Have you ever been out somewhere and seen ‘that guy’, or, ‘that lady’, that just exudes success? Everything about them from the clothes they wear and the way they walk, to the car they drive and people they surround themselves with just screams ’I’m someone important, everyone loves me and I make a butt load of money”?

Well, I’m going to share with you some of the best-kept secrets on how YOU, yes, even YOU, can achieve a level of success in life that is nowhere fucking close to being successful at all.

Step 1: Quit everything

I mean it, just quit everything you start. Karate class? Take it for a week, spend all the money to enroll and buy the uniforms, then, just stop going. Fuck it, that shit’s hard work. Why would anyone put their body through that torture?

This goes for any sort of exercise regime. You should definitely join a gym every year — I recommend doing this shortly after the New Year begins for greatest impact — go for a month or two, then stop. You will have wasted a fair bit of money and have absolutely nothing to show for it. I highly recommend this step for anyone that really wants to fail spectacularly.

Step 2: Plan to be a Rock Star

I have this as step 2, but it could have just as easily been step 1. Really, the two are interchangeable.

For this step to be really effective, you have to smoke a lot of pot. Oh, and quit high school and get your GED. Who really needs all that useless education if you’re going to be a rock star anyway? You should also probably learn to play an instrument or develop your singing voice just to be convincing. Now, you don’t have to be perfect. Learn a handful of power chords and maybe a cover song or two and then you should be ready to go!

The key to this step is to not actually become a rock star. Playing in anything more than a local cover band is going to just ruin this for you, so be sure you stick to dive bars and open mic nights.

Step 3: Surround yourself with Toxic, Emotionally Draining People

This is an important, but often overlooked step in the process. Make sure the people you are around every day are absolutely miserable. It’s best if they are cynical and extremely selfish. If you can find yourself a really good narcissist or sociopath, that shit is ideal, grab on with all your might and don’t let them leave. Ever.

If you are lucky enough to have family members that completely drain you of all hope, or insist on including you in all their misery, that would be perfect as well. If you are in the position to have an extremely selfish parent or parents, you really have a head start in the journey to being a maladjusted failure at life. Good for you.

I also recommend that you only befriend people that have absolutely zero potential to be successful. I mean, who wants to be around people who achieve things? You don’t need that kind of positivity in your life, that's just totally against everything we are trying not to accomplish here. Drop them like a good habit. You’ll thank me for this tip when you are in your forties and have exactly jack shit to show for your life’s efforts.

Step 4: Never take responsibility for your own choices or actions

I would think that this step goes without saying, but I’m going to include it for completeness.

Never, ever, under any circumstance, should you take responsibility for your own decisions or actions. Good or bad, you should always have a scapegoat. It works best if you choose any of the people from Step 3.

If you make sure you have someone else to blame, you can continue to make horrible decisions as long as you want, and they will never get in the way of your complete and utter failure at life.

After all, that’s what we should all be not striving for.

Two Years Earlier…

London, England, March 2021

The office was sterile and muted, the twin, gray, faux-leather chairs with their chrome metal frames sat in the center of the room facing a large white desk. A neutral-toned area rug and a few potted plants were the only other furnishings. The space evoked no feeling or emotion at all, likely the intention of it’s design. The outer walls of the corner office were glass from floor to ceiling looking out over the city a few stories below, and its inner walls a white-flecked gray marble.

“Mrs. Reynolds, Dr. Reynolds,” the man seated at the desk nodded to each of them in turn, his face as emotionless as the room in which they sat. “I’m afraid the news I have for you is not what you were hoping to hear today.” Dr. Xo Chen’s english was clear, though tinged with the accent of his native Mandarin.

Malcolm instinctively reached over and placed a hand on his wife’s hand, grasping it. She was trembling ever so slightly so he offered a comforting and gentle squeeze.

“Mrs. Reynolds, we performed a biopsy on the mass on your uterus. I’m afraid it is cancerous.” He looked at her, through his round wire-rimmed glasses, compassion evident in almond-shaped eyes. “Stage III, from our best assessment.”

Malcolm, squeezing Jillian’s hand a little tighter, “What are our options, Doctor?” His voice was calm and measured.

“We have a few options. As I mentioned, we are looking at a Stage III tumor right now. As you are both likely aware, that means from what we can see, there is currently no spread to the adjacent lymph nodes. But, we need to order a PET scan to be certain. As long as they are clear, we would start a few rounds of chemotherapy, try to shrink the tumor…”

“No!” Jillian spoke up forcefully. “No Chemo.”

The primary caregiver for her mother when she went through chemotherapy for breast cancer, she watched her waste away, blood coursing with chemicals that seemed to consume her from the inside out.

“I will not go through that.” She turned to look at Malcolm, her gaze firm.

Malcolm admired her strength. She was a pragmatic and well educated woman and knew full well the path that lay before her. She would not flinch and she would never give up. These qualities and more are why he fell in love with her in the first place. She was also quite possibly the smartest person he ever met. The work they were doing together was revolutionary -- and though she was still working towards her Ph.D. in Molecular Biology -- much of their current work was the result of her ideas.

