Unseen Worlds: SciFi Challenges

The Time We Have Left

Navigating the timestream is a rare gift. And with the population of humanity dwindling to the mere thousands, sending me back was gambling with a precious commodity. That's how navigators are trained to see themselves- as assets, not people.

When I arrived in 21st century Brooklyn I was stunned. The ruins I had known, though impressive, could not compare to the borough in its prime. "Return as soon as you have the information. Access to the timestream will not last long."

I spent days at the Brooklyn Library. But every afternoon I ate in Prospect Park. I couldn't help it. There's a human need, a hunger, for the sun which I'd never satisfied or even known I'd had, before traveling back.

My first day in the park I almost tripped over her. She wasn't running or throwing objects for canines. She was just lying on a blanket, smiling at the sky. I apologized profusely.

"That's ok," she smiled, shading her eyes. "I was just enjoying the sun."

"I know what you mean," I replied.

"I like your accent, where are you from?"

"Somewhere far away," I replied. It wasn't a lie.

"Why don't you sit down and tell me about it?"

I did. That day and many others. Until I finally found the information. I went to her in the park. I was about to break every rule they gave us.

"Come with me," I proposed.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm dieing." She said it like I should have already known, gesturing to the tubes and canisters connected to her body. I hadn't understood. "But you could stay. And we could enjoy the time I have left."

Her proposal was better. She saw me as a person, not a resource. I would stay as long as I could. Perhaps longer.