JAA Ch. 04: Lives of John Abernathy

When John woke, he looked around. The table slid up as he watched, a tray of food on its top. Getting up, John took the glass of water on the wall and drank. Setting the glass back, he stepped over to the toilet.

Sitting down on the cot, John ate. When he finished the table once again disappeared back into the floor of the cell. Getting up, John walked to the wall he had seen the man walking up. Placing a foot on the wall, John felt nothing. No shift in which way was up.

"It won't work for you...yet," the voice said.

"I see."

"I'm sorry about the pain, but this is the only way to make sure," the voice said.

"Make sure of what?"

"That our records are accurate."

"Ah, well what have you found?"

"Do you remember what was extracted last night?"

"Yes, except, that's not quite how I remember it," John said hesitantly.

"How do you mean?"

"I don't remember it happening that way. It was close, but not exactly the same as I remember it."

"Is it close enough?"

"I don't know...I don't remember killing the Vice President before being arrested."

"Does it matter, he was killed anyway."

"Yes, but I remember him being in the Senate Hearing room at the time of the explosion."

"Ah, yes, that's what we have too. I will have to..."

The voice just stopped, as if a switch was thrown. Silence once more enclosed John.

Five hours and a meal later the speaker crackled slightly.

"John?"

"Yes."

"It would seem we might have a slight problem."

"What problem is that?"

"While you, we have established it without question, are a fixed point in time traveling through alternate realities, it would seem the events themselves are not fixed and although they are similar to those which you remember, actually happened, when we try to extract them from your mind we might get slightly different memories."

"Huh?"

"It all has to do with probability. Have you ever dreamed of things happening differently?"

"Yes, many times."

"Then they are all true, to you. Each time you thought of the event happening differently, they became true in a reality other than the one you were in."

"Huh?"

"Disconcerting, isn't it?"

"Damn right. So, if I dream about it, it happened in some reality, other reality?"

"That's the theory."

"Damn."

"You said it," the voice said.

Silence again filled the room.

The smell of coffee woke John. Turning his head toward the left, he saw that the table was once again loaded with a tray of food. Eggs, ham and hash browns along with a cup of coffee. Groaning, John swung his legs over the side of the cot and sat up. Raising his hands to his face, he scrubbed the sleep from his head. John sat there for a little while, staring at the tray on the table.

"Is this stuff drugged?" he asked, not expecting an answer.

"No, John, not this time. You have my word."

John nodded then began to eat. Once he was finished, sitting, back against the wall, coffee cup in his hand, the table dropped down out of sight. Even though John had plenty to eat and enough sleep, he felt worn out. Drinking the coffee slowly, John tried to savor the hot liquid, until it started to cool.

"Hey," John called out.

"Yes, John."

"Can I have a day off? I feel like shit and would like to go back to sleep, but I don't want to wake up in excruciating pain."

"Today, you can rest easy. The experts are going over the data from your previous probes."

"Thank you," said John. Reaching up he placed the coffee cup on the wall and slid down into the cot. He closed his eyes and slept.

John roused as if in a dream. He couldn't open his eyes fully, but could tell there were people around him in his cell.

"Easy, John, the doctor just wants to check you over," the voice said only this time it wasn't coming from a speaker.

Trying to focus his eyes, John looked around his cell. The only thing he saw was the white coats. The white coats poked, prodded and stuck him. After what seemed like hours, he was finally alone again. Looking around one last time, John closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

"John," John heard his name called from far away.

"John," the voice was closer yet still far enough away to ignore.

"John," the voice was right next to his ear.

John sat bolt upright, his eyes flashing open. Sighing, he relaxed. He was still in his cell and the table was up bearing a tray of food.

"How long?" asked John.

"Forty hours," the voice answered quickly. "The doctors thought you should sleep."

"I see," sighed John.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the cot, John started to eat. This time, when he finished eating, the table did not slip back into the floor. Shoulders sagging, John looked up at the ceiling.