Manchester, England, September 2023

“I’m not going to do it, Maddy, they want us to play God!” he looked at her, his eyes scanned her face for some sign understanding.

“This is a huge deal, Malcolm. I don’t see how you have much of a choice. Go to the meeting and listen — really listen — to what they have to say. Offer your objections if you must. But isn’t this what all your hard work was for? I know you have concerns but…”

He ran his fingers through what remained of his salt-and-pepper hair, inhaled a deep breath and counted to four.

“Are you going to back me up here, Rachel?” he turned to his lab assistant, a mousy, brown-haired woman with her face buried in a microscope lens.

She pulled the headphones out of her ears. Pretending like she hadn’t been listening to the entire conversation, “What? With what, sorry?”

She didn’t want to get between Malcolm and their mutual boss. She would not commit career suicide today.

Exasperated, Malcolm threw his hands up in the air. “Fine, I’ll go. I will listen to what they have to say, and then politely decline. There are some things you don’t do Madeline.”

He used her whole name this time. She’d put him in an uncomfortable position.

“Malcolm, I understand your reservations, I do. But, this is an opportunity for you to get involved in something that could make a real difference. Isn’t that why we do what we do? And, the exposure — the funding for the lab — I don’t think I need to tell you how important that is.”

“I said I would go,” His usually subtle Scottish accent became more pronounced in his frustration.

“I will hear them out. And then…then I will tell them how unethical it is.” He wrung his hands together, pacing in place.

“I will explain that my work is theoretical and that we’ve done no human trials. You understand what they are asking for, don’t you?”

He paused, reflecting for a moment before he continued rambling.

“If they want what I think they want… well, without any real testing, we have no way of knowing for sure it will even work the way we expect. I mean, I’m almost certain it will, but we need to be completely sure with something like this. Permanent alterations to the human genome aren’t something you get a ‘do-over’ for. If you don’t get it right the first time, that’s it. Game over.”

He walked over to the large plate-glass windows. From his second-story lab, you could see the duck pond and walking path in the courtyard below. Frozen solid, there had been no ducks — or any other life for that matter — in over a year. The sky was gray and dull like it had been every day since the ‘incident’.

That’s what the United Nations called it, an incident. The launch and subsequent destruction of multiple nuclear weapons while still inside the stratosphere is a little more than an incident.

After he finished speaking Madeline nodded, confident she had made her point. Not wanting to push him any further, “Right then.” She nodded, “I’ll make all the necessary travel arrangements.”

Turning on one heel, she started towards the pressure sealed inner door of the laboratory. As she passed she offered a polite nod towards the woman at the microscope, “Miss Austin.”

She paused in the decontamination chamber and waited for the exit light to glow green. Then smoothing the front of her lab coat with her hands, she made her way out of the lab.

Malcolm paced back and forth by the window for a few moments, trying to work through all of the emotions in his head but was pulled from his thoughts by the hissing sound of the lab’s outer doors.

He turned in that direction, laughing to himself at the scene before him.

A tiny human stood at the door and, through the hood of a parka, pressed her rosy cheeks and a smooshed nose against the glass of the sliding door.

The muffled face started to say something when Rachel hit the button that opened the door automatically from the inside.

“Daddy!” The girl exclaimed, pulling off her hood and running to him with outstretched arms.

“Hey Munchkin!” he smiled at her as he grabbed her up and gave a squeeze. The stress of the past few minutes quickly melted away when he saw her smile.

Rachel — her headphones off now — smiled in their direction, “Hello Miss Lilly to what do we owe the pleasure?”

The little girl turned towards her, nose wrinkled “To what do we huh?”

With a wiggly, beckoning finger, Rachel responded, “Just get over here and give me a hug, squirt!”

At that, she gave Malcolm a peck on the cheek, shimmied out of his arms, and dashed over to Rachel’s waiting hug. The two had a girl’s moment while Malcolm sat there smiling.

“Helga, I trust she wasn’t a problem for you today?” Malcolm acknowledged the older woman standing over by the doorway.

“Not at all Doctor, she’s a joy. Precocious as ever, but then I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know,” she said with a sideways smile and an approving look at the little girl.

He nodded and smiled warmly at the older woman.

Helga was his housekeeper and, ever since his wife Jillian died, an invaluable member of their family. She took care of Lilly during the day while Malcolm was working, ensuring she was well cared for. He was very grateful to have her.

He motioned her over, trying to be subtle.

“Helga, something has come up and I must go to Paris for a few days.” he tried to whisper, but the whine he heard from across the room told him he failed, miserably.

“Noooooooo Daddy… I don’t want you to go. Can I come?” she asked him imploringly with a pout.

“I’m afraid not, Daddy has to go alone. Besides, it’s just boring work stuff.”

Lilly started to whine a little more and then Rachel spoke up. “Hey, I have a wonderful idea! Why doesn’t she come to stay with me for a few days while you’re away? We can have a girl’s weekend!”

“Oh, Rachel, you don’t have to do that Helga can….” he started to say before she cut him off.

