The New Washington D.C. Federal Courthouse gleamed in the morning sun, its transparent graphene walls reflecting the light like a beacon of justice. Inside Courtroom 7, the air hummed with tension as holographic displays flickered with complex equations and simulations. Dr. Benjamin Morgan stood at the podium, his lean frame tense but his voice steady as he addressed the special tribunal.
“Time is not a river flowing in one direction,” Benjamin said, gesturing to the simulation behind him showing swirling vortices of blue light.
“It’s an ocean of possibilities, and we’ve finally built the first boat.” His dark eyes scanned the panel of five judges, focusing on Judge Imani Chen, whose stern expression revealed nothing.
At 35, Benjamin was already legendary in the scientific community. His discovery of quantum temporal displacement had earned him the Nobel Prize three years ago, but that was just the beginning. The Time Travel Technology—TTT, as the media had dubbed it, represented humanity’s first real step into manipulating the fourth dimension.
“The applications are limitless,” he continued, his passion evident in every word.
“Imagine sending medical nanobots back in time to prevent cancer before it metastasizes. Imagine warning communities about natural disasters before they occur. This technology could save millions of lives.”
In the gallery, Dr. Sophia Reyes watched with pride. Her contribution to the TTT had been significant, though Benjamin always insisted on giving her more credit than she felt she deserved. Their relationship had evolved from colleagues to friends to something more complicated, something neither had found the courage to define.
“Dr. Morgan,” Judge Chen’s voice cut through his presentation, “your optimism is admirable, but this tribunal must consider all implications. General Hayes has already testified about the military applications, which you conveniently omit from your presentations.”
General William Hayes sat in the front row, his military posture rigid, his eyes cold as they fixed on Benjamin. The military had been salivating over TTT since the first successful test, seeing it as the ultimate strategic advantage.
“With respect, Your Honor,” Benjamin replied, “I’ve omitted nothing. I’ve been transparent about all potential applications, including those I find personally concerning. That’s why I’m advocating for international oversight, not military control.”
Hayes’s jaw tightened visibly.
“The potential for weaponization exists with any technology,” Benjamin continued. “But that has never been a reason to—”
The massive doors at the back of the courtroom burst open with a bang that echoed through the chamber. Security officers rushed toward the disturbance but froze in confusion at what they saw.
A man stood in the doorway, his breathing heavy, his face lined with age and marked by a jagged scar running from his left temple to his jaw. Despite the gray in his hair and the years etched into his face, there was something hauntingly familiar about him.
“Stop this trial immediately,” the man commanded, his voice carrying the weight of authority despite its ragged edge. “This technology cannot be released!”
The courtroom erupted in chaos as the stranger pushed past security and strode down the center aisle. Benjamin stood frozen at the podium, a chill running down his spine as recognition dawned.
“Who are you to interrupt these proceedings?” Judge Chen demanded, her gavel repeatedly striking her desk to restore order.
The man reached the barrier separating the gallery from the court proper and fixed his gaze directly on Benjamin.
“I’m Dr. Benjamin Morgan,” he said, “twenty years from now. And I’m here to prevent the greatest catastrophe in human history.”
The courtroom fell silent, all eyes darting between the two identical men—one in his prime, one weathered by time and trauma.
Benjamin felt the blood drain from his face as he stared at his older self. It was like looking into a distorted mirror, seeing not just the physical changes but something broken in those familiar eyes.
“That’s impossible,” he whispered, though the evidence stood before him.
“DNA test,” the older Benjamin said flatly. “You’ll find we’re identical. And then maybe you’ll listen when I tell you that this technology needs to be destroyed before it destroys everything.”
Judge Chen recovered first. “If what you claim is true, sir, then you’ve just provided the most compelling evidence that Dr. Morgan’s technology works.”
“It works,” the older Benjamin said bitterly. “That’s the problem.”
Within hours, the DNA results confirmed what seemed impossible—both men were genetically identical, with the older specimen showing the expected telomere shortening consistent with twenty years of aging. The tribunal had no choice but to accept the extraordinary truth: time travel was not just possible, it was standing before them in human form.
The hearing reconvened with both Benjamines present, creating a surreal setting that had media outlets worldwide in a frenzy.
“Given these unprecedented circumstances,” Judge Chen announced, “this tribunal will grant both Dr. Morgans seventy-two hours to present their cases. The younger Dr. Morgan will argue for the release of the technology, while the… elder Dr. Morgan will present the case for its destruction.”
