporal lock. Darn it all, who the heck are these people? How did