"What?"

"Please place the water pitcher, water glass and coffee cup on the table."

"Why?" John thought he knew but, wanted them to say it.

"That's where the drug is and they, the doctors, don't what you drinking any more of it."

Nodding, John retrieved the items placing them on the table. It then slipped out of sight into the floor. Almost immediately, a fresh pitcher of water with a glass came up out of the floor. Leaning forward, John poured himself a glass of water and drank deeply, placing the glass back on the table. The table stayed in place. John chuckled to himself.

"When did you suspect?" the voice asked.

"The second pitcher," John answered, chuckling again.

Silence dropped over the cell. John poured himself another glass of water and drank it down. The table remained in place.

"Will I be leaving this place?" John asked softly.

"Eventually. We do not keep prisoners, we detain those that have broken the temporal mandates and once things have been set right we let them go. Their memory of this place is wiped, so they have no recall as to where they were."

"I see. How long have I been here?"

"You have been our longest guest so far. You have been our first guest who has not used a temporal device for his own gain, which brings us to our conundrum."

"And..."

"Policy...new policy is being made each time we talk. Your file has raised questions, moral questions, among the Corps of Shonda. The high council is in a quandary. They don't know what to do."

"I don't see a problem. Unless you want the human race to become extinct, you do nothing and let me go..."

"Ah, but there are your other two lives," the voice broke in.

"And what do I do with those lives? Do I save humanity, again?"

"I can't divulge that at this time."

"So you don't really know. When is my next mind probe scheduled?"

"That's another argument that is raging in the corridors of Shonda. Some say that it's useless to do the probes, as you have not lived those lives yet. Others say that it doesn't matter, the memories are there even if you don't consciously remember them yet."

"Ah, thank you for sharing that with me."

"You're welcome."

"So when do you think they will probe me again?"

"Sometime tomorrow. But for now they, the doctors, have prescribed fresh air and exercise."

A door across from John slid open. Surprised, John rose to his feet and walked the twelve or so paces to the open door. Beyond it was a terrace. A terrace surrounded by jungle. Above the terrace was open to the sky and the sun shining down. The ground was covered in paving stones of a neutral color. Slowly, John walked to the edge of the terrace, reached out slow...

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the voice said.

As John's hand moved forward, there was a sudden flash of light emanating from the point where his hand would have crossed the edge of the terrace into the jungle, the next thing John knew he was sitting on the ground his right arm tingling.

"I told you," the voice chuckled.

"I had to try," replied John.

"I know."

"What about exercise?"

"Yes, of course. Stand in the white box against the wall and press the green button."

John walked to the white box and stood looking at the two buttons on the wall. A green button was above a red button. John pressed the green button. Nothing happened. As he reached out to press the red button the voice stopped him.

"Turn around."

John turned toward the jungle and was surprised by the equipment that now littered the terrace floor.

"So the red button puts it all away?"

"Yes. Have fun."

"Thanks again."

"You are welcome."

John smiled to himself and started toward the treadmill. It faced the jungle, which wasn't very dense, so he could watch the animals as they went about their lives and get a workout.

Two hours later John walked to the white box and pressed the red button. Turning around he saw that all the equipment was gone.

"I'd like to take a shower," John said.

"Stand in the green box and press the button on the wall," the voice responded.

"Thanks," said John walking to the green box and pressing the button.

A door opened in front of John, inside the room revealed was a full bathroom. Smiling he entered stripped off his clothes and stepped in the shower cubical. Within seconds, he had soothing warm water cascading down his body taking away the aches and pains of his workout. John stayed in the shower for a long time. He soaped himself twice, shampooed his hair three times, then stood under the cascading water until his skin looked like a prune.