Benjamin watched his older self, noting that his hands trembled slightly, the haunted look that never left his eyes. What could have happened to change him so, to make him reject everything he’d worked for his entire life?
As the session adjourned, Sophia approached Benjamin, her expression troubled. “This changes everything,” she said quietly.
“Does it?” Benjamin asked, still watching his future self being escorted out by security. “Just because he’s from the future doesn’t mean he’s right. Something happened to him, I mean to me… but that doesn’t mean it has to happen that way.”
“But he lived it, Benjamin. Whatever he experienced was bad enough to make him travel back in time to stop it.”
Benjamin turned to her, suddenly struck by a terrible thought. “Where are you in his future, Sophia? Why didn’t he mention you?” The question hung between them, unanswered yet chilling in its implications.
Later that evening, in the secure hotel where both Benjamines were being kept under guard, the younger Benjamin requested a meeting with his future self. They sat across from each other in a sterile conference room, identical eyes studying one another.
“Why won’t you tell me what happened?” Benjamin asked. “If it’s so terrible, help me understand so we can prevent it without destroying everything we’ve worked for.”
The older Benjamin smiled sadly. “You still think you can control it. That’s exactly what I I was afraid of.” He leaned forward, the scar on his face catching the light. “Let me ask you something. How many times would you go back to save someone you loved? Once? Twice? A hundred times or a thousand until you got it right?”
“This isn’t about personal use,” Benjamin argued. “The protocols we’ve designed..,”
“Protocols!” his older self interrupted. “Were written by people who have never felt the temptation. You have no idea what you’re unleashing.”
“Then tell me!”
“I can’t. Temporal contamination protocols. The more you know about specific future events, the more variables change.” The older Benjamin’s expression softened slightly. “But I can tell you this: you’re standing at a crossroads, and the choice you make in this courtroom will determine the fate of millions. Including Sophia.”
Benjamin felt his heart constrict. “What do you mean, including Sophia? What happens to her?”
The older Benjamin looked away, pain evident in every line of his face. “Make the right choice,” he said softly. “Destroy it all.”
The morning after the shocking revelation, Benjamin sat in his temporary office at the courthouse, surrounded by holographic displays of his research. He hadn’t slept. How could he, knowing that his future self was just feet away, carrying the weight of some terrible knowledge?
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. Sophia entered, carrying two cups of coffee. Dark circles under her eyes suggested she’d had as restless a night as he had.
“Thought you might need this,” she said, placing one cup beside him. “Though from the looks of it, you’re already running on pure adrenaline.”
Benjamin accepted the coffee gratefully. “I’ve been reviewing everything, trying to see what I missed. What could go so catastrophically wrong that I’d come back to destroy my own life’s work?”
Sophia pulled up a chair beside him. “Have you considered that maybe he’s lying? Or that he’s not really you?”
“The DNA is conclusive. And those eyes…” Benjamin shook his head. “Those are my eyes, Sophia. He’s seen something terrible.”
“Then we need to find out what it is.” She pulled up a secure terminal. “I’ve been granted access to his medical evaluation from last night. Look at this.” The display showed brain scans alongside physiological data. “PTSD indicators off the charts,” Sophia explained. “Recurring nightmares, hypervigilance, severe trauma response patterns. Whatever he experienced, it broke him.”
“But he won’t tell me specifics. Says it would cause ‘temporal contamination.’”
“Convenient,” Sophia muttered. She hesitated, then added, “There’s something else. When they scanned him, they found this.” She enlarged an image showing a small device embedded at the base of the older Benjamin’s skull. “It’s some kind of neural implant, technology we don’t have yet. He refused to explain it.”
Before Benjamin could respond, his secure terminal chimed. “Dr. Morgan,” a voice announced, “General Hayes requests a meeting.”
Benjamin sighed. “Send him in.”
General Hayes entered with military precision, his uniform impeccable, his expression calculating. “Doctor,” he nodded curtly to Benjamin, then to Sophia with slightly less respect. “Dr. Reyes.”
“What can I do for you, General?” Benjamin asked, not bothering to hide his yawn.
Hayes remained standing, hands clasped behind his back. “This situation has created quite the stir in certain circles. The Pentagon is… concerned about the implications.”