“Nonsense, It will be my absolute pleasure to host the elegant Lilly Reynolds for a few days” looking down at the now giggling girl.

“We can paint our nails, and stay up late watching films…” she bopped her playfully on the nose with a fingertip.

“Hmmm, what do you think, Lil? Think you can stand Rachel for a few days?” he said, winking at Rachel and mouthing “Thank you”.

“Oh yes, Daddy! I think it will be absolutely ‘Mahvelous Dahling .’ She turned to Rachel and blew her a kiss with an exaggerated ‘muah’ sound.

“All right then, I guess it’s settled. Helga can pop in if you need her, right Helga?”

“Of course Doctor.” She nodded at them both. “Anything at all. I’ll make sure to get a bag packed for her tomorrow. When will you be leaving?”

“The meeting is on Monday. I have to get my itinerary from Dr. Roth, but I’m sure she will have booked the flight for either tomorrow or early Sunday. I’ll ring you later this evening when I’m sure.”

“Of course, Dr. Reynolds,” she nodded.

Although Helga spent a great deal of time at their home, she maintained her own residence when she wasn’t working. She was always just a phone call away but enjoyed her own private living space.

Malcolm was glad for it. He just needed a little help during the day while he worked. Ever since the incident, schools had been closed. The temperatures dipped too low most days for it to be safe outside for any length of time, so people only ventured outside when it was necessary.

No one was sure how much longer the cold would last. Climate scientists didn’t have a precedent when it came to nuclear winters. The limited exchange between North Korea and Japan was two years ago, but the after-effects had been far more serious than anyone could have predicted. Temperatures worldwide had dipped to between twenty and thirty degrees below normal during the daytime and dropped even further at night when the sun went down. That meant winter in England, which normally hovered between -10 and 4 degrees Celsius, now saw temperatures between -24 and -50 degrees.

“Will there be anything else for today, then, Sir?” Helga asked.

“No, no. Thank you. I’ll ring you as soon as I know for sure when my flight departs.”

With that, Helga walked over to where Lilly and Rachel were planning their girls weekend and patted the younger girl on the head. “We shall see you soon enough, Missy.”

“Bye Helga,” she said with a wide smile and gave her a quick hug. “See you next week!” The little girl’s excitement was palpable.

Helga walked out of the lab past Dr. Roth as she walked in. The papers she was holding caught the breeze as they passed.

“Dr. Reynolds, your itinerary.” she could have sent her assistant with this information, why did she choose to hand-deliver it?

He looked over the schedule and flight times briefly. He looked up to call after Helga to tell her when he was scheduled to leave, but she had already turned the corner and the lab door was sliding shut with a hiss. In addition to being airtight, the room was also soundproof.

“Well, at least I don’t have to travel in the middle of the night,” he noted, grateful for that. He wanted to be well-rested for the meetings.

“Hello, Miss Lilly. How are you today, dear?” Dr. Roth asked, noticing the little girl.

“Goooood, I get to spend the week with Rachel, since you’re making my Daddy go to France,” she said with matter-of-factness.

“Is that so?” she smiled at the little girl. “Well, I hope you have a wonderful time.” She turned back to face Malcolm again, one eyebrow raised.

He smiled and shrugged at the director. “Kids.”

“A word, Malcolm?” Madeline asked, her tone dour.

“Of course, shall we take a walk?” he asked.

Rachel quickly spoke up, “No worries Mal…er…Doctor Reynolds, I’ll take Lilly to the cafeteria for a snack. Are you hungry dear?” she asked the little girl. “I think they have cookies!”

Lilly nodded with excitement as the two locked hands and headed towards the door.

“I’ll be back in a little bit, Daddy, don’t worry about me, ok?” She said, in a very reassuring tone.

Malcolm found this amusing. “Of course, sweetheart. You take good care of Rachel for me. I’ll find the two of you when I’m finished here, then we can go home.”

Dr. Roth waited for the door to seal behind them before speaking. And, even though she was quite certain no one could hear them through the insulated windows and doors, she kept her voice to little more than a whisper.

“Malcolm, I want you to be clear what you are walking into.”

“What are you talking about, Maddy? You said earlier it was just a meeting.” He looked at her with a troubled, questioning glance. “What are you getting me into here?”

“Well, to begin with, you are one of only seven other scientists to have been invited, and the only one in your field. It would appear there is a multidisciplinary team being assembled.”

“A team? A team for what…exactly?”

“There is some speculation that a very important announcement will be made by the UN Secretary-General on Monday. I have it on good authority that there have been some new…developments.”

He searched her face for answers, but she was stoic as usual.

“Could you be any more vague, Madeline?”

“Do you remember meeting Dr. Hanse Vanderhall last year at the UN Science Committee sessions in Vienna? He was the climatologist that reported on the effects of residual radiation on weather patterns.”

“Of course, most of his predictions have been spot on.”

“Exactly, and that’s what concerns me about this meeting. He is returning from the Kara-Tyurek meteorological station in northern Siberia where he and his team have been collecting data. I expect he will be presenting this data. And, if they have called together experts in nearly every field of science, It can’t be good news.”

