An Unexpected Opportunity

"First Class, now boarding," the clerk says over the primitive loudspeaker.

I have no idea what 'First Class' means, or why basic travel even has classes, but that's what my ticket says. I walk up to the ticket taker and they scan me in. I get a few weird looks when they see my name, but that's pretty normal. So long as I get on the plane, they can look all they want. Though, Research and Development really needs to develop better geographic steering so they can get agents at least close to where they're supposed to be. At least they got me to the right year this time.

I follow the line as we slowly file into our seats. I'm in the aisle and a man with short grey hair and a smug smile takes the window. I peer at his face, and a spark of recognition hits me. I can't quite figure out exactly who this man is, but I'm sure I've seen him in one class or another.

"I'm John," I say, using the fake name I'm told is common for this period.

"Jeffrey," he says, without looking up from his phone.

I pull out my disguised datapad, still connected to the internet of my time, and search Jeffrey 2019. The engine auto-populates a last name: Epstein. I start reading through the wiki entry.

My jaw drops.

I quickly shut my gaping mouth so as not to arouse suspicion. This bastard is one of the few humans that can really be called true, objective, scum-bags. According to the dates, much to my surprise, he gets arrested after this plane ride.

I grit my teeth. I can't actually interfere with him or his arrest, nor can I get him to name names before his 'suicide.' Our dossiers are extremely strict when it comes to changing the past, at least when it comes to large scale stuff. However, a smile creeps across my face when I realize something. I can't do anything truly impactful, but that doesn't mean I can't be the literal worst seat neighbor in history.

I reach into my bag and have the constructor make me a bit of pasta. When adding the ingredients, I turn the sections for onion, garlic, and fish as high as they can possibly go. I'm not even sure why the options can get so strong. These amounts aren't normal in any time period, even in those few decades in the 26th century when a chemical spill muted everyone's smell and taste.

I notice the bastard's nose turn up as I retrieve my pungent meal from my pack. I take a bite. It's disgusting, but I don't care. Mid-chew, I lean in, as close as I can to him. I'm entirely too close to his face and he tries to scoot away. I invade his bubble even more in response. He'd hate this even if my breath didn't smell like a months-neglected dumpster behind an Italian restaurant in the summer.

"SO WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN NEW YORK?" I nearly yell directly into his ear.

The rapist's face scrunches in disgust as he flinches from the noise. "Business," he says, clearly trying not to gag.

I lift the armbar to get even closer, making sure his legs are as squished into the wall as they can be. "I'M MOSTLY JUST TRYING TO SEE THE WORLD, YOU KNOW?"

"Could you give me a little more space?" he asks me, keeping his nose away from my mouth.

"OH SURE," I bellow, "I WOULDN'T WANT TO INVADE YOUR SPACE WITHOUT YOUR CONSENT."

His brow furrows a little at that, so I keep prodding.

"YEAH, NOTHING WORSE THAN SOMEONE WHO DOESN'T UNDERSTAND PERSONAL SPACE. IT'S LIKE WE'RE ALL PEOPLE, YOU KNOW? EVERYONE HAS A RIGHT TO AVOID BEING TOUCHED BY SOMEONE ELSE."

"Uh-huh," He mutters, squirming a little in his chair.

"HEY, YOU WANNA PLAY CARDS?" I ask, pulling a deck of cards out of my pack and immediately spilling them all over him.

The sentient pile of garbage sighs and puts his face in his hands.

"OH SORRY ABOUT THAT! COULD YOU HELP ME PICK THOSE UP?"

He starts to collect the extra-slippery cards, trying to make a pile in his hand. When he's preoccupied, I flick my finger and my kinetic ring sends most of them flying out of his hand again. I have to hold my face tight to keep from laughing as he curses to himself. I do this several more times until finally he's almost got them all back to me.

I take the opportunity to lean in close again. "THERE'S A FEW MORE ON THE GROUND, CAN YOU GET THEM?"

Epstein rolls his eyes as he reaches down, picking up a few and handing them back up. I drop them on his head, profusely apologizing to let my breath waft into his space. When he reaches for a particularly distant card, I use my ring again to push it just an inch out of his maximum reach. He's stretched out as far as he can go, getting so close only to be a tiny bit out of reach when he tries to grab hold of it.

"I can't get it," he finally says. Small bits of sweat are dripping down his forehead. Good.

"OH, LET ME TRY." I shove myself down into his foot space, mildly crushing his legs with my shoulders. I stay down there for a good five minutes, making sure he has as little space as possible.

"Maybe just leave it," he begs.

"THAT'S THE CARD WITH THE POKER HANDS FROM HIGHEST TO LOWEST! HOW ELSE AM I GONNA REMEMBER?"

"Come on, man, please! Just get a new deck!"

With a final quiet giggle, I use my ring to easily bring the missing card back into my hand, finally sitting up as the bastard sighs in relief.

A few hours pass much the same way. At one point, the scum-bag needs to go to the bathroom. I pretend to be asleep for a few minutes while he tries to wake me to get out. When he's finally 'woken' me, I give him the smallest amount of space to escape. Once he starts down the fuselage, I wag my finger, and his foot suddenly catches on nothing. He stumbles into a giant bodybuilder wearing a scowl. As he quickly apologizes, I make him trip again, this time nearly sprawling on the angry man's lap. After some heated words that make Epstein's face pull back with fear, I finally let him continue his walk to the bathroom. Once in there, I wait until he's started his business and then use the ring to cause some impromptu and powerful turbulence. Nothing that would crash the plane, of course, but enough to give him an incredibly unpleasant time. When he comes out several minutes later, he wears the face of a truly troubled man. I have to hide my face so he can't see my silent laughter.

"SO WHAT DO YOU THINK OF ALL THIS STUFF COMING OUT ABOUT USING PHYSICAL DISCIPLINE ON CHILDREN?" I ask unprompted once he's seated again.

"Uh, I don't know," he stammers, eyes closed, as if not seeing me will stop me.

"I THINK IT'S GOOD WE'RE TALKING ABOUT HOW BAD IT IS. I THINK YOU'D HAVE TO BE THE MOST HORRENDOUS PIECE OF SHIT TO HURT A CHILD."

His eyes snap open and widen. I hide my smile on the side of my face.

"I'M NOT LYING. IF YOU"-I look directly into his eyes-"HURT CHILDREN, PEOPLE WHO ARE SO VULNERABLE, SO INNOCENT, YOU"-I point to him now, right at the center of his chest-"YOU AREN'T EVEN HUMAN AS FAR AS I'M CONCERNED."

His entire body tightens. He only responds with scattered muttering. I can see in his eyes that his mind is going a mile a minute. He obviously can't be sure that I know what he's done, but he also can't be sure that I don't. He says nothing for the rest of the flight as the conflict burns in his mind. I continue to spill drinks, loudly muse, and step on his toes. He starts to get used to it, but I'm still having fun.

The plane finally starts its descent. My joy is coming to an end. Soon, I'll have to go get work done. Perhaps I'll try and get into his head one more time as we pull up to the gate.

"Do you have anyone waiting for you?" I ask, letting my voice fall to its normal volume.

"No," he says flatly.

Red and blue lights start flashing through the windows. We stop half a mile from the gate and the door opens. We look toward the entrance of the plane as several law enforcement agents walk into the aisle and make a beeline for our row.

"Are you sure?" I say, letting my grin take over my face.

The rapist glances to me in confusion before his face quickly turns to horror. As they put him in cuffs and lead him off the plane, I make sure he can hear my laughter.