“I bet they are,” Benjamin replied with a slight chuckle.
“I’ll be direct, Doctor. Your position in this tribunal has become precarious. Your own future self is your most damning witness.” Hayes leaned forward slightly. “But the military still believes in the potential of your technology. With our backing, the tribunal would be more likely to rule in your favor.”
Benjamin narrowed his eyes. “In exchange for?”
“Exclusive development rights. A partnership that would ensure proper… security protocols.”
“You mean weaponization,” Sophia interjected.
Hayes didn’t even glance at her. “I mean national security, Dr. Reyes. In the right hands, this technology could prevent wars, not start them.”
Benjamin stood, matching Hayes’s posture. “The ‘right hands’ being yours, I suppose? No, General. If this technology is released, it will be under international oversight, not military control.”
Hayes’s expression hardened. “That’s disappointing, Doctor. Especially given your current predicament.” He moved toward the door, then paused. “Your future self has already given his testimony to the court. Quite compelling. Millions dead, he says. Though interestingly vague on the details.” With that parting shot, he left.
“He’s up to something,” Sophia said after the door closed.
“Of course he is.” Benjamin ran a hand through his hair. “But what worries me more is what my future self told the court. If he’s painting a picture of global catastrophe…”
“We need to counter it with facts, not fear,” Sophia insisted. “Your protocols for controlled time travel are sound. The failsafes..,”
“Are theoretical,” Benjamin finished. “We’ve never tested them at scale because we’ve never had to. What if he’s right? What if there’s a fundamental flaw we haven’t seen?”
Sophia placed her hand over his. “Then we find it and fix it. That’s what scientists do, right?”
The next day brought disaster. Benjamin woke to find his secure terminal flooded with messages. Someone had leaked internal documents to the media. Documents suggesting Benjamin had hidden critical safety concerns about temporal displacement side effects.
“These are forgeries,” he told Sophia as they hurriedly prepared for the day’s tribunal session. “I never wrote these risk assessments.”
“I know,” she said, examining the documents. “The technical language is close but not quite your style. Someone with access to your previous work could have fabricated them.”
“Hayes,” Benjamin growled.
“Maybe. Or…” She didn’t need to finish the thought. They both glanced at the door, beyond which guards stood watching over them—and the other Benjamin.
The tribunal session that day was brutal. Public opinion had shifted overnight, with protesters gathering outside the courthouse. Inside, Benjamin watched as his future self took the stand again, his testimony measured and devastating.
“I was like him once,” the older Benjamin told the judges, gesturing toward his younger self. “Convinced I could control the uncontrollable. It took the Cascade Event to show me how wrong I was.”
“Can you describe this ‘Cascade Event’?” Judge Chen asked.
The older Benjamin’s hands trembled slightly. “Imagine watching reality itself fracture. Temporal lines colliding, causality breaking down. Millions erased in an instant—not just killed, but unmade, as if they’d never existed.”
“And you attribute this directly to the Time Travel Technology?”
“Yes. Every use of the technology creates ripples, distortions in the timeline. Small at first, manageable. We thought we had it under control.” His voice broke slightly. “We were wrong.”
After the session, Benjamin cornered his future self in the hallway. “Those leaked documents, was that you?”
The older man’s expression remained neutral. “Does it matter? They’re showing you what you refuse to see, that this technology is too dangerous.”
“They’re forgeries! You’re manipulating the tribunal, manipulating me!”
“I’m trying to save you from yourself.” The older Benjamin stepped closer, his voice dropping. “Do you know what it’s like to watch everyone you love die? To know it was your fault?”
A chill ran through Benjamin. “Sophia,” he whispered. “What happens to her?”
Pain flashed across the older man’s face. “The Cascade Event took her. Along with millions of others.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” The older Benjamin’s eyes hardened. “Ask yourself this, why wouldn’t I give you specifics? Because I’m following some made-up ‘temporal contamination protocol’? Or because I know exactly how you think—how I think—and I know that if I tell you exactly what happens, you’ll convince yourself you can prevent it without destroying the technology.” Security personnel approached, ending their conversation. As his future self was led away, he called back, “You can’t outsmart time, Benjamin. I tried.”
That evening, Benjamin couldn’t find Sophia. She had mentioned examining the older Benjamin’s neural implant data more closely but wasn’t answering her phone. Increasingly worried, he convinced security to check her lab.