When he stepped out of the cubical, he discovered his dirty clothes replaced by a clean set. After drying off, he dressed. Looking around he also saw the door had closed behind him when he entered. Stepping over to the green box, he pressed the button on the wall. The door opened, but not out onto the terrace. Instead, he was staring into his cell. Groaning with disappointment, he stepped through into his cell. Turning, he saw the door close. On the floor was now a green box with a button where the doorway had been.

Nodding, John went to his cot and sat down. The pitcher of water and glass where still on the raised table. Pouring himself a glass, John drank thirstily. Two glasses later, John lay back on the cot. Soon he drifted off to sleep feeling better than he had when he woke.

John felt the mattress beneath him, as it lowered him to ground level. This time John didn't sit up until it stopped moving, scared the crap out of all the people gathered around to check him over. Lisa was there as John looked around.

"John, what happened this time?"

"I died again."

"How long after we sent you back did you die?"

"Thirty wonderful years," John sighed wistfully.

"Oh, then it worked?"

"Oh yes, it worked wonderfully. When can I do it again?"

"In a week, we need to debrief you."

"Right, let's get started then. Meet you in the conference room after I get dressed."

"Sure, why not, get it down while it's still fresh in your mind."

Twenty minutes later, John was in the conference room telling ten people his life story. Lisa interrupted a couple of times to ask a question to clarify a point. The first one was when John told her of his decision not to live his life the same. She asked if he had any trouble not doing the same thing over. John told her no, no trouble at all.

The next time she asked a question was when John told her about the cure for cancer his company had developed. She wanted him to write down the formula for the serum. John did and continued with his story.

"Lisa, I have a question for you. Is this company working for the government?"

"No, the president of this company and the board of directors have forbidden this company to take any government contracts."

"Ah, that's good then. That formula cost me my life and possibly my wife's life as well. The company I started back then took all the government contracts it could. There was money, tons of money in government contracts. Unfortunately, they owned the research and resultant findings."

"What are you saying, John?"

"We found the cure to many of the diseases that afflict people today and the government took them and hid them away. They asked us to find the cure, but really didn't expect us to find them."

"That can't be," Lisa exclaimed.

"It is, was, might even be going on now. Tell me is there a research firm, a medical research firm in the Chicago Metro Area call Abernathy Medical Research, here and now?"

Lisa typed in a query on her laptop. Her eyes widened as her head snapped to look at John. She turned the computer so he could read the results. There was only one entry listed on the screen. One.

"We might want to have a look into this."

John's eye snapped open. He was in his cell staring up at the ceiling. As he lies there, the memories of a life he hadn't experienced flashed into his mine, then slowly faded away. John moaned in disappointment as the last of those memories died and disappeared.

"Sorry John," the voice said.

"That's alright, even though I have a feeling of emptiness, I know I will be there in the future, past, whatever. Hey, no pain," John said surprised to find he had no pain in his head or body.

"For these, we didn't have to probe deeply, just barely touched, for an extended period of time."

"How long?"

"It has been two days since you were last awake," the voice told him.

"I see," John muttered.

The table disappeared and reappeared with food. John found he was starving.

"You may eat on the terrace if you wish," the voice told him as the door to the terrace opened.

"Thanks," John said, picking up his tray and heading outside.

There were a picnic table and bench in the middle of the terrace waiting for him. The door to his cell remained open. Grunting, John sat at the table and began to eat. Twenty minutes later, he found himself extremely tired.

"You've drugged me again."

"No, John, it's a side effect of being under the probe for that length of time. Sleep, there will be no probing for the next three to four days. I promise," the voice said.

Nodding, John fell into bed. When his head softly touched the pillow, he was already asleep.

John woke his head stuffy as if he were suffering from a cold. Looking up at the ceiling, he shook his head as he lowered his face into his hands. He sat there for a long time mulling over what he had dreamt. He had dreamed about each of the lives he had already lived, but somehow all of them were mashed together in some surreal timeline that even he could not understand.