She handed him the first piece of paper from the stack, her concerned eyes meeting his.

He looked at the page and knew immediately why. “They’ve issued me a top-secret security clearance.” He frowned at the paper.

She passed him the remaining sheets; a full schedule, and an airline ticket.

“You will be picked up by a car service when you arrive at Roissy. From there you will be taken directly to UN Headquarters in Geneva…”

“Wait…Geneva?! Why fly me into Paris just to drive an additional four hours?”

“I understand there will be a pre-meeting briefing en-route. That’s all the information I was given. I’m sorry Malcolm, I wish I knew more.”

“This doesn’t make any sense.” He wrinkled his nose in confusion and did his signature fingers-through-the-hair move.

“The Secretary-General is scheduled to make a televised announcement on Monday morning. I would imagine you will be meeting through the night before that announcement. If I were you, I’d go home and get as much rest as you can before you leave Sunday. It’s going to be a long few days.”

She stood up, brushing out the wrinkles on the front of her slacks and held out her hand to Malcolm.

“Good luck, Dr. Reynolds. And please, let me know what happens as soon as you are able.”

Manchester, England, September 2023

“I’m not going to do it, Maddy, they want us to play God!” he looked at her, his eyes scanned her face for some sign understanding.

“This is a huge deal, Malcolm. I don’t see how you have much of a choice. Go to the meeting and listen — really listen — to what they have to say. Offer your objections if you must. But isn’t this what all your hard work was for? I know you have concerns but…”

He ran his fingers through what remained of his salt-and-pepper hair, inhaled a deep breath and counted to four.

“Are you going to back me up here, Rachel?” he turned to his lab assistant, a mousy, brown-haired woman with her face buried in a microscope lens.

She pulled the headphones out of her ears. Pretending like she hadn’t been listening to the entire conversation, “What? With what, sorry?”

She didn’t want to get between Malcolm and their mutual boss. She would not commit career suicide today.

Exasperated, Malcolm threw his hands up in the air. “Fine, I’ll go. I will listen to what they have to say, and then politely decline. There are some things you don’t do Madeline.”

He used her whole name this time. She’d put him in an uncomfortable position.

“Malcolm, I understand your reservations, I do. But, this is an opportunity for you to get involved in something that could make a real difference. Isn’t that why we do what we do? And, the exposure — the funding for the lab — I don’t think I need to tell you how important that is.”

“I said I would go,” His usually subtle Scottish accent became more pronounced in his frustration.

“I will hear them out. And then…then I will tell them how unethical it is.” He wrung his hands together, pacing in place.

“I will explain that my work is theoretical and that we’ve done no human trials. You understand what they are asking for, don’t you?”

He paused, reflecting for a moment before he continued rambling.

“If they want what I think they want… well, without any real testing, we have no way of knowing for sure it will even work the way we expect. I mean, I’m almost certain it will, but we need to be completely sure with something like this. Permanent alterations to the human genome aren’t something you get a ‘do-over’ for. If you don’t get it right the first time, that’s it. Game over.”

He walked over to the large plate-glass windows. From his second-story lab, you could see the duck pond and walking path in the courtyard below. Frozen solid, there had been no ducks — or any other life for that matter — in over a year. The sky was gray and dull like it had been every day since the ‘incident’.

That’s what the United Nations called it, an incident. The launch and subsequent destruction of multiple nuclear weapons while still inside the stratosphere is a little more than an incident.

After he finished speaking Madeline nodded, confident she had made her point. Not wanting to push him any further, “Right then.” She nodded, “I’ll make all the necessary travel arrangements.”

Turning on one heel, she started towards the pressure sealed inner door of the laboratory. As she passed she offered a polite nod towards the woman at the microscope, “Miss Austin.”

She paused in the decontamination chamber and waited for the exit light to glow green. Then smoothing the front of her lab coat with her hands, she made her way out of the lab.

Malcolm paced back and forth by the window for a few moments, trying to work through all of the emotions in his head but was pulled from his thoughts by the hissing sound of the lab’s outer doors.

He turned in that direction, laughing to himself at the scene before him.

A tiny human stood at the door and, through the hood of a parka, pressed her rosy cheeks and a smooshed nose against the glass of the sliding door.

The muffled face started to say something when Rachel hit the button that opened the door automatically from the inside.

“Daddy!” The girl exclaimed, pulling off her hood and running to him with outstretched arms.

“Hey Munchkin!” he smiled at her as he grabbed her up and gave a squeeze. The stress of the past few minutes quickly melted away when he saw her smile.

Rachel — her headphones off now — smiled in their direction, “Hello Miss Lilly to what do we owe the pleasure?”

The little girl turned towards her, nose wrinkled “To what do we huh?”

With a wiggly, beckoning finger, Rachel responded, “Just get over here and give me a hug, squirt!”

At that, she gave Malcolm a peck on the cheek, shimmied out of his arms, and dashed over to Rachel’s waiting hug. The two had a girl’s moment while Malcolm sat there smiling.