It was empty, with signs of a hasty departure—or removal.
“Check the security feeds,” Benjamin demanded.
The footage showed Sophia working late, then being approached by the older Benjamin, accompanied by security guards. They spoke briefly, then left together. The timestamp showed it was just three hours ago.
“Where did they go?” Benjamin asked the security officer.
“Unknown, sir. The elder Dr. Morgan had tribunal authorization to move freely within the secure perimeter.”
Benjamin felt panic rising. “Find them. Now.”
As security scrambled, Benjamin received a text message on his phone. It contained only four words from an anonymous sender. “Where time can’t touch.”
“Where time can’t touch.” The cryptic message haunted Benjamin as he paced the secure conference room where the tribunal had hastily convened an emergency session. Judge Chen’s normally composed face showed signs of strain as she addressed the security team.
“Let me understand this correctly,” she said, her voice tight with controlled anger. “Dr. Sophia Reyes is missing, and the last person seen with her was the elder Dr. Morgan, who is also now unaccounted for?”
The head of security nodded uncomfortably. “Yes, Your Honor. We’re reviewing all surveillance footage and have locked down the perimeter, but so far…”
The door burst open, and the older Benjamin walked in calmly as if he hadn’t just caused a facility-wide security alert. All eyes turned to him, but Benjamin was already on his feet, moving toward his future self with barely contained fury.
“Where is she?” he demanded, security personnel quickly moving to position themselves between the two men.
The older Benjamin regarded him with infuriating composure. “She’s safe. Safer than anyone in this room.”
Judge Chen’s gavel cracked against the table. “Dr. Morgan—elder—you will explain yourself immediately or face contempt charges.”
“With respect, Your Honor,” the older man replied, “contempt charges are meaningless compared to what’s at stake. Dr. Reyes is unharmed and will remain that way as long as these proceedings continue as scheduled.”
“You’re holding her hostage?” Benjamin was incredulous. “What happened to preventing catastrophe? How does kidnapping help your case?”
Something flashed in the older Benjamin’s eyes—pain, perhaps, or frustration. “She’s not a hostage. She’s protected. Where time can’t touch her.”
“That’s the second time you’ve used that phrase,” Judge Chen noted. “Explain.”
The older Benjamin took a seat, his movements betraying his fatigue. “There are… pockets, spaces where temporal effects are minimized. We discovered them after the Cascade Event. Sophia is in one such pocket, temporarily isolated from timeline alterations.”
“You’re talking about temporal stasis technology,” Benjamin realized. “That’s at least a decade beyond our current capabilities.”
“Seventeen years, to be precise,” his older self corrected. “I brought a portable unit back with me.”
“Bring her back,” Benjamin demanded. “Now!”
“The tribunal resumes in twelve hours,” the older Benjamin said, ignoring him and addressing Judge Chen. “I’ll present my final evidence then. After that…” he glanced at his younger self, “we’ll see where we stand.”
Despite protests, the older Benjamin refused to reveal Sophia’s location, and with no way to track the future technology he’d used, the security team was at a loss. He was placed under heavier guard, but the damage was done.
Benjamin spent the night in his lab, frantically searching for any clue in the data they had on his future self. The neural implant scans revealed unusual activity patterns, suggesting it might be more than just a medical device. Could it be related to the temporal stasis technology? Or something else entirely?
Morning brought no answers but did bring a new complication. As the tribunal prepared to reconvene, word came that General Hayes was demanding to address the court with what he claimed was crucial new evidence.
The courtroom was packed, tension thick in the air as Judge Chen called the session to order. The older Benjamin sat calmly at one table, while Benjamin took his place at another, hyperaware of Sophia’s empty seat beside him.
“Before we proceed with scheduled testimony,” Judge Chen announced, “General William Hayes has petitioned this tribunal to present new evidence. Given the extraordinary circumstances, we have granted this request.”
The doors opened, and General Hayes entered—but not the Hayes that Benjamin had argued with days earlier. This Hayes was older, his hair gray at the temples, his face lined with experience. He walked with the same military bearing but moved with the slight hesitation of a man in unfamiliar surroundings.
Murmurs filled the courtroom as the implications became clear. Another time traveler.
“General Hayes,” Judge Chen addressed him, “you claim to be from the future, like the elder Dr. Morgan?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” the older Hayes confirmed. “Approximately eighteen years from now, though from a different future than the one he represents.”
