A Chip in Time

Be part of the leading edge of science! Come with us as we push the frontiers of knowledge to their limits! Be part of the history. Relive history.1 No degree required.2 Apply within.

1 Our Goal is to determine how time travel works, and study ourselves from the past. 2 Applicants must pass aptitude test with skill testing questions.

I remember the first time I passed by this sign. I was so excited I ran right in. I was over qualified, holding a degree in Theoretical Histories, but they tested me all the same. I knew going in that we wouldn't be the first people going back in history, in this timeline or any other. We would be experimenting to determine the method of time travel.

That was five years ago. I think. You lose track easily when all you do is wander timelines. But I know that for a while now we've been hot on the trail of the Inventor! No doubt they're some brilliant scientist with magnificent theories.

We know for sure they move frequently; sometimes we've been close enough we can practically see them. It's a strange sensation. We're not metres away from meeting the real person, but a temporal afterimage – we can see where they went. Other parties who followed us places have reported the same phenomenon, seeing these shadows of myself and my team.

The Inventor's frequent relocations seem entirely random, if mostly within the Eurasian continent. Travelling is a shame because we have to stick to the shadows. Getting caught in Feudal Japan in a 22nd century outfit is not my idea of a good time.

It's a curious thing, time travel: it's nearly instantaneous but for that moment, we seem to be physically aware we're going through time and space.

"Got something over here," my 'partner' says to me. Jaeni is all right, seems like a decent type, she's an MBA or something, studying the dying art of managing businesses. I say 'partner' because we just fell in that way, the buddy system in our group of eight. She's taller than I am, and sometimes when she's really pissed I imagine her knocking someone's teeth out.

"What've you found?" I ask, finishing rummaging through another stack of documents. We keep finding these hiding holes where our friend the Inventor kept extensive documentation on almost every subject – except time travel.

"It's a formula with a diagram," Jaeni replies enthusiastically. I hear the click of the cameras we brought. Supposedly they transmit every photo we've taken to our central database, but I've never had the chance to look. I crouch next to the hearth to inspect it. We're in some backwater town in Edwardian England. A crumpled ball of paper glows gently with the touch of embers. I pull a pair of the superfine tweezers we were given and slowly uncrumple the page.

"I've got a little something down here by the hearth," I say. "The rest of it looks cleaner than a chimney swift's backside."

CHEAPSIDE, LONDON, 1594; COPETOWN, 1899; MODERN MONTREAL, 1222; SOMEWHERE IN SIBERIA, 1702; ITABASHI, JAPAN, 1432; CONSTANTINOPLE, 1092; ORLEANS 892; ALEXANDRIA 1622;

"Any idea what all of these dates mean?" I ask over our short range comms. "Negative, not our jobs. Get it to the labs for analysis," Johann, our self proclaimed pack leader responds first. I see Jaenie roll her eyes. I don't bother confirming what I've already done – sent the dates off as well as taken some soot and charcoal samples from dead flames.

We scan the rest of the hovel-holdout, finding no other scraps or clues. We walk around the neighbourhood in darkness, spotting no oddities, just a few drug deals and at least one proposition.

We snap out of the historic locale back to our base of operations. Already I miss the natural light – the sun never finds this place. We're met quickly by one of the Heads, Dr Foote, a lean man easily in his sixties. "Report is in on the scraps you found in Brisbane," he says curtly. "None of those dates have any historical significance – nothing major happened in those times and places. And the font used in those writings was the same as what we have encountered before, but we still haven't identified where it came from. You weren't able to find any DNA samples?" All of us have been nodding, half listening until the question.

"No sir, whatever we're finding, it's clean of anything traceable," Jaenie replies.

Dr Foote starts to shake his head, but is interrupted by one of the lab techs bursting into the debrief room.

"Sorry Doctor, we've had another unauthorized snap. This one happened recently, within the last two hours. Calcutta, 19th century. Culture basics already sent to this team," the techie catches his breath before cutting Dr Foote off again. "They're the only ones available. Everyone else is busy," he says.

Dr Foote sighs, looking wearily at us. "Get them some appropriate gear then. You all know what to do," he waves at us dismissively before leaving us.

Each one of us looks at the rest of the team, resignation in our eyes. Time travel takes a lot out of you. Two trips in one day doesn't sound like fun.

Within half an hour we've snapped into the radius detected by the technical team. It's night again, we're in a dead cobble alleyway, welcomed by the mewling of starving kittens. I can't help but smile as I see one of the girls, Roche, I think, pocket one of the adorable little strays. The relative silence is then broken by a woman's scream.

Instinctively we bolt in her direction, as I mutter a silent prayer for our padded shoes. We're nearly noiseless. The woman's screams are easy enough to follow since it's a single lane. She sounds only seconds away when the screaming stops, a low buzz taking its place.

I spot a faint blue light in the same moment and sprint towards it, waving for the others to follow. I pass through an arch just in time to see a door shut and whisper in mimes what we should do next. Someone motions to just charge it and bash it down. I step in front and try the latch first.

It swings open noiselessly; a miracle of modern technology, that. It opens into what looks like a small home, stairs only leading up or a hall through to what I imagine is the kitchen. I hurry for the stairs, hoping someone else goes straight ahead.

I round the stairwell to find a young looking woman strung up on some sort of rack, serious gashes through her belly and neck, clothes smouldering around them. I was dumbstruck as I didn't see any blood. I rush to look around for the perpetrator, Jaeni and a couple others behind me. Through what I assume is the master bedroom I catch sight of a blonde man running from the scene. He is wearing ornate period clothes and a hairdo that resembles a flock of seagulls.

Maniacal cackling fills the upstairs, even as we all shout "Hey! Stop!" at the top of our lungs. The laughing stops, interrupted by a familiar snap. Several of us page the base through our comms. Others excitedly begin tearing the place apart, leaving the victim hanging.

I go downstairs hoping to find good news. Instead I find Johann, arms crossed. "Catch the murderer?" He asks solemnly. I shake my head, "He snapped before we could reach him." Johann nods, eyes brighter. "Well, whoever he is, he invented time travel. He was burning pages in the kitchen. We saved a few pieces. They have familiar looking formulas and we salvaged part of a schematic." Suddenly I'm filled with the adrenaline of discovery.

We found the inventor!

"We also came across another partial list of random locations. Here," Johann hands me a crumpled scrap. TORONTO, CANADA, 1969; GLASGOW, SCOTLAND, 1811; RIO DI JANERO, BRAZIL, 1902; SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA, 1756

"Hopefully we find more upstairs," I say after reading.

"We got authorization to take the body with us," Rosh shouts from up the stairs. I faintly hear the others down here talk about the body, they sound nervous. "What would we do with a body?" someone asked.

"Well, we can't have this sort of evidence around," Johann says. "Maybe this is the first time there's been a body left over. He obviously knew he was being chased today," a few people look a bit squeamish; the thought of following a crazed serial killer isn't the most exciting one for any sane person.

We're all mulling over the possibilities when suddenly there's banging at the door. "Police! Open up!" I jump from my thoughts, grabbing my ears. I've never used our translators before. It's a weird sensation hearing both languages one after the other.

Within moments we've gathered together, silent understanding beneath the banging of the door. We snap out of there, wondering how our quest for scientific knowledge evolved into the hunt for a potential serial killer.