Thomas the Time Traveller

Thomas stepped out of the time machine and wiped the green travel goo from his space boots. Time travel is a messy business. The glass door shut behind him releasing steam and making a clicking noise as it closed. His dog, Astro, walked lazily toward him and rubbed up against Thomas’s leg. Astro was a Martian sheepdog with a silver shaggy coat and stubby ivory horns protruding out of the top of his head between his floppy ears. Thomas patted Astro’s head and walked toward his desk to complete his travel log.

The Time and Space Protection Station Thomas was assigned to was one of the smallest and oldest Protection Stations in the galaxy or any other galaxy that he was aware of. He had served almost five years on this Station and was excited about his upcoming shore leave and reassignment next month. The Station was untidy but clean. Stacks of books and hologram reels occupied almost every surface, and the self-sustaining hydroponic garden was overgrown; ripe Pluto plums and Neptune nectarines weighed down the vines that hung over a tank housing several strange-looking fish who darted through the murky water snacking on roots.

Thomas sat at his desk and pushed several books and reels to the far corner where they teetered precariously. From under another stack, he pulled the logbook. Taking a quill and dipping it in red ink, he opened the logbook to his last entry and wrote beneath: “Star date 03.004.7689, travelled to London June 16th, 1867. Nothing to report.” His quill lingered too long and caused a large red blot to spread across the page. He dabbed at it with his finger creating more of a mess. He sighed and snapped the book shut with the ink still wet.

He spun around in his chair looking around the station. The entire station could be viewed from his desk. His bed was in an alcove right of the time machine, next to it were hidden drawers containing his clothes, boots, and toiletries. Left of the time machine was Astro’s dog bed and food and water dish. Then came the hydroponic garden and fish tank, his desk, the kitchenette, and the toilet. He always thought it strange that the station had been built with hidden drawers, yet the toilet was fully exposed and right next to the stove. An odd design choice.

Thomas stopped spinning and stood, slightly dizzy, and walked toward the fish tank. An angry-looking fish with a nasty underbite and large teeth glared at him through the glass. Thomas tapped the glass. The fish butted its head against the glass where Thomas had tapped and seeing that he had no power to exact retribution upon his overlord, swam away through the roots of the plants into the dark where Thomas could no longer see him. The hydroponic garden and fish tank were one of the most fascinating parts of the station. Every fish contained in the tank had grown ugly mutations from the growth accelerator tablets that Thomas deposited in the water to enhance how quickly the plants bore fruit. The fish fed on the roots of the plants, keeping them from root decay. The whole system, though quite advanced, looked like something out of a fairy tale, with its vibrant colours and curling vines, not to mention the freakish fish who made occasional appearances through the underwater roots.

The time machine made a noise and Thomas turned to look at it. Next to the door, there was a pneumatic tube that shot out his travel assignments. The time machine made the same noise again and out of the tube popped a cylinder containing a yellowed piece of paper. The assignments were all on these yellowed pieces of paper. Time and space travel aged things, especially inanimate objects, and each assignment Thomas received had been sent from Earth ages ago. By the time Thomas received the assignments he was unsure if it was even necessary for him to carry them out. At a minimum, it took five years for one assignment to travel to him, which was longer than he had even been assigned to this station.

It was odd that an assignment was coming in at this time of day. He had already gone out on a mission earlier and his next assignment should not have arrived until the following day. This unusual occurrence piqued his interest, and he pushed his chair toward the time machine and took the cylinder in his hands. Astro, from his bed, lazily looked up at him. The fish with the underbite glared. Thomas popped open the tube and shook out the paper. “ABORT MISSION. RETURN TO EARTH IMMEDIATELY. DO NOT DELAY.” Confused, Thomas turned the paper over. How old was this order? And what mission? Did they mean his daily assignments or his time on the station altogether?

He stood up and investigated the tube from where the cylinder had appeared. There was nothing to see. He reached his hand inside and poked around. Nothing. He looked at Astro, the hydroponic tank, and the rest of the station. If he was supposed to return to earth immediately, what should he take with him? He decided Astro was the only thing that needed to come with him, everything else was self-sufficient. The tank would get even more overgrown, but that would be a problem for the next assignee. He looked down at his stained suit and boots and wondered if there was a point in changing his clothes before embarking on the journey back to Earth. Space travel was often just as messy as time travel, so he decided changing his clothes would be pointless. He found Astro’s leash in a pile of holograph reels on the kitchen counter and attached it to his collar. The dog wagged its tail happily and followed at Thomas’s heels as his master led him to the time machine.

Thomas typed the space coordinates into the machine’s control panel and the door slid open. Thomas stepped in and gently pulled on Astro’s leash. Astro had only ever been in the machine once before – the day that they had arrived at the station. Astro cautiously stepped over the threshold. Thomas crouched down and patted his head. He had an urge to pick up the dog and hold him but decided against it. Martian sheepdogs weighed over 100 pounds and Astro was heavy from months of little exercise. The doors slid shut behind them and the whirring noise, so familiar to Thomas from the years of assignments, began. The machine filled with green steam and Thomas breathed deeply. Astro whined. “Only a few more moments boy, then we will be on Earth,” Thomas said, still mulling over why he had been called away from the station. He usually followed orders without question, but this assignment was strange.

A few moments later the machine dinged, and the doors slid open. The steam began to dissipate, and Thomas peered out. He blinked, trying to understand what he was looking at. The landscape was grey and desolate. In the distance, there were what appeared to be broken and decrepit buildings. The coordinates Thomas had used were for the grand command station of the Time and Space Protection unit, and yet, there was nothing here. There was no trace of the crisp, white, sterile building housing more than 400 time and space officers awaiting assignment. Instead, there was rubble with scorch marks surrounding the ruins.

Thomas’s heart sank. What had happened? What had caused it? Had he missed something in his travels that had led to this disaster? Astro sauntered out of the time machine, unbothered by the scene before them. The dog began scratching at the foot of a large boulder.
There was a sound of metal on metal and the front of the