The older Benjamin had gone very still, his eyes fixed on Hayes with an intensity that bordered on hatred.
“Different future?” Judge Chen asked. “Please elaborate.”
“The future Dr. Morgan describes—the Cascade Event, the millions dead—is one possibility,” Hayes explained. “But it’s not the only one. In my timeline, Dr. Morgan’s technology saved billions of lives. We prevented wars before they began. We stopped pandemics before patient zero was infected. We averted climate catastrophes by precisely targeting intervention points.”
“And we’re to believe this miraculous future came from military control of time travel?” Benjamin couldn’t help interjecting.
Hayes turned to him. “Not military control, Doctor. International oversight with military implementation—exactly what you’ve been advocating for.”
DNA tests were hastily performed, confirming that this Hayes was genetically identical to the present-day General, just as the two Benjamines matched. The tribunal was now faced with contradictory testimony from two different futures.
“This is unprecedented,” Judge Chen admitted. “Two witnesses, both men seemingly proven to be from the future, but presenting opposing accounts.”
“Because one of them is lying,” the older Benjamin finally spoke, his voice cold. “Or rather, one of them represents a manufactured reality.”
All eyes turned to him.
“What do you mean, ‘manufactured’?” Judge Chen asked.
The older Benjamin stood, moving to the center of the courtroom. “There’s something I haven’t told you about time travel—something I discovered too late.” He glanced at Hayes with blatant contempt. “When you travel through time, you don’t just move through your own timeline. You create new ones.”
A holographic display activated as he spoke, showing a single blue line that then split into multiple branches.
“Each significant temporal intervention creates a parallel reality, a new branch in the multiverse,” he continued. “Most are unstable, collapsing back into the primary timeline within days or weeks. But some persist, especially those created by major interventions.”
“This is theoretical physics,” Benjamin objected. “Our models suggest…”
“Your models are incomplete,” his older self cut him off. “I lived it. The Cascade Event wasn’t just one timeline collapsing; it was dozens of them, created by repeated temporal interventions, all colliding back into the primary timeline at once.”
He pointed at Hayes. “This man doesn’t represent a ‘different future.’ He represents an artificial timeline created by temporal manipulation. A branch reality that will eventually collapse, killing everyone in it when it does.”
Hayes stepped forward. “That’s a convenient explanation, Doctor. But you have no proof.”
“Don’t I?” The older Benjamin smiled thinly. He tapped his temple, near where the neural implant was embedded. “This device doesn’t just help with PTSD. It records temporal signatures. Every individual and every object from a specific timeline has a unique signature. Yours doesn’t match this reality’s baseline.”
He turned to the tribunal. “He’s from a parallel timeline, one that I created.”
The courtroom erupted in confusion. Judge Chen called repeatedly for order as security moved to contain the situation.
“You created?” Benjamin asked, staring at his future self in dawning horror. “What does that mean?”
The older Benjamin’s expression changed, the mask of the concerned whistleblower falling away to reveal something harder, more calculated. “It means, my younger self, that I’ve been playing a longer game than you realized.”
When order was finally restored, the older Benjamin addressed the tribunal again, but with a different demeanor—more confident, almost triumphant.
“I came back not just to warn you, but to show you,” he said. “Hayes represents a timeline I created three years after the original Cascade Event. I wanted to prove that no matter how carefully you implement time travel—even with all the knowledge of what went wrong the first time the outcome is always the same. Parallel timelines form, they grow unstable, and they collapse.”
“You deliberately created an unstable timeline?” Judge Chen asked, aghast. “With billions of sentient beings?”
“To save trillions more across all potential futures,” the older Benjamin replied without remorse. “Hayes’s timeline is already showing signs of instability. In approximately six months, it will collapse completely.”
Hayes lunged at him but was restrained by security. “You’re insane! My world is real! Those people are real!”
“They’re temporal echoes,” the older Benjamin said dismissively. “And they were doomed the moment their timeline branched from ours.”
Benjamin felt sick as he watched this twisted version of himself. What could have happened to change him so completely? To make him so callous about entire realities?
“There’s more,” the older Benjamin continued. “I didn’t come back just to destroy the technology.” He turned to face his younger self directly. “I came to perfect it.”
“What?” Benjamin whispered.
