Taking Back From the Past

I was 13 hours into my shift, digging through the ruins of Rosetta. The sun baked down on my back, almost

insufferable alongside the Egyptian desert air thick with dust and humidity. I decided to come in 400 AD, several hundred years after the city was abandoned. I usually have to deal with stragglers or conquerors, so I’ve started to visit these sites at later times. I’ve usually had more success, but it can be much harder to find the artifacts. I flip over another giant piece of limestone, a lost remnant from some merchant’s living room. I knew my artifact was here somewhere.

“Gotcha,” I said, uncovering the famed Rosetta Stone from underneath a pile of dust. I brushed off all the debris

and looked over the lines of twisted hieroglyphs and foreign scripts. I had been looking through Rosetta for what felt like forever, which made this discovery all the more worthwhile. At this point in the day I was very behind schedule, so I reasoned it was time to head home. I sometimes enjoy the free time after my finds, but there was no such time today. I grabbed my work-issued Pocket Portal out of my worn-down khakis and set the return date for “March 28th, 2445” Flipping the dials, I began to drift out of consciousness.

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I woke up in my office, lying all the way back in my desk chair. I worked on the 86th floor of the InstaTravel Tower,

overlooking the streets of downtown Chicago. It used to be known as the Sears Tower, but the uber-successful personal teleporting company had purchased the building almost 100 years ago. I worked for the Historical Merchants, a small family company that dealt in selling stolen historical artifacts to private buyers. My 10 coworkers and I travel back in time to find and claim historical artifacts before they are recovered and taken to museums. I personally have visited all throughout human history, from Babylon's advent of timekeeping in the 3000s BC to the founding of the United States in 1776.

Checking my wrist watch, I realized I would be late. I jumped to my feet and walked out into the hallway. Taking a

left down the central walkway, I entered the third door on my left and greeted the secretary behind the counter.

“Good afternoon,” I said. “Is Ms. Willworth available?”

“Good to see you back in the office,” he responded. “She has been expecting you.”

I pushed open the gigantic wooden doors and made my way toward the metallic desk in the center of the room.

Ms. Willworth looked up behind a comically large stack of folders and books on her desk.

“Ah Kendor! I’m assuming you had a fruitful trip to Egypt? Rosetta truly was a beautiful city, and is still one of my

favorites from all of Northern Africa.”

“Yes, of course. The stone is still in my office, but I’ll get a crew to bring it to the Archives before I head home for

the day.”

“Perfect, perfect. Thank you for taking on this project, we have just been so understaffed lately.”

“I completely understand Ms. Willworth. And don’t worry, this was certainly one of my easier searches this month.”

“That is good to hear, Kendor. On a somewhat different note, I am afraid I have to task you with another project

before your first quarter vacation in April.”

Although I expected this request before coming into the meeting, I was still annoyed upon hearing these words. I

had planned an extensive vacation to 1920’s New York, jam-packed with extravagant parties and vibrant arts and music. I wanted to leave tomorrow, but it looks like I might have to wait a bit longer.

“That’s fine. Just let me know when you know more information.” These unplanned missions always annoyed me.

With just a moment's notice, the company could ask me to go anywhere. I would have to miss another birthday, another recital, another basketball game. Still though, I couldn’t refuse, nor show Ms. Willworth that I had any hesitation. I needed to pay for 8 college tuitions, medical bills, first cars, and insurance. I needed this job.

“Thank you for understanding, Kendor. I knew I could count on you. You know, we’ve never had another employee

who’s never failed a mission. That’s quite a feat.”

“Yes, I know. And I’m ready for my next one.” Standing up, I stuck out my hand. “I appreciate the opportunity you

are providing me, and I will make the company proud.”

She accepted my handshake, standing up for the first time since I entered the room. “Your enthusiasm here will not go unnoticed. There’s a reason I chose you for this job.”

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When I walked back into my office, I almost didn’t notice the letter on the floor. It was folded neatly in a tan envelope, with no return address or information. Only the words “For Kendor” scribbled across the front. Alongside the letter, there was a small metal oval, almost the size of an egg, with a glassed-over touch screen placed directly in the center. I had never seen this device before. Putting it back into the envelope, I pulled out the letter and began to read:

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Hello Kendor,

You do not know me, but I know you. I have heard all about your success and accolades with the Merchants, and decided you were the perfect contact for my situation. I am in need of a sample of the Black Plague, which ravaged Europe throughout the 1400s. My company, which studies pandemics and viruses to create preemptive vaccines, is hoping to target bubonic plague strains, yet need a live sample to build upon. As viruses and weapons are illegal commissions for the Merchants, I decided it was best to reach out to you personally. We will keep this as a covert transaction, and pay you a sum of $25 million for retrieval of the sample. If you choose to accept our offer, meet me in two days at the Millenium Monument, around 8:30 pm. Godspeed.

