Time Agent | ONC2024

12. Theories

(This chapter is dedicated to GandalfofspaceAnli and their super cute story for the ONC2024, Sal, Butter and Pepper)

Sophie was the first of the Millennials to discover she could travel back through time.

The three of them were gathered together in her room as she told them what had happened. Sophie on the edge of her bed, Marcel in the chair in front of her desk and Jean cross-legged on the floor.

Time travel. Who would believe it?

Jean was wide-eyed with excitement at the idea. Time travel, a concept beloved of fiction writers. But what if it was real? What if Sophie was right and he'd develop the ability to travel back through time? The things he could see... the historical events he could personally investigate and ascertain the truth of the matter. It would give a whole new focus to his studies.

He could discover who had really shot Prime Minister Boudain in 2005. Had it been Pierre Leclerc, the man who had been charged and convicted? Or a plot by the English Nationalists as many people suspected, the three of them included? The opportunities for research stretched endlessly before him.

Marcel was more sceptical. Sophie had told them of the experiments she had conducted, simple things, like leaving a book open on the table before putting it back on the shelf and then returning to the time when it had lain open to see it lying there. Visiting the garden to find it empty and bare for winter when, in the present, it was almost summer.

He could tell that Sophie believed everything she was telling them, but he would withhold judgement until he could experience it for himself. And if it was all true, he knew exactly what he would do.

Sophie was explaining some of her theories. Always fascinated with how things worked, she had spent a lot of time considering the 'how'.

"Unless I'm a unique freak of nature, I think it's connected to when we were born. I've heard stories about the millennium, that the clocks stopped, that the stars went out... Crazy stuff. I've never believed any of them but maybe something did happen. I've thought about going back to that moment to see for myself, but I then I wondered if that's a bad idea."

"Why?" Jean was puzzled. He thought that was the first thing he would have done, if he were Sophie, to go back and witness what had actually happened that night they were born.

"I got scared," Sophie admitted. "What if going back to that moment changes things, so that anomaly doesn't happen? What if I'm trapped there and can't get home?"

Jean winced. "I guess that's a risk." He shrugged and smiled helplessly. "I don't know. There's no manual on time travel!"

"So why is it only you?" Marcel asked.

Sophie put that down to being female.

"As a general rule, women's brains develop faster," she told her friends. "That's a scientific fact. I reckon it's only a matter of time before you two can travel back too. I'm no expert, but I did a bit of research about brain development. The part of the brain which finishes developing around age twenty, is the occipital lobe. That's the part responsible for visual recognition and spatial analysis. Obviously, I'm just speculating but it seems to fit."

Marcel reached for the wine bottle and topped up their glasses.

"Go on," he invited, making a mental note to do some research of his own.

"Well, the brain thing seems to fit with the timing, too, don't you think? I mean why now? Why not when we were kids?" Sophie shuddered at the thought of a child playing with time travel. "It seems obvious to me that the talent or ability or whatever you want to call it, only develops with maturity. Thank goodness!"

"But we have to be careful," Sophie continued. "We can't just travel back in time and rearrange events how we want. I changed the smallest thing that first time, and it changed my whole life from that point on. Not a lot," she paused, her brows creasing. "At least... I don't think much changed, apart from Izzy... but how would I know? Everything that happened to me in that first life has pretty much faded away."

"I think you're right," said Jean, thinking of all the sci-fi books he had read. Off hand, he couldn't think of many stories where meddling with history had changed things for the better. "Observation only."

"Can you travel forward?" asked Marcel, changing the subject. "Into the future?"

"I don't think so. I tried it once or twice but nothing happened. I don't know what happens in the future so I didn't have anything to remember, to draw me forward."

"So how do you choose what time to return to? Do you simply picture it in your mind?" Jean asked, already planning a list of the events he wanted to observe.

"Not just that. I use my watch to set the time," Sophie explained, feeling a little self-conscious. "I set it to the hour, date and year I want to travel to. I don't think the watch actually controls the journey, but it helps to focus my thoughts."

"Sweet," said Jean, inspecting his watch with added interest. "I can't wait! This is going to be so exciting!"

"It will indeed," murmured Marcel.

~~

Jean waited impatiently for the day his brain would catch up to Sophie's.

He knew the precise event that he would visit for his first journey. The assassination of Prime Minister Boudain in the street, on the fifteenth of March, 2005. Having occurred in relatively modern times, there was a wealth of information about the event and he spent most of his free time researching everything he could lay his hands on. Preparation was the key.

Not wanting to repeat Sophie's experience and slip unplanned into somewhere in the past by accident, he set his watch every night to the time of the attack. Just in case.

Despite all his efforts, however, his first jump backwards took him completely by surprise.

There was no warning. He felt just the same as usual that evening, no imminent feeling that something had changed.

There were no flashing lights, everything didn't suddenly go black, he simply blinked and the next moment he was outside in the dark, in the middle of a vacant block, wearing nothing but his boxers, with a cold wind whistling around his legs.