“The problem isn’t time travel itself—it’s the crude implementation. Your version creates these unstable branches. Mine doesn’t.” He pulled a small device from his pocket, a sleek cylinder that pulsed with soft blue light. “This is the culmination of twenty additional years of research. It doesn’t just move through time—it rewrites it. One timeline, no branches, no collapses.”
Benjamin now understood with horrifying clarity. “You want to replace our technology with yours. You’re not trying to prevent the catastrophe, you’re trying to ensure you have exclusive control of time travel.”
The older Benjamin smiled, and in that smile, Benjamin saw nothing of himself. “Very good. Though ‘control’ is such a limited word for what I’m offering. I’m offering perfection.”
“Where’s Sophia?” Benjamin demanded, suddenly understanding that there was more to her disappearance than protection.
His older self’s expression softened slightly. “She’s the key, Benjamin. She always was. Her equations on temporal stability the ones she’s working on right now but hasn’t shared with you yet, they’re the foundation of my improved technology.”
“You took her to get her research,” Benjamin realized.
“I took her because in every timeline where I didn’t, she died in the Cascade Event.” For the first time, genuine emotion cracked through the older Benjamin’s facade. “Twenty-three times, Benjamin. I created twenty-three different timelines trying to save her, and in every one, she died. Sometimes in the initial Cascade and sometimes in the aftermath. I watched her die twenty-three different ways.”
“So you’re risking everyone else to save her?”
“I’m creating a perfect timeline!” his future self shouted. “One where the technology works correctly from the beginning, where the Cascade never happens, where she lives!”
“And what about all the other people in all those other timelines you created?” Benjamin pressed. “Were their lives worth less than hers?”
The older Benjamin faltered, just for a moment. “They… they were temporal echoes. Not real in the same way…”
A soft sound drew their attention to the back of the courtroom, where security officers were escorting someone in. Sophia. The older Benjamin’s eyes widened in surprise.
“How did you…” he began.
“Your temporal stasis device had a flaw,” she said, her voice steady despite her obvious exhaustion. “The isolation wasn’t complete. I was able to modify it from the inside.”
Judge Chen found her voice. “Security, take both time travelers into custody immediately! This tribunal is suspended pending…”
But the older Benjamin was already moving, pressing something on his wrist. The lights flickered, and temporal distortion rippled visibly through the air around him.
“Too late,” he said, his form already beginning to blur. “I’ve initiated the process. The new timeline is forming.” He looked at his younger self one last time. “I’m sorry it came to this, but you’ll understand someday. Some things are worth any price.”
And then he was gone, leaving behind chaos and the horrifying knowledge that somewhere, reality itself was being rewritten.
Chaos erupted in the courtroom after the older Benjamin vanished. Security personnel scrambled, scientists frantically checked readings on temporal distortion, and Judge Chen desperately tried to maintain order.
And through it all, Benjamin stood motionless, his mind racing faster than the pandemonium around him.
“Dr. Morgan!” Judge Chen’s voice finally broke through his thoughts. “Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”
Benjamin looked up, suddenly focused. “Yes,” he said with unexpected clarity. “I know exactly where he is. And more importantly, I know what he’s doing.”
Within minutes, Benjamin had assembled a small team that included Sophia, several security officers, and the older Hayes, who, despite his anger, recognized the need for cooperation.
“He mentioned temporal stasis pockets,” Benjamin explained as they hurried through the courthouse corridors. “Places where time moves differently. If he’s using your calculations to create a new timeline, he’d need a stable platform to work from, somewhere the changes wouldn’t affect him until he was ready.”
“How do we find this pocket?” Hayes asked.
“We don’t need to find it,” Benjamin replied. “I already know where it is.” He tapped his tablet, bringing up the building schematics. “The quantum containment lab in the basement. It’s the only place in the facility with the right shielding.”
As they descended to the lower levels, Benjamin’s mind was working through everything he’d learned. The pieces were falling into place, not just about what his future self was doing, but why.
“He’s been manipulating us from the beginning,” Benjamin told Hayes as they approached the lab. “The tribunal, the leaked documents, even your alternate timeline, all of it was to distract us from his real plan.”
“Which is?”
“Not to destroy time travel or to perfect it,” Benjamin said grimly. “But to abuse it. To rewrite reality for personal gain.”