“Helga, I trust she wasn’t a problem for you today?” Malcolm acknowledged the older woman standing over by the doorway.

“Not at all Doctor, she’s a joy. Precocious as ever, but then I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know,” she said with a sideways smile and an approving look at the little girl.

He nodded and smiled warmly at the older woman.

Helga was his housekeeper and, ever since his wife Jillian died, an invaluable member of their family. She took care of Lilly during the day while Malcolm was working, ensuring she was well cared for. He was very grateful to have her.

He motioned her over, trying to be subtle.

“Helga, something has come up and I must go to Paris for a few days.” he tried to whisper, but the whine he heard from across the room told him he failed, miserably.

“Noooooooo Daddy… I don’t want you to go. Can I come?” she asked him imploringly with a pout.

“I’m afraid not, Daddy has to go alone. Besides, it’s just boring work stuff.”

Lilly started to whine a little more and then Rachel spoke up. “Hey, I have a wonderful idea! Why doesn’t she come to stay with me for a few days while you’re away? We can have a girl’s weekend!”

“Oh, Rachel, you don’t have to do that Helga can….” he started to say before she cut him off.

“Nonsense, It will be my absolute pleasure to host the elegant Lilly Reynolds for a few days” looking down at the now giggling girl.

“We can paint our nails, and stay up late watching films…” she bopped her playfully on the nose with a fingertip.

“Hmmm, what do you think, Lil? Think you can stand Rachel for a few days?” he said, winking at Rachel and mouthing “Thank you”.

“Oh yes, Daddy! I think it will be absolutely ‘Mahvelous Dahling .’ She turned to Rachel and blew her a kiss with an exaggerated ‘muah’ sound.

“All right then, I guess it’s settled. Helga can pop in if you need her, right Helga?”

“Of course Doctor.” She nodded at them both. “Anything at all. I’ll make sure to get a bag packed for her tomorrow. When will you be leaving?”

“The meeting is on Monday. I have to get my itinerary from Dr. Roth, but I’m sure she will have booked the flight for either tomorrow or early Sunday. I’ll ring you later this evening when I’m sure.”

“Of course, Dr. Reynolds,” she nodded.

Although Helga spent a great deal of time at their home, she maintained her own residence when she wasn’t working. She was always just a phone call away but enjoyed her own private living space.

Malcolm was glad for it. He just needed a little help during the day while he worked. Ever since the incident, schools had been closed. The temperatures dipped too low most days for it to be safe outside for any length of time, so people only ventured outside when it was necessary.

No one was sure how much longer the cold would last. Climate scientists didn’t have a precedent when it came to nuclear winters. The limited exchange between North Korea and Japan was two years ago, but the after-effects had been far more serious than anyone could have predicted. Temperatures worldwide had dipped to between twenty and thirty degrees below normal during the daytime and dropped even further at night when the sun went down. That meant winter in England, which normally hovered between -10 and 4 degrees Celsius, now saw temperatures between -24 and -50 degrees.

“Will there be anything else for today, then, Sir?” Helga asked.

“No, no. Thank you. I’ll ring you as soon as I know for sure when my flight departs.”

With that, Helga walked over to where Lilly and Rachel were planning their girls weekend and patted the younger girl on the head. “We shall see you soon enough, Missy.”

“Bye Helga,” she said with a wide smile and gave her a quick hug. “See you next week!” The little girl’s excitement was palpable.

Helga walked out of the lab past Dr. Roth as she walked in. The papers she was holding caught the breeze as they passed.

“Dr. Reynolds, your itinerary.” she could have sent her assistant with this information, why did she choose to hand-deliver it?

He looked over the schedule and flight times briefly. He looked up to call after Helga to tell her when he was scheduled to leave, but she had already turned the corner and the lab door was sliding shut with a hiss. In addition to being airtight, the room was also soundproof.

“Well, at least I don’t have to travel in the middle of the night,” he noted, grateful for that. He wanted to be well-rested for the meetings.

“Hello, Miss Lilly. How are you today, dear?” Dr. Roth asked, noticing the little girl.

“Goooood, I get to spend the week with Rachel, since you’re making my Daddy go to France,” she said with matter-of-factness.

“Is that so?” she smiled at the little girl. “Well, I hope you have a wonderful time.” She turned back to face Malcolm again, one eyebrow raised.

He smiled and shrugged at the director. “Kids.”

“A word, Malcolm?” Madeline asked, her tone dour.

“Of course, shall we take a walk?” he asked.

Rachel quickly spoke up, “No worries Mal…er…Doctor Reynolds, I’ll take Lilly to the cafeteria for a snack. Are you hungry dear?” she asked the little girl. “I think they have cookies!”

Lilly nodded with excitement as the two locked hands and headed towards the door.

“I’ll be back in a little bit, Daddy, don’t worry about me, ok?” She said, in a very reassuring tone.

Malcolm found this amusing. “Of course, sweetheart. You take good care of Rachel for me. I’ll find the two of you when I’m finished here, then we can go home.”

