15th March 2100, 07:32:34
‘The George Hotel,’ room 18.
For a moment, I am utterly alone.
But only for a moment of de ja vu to pass. It’s like the bathroom - which incidentally has not changed much at all, only the style of the curtains – was completely devoid of any characters, actors or actresses for a fraction of time, and then, it was bustling.
One moment I’m alone, solitary, in a small bathroom; the next, that bathroom is five times as big and there are people everywhere. And there’s no bath to speak of, no toilet to pee in. Every space in the room is taken by someone. Be calm, I tell myself. Be calm, be calm, be calm.
This is a major mistake on my part. At least it wasn’t like this back in 1965. I bet I know what’s going on. Yep, I think I do, and it only took my advanced mind two seconds to figure it all out. Obviously, this event was recorded in history upon my first arrival, as this momentous achievement would have been detailed scrupulously by me upon my arrival back home. Somehow, this had become available knowledge and those in the know-how were here today to see if it were true.
In this case, I might be a kind of celebrity here, with even more status than I have in 2022. Unbelievable, but, somehow, not. It was fate.
I hold my hands up, saying ‘Hi,’ to everyone in the room. And then I realise something. Most people are all wearing suits, and not only that, but the ones who are not, are wearing Police uniforms.
Shit.
Why would the law be here?
‘Dr. B.C. Hackman, you are under arrest for twenty-six counts of murder. Please come with us.’ A large man, reminding me a little of Kurt Russell, comes at me, three uniformed officers following behind like stooges.
Murder? The fools! Do they not know who I am? This is obviously not the advanced, enlightened society I was hoping it would be.
‘You don’t understand,’ I begin, before my arms are taken from me roughly, and thrust behind me, as I am charged to the floor to have a knee embedded in the small of my back.
They don’t understand. Somehow, they have found out about my past, about all the people’s pain and suffering I have eased. But surely they can see how it was only a form of euthanasia at work, nothing evil. Nothing inherently wrong!
I spot the D.D. lying across the room, from my cheek-squashed viewpoint. And then something that makes my heart stop!
‘No! Don’t do that!’ I shout in desperation.
As the foot comes down I desperately start thinking about all the possible ruminations of the D.D. being destroyed. If it’s destroyed, I won’t be able to travel back to 2022 and document my momentous first arrival in the future. So I wouldn’t be arrested because there’d be no-one here to get me, because they wouldn’t know I’m here.
This might work out after all.
A faint smile paints my perfect face as the foot crushes the D.D.
15th March 2100, 07:32:34
‘The George Hotel,’ room 18.
I am alone again.
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