They reached the lab doors, finding them sealed with a temporal lock, technology that shouldn’t exist yet. Benjamin studied it, recognizing elements of his design philosophy but twisted, evolved.
“Can you break it?” Hayes asked.
“No,” Benjamin admitted. “But I might be able to trick it.” He placed his palm against the scanner. “It’s calibrated to his biometrics, but we’re genetically identical. The difference would be in the neural patterns, the experiences that shaped us differently.”
He closed his eyes, thinking of Sophia, of the pain he’d seen in his future self’s eyes when he spoke of losing her. For a moment, Benjamin let himself feel that loss, that desperation. The scanner hummed, then flashed green.
“It worked,” Hayes said, surprised.
“I became him, just for a moment,” Benjamin replied softly. “That’s what scares me the most.”
The door slid open to reveal a scene from science fiction. The lab had been transformed, its center dominated by a glowing temporal stasis chamber. Inside, the older Benjamin worked frantically at a console, the neural implant in his skull pulsing with blue light that matched the chamber’s glow.
He looked up as they entered, unsurprised. “I was wondering when you’d figure it out.”
“Step away from the console,” Hayes ordered, drawing a weapon.
The older Benjamin smiled sadly. “That won’t help, General. We’re already in a partial stasis field. By the time your synapses fire the command to pull the trigger, I’ll have moved.”
“This ends now,” Benjamin said, stepping forward. “Whatever you’re planning…”
“Is already done,” his older self interrupted. “The new timeline is forming as we speak.” He gestured to a display showing a simulation of reality itself being rewritten, a wave of change spreading outward from their location.
“Why?” Benjamin asked, genuinely needing to understand. “You know the risks better than anyone. You’ve seen the Cascade Event.”
“Because I failed her,” the older man replied, his composure cracking. “Twenty-three times, Benjamin. I created twenty-three different timelines trying to save her, and in every one, she died. Sometimes in the initial Cascade, sometimes in the aftermath. I watched her die twenty-three different ways.”
“So you’re risking everyone else to save her?”
“I’m creating a perfect timeline!” his future self shouted. “One where the technology works correctly from the beginning, where the Cascade never happens, where she lives!”
“And what about all the other people in all those other timelines you created?” Benjamin pressed. “Were their lives worth less than hers?”
The older Benjamin faltered, just for a moment. “They… they were temporal echoes. Not real in the same way…”
“They were real to themselves,” Benjamin said quietly. “Just as real as you and me.”
Sophia stepped forward, her eyes fixed on the older Benjamin. “You did all this for me?” she asked, her voice a mixture of horror and pity. “Created and destroyed entire timelines?”
“You don’t understand,” he pleaded. “I watched you die, over and over. I couldn’t…”
“That wasn’t your choice to make,” she said firmly. “Not for me, not for anyone.”
A warning alarm blared from the console. The temporal wave was becoming unstable, the new timeline threatening to collapse before it fully formed.
“It’s failing,” the older Benjamin whispered, staring at the readings. “The integration is incomplete.”
“Can you stop it?” Hayes demanded.
“I… I don’t know.” He moved to the console, fingers flying over the controls. “The process was designed to be irreversible.”
Sophia joined him, quickly absorbing the complex equations. “These are my calculations, but you’ve modified them.” She pointed to a section of code. “Here—you’ve prioritized personal temporal anchoring over universal stability.”
“To ensure we’d be together in the new timeline,” he admitted.
“But that’s creating the instability,” she explained. “You can’t force reality to conform to personal desire without consequences.”
As they worked frantically to contain the growing temporal distortion, Benjamin had a sudden realization. “It’s not about destroying the technology or releasing it,” he said. “It’s about controlling it. Limiting it. Creating safeguards that even the most desperate person couldn’t override.”
The older Benjamin looked up from the console, understanding dawning in his eyes. “A third option.”
“Yes,” Benjamin nodded. “Not military control or unrestricted access, but something in between. International oversight with hard-coded limitations on how far back anyone could travel, how many interventions could be made, what could be changed.”
“Ethical boundaries encoded into the technology itself,” Sophia added, catching on quickly.
“It wouldn’t prevent all misuse,” the older Benjamin said, “but it would prevent… this.” He gestured to himself, to what he’d become.
The console beeped urgently. “We’re out of time,” Sophia warned. “The wave is reaching critical instability.”