Dr. Roth waited for the door to seal behind them before speaking. And, even though she was quite certain no one could hear them through the insulated windows and doors, she kept her voice to little more than a whisper.

“Malcolm, I want you to be clear what you are walking into.”

“What are you talking about, Maddy? You said earlier it was just a meeting.” He looked at her with a troubled, questioning glance. “What are you getting me into here?”

“Well, to begin with, you are one of only seven other scientists to have been invited, and the only one in your field. It would appear there is a multidisciplinary team being assembled.”

“A team? A team for what…exactly?”

“There is some speculation that a very important announcement will be made by the UN Secretary-General on Monday. I have it on good authority that there have been some new…developments.”

He searched her face for answers, but she was stoic as usual.

“Could you be any more vague, Madeline?”

“Do you remember meeting Dr. Hanse Vanderhall last year at the UN Science Committee sessions in Vienna? He was the climatologist that reported on the effects of residual radiation on weather patterns.”

“Of course, most of his predictions have been spot on.”

“Exactly, and that’s what concerns me about this meeting. He is returning from the Kara-Tyurek meteorological station in northern Siberia where he and his team have been collecting data. I expect he will be presenting this data. And, if they have called together experts in nearly every field of science, It can’t be good news.”

She handed him the first piece of paper from the stack, her concerned eyes meeting his.

He looked at the page and knew immediately why. “They’ve issued me a top-secret security clearance.” He frowned at the paper.

She passed him the remaining sheets; a full schedule, and an airline ticket.

“You will be picked up by a car service when you arrive at Roissy. From there you will be taken directly to UN Headquarters in Geneva…”

“Wait…Geneva?! Why fly me into Paris just to drive an additional four hours?”

“I understand there will be a pre-meeting briefing en-route. That’s all the information I was given. I’m sorry Malcolm, I wish I knew more.”

“This doesn’t make any sense.” He wrinkled his nose in confusion and did his signature fingers-through-the-hair move.

“The Secretary-General is scheduled to make a televised announcement on Monday morning. I would imagine you will be meeting through the night before that announcement. If I were you, I’d go home and get as much rest as you can before you leave Sunday. It’s going to be a long few days.”

She stood up, brushing out the wrinkles on the front of her slacks and held out her hand to Malcolm.

“Good luck, Dr. Reynolds. And please, let me know what happens as soon as you are able.”

Fundamentally fragmented

Feeling flat for forgetting favorable fascinations

From fateful, felicitous fellows

Foresight fortuitously flawless, finding forgiveness forevermore

Free from flights of fancy--figments--failing fantasy

Fractious fundamentalists forging fear. Fruitless.

Facetious flibbertigibbet fingerpainting frivolous facets for fun

Fearfully falling forward, facedown, frantically flapping.

Forging freedom from fatalism

Forefather’s flagrant filicide

Fantasms of finalism

Finally finished.

Martin heard the bell of his 5:30 am alarm in his head before it went off. He didn’t need it to wake up anymore. Truth be told, he hadn’t needed it in years. But, “Better safe than sorry”, his beautiful Edith would remind him. They were married for fifty-four years, so she reminded him about a lot of things.

Sliding his spindly, wrinkled legs off the edge of the bed, he touched his toes to the cold floorboards. The floor was never warm — not in July and not in January — polished oak was like that. Beautiful, but always cold. He couldn’t bring himself to wear socks to bed, and he was too cheap to buy slippers. What good was a pair of shoes you only wore to get out of bed and to get the newspaper?

Breakfast would be bran flakes. It was always bran flakes. Sometimes with raisins, if he was lucky. Martin was rarely lucky — regular, but never lucky — today was no different.

After eating his fiber, he poured a cup of freshly brewed coffee that was always waiting for him when he woke up. He enjoyed a cup of coffee or two while he read the paper. Something about the richness of it made swallowing all the bullshit he was reading go down a little easier. Thank God for coffee, there was always a lot of bullshit. Today was no different.

Edith didn’t like it when he cursed. He tried not to do it, but he did it often. Not the really foul words mind you. But, a ‘shit’ or a ‘sonufa bitch’ were regular occurrences. He reserved the ‘F’ word for special occasions, like that time he smacked his head on the cabinets when he was fixing the plumbing. His wife threatened him with a ‘curse jar’ more than once — Dear Abby recommended it in a column she read — but never followed through. It’s a good thing, too; he’d have gone broke.

After his breakfast, coffee, and the paper — Chock full o’Nuts and Chock full o’bullshit — he shuffled back to his bedroom to get dressed. Some days he would stay in his pajamas and robe. But he had to go somewhere today and needed to wear his suit. He hadn’t had a reason to wear it in a while, but today he needed it. It was neatly pressed and hanging out for him. Edith always made sure it was pressed. He chose a shirt and a nice blue tie that would match the dress he bought for Edith.

He got dressed and combed his thin gray hair. He put on a splash of Edith’s favorite aftershave. She liked Old Spice, which was fine for him because it was cheap. It didn’t have to be some expensive eau de toilette to make her happy and he liked to keep her happy; His life was easier when she was happy. A marriage doesn’t last fifty-four years if the wife isn’t happy.

