[spoiler]This is a series where I spin my dreams into short stories. For the sake of storytelling some elements are fabricated, but for the most part this is what I experienced. If it’s any excuse for my writing skills, I made this rather quickly in a fit of exhaustion and alcohol. Enjoy.[/spoiler] “You know what you’re doing, right?” The old man looked down at me. I saw pity in his eyes. Over his nightshirt he had hastily dressed in a pair of grey overalls and a weathered brown jacket. The light of his lantern illuminated the wrinkles in his face like glowing canyons. It was rude of me to call at such an hour. I could’ve waited. I ignored him. I didn’t know what I was doing. I turned my attention back to the table. A piece of brown paper labeled “[i]AGREEMENT[/i]” in sloppy handwriting sat before me. The old man watched me expectantly, fiddling with the keys in his pocket. After another moment of hesitation I picked up the pencil. “Wait.” He took the pencil out of my hand. “Read it again. I want you to be sure.” I was sure, but now that he’d suggested uncertainty, I sat turning the idea over in my mind, my fear of the unknown grappling with utter desperation. I read the agreement again. [i]“I agree to all terms set by the man I know as Pierce Whitman, and will comply with every request made during the process. I understand that the result will be permanent, and Pierce Whitman will not be held responsible for my destination, nor whatever fate may befall me therein. I have paid in full the set price of 20,000$ I understand that this price is nonrefundable, no matter my destination. Post travel, I will not attempt to contact Pierce Whitman if my destination should happen to coincide with his lifespan. If I attempt contact, I hereby give Pierce Whitman authority to shoot on sight. Signed ______” [/i] I looked up at Pierce. “I’m ready.” He nodded solemnly and returned the pencil. I scribbled my name and handed him the sheet. “What’s the point of the agreement if you’re never gonna see me again? Isn’t that just evidence?” “Oh no.” Pierce folded the paper multiple times before offering it back to me. “The agreement is for you to keep. A little reminder.” I took back the paper and stuffed it in my pocket. I wished he’d stop talking like I’m agreeing to a death sentence. I gently massaged my left temple. A bruise had started to form after failing to duck while being ushered into a car with a bag over my head. “Did you get your TI out?” Pierce had an irritating habit of sniffing after every sentence. I pray I’m not like that when I’m old. “This morning.” I answered. “Let’s see it then.” I slid my stool back and swung my leg above the table, slamming my boot a little harder than intended. I pulled up my pant leg to reveal the white bandages stained with maroon. “I said let’s see it.” He repeated sternly. I sighed as I slid off my boot and began unraveling my mummified ankle. The stitches were still sore. Pierce pulled out a scanner. If assisting wanted criminals wasn’t already illegal enough, having one of those was a life sentence. Unfiltered information about anybody. With surgical DNA rewiring available, keeping track of everybody became impossible. The Law could never really trust that you were yourself, so government order tracking implants became required at the age of 16. Every bit of information they have about your life and your current location at all times, stored in that tiny pill. Worse yet, they don’t tell you where it is. Getting it cut out is a difficult ordeal. Pierce waved the scanner up and down over every inch of me. I kept awkwardly still. “You’re clean. Sorry about that, can never be too careful. Let’s get a move on.” He grabbed the lantern and swung open the barn door. It banged loudly in the wind. I hastily rewrapped my ankle, slung my bag over one shoulder and rose to follow. _______________________ We trudged along the dirt path, kicking up dust to the cold autumn wind. We’d been walking for a long time, I felt the stitches rubbing painfully against my stiff boot. “We couldn’t have taken a truck?” I half muttered to myself, noting the well-driven double path. “The walk is important.” Answered Pierce. His lantern squeaked with every swing. I thought it a bit dramatic to carry such an ancient lantern, especially given the flashlight that hung off his belt. “You’ve got time to think while we walk. Or maybe just enjoy the weather.” I waited a moment before speaking again. “Tell me how it works.” I demanded. I sounded harsher than I meant to. Pierce obliged. “Time has a beginning and an end. We don’t quite know where it begins or ends, but we know that the universe wasn’t always here and it won’t always be.” This speech sounded rehearsed. “The Snap regards what we know to be linear time as one collective second of existence. It knows no difference between a single moment and a million years. It’s a slingshot, and you, the passenger, are a rock. You don’t know where you’ll end up in time, and nether does the Snap.” “How do you know it works?” “Why wouldn’t it?” “Well what if you’re just gonna vaporize me?” “If I were about to knowingly vaporize you, I think I’d try to sell this service a little nicer, don’t you?” I stayed silent. We trudged a few steps before I continued. “And what if you unknowingly vaporized me? What if you got it wrong?” Pierce turned his head to look me in the eyes, a sudden grin had spread across his face. “I know it works because I used it. I was born over a hundred years ago. I’m very lucky to have Snapped so close to my original timeline.” I wasn’t sure I believed him. “What, so you Snapped, found your old machine and started throwing criminals across time for money? You know how much more you could do with the only time travel device in existence?” “Not quite. I had to rebuild the Snap. It was much easier with modern advancements in science. I’m well aware of the potential this technology holds, so let me ask you this: have you ever seen a time traveler? Someone that looks completely out of place in an old photograph, or ancient civilizations with technology impossible for their time? The fact that time travel does not exist in the past dictates what I’m going to do with it today. It won’t be sold to the government, and modified by men smarter than me, because history tells me it will never be used on a noticeable scale. You are the 14th person I have Snapped. 14 people, scattered across time. Some likely living before humans existed, or in the far future when we are an obsolete species. Even if they had the willpower to manipulate the past, it is impossible because the past has already happened and they are part of it. All small, momentary people.” [i]Continued below[/i]