The older Benjamin straightened, “I can reverse it, but I’ll need to use the neural implant to manually redirect the temporal energy.” He touched the device at the base of his skull. “It will likely be… fatal.”
“There has to be another way,” Benjamin protested.
His older self smiled sadly. “There isn’t. And it’s fitting, don’t you think? I created this mess. Twenty-three timelines, all those lives disrupted or ended because I couldn’t accept losing her.” He looked at Sophia with infinite tenderness. “But you were right. Some choices aren’t mine to make.”
Before anyone could stop him, he connected himself directly to the console through his neural implant. Energy surged through him, his body arching in pain as he channeled the temporal wave, reversing its direction, collapsing it back into a single point.
“The timeline is stabilizing,” Sophia reported, watching the readings. “He’s doing it.”
The older Benjamin convulsed as more energy poured through him, but he managed to speak through gritted teeth. “Benjamin… my pocket… take it.”
Benjamin reached into his future self’s jacket, finding the small cylinder he’d shown in the courtroom. As he pulled it out, the older man grabbed his wrist.
“Not… the technology,” he gasped. “My research… twenty years… how to do it right.” His eyes, though clouded with pain, “Don’t make… my mistakes.”
With a final surge, the temporal energy dissipated. The older Benjamin collapsed, the neural implant dark and silent. Benjamin caught him, lowering him gently to the floor.
“Is he…?” Hayes asked.
Benjamin checked for a pulse, finding none. “Yes,” he said quietly. “He’s gone.”
As they stood in somber silence, Benjamin noticed something strange—his future self’s body was fading, becoming translucent.
“What’s happening?” Sophia asked.
“The timeline is correcting itself,” Benjamin realized. “With the temporal wave reversed, the future he came from no longer exists. He’s being erased from causality.”
Within moments, the body had vanished completely, leaving only the small cylinder in Benjamin’s hand—a data storage device containing twenty years of research on how to safely implement time travel technology.
Three days later, the tribunal reconvened for its final session. The courtroom was subdued, the events of the past week having sobered everyone involved. Judge Chen called the session to order with none of her usual formality.
“Dr. Morgan,” she addressed Benjamin, “this tribunal was convened to decide whether your Time Travel Technology should be released or destroyed. Recent events have… complicated that decision considerably.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Benjamin agreed. “Which is why I’m proposing a third option.”
He presented his plan—a framework for controlled implementation of time travel under strict international oversight, with technological limitations hardcoded into the system itself. The technology would be released, but with safeguards that would prevent the kind of abuse his future self had attempted.
“These limitations would be immutable,” he explained. “No single person or government could override them. Time travel would be possible, but within ethical boundaries that protect the integrity of our timeline.”
The tribunal deliberated for several hours before reaching its decision. When Judge Chen delivered the verdict, her expression was solemn but resolved.
“This tribunal finds that Dr. Morgan’s Time Travel Technology may be released under the proposed limitations and international oversight. The potential benefits to humanity are too great to discard, but the risks too severe to ignore. We believe this compromise represents the best path forward.”
After the session concluded, Benjamin found Sophia waiting for him outside the courtroom. They hadn’t had much time to talk since the incident in the lab, both were too busy with testimony and technical explanations.
“So,” she said, falling into step beside him as they walked through the courthouse garden, “we won. Sort of.”
“I’m not sure anyone won,” Benjamin replied. “But at least we found a way forward that doesn’t end in temporal catastrophe.”
They stopped beside a fountain, water catching the late afternoon sunlight. Sophia turned to face him, her expression thoughtful.
“Your future self was willing to destroy reality to save me,” she said quietly. “I’m still trying to process that.”
“He lost himself,” Benjamin said. “Grief and guilt warped him into someone I hope I never become.”
“And yet,” she continued, “in those final moments, he found his way back. He made the right choice in the end.”
Benjamin nodded, thinking of the man who had been him and yet not him. “He gave us something valuable, too.” He patted his pocket where the data cylinder rested. “Not just the research, but a warning about what we could become if we’re not careful.”
“So what now?” Sophia asked.
“Now we build it right,” Benjamin said. “Together.”
As they stood there, the setting sun casting long shadows across the garden, Benjamin thought about time. Not as something to be conquered or controlled, but as a gift to be respected. His future self had been right about one thing, some moments were worth preserving exactly as they were.
This moment, he decided, was one of them.