Martin collected a few items from his dresser. He put on his wedding ring first, he couldn’t sleep with it on. It was right on top of his jewelry box so he would remember it every day. Since he was getting dressed up he decided to use his pocket watch. Edith always thought it was fancy when men wore them, it made them look important. Important people always had someplace to be. He had someplace to be today.

He checked the time on the pocket watch — Edith would be at the church by noon — it was nine-thirty am. St. Mary’s was across town and a few stops away by subway. He would have to leave soon if he wanted to make it on time.

Martin shuffled around the house, room to room, and made sure all the lights were off. Electricity wasn’t cheap, and he was. He paused in the foyer to have a look at himself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the man staring back at him. When did he get so old?

He didn’t care for the subway. It was crowded and always smelled like stale urine and mildew. The long dark tunnels reaching out in every direction made him uneasy, though he never knew why. Still, the subway would get him to St. Mary’s, and that’s where he needed to be today. Edith would already be there, in the blue dress he bought for her that matched his tie. The train shuddered and began to move away from the station.

St. Mary’s was a beautiful building. Edith always loved the architecture, she said it reminded her of a fairy tale. Martin wasn’t a religious man, but Edith was faithful. This place held a lot of memories for them. They got married here, and their children had been baptized here.

He checked his pocket watch — almost noon — and made his way into the cathedral. There were quite a few people here for the service today. Edith would be at the front, in the pretty blue dress he bought for her that matched his tie. He shuffled down the aisle towards the front of the church, this was a trip he had taken before so he knew the way.

Edith was already there, just as he knew she would be, and she looked beautiful. Her make-up was perfect, and her hair just so, like it always was. All their years together did not diminish the love he felt when he saw her.

He walked over to where she was and put a hand on her shoulder. He wanted her to know she was there. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “I’m here sweetheart”, and kissed her softly on her cheek before taking his seat in the pew.

After the service, he stood up and went to her. With a tear in his eye, he said goodbye one last time. They closed the lid of the ornate wooden box where she rested, and then he wept. Resting one hand on top of the box. It felt cold. Polished oak was like that. Beautiful, but always cold.

My name is Malcolm Reynolds, and I am a bouncer. No, not that kind. I don’t stand outside popular Night Clubs admitting only the attractive ladies while denying entry to teenage boys who’s faked ID’s introduce them as Giuseppe Cordova: age 43. Especially when one can see the spirit gum holding on their fake mustachios.

I’m what they call a Body Bouncer. I can see that you’re confused, so please allow me to elaborate.

I have a special ability. I can’t tell you how I got it, that’s a secret, but it allows my consciousness access to my mitochondrial DNA at the molecular level. This particular portion of your genetic code gets transferred only from Mother to child; unlike Nuclear DNA which you get from both parents. It’s a complex process and I won’t bore you with the science of it. Essentially, it allows me to transfer my consciousness backwards in time to any ancestor on my Mother’s side. So far, the distance I can travel, and by distance I mean the number of years into the past, appears to unlimited. And it’s a damned good thing too, as you are about to find out.

“H.H. Holmes. Ever heard of him?” My handler, Lita tossed the red manila folder into my lap.

“Sounds like the name of a department store.” I grabbed the file and opened it, scanning over the details and the small photograph paper-clipped to the upper corner. I know what your thinking. They can travel back in time, but they still use paper office products. It’s a dichotomy. What can I tell you.

If you need something ‘undone’ my agency is the one you call. Well, not you so much, I doubt you’re all that important, or wealthy. And you’re also not likely a Government Office, or a Law Enforcement agency either. Those places, they call us pretty often. Think of us as a kind of ‘preventive medicine’. Our motto at the Bureau of Temporal Reclamation is: “We building a BetTeR world, one step through time.”

“Not even close.” Rosalita Vasquez rolled her eyes at me; She does that quite a bit. But don’t you call her Rosalita, She says it makes her sound too ‘ethnic’. Never mind her dark curls, even darker brown eyes and caramel-colored skin. That’s not a giveaway at all.

She continued on.

“Dr. Henry Howard Holmes, a.k.a. Herman Mudgett, Born in New Hampshire in 1861.”

“I can read you know.” I smiled at her, continuing to read the document. “This guy is a real piece of work, isn’t he? Suspected of over 200 murders...builds a house of horrors in which to murder and then dispose of his victims...Jesus Christ.”

“So, you know what you need to do on this one.” She pulled the aforementioned dark curls into a scrunchied, bushy ponytail and rolled up her shirt sleeves. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”

*****

I was barely able to control the horses despite having a firm grip on the reins; the moment of transfer is always pretty dicey. One minute you’re on a table wearing a wire harness around your head, and the next you’re in the middle of a bustling city street in control of 2600lbs of horse-and-carriage careening down a muddy street. It’s a bit jolting; every time. But, once I gain control of my faculties and get oriented to my surroundings, I’m usually alright. This time I was not so lucky.