 

I reread the letter several times before sliding it back into the envelope. I had never before been approached with

such an offer, but my attention was immediately drawn to the $25 million. With that kind of money I could stop working the long hours, and finally have time at home. I could finally get my life back. This job was risky, and could get me fired, arrested, or even killed, but I still couldn’t turn it down.

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Twenty minutes later, I was back in my desk chair. Swiveling my chair around, I turned to face out my floor-to

ceiling window. Moments like these make me reconsider why I ever started working here. I could have chosen any number of easier jobs, but the money was just too good to pass up. Being the only employed person in my family, this job supported fourteen people. By turning down the hard tasks, I would be letting them down. It was decided then. I would take the mysterious commission.

“What’re you up to?”

I looked up to see Nye peeking around my door frame. He worked in the Archives, tagging and storing all of our

artifacts before they went to the auctions. “Nothing really. I got back from Rosetta about an hour ago, but I’m pretty free for the rest of the day.“

“Oh I forgot that was today! Let me check it out.” Nye walked over to the desk, rubbing his hands across the

Rosetta Stone. “I wish I knew what some of this meant.”

“Will you take that down to the Archives for me? I’m not really up for the walk right now.”

“Sure, I’m going back soon.” Nye paused for a second, studying the stone. “Hey, I almost forgot! What time are

you leaving tomorrow for New York?”

“I’m not sure yet. Ms. Willworth gave me a new assignment before I left. I’ve also got some, uh, personal stuff to

handle, so my schedule is up in the air.”

“Shit. They really do work you too hard here.”

“I guess so. Hey, while you’re here, I was wondering about something. I know it’s illegal, but how exactly would

you go about taking a virus sample?”

“Umm… That’s a pretty weird question, Kendor. Do you want to give me any context?”

“No, I’m really just curious.”

“Well, back when time-travel was less regulated, most people would take past virus samples with a Phildian. It’s a

weird-looking device, but you could basically just touch the virus to the touch-screen on the front and it’d absorb a sample.”

Perfect. That must have been the other device in the letter. With that question out of the way, this mission would

be much easier. “Oh ok, thanks Nye.”

Nye sighed. “You confuse me sometimes Kendor.” He turned around and began to stroll out of the room “Well, I

probably won’t see you before your next mission, whenever that is. Just please stay safe.”

“I’ll try.”

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I rushed into the office the next morning at 6:45 AM, bags in hand. I walked straight to my office, where I had left

the envelope and my Pocket Portal. I would most certainly be the only one in the office at this hour, so I could make my jump as inconspicuous as possible. I flipped the dial on my portal to “January 14th, 1350” and selected my destination of Hampstead, England. I closed my eyes, and braced for the jump.

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I woke up in a small field, directly outside the London suburb of Hampstead. Close enough. Time was of the

essence, as I wanted to jump back before most of the other employees got back to the office around 9. I hurried down the main street into the town, looking for someone to talk to. I walked through the large stone archway marking the entrance to town, and was immediately met with a wave of sounds and smells. The streets smelled of manure and rotting food, and were covered with a thick layer of dark mud. Although there weren’t many people out in the streets, those that were walking sluggishly, their bare feet or torn boots dragging in the mud. I decided to approach a fruit vendor on the side of the main street. He sat in a small wooden chair behind his booth, arms crossed on his chest and feet up on the side of the stall.

“Excuse me sir. Would you happen to know where the physician’s office is?”

Without looking up, he pointed at a building 50 yards further up the street.

“Thank you sir,” I said, starting my walk toward the office. Most of the wealthy class would visit the physicians to

make appointments and buy potions for those infected with the black plague. Although the patients themselves wouldn’t visit, I could follow a customer home to find the indisposed family member they were caring for. I walked up to the front stoop of the building and pushed open the door. There were two other customers inside, both browsing through the healing potions available. Jackpot.

The man behind the counter looked up as I entered the room. “Hello, can I help you with anything today? We

have just recently expanded our potion and floral healing methods.”

“No thank you,” I responded. “I’m just browsing today.”

One of the customers, a stout, older woman wearing a long tan tunic, grabbed two different potions and placed a

handful of coins on the table. This was great timing. She walked out of the door, and within 30 seconds I followed suit. I maintained a 40 yard distance between myself and the woman as I followed her through the streets, eventually turning down a back alleyway. She entered the first door on the right, and shut it firmly behind her. I crept up onto the doorstep, peering into a small crack in the large wooden door. The woman was slowly making her way up the stairs with the two vials, so I waited 30 more seconds before gently cracking open the door. The front room was dark and musty, and held a strong odor of mold. Save for the small slivers of light coming in from two windows on the right side of the room, there was virtually no light. I tiptoed up the stairs, staring ahead to check for the old woman. At the top of the stairs, I stopped and listened for any voices. Sure enough, I could hear several soft voices coming from the second door on the left. The patient was surely in there, but I needed them alone. I’d have to wait.

