01/12/2005: "Alt-Time"
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Alt-Time
by Selena Thomason, ©2004
(first published in Alien Skin Magazine, www.AlienSkinMag.com)
Riding the public to work, I watched the private cars whiz by and wished I could afford one. Instead I was crowded into the train with the rest of the worker bees.
The man next to me was reading the paper. I peeked at my favorite feature, “Today in Timeline _.” Everyday they chose an alternate timeline and provided news from it. Everyday I hoped to see my name there.
Today’s timeline was Fernandez 243. In it the biggest news of the day was that President Yamato has finally gotten her Universal Health Care bill approved by Congress. I wish. In my timeline, Stanton won. I voted for Yamato, but it didn’t do me any good in local time.
Suddenly I realized I’d missed my stop and would likely be late to work. Before I could banish the thought, I imagined that I’d get fired and have to move into a government workhouse. I panicked. I got off at the next stop and sped for the opposite platform. I’d heard about workhouses. No one ever gets out of those places.
It was happy hour and the guy next to me was drunk and bragging that he had visited another timeline, Jones-Martin 24.
I introduced myself and a few beers later managed to ask “What would it cost to skip to another timeline?”
“Skipping’s illegal, has been ever since those refugees from Harrington 17 skipped into Walton-Kremps 42 and tried to take over.”
“But Lou, you do it. You were in Jones-Martin 24. Remember? That’s what you said.”
Lou suddenly realized that he’d been sitting in a crowded bar bragging about participating in an illegal activity. He scanned the room for TimeKeepers. “I was under orders,” he mumbled then left.
Jennifer Hayden-Smith sat in her office on the top floor of Alt-Time’s headquarters and stared at her computer display. The headlines of the day scrolled by, “President Yamato Calls for Stricter Security of Time Corps -- Universal Health Care Bill Dies in Senate -- Workhouses Overcrowded, Critics Claim” but they couldn’t grab Jennifer’s attention.
The door chimed.
“What is it Lea?” she asked the meek woman who appeared in the doorway.
“The police are here about that email,” Lea whispered.
“Send them in.”
Lea rushed back to relative safety.
A detective in plain clothes entered along with a much younger man in a police uniform.
“What have you found?” Jennifer asked.
“We’ve traced the email to Joe Jones. It seems his wife was a client of yours, Syl Jones.”
“A Jones, huh? How could she afford any of my company’s services? She can’t even afford a decent last name.”
“Then why did you sell to her?” The rookie asked.
“Look kid, I don’t go through the requests and pull out anyone with a short name. That would be discrimination. Last time I checked, it was illegal.” Jennifer turned back to the senior officer. “So, what’s the big deal? People buy alt-stories all the time.”
“After reading her alternate lifestory, she killed herself. Apparently she discovered that in another timeline, she had married a previous boyfriend who later struck it rich in the lottery. She was overcome with regret at having rejected his proposal in local time. Her husband, Joe Jones, blames you for his wife’s death. He claims that if you hadn’t provided her with that alt-story -”
“Give me a break! I didn’t put a gun to her head. I didn’t even suggest that she purchase an alternate lifestory. She showed up here of her own free will. One would think she would be happy that at least she was rich in some timeline!”
“She wasn’t happy,” the young one offered.
The rookie was getting on Jennifer’s nerves. “I cannot be held responsible for other people’s feelings.” She said.
“Mr. Jones is claiming that the lifestory you sold his wife was fabricated. He has contacted one of your competitors, Another Life.”
“That second-rate operation is hardly in the same league as my company!”
“Nevertheless, according to the time techs at Another Life there is no documented timeline in which Syl Cook marries Sam Neal.”
“There must be some mistake,” Jennifer demurred.
“I hope so. Because if Syl Jones killed herself over a bogus lifestory-”
“Look Lieutenant!” Jennifer wheeled to face him. “I’m the victim here. Not some poor woman who killed herself because she thought she had it better in another timeline. The grass is always greener, you know. That’s what keeps the time corps in business. And your business is to protect me. Is that clear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re dismissed.”
Lt. Ramond and his trainee got up to leave. As they passed, Jennifer said, “And Ramond, next time make sure the rookie’s house-broken before you bring him into my office.”
When the door shut behind the officers it sounded more final than usual, like a casket being shut.
“Computer, scan all known timelines.”
“Subject?”
“Me. Search on both my current name and my birth name. Give me all the alternate lifestories you can find.”
Jennifer couldn’t help but wonder if she had done so well in other timelines. Being adopted by the Hayden-Smiths had been an amazing stroke of luck, one not likely to be duplicated. She wondered if she had lived out her life as Jen Muller in most of them. She had put off exploring the possibilities because they all seemed so dismal compared to her life in local time. But now, one of those alternate timelines might be her only hope.
Another happy hour at Jak’s and still no Lou. I sat at the bar making a meal of the complimentary peanuts.
“You gonna buy a drink or what?” He said finally.
“Yeah sure. Give me a screwdriver, tall. It’s on special, right?” Jak pulled a bottle of cheap vodka from the rail. I figured the vitamin C in the OJ might help me shake off the cold I’d had for a week.
“Why do you keep coming in here?” Jak asked as he set the drink in front of me.
“I’m looking for a friend, Lou. He was in here a few weeks ago, rambling about skipping. You remember him?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think he really works for one of those time corps?”
Jak leaned forward and whispered, “I know he does.”
“What else do you know?”
Jak backed away and laughed. “Why should I tell you? You’re a lousy tipper.”
I was too stunned to say anything. I sipped my screwdriver and tried to think of ways to raise money.
Jennifer ran the search again, but still the computer came up with only one. Of the hundreds of documented timelines, she only existed in one other. It was unheard of.
She scanned the report on her alternate self. Low-level computer technician for Getch-Tech, International. Lives in a first-floor efficiency on Baker Street. Jennifer was horrified. Just one step above a government work house, she thought.
Disgusted, Jennifer went to the window. She couldn’t even see the ground from her office. The thought of living on it made her skin crawl.
My apartment was empty. The “moving sale” had been successful. I sold off that dinosaur of a computer. It would be inconvenient to go to the post office to get my email, but it would be worth it. Also adiosed were the couch, TV, microwave, dishwasher and bed. I told myself I didn’t need any of it, that what I did need was a better life - some timeline where Dad didn’t lose his livelihood and never find it again and where Mom didn’t drink herself to death. There had to be a timeline where I could afford a decent name. There had to be a timeline where I wasn’t destined to live hand-to-mouth forever.
Looking around my empty apartment, I knew it would be worth it. With the money I made, I could get something out of Jak and still have enough left over to bribe Lou.
Jennifer couldn’t believe that the life she was reading about could have been hers. To not be able to afford a respectable name, to have to make due with that working class, government-issue name - it was horrid. If the Hayden-Smiths hadn’t been so desperate for a child, if they hadn’t been in such a hurry, then she would have stayed Jen Muller forever. There would have been no money to pay for a longer name. She certainly would never have been able to afford the large surcharge for a hyphenated one. There would have been no college education, no high-rise apartment, no private car.
Jennifer suddenly realized that her alternate had to take the public wherever she wanted to go. The thought of being packed into a small train compartment with all those dirty, smelly workers made Jennifer sick to her stomach.
The door chimed.
“Come in,” she called.
“Ms. Hayden-Smith,” her new secretary said, trying his best to seem confident despite the stories he’d heard.
“Yes, Jon.”
“I’ve just received an urgent message from your contact at the police department. He says that Lt. Ramond has confirmed with three different time corps that the alternate lifestory you sold - I mean, the alt-story that Ms. Syl Jones purchased from Alt-Time was a fraud. I mean, the other time corps have not been able to corroborate the story you, I mean Alt-Time, sold to -”
“Quit stumbling! What else did Kev say?”
“He said the police are headed over here to question you.”
“Alright. Jon, no visitors or phone calls. I’m not available, got it?”
“Yes ma’am.”
The bar was more crowded than usual. Jak was too busy to refill the peanut bowl I emptied thirty minutes ago. I was about to go home when I noticed Lou pushing his way towards the bar.
I greeted Lou as if we were long-lost pals. He stared at me and tried to remember if he’d seen me before.
“Lou, it’s good to see you. You don’t remember me. It’s OK. You were pretty alched when we met. How about a beer?” As Jak put a beer in front of us, I lowered my voice and whispered conspiratorially to Lou, “So, how’s the skipping?”
Lou was so startled he spat out some beer. “Lou, it’s OK. You told me. Jones-Martin 24, wasn’t it? Lou, don’t go back on your word. You said you’d help me get into another timeline. You were gonna research my alternate lifestories and find a good one for me to skip into.”
“Time skipping is illegal.”
“Lou, buddy, keep your voice down. Of course, it’s illegal. But you’ve done it. You told me all about it. Hell, you were bragging about it in here a few weeks ago. We’ve discussed this Lou. Either you help me skip to a better life or I send an anonymous tip to the Ministry for the Protection of Time. Lou, buddy, I’m not insensitive to the risk you’re taking. That’s why we agreed on a bonus for you, a little cash to ease your mind.”
“I can’t. I could get fired.”
“You will get fired if I report you to the Ministry. Plus you could go to jail. Time skipping is a felony, you know.”
I couldn’t believe how easily Lou folded. He’s weak willed. No wonder he never amounted to anything.
Jennifer tried to be inconspicuous as she strolled through the corridors of Alt-Time’s laboratories. Unfortunately she wasn’t a frequent visitor to this part of the building so her presence drew some stares, but no one was bold enough to question her.
Entering the main monitoring room, she found Dr. Seth Cosham, one of the senior time specialists.
“Ms. Hayden-Smith, what a surprise. Is there something I can do for you?”
“Yes, I’d like to take a look at an alt-life, can you set me up on a monitor?”
“Sure. What’s the timeline and target?”
“Barnes-Zilber 163. Jen Muller.”
The obviously working class name caused a momentary flicker on Dr. Cosham’s face, but “here you go” was all he said.
“Seth, what if I told you that someone from another timeline had skipped into local time? The Ministry has captured her and wants her returned to her indigenous timeline as soon as possible.”
“Well if that’s the case, we’ll get a trespassing report and return order from the Ministry. Any word of whose portal she came through?”
“Not ours, of course. Probably one of those lesser time corps like Another Life. Those shabby places can’t afford decent security. It’s a wonder the Ministry hasn’t shut them down.”
“When’s the skipper scheduled for return?”
“Not until morning. It’s late. Why don’t you go on home?”
“I was just about to leave, but…”
“I’ll be fine. Go ahead. I’ll just monitor for a while. We’ll deal with the skipper tomorrow.”
“Just ask Ben over there if you need anything.”
“Goodnight Seth.”
Jennifer watched Dr. Cosham collect his coat and leave. He hesitated. For a moment, he looked like he was going to say something. Then he remembered his place in the food chain and thought better of it. Jennifer breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind him.
“Computer, locate personal data for target Jen Muller in timeline Barnes-Zilber 163.”
“File found.”
“Display file.” Jennifer noticed with disgust that her alternate had the long, unstyled hair common to lower-class women. “I’ll have to get a wig,” she noted, then got to work on convincing the Ministry that Jen Muller had broken into local time.
Jennifer hacked into the Ministry’s database and planted a forged “Trespassing Report” on Jen Muller’s illegal and unauthorized skip into local time. She then sent an email to the Ministry saying that Alt-Time had apprehended Jen Muller and was awaiting the Ministry’s confirmation before sending her back to Barnes-Zilber 163.
“It’s all too easy,” Jennifer thought. “When you’re rich and powerful, no one questions you. You have all the access you need to create a believable lie.”
“Fire up the portal, Ben,” Jennifer said into the vidphone.
“What?” the confused tech replied.
“We’ve caught a skipper. I’m attaching the trespassing report and return order.”
“OK. I’ve got the documents and they look complete. I’ll make the preparations and note the activity in the log.”
“Fine. My new assistant, Jon, will bring her down in a few minutes.”
“Lou, what did you find?”
“Here it is, your alternate lifestory.”
“What? Just one? Lou, I asked you for all of them. I wanted to be able to choose the best one.”
“That’s the only one there was. You only exist in one other documented timeline.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Not impossible, just really rare. I checked and double-checked. That’s all there is.” My disappointment must have been showing because Lou tried to cheer me up. “But hey, it’s a good one. Take a look. Your name is Jennifer Hayden-Smith.” This perked me up a bit. “You’re CEO of a major time corp. Alt-Time, the same one I work for, just a different timeline. You’ve got a great life in Jellinek 74.”
“Can you get me in?”
“I think so. The portal room is not very well guarded at night because it’s not in use. The guards on the night shift are friends of mine. With some cash, I think I can convince them to look the other way.”
“Great. Tonight, OK?”
“Don’t forget the money.”
Seth entered. “Why is the portal on?” he demanded.
“Returning a skipper,” Ben replied.
“On whose authority?”
“Ms. Hayden-Smith sent down the documents a little while ago. Then her assistant brought down the skipper.”
“Who was it?”
“A Jen Muller from-”
“Don’t tell me, Barnes-Zilber 163, right?”