I must have hit a bump or a rock or something, because next thing I knew I was head over heals over the front rail, face down in what had to be 3 inches of mud and horse shit. Luckily, I landed right behind the horse and between the wheels, because the carriage rolled on without crushing me.

“Dear God! Are you alright Madame?” The voice came from behind and to my left. A moment later and strong arm was pulling me up from the mire. “You went right up and over, saw the whole thing I did. Thought for sure you were a goner.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, thank you.” I was wiping the mud away from my face and neck when It dawned on me. He called me Madame. “Ugh...not again” I muttered under my breath, but he must have heard me.

“Do you often land face first in the mud in the middle of a street?” He looked at me quizzically.

“No, no, I’m sorry, I was referring to having to chase down that horse. Again. Third time this week.”

This was one of the unfortunate side effects of accessing the Mitochondrial DNA. As it predominantly traces the mother’s lineage, my consciousness often ends up in a female host. It’s not as bad as you might think. And, after all, I am a modern man; I’m secure in my masculinity. I’m sure that would sound more convincing if I weren’t wiping the muck off of my bosom and ankle-length skirt.

Where was a paper-boy when you needed him? I looked around trying to get a lay of the land, so to speak. There was a crossroad just up ahead of where I took my spill. I figured heading in that direction was my best bet. As I continued to shake the mud from my clothes I made my way towards the street ahead, the subject of more than one sideways glance. Making eye contact with a shopkeeper that was sweeping the dust from his porch, I approached.

“Sir, could you tell me the date?” I asked him, trying not to sound as crazy as I must have looked.

“Beg pardon? The date? It’s erm...uh...” he stammered for a moment before finally spitting it out. “Why, it’s Thursday, 16th of May.”

“The year sir, what year is is it?” That always made them look at me like I was a bit of a loon.

“Are you alright miss? Do you need a Doctor?” He asked me, genuinely concerned.

“I’m quite alright, sir. The year. What year is it?” This part was always a bit frustrating.

“1861, Miss... It’s 1861.” He looked a bit confused, and even more so when I simply nodded, thanked him, and walked away.

I walked another block or so before reaching an intersection, Providence Rd. and High St. according to the sign. Now I knew I was in the right town and in the right time. All I needed to do was find the Hospital. You see, the plan was simple. Find the pregnant mother if the birth hadn’t occurred yet, and the infant if it had. Either way, this was not something I looked forward to. In either case, the local Hospital was my best bet.

I asked a few more passers-by for directions, each time met with the same strange look I got from the shopkeeper. But also received fingers pointing in the general direction I needed to go, and at this point, that’s all that mattered.

Oh, one thing I forgot to mention about all this time-travel business, is that you only have about three hours to complete whatever it is you intend to do before irreparably altering the timeline. All the Sci-Fi stories about time-travel got one thing right at least. I had about ninety minutes remaining, so I had to move faster.

*****

By the time I arrived at the Hospital, I had dried out. I’m sure I still looked a bit like a crazy woman, disheveled and covered in dried filth. The look I received from the Nurse in the maternity ward confirmed my suspicions.

“Can I help you Miss?” She cleared her throat and looked me up and down, trying to make sense of what she was looking at. “Do you need to see a Doctor? If you do, you’ll have to go down that hall and make a right. This is maternity, not the the general...”

I cut her off with a wave of my hand. “No, no. I’m quite alright. Bit of a spill on the road is all. Nothing broken besides my ego, I can assure you. I’m actually here to see my Sister. She should be here. Her water broke early this morning and I was told she is here?”

“Name?” She still looked at me with suspicion, but I think she bought it.

“Mudgett, Paige Mudgett. Mr. Mudgett is out of town on business, so I’m the only family she has in town at the moment.” I embellished a bit, hoping to speed this process along.

The nurse shuffled through a few charts and then pointed down the hall. “Third room on the left. You’re in luck, she’s still in the early phases of labor. She’s resting while we wait for active labor to begin.”

“Thank you. Oh, I’m so glad I didn’t miss it. I never would have forgiven myself.” I tried to sound as convincing as possible. Judging from the softening look on her face, It seemed my ruse worked.

“I’m sure she will be happy to see you” She motioned in the direction of the room, no doubt glad to be rid of me.

I wasn’t so sure she would be happy to see me. In fact, I was quite certain that she would not be. But, one life to save hundreds as the cliché goes. Fortunately, this type of mission wasn’t the norm. I’m not sure I could do it if it were.

I approached the doorway, looking around to make sure that there wasn’t anyone within earshot, and stepped into the room. Mrs. Mudgett was on the bed, resting with her eyes closed, and clearly still very pregnant. I quietly shut the door behind me and made my way to her bedside. She must have been exhausted, because she never noticed me come in. She didn’t struggle when I held the pillow over her face either. With a sudden jerk of her body she went limp. It was finished. I stood for a moment in silence, reflecting on the gravity of it all. One life for many. It was never an easy thing to take a life, and that was a good thing. The scales are balanced once again.