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I had been standing in the back corner of the hallway for over 15 minutes when the door handle finally turned. The

old woman hobbled out of the room, carrying an empty basket. Behind her, a man in his late 20s wearing similar clothing emerged from the room. The pair made her way back down the stairs, and I strolled over to the open door. I peered into the room, planning out my next moves for securing the sample. The patient, a man in his mid-thirties with sweeping brown hair, lay asleep in a twin bed. His skeletal face was devoid of all color, and his bangs were matted down with sweat. He was certainly the infected family member in question. He was fast asleep and looked generally weak, which would make my job much easier. Pulling out the Phildian, I inched over to his bedside. I faced the touch screen toward the patient and began to press the device gently against his upper forearm. A progress bar appeared on the back of the Phildian and slowly began to fill in. 18%. 25%. 42%. 67%. Finally, the bar reached 100% and the device emitted a low beep. I pulled the device back from his arm and shoved it into my pocket. Just as I began to turn around, I heard the door open from behind me. The man who had exited the room earlier had returned, the basket now full with two loaves of bread, an array of cheeses, and a bread knife.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” he questioned, visibly startled upon seeing me in the room.

I put my hands out in front of me and began to speak, but realized I was cornered in the room. I had no excuse for

being here, and no direct exit other than the door the man was blocking. I had to make a decision.

I lunged for the door, just as the man reached for the knife in his basket. I grabbed his arm and ripped it back

towards me. The knife fell to the ground and skidded across the floorboards. This was my opportunity. I let go of the man and sprinted out into the hallway and down the stairs. The man dropped the basket and chased me through the house. I burst through the front door and took off down the street, heading back the way I came. Turning around, I saw that he was about 20 yards behind me. I took a left turn down another back road, and jumped behind the first door I saw. A couple of seconds later, the man came flying past the door further down the street. I waited another minute before emerging back onto the street. Checking my pocket, I made sure that the Phildian was still there. Now, it was time to start making my way back.

 

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I woke up again in my office, morning sunlight streaming in through the windows. I checked my wristwatch. 8:37.

Perfect timing. I sat down in my desk chair, still shaken up from the chase. That was certainly one of the most dangerous missions I had ever undergone, and I was lucky to make it out with my life. But I had. And with the virus sample safe in my pocket, all I needed to do was wait.

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It was raining when I arrived at the monument. The streetlights flooded the sidewalk with light, but the monument

sat in a dark patch. I leaned against one of the columns, hands shoved in my pockets. The letter said to meet at 8:30, but I showed up at 8:20. It’s always necessary to scope out the situation, especially with all the anonymity that was circulating around this deal. Arriving early also gave me time to think more about the letter. Although I hadn’t given it much thought initially, I was still confused why the buyer needed a virus sample so urgently. Most labs had large stores of sample tests, and could sometimes replicate artificial strains of viruses. Getting a virus sample wasn’t unheard of, but highly risky. Why would the buyer put their legal reputation and $25 million on the line for the black plague? As I pondered these questions, a lone figure approached the monument from the sidewalk. As the figure got closer, I could discern that it was a man in his late 50s, with dark hair and sunken features. He was wearing a light gray suit with a black trench coat over it.

“You must be Kendor. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” He extended a gloved handshake, which I accepted.

“Were you successful with the mission?”

After taking a quick glance at his glove after shaking it, I couldn’t help but notice a large red I. The logo for

InstaTravel. “Yes, everything went more or less as planned. There were a couple of hiccups, but I survived.”

“That’s good to hear. Did you bring the sample with you?”

“Yes, I did. What did you say you were using it for again?” I noticed his expression drop after this question. First

the glove, and now this?

“Just for testing in our virus prevention labs. We typically run out of rare disease samples, so we have to resort to

more… unconventional methods. I apologize for the short timeframe, but we needed new samples as soon as possible for several quick tests.”

“Oh of course, I understand. They certainly seem difficult to obtain.” This confirmed my suspicions. I wasn’t sure at

first, but now I was. Labs would never use unapproved samples for quick tests. I didn’t know who this man was, but he wasn’t who he claimed to be. At this point, for the first time since receiving the letter, the money was not the priority. If I gave this man the sample, he could release it to the world. Millions of people could die, all because of my selfishness. No amount of money can buy that back. Now, I just had to figure out how to get away without giving up the sample.