It appeared all the lives had been experienced in parallel to each other. John didn't understand it, but his mind seemed to understand even as memories jumped from one time stream to another. Smiling as he remembered one person after another, all of them the same in each timeline.

"Susan," John whispered his hands still covering his face.

John fell back onto his cot, closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Opening his eyes, John stared at the ceiling once more. Moaning he rolled and sat up.

"How long?" he asked.

"Twenty-two hours. How do you feel?"

"Terrible."

"That will pass. Your breakfast is waiting on the table on the terrace."

"Thanks."

John went to the green box and pressed the button on the wall. The door closed behind him.

Sitting at the picnic table, John ate slowly. When he was finished, he sat sipping his coffee looking out at the jungle. In two days, they would probe his mind for the fifth and final life he is supposed to live. He wished he could remember something, anything, from the fourth life. It all receded back into his mind when he woke and for the life of him, he couldn't bring them back no matter how hard he tried.

When he finished his coffee, John went to the white box and pressed the green button. Turning around, he saw that the picnic table had disappeared and the workout equipment had taken its place. For the next two hours, John worked out vigorously. When he finished, he put the equipment away and went into his cell to the green box. He showered and dressed in the clean clothes provided to him.

"John," the voice called once he was back in his cell.

"Yes," John answered.

"Feeling any better?"

John stood in the middle of the room contemplating the question. "Yes, yes I do."

"Good."

Silence filled the room once more. The rest of the day broken only by his meals, which now appeared out on the terrace. As the tray was delivered, a soft chime sounded. When he first heard the sound, John looked around trying to determine where it had come from. After the fifth time, John final deduces it was coming from the terrace. When he found the tray, the chime stopped. Smiling John sat and ate.

John was sitting at the table on the terrace after his third meal of the day. As he sipped his water, he watched as the bright daylight slowly faded to dusk and then to full darkness. When John moved, the terrace suddenly was flooded with light. A little startled, John chuckled to himself as he rose and went back into his cell. He found he was a bit sleepy and knew he wasn't quite one hundred percent yet.

"Night," John said to the room.

"Night," the voice answered.

Lying down on his cot, John thought to himself, one more day, then he was soon asleep.

They were both running when the shot rang out. It hit John in the upper left shoulder, spinning him around and down a side hall, where he fell to his hands and knees. Michelle was beside him in an instant, checking his wound. John was pushing her away, while he handed her his pistol.

"Here, safety is off, just line up the front sight like a taught you at the ranch," John grunted out.

"No, I have to check you..."

"No, go, he's after you. Defend yourself, Michelle," hollered John as he pushed Michelle down the hall.

Stopping, Michelle looked at John, her eyes brimming with tears as she held the gun, wringing the barrel in her left hand. John's eyes closed and his body relaxed.

"Shit," she cried out, spinning and running down the hall away from the gunman.

Michelle looked behind her as she ran. The man who had shot John was now boldly walking down the hall toward her. Stopping Michelle raised the pistol, she lined up the front sight as best she could in the dimly lit hall. Squeezing the trigger, she was startled by the noise of the gun firing. She had never shot a gun inside, just out at John's ranch. The stranger ducked into a doorway. Michelle didn't think she hit him. Michelle spins on her heels and starts running down the hallway. She can hear the stranger begin walking down the hallway after her. She can hear his footsteps on the tile floor. Even walking he is gaining on her.

At the next lab, she pushes the door open and continues to the back of the room. The stranger enters just after her. Turning, she lines the front sight of her pistol on the abdomen of the man walking toward her. When she pulls the trigger, things seem to slow down in front of her. The flash of the gunpowder slowly comes out of the barrel on its way to the stomach of the man. Slowly, the bullet follows the flames to the man's midsection, pushing his clothing into the large depression in his stomach created by the bullet. Then things speed up and the man is lying at her feet, blood gushing from the wound, splashing on the concrete floor. Michelle points the gun at his back and pulls the trigger again.

"Son of a bitch," Michelle screams at the body.