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“Where’s Ms. Hayden-Smith?”
“In her office I guess. That’s where she called from. I got all the standard documents. Then her assistant showed up with the skipper.”
“Ms. Hayden-Smith wasn’t with them?”
“No, but - Doc, I went over the documents a couple times. The return order’s legit, straight from the Ministry. Nothing out of the ordinary, I promise.” An increasingly nervous Ben shuffled through the documents on his desk and handed a couple to Seth.
Seth flipped through the documents; they did seem in order. Still, he couldn’t shake the cold feeling that was creeping over him. He called up to Jennifer’s office, hoping to be proven wrong. Instead, Jon confirmed that Ms. Hayden-Smith hadn’t been seen or heard from since she asked him to bring the skipper to the portal room. Just as Seth reached for the phone to report Jennifer’s disappearance, the portal signaled an incoming traveler.
I stepped through the portal and into Jellinek 74. A man approached me. He was wearing a white lab coat and glasses. He looked like a scientist, probably a time specialist. I noticed he had an Alt-Time ID clipped to the chest pocket of his coat.
“Ms. Hayden-Smith?” he asked.
Recognizing my alternate’s name, I said “yes.”
“We’d thought you left us.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You’ve changed your hair.”
I suddenly realized that I had forgot to ask Lou about my alternate’s appearance. My hair and clothes all said “working class.” I tried not to panic. “I was undercover, on a classified mission for the Ministry.”
“Returning the skipper?”
I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, but it seemed safe to agree with him. “Yes, exactly. I’ll be in my office,” I said to end the conversation. He let me go without further comment. I was glad I thought to ask Lou where Jennifer’s office was.
Jennifer Hayden-Smith’s office was more luxurious than I imagined. I especially loved the view. I was jealous that she couldn’t even see the ground from her window. But then I realized it was my window now and a smile slid across my face. Clouds drifted by the window, my window, obscuring the surface where I had spent my life so far.
I decided to try out the cushy-looking couch. It didn’t disappoint. As I sank into the couch, I wondered if the pillows are stuffed with actual feathers. They were so soft; I didn’t ever want to get up.
Looking out the window into the moonlit night, I saw my reflection and realized that I had to do something about my looks. The clothes are easy to fix. I’d have my private car take me (I paused for a moment to savor the delicious thought) - I’d have my private car take me home and I’d pick something out of my closet.
The hair would be trickier. I couldn’t use the same hairdresser my alternate used. The person would notice the discontinuity. Then I remembered that I was rich. Certainly a little cash would convince the stylist to overlook the unusually fast growth of my hair. Money solves all problems.
I was going to enjoy this life. I had everything I always wanted and the money to get the things I haven’t even realized I wanted yet.
Suddenly, the office door opened and a ragged, drunken man stumbled in. When he saw me, he seemed confused. It’s my appearance I realized and vowed to fix it fast.
“Where’s Ms. Hayden-Smith?” he demanded.
“I’m Jennifer Hayden-Smith.” It felt good to have such a fine name.
“Then this is for you,” he snarled as he pulled a gun from under his jacket and shot me.
I was too stunned by the sudden turn of events to speak. My dying thought was that in my own timeline, no one ever hated me enough to kill me.
As Jennifer stepped through the portal into Barnes-Zilber 163, she reminded herself that she was supposed to be Jen Muller. So, when a slow-looking man addressed her as “Jen” she didn’t miss a beat. She answered him in the vernacular she’d heard the workers use, “Yeah?”
“Did you change your mind?”
“Huh?”
“You decided not to stay in Jellinek 74? Jennifer Hayden-Smith, the good life, remember?”
Looking back at the portal Jennifer realized that her alternate must have taken her place in Jellinek 74, not knowing that Jennifer Hayden-Smith’s life wasn’t what it used to be. If the cops didn’t get her, Joe Jones would.
“The good life doesn’t live up to the hype.” She told the man. “I’ll stick with my simple life after all. Better the problems you know than the ones you don’t. I’m heading home.”
As Jennifer returned to her empty apartment after another boring day, she thought about the day she’d walked out of her life and into Jen Muller’s. Sometimes she wondered what happened to Jen and how she fared in what was left of her life. We both got what we wanted, she mused, or at least what we thought we wanted. Why is it that they are rarely the same thing? Why is it that a place doesn’t look the same once you’re there? Jennifer decided that it was like they say about time skipping, that your mere presence in the timeline changes it in subtle and unpredictable ways.
Copyright Selena Thomason 2004