What if you could know the future?

People always wonder what it would be like to know the future — to see it, to have the power to change it, to stop something bad from happening. And yet…no one ever stops to consider just how inconvenient it could be.

First, what if you see something bad happen — because let’s face it, that’s what all of our movies insist will happen — but instead of being able to stop it, it happens anyway? You’re stuck living with that for the rest of your life, stuck living with the guilt of, “I had the power to stop it…so why didn’t I?”

Second, how the hell are you actually supposed to be able to get yourself to that event? I doubt that futuristic visions come with a timestamp and coordinates. It could be fifty years in the future for all you know, and here you are, beating yourself up over the apocalypse.

I guess my view of this whole debate is biased, considering my current situation. If I could actually see the future, I imagine I’d be a little less critical of it all… Maybe I’d be more optimistic if I could even just hear the future, but no. The powers that be saw fit to give me a book with an attitude instead.

I stepped onto the train and tucked my hair behind my ear as the doors slid shut behind me. My lungs squeezed for a terrifying second before letting my heart continue pumping blood through my veins; I still wasn’t used to being around so many people at once. I took a long breath and grabbed one of the supports as the train lurched forward, and once I had my balance, I fished Chronus out of my purse. My shoulders relaxed as my fingers brushed over the soft leather and the book’s presence washed over my mind. I undid the silver clasps holding it together, and I stared at the blank yellowing pages and scanned them as if I were reading.

When Chronus offered nothing unprompted, I groaned internally. “What does he look like?” I whispered, and my cheeks warmed in anticipation… Only no one stopped to stare or point or demand to know whom I was walking to.

Chronus answered with black, blue, and pink smears that most certainly didn’t look like a person. My fingers twitched, and I could see it: me throwing this damned book across the entire car, and —

The pages cleared, and words scrawled across the page in slanted, sharp print: That isn’t very nice.

I waited a long moment before I bothered replying. “Chronus, you didn’t answer the question I asked, and this is rather time sensitive, isn’t it?”

You asked what they looked like, ignorant Tempi. I don’t think you understand; I don’t see the world as you do… I sighed. Here it goes again. If I remember right, we’ve had this problem before… It is irrational to ask the same thing of me and expect different results.

“Maybe I wouldn’t be so ignorant if you could show me where the rest of those “Tempi”’s are.” ‘Or if you’d actually teach me something,’ I tacked on silently.

In hiding. In danger.

Which is, of course, what he said every single time.

“Can you at least describe this guy?…”

I think you call them hats?… There’s something overtop the head, and I can’t see eyes, else I’d be able to really see, see intent, see the soul…

“Chronus, I need you to calm down and think.”

I don’t think you comprehend the implications of what is about to happen.

“It’d help if you’d enlighten me.”

They’re carrying a bomb. Nervous. The damned fool knows what this will do to the rest of the world. To us.

“Is he in this car?”

Yes.

Well at least that’s progress.

I shut Chronus and closed my eyes. I had to get this right this time. Broken bodies flashed in my mind’s eye accompanied by the screams of the grieving ringing in my ears, and I forced my eyes back open and tried to channel whatever gift Chronus insisted I had. Across from me, a mother tried to juggle her three kids. Her daughter was strapped to her chest; the girl’s tummy ached, and darkness clouded her dreams. The two boys sat on either side of her, and though they sat quiet, I could hear their plotting. The mother, she just wanted to sleep, she was so close… Her daughter started screaming, and I winced as the mother did. Definitely wasn’t her I should be worried about.

Next to the doors diagonal from me, a little girl on her way from school sat with a book clutched to her chest. She couldn’t wait to get home and play with her dog and her toys; her teacher never let her play during class. There was always so much boring reading to do. She didn’t even understand why she bothered or why her parents even made her go. Someday, maybe she wouldn’t… I sighed and shook my head, and I glanced at the guy in the corner to the left of her. He was an older guy, and he stood with his bike and earbuds in, bobbing his head to a song the rest of the car couldn’t hear. Vaguely, the melody floated through my mind, and I tilted my head. “Cold as Ice”? I chuckled and turned to my right.

In the corner of the car, a man — or I assumed it was a man; the clothes were rather baggy, and his head was down — he sat with a black baseball cap. He held his hands in his lap and was rubbing them together, and like an erratic metronome, he looked up from his hands and then back down. His sweater was a dark navy blue with paint flecks on it, almost a pinkish color, and a backpack rested at his feet. His heart beat fast, and he needed to do something.

Gotcha.

And thirdly…what if it is your actions that cause the event to occur? Because, really, you can never know, can you? You don’t go to stop it, and it happens; what if you had gone? Could you have stopped it? Or, if you do go to stop it and fuck it up, what if you hadn’t gone; would it have still happened?

I sat down next to him, and his shoulders went rigid. “There’s three empty seats across from me,” he said, and I frowned. He sounded so normal.

“I don’t want to sit there.” He looked up at me and tried to drill holes into my skull.

“I don’t want whatever you’re selling.”

“And I want that bomb in your bag.” I was so triumphant, so sure I was going to save the day. I finally caught the bad guy.

His eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

I reached for the bag at his feet. “I can’t let you kill all of these people, buddy.”

He snatched his bag up and stood, putting his back against the car wall. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but please get away from me.”

I sighed. This guy probably had a family at home, and the thought I could ruin their lives as mine had been ruined, it made my stomach roll… even if he was a stranger who was moments away from killing thousands. “Just hand me the bag, and we can move on from this.”

“I don’t have a bomb!” he shouted at me, and I groaned. Well, there goes that.

“Bomb?” shrieked the woman across from us, and the entire car roared to life. I stepped forward and yanked the bag from his grasp, but I could feel it: this wasn’t a bomb. I pulled apart the zipper, and a shitty laptop and crumpled papers glared at me.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I whirled. The bastard was in here somewhere. I still had time, I could still fix this, but I couldn’t think. The air, the balance… This presence. The entire world spun around me faster than I could keep up. I stuck my hand in my purse, but when my fingers found Chronus, more anxiety rolled over me. I leaned against the wall, and my eyes flicked to the doors. That little girl sitting next to them… She still sat even as the adults around her tried to crowd me, and as they yelled and screamed, she wore the biggest smile on her face. She wore a pink jacket with a matching knit hat, and the book she held, the silver clasps reflected the car’s flickering lights. Her blue eyes locked on mine from behind a pair of glasses, and my stomach churned. I had just ruined more lives than I could ever repent for.

She opened her book, blank yellow pages spilling out, and she started to speak. Or, that’s what I assumed she was doing; her mouth was moving…but whatever she said, my brain couldn’t comprehend. Everything around me fell into deafening silence…but for once voice echoing in my head. “Thank you for finding us, little Tempi. You’ve made this possible.”

Well, fuck.

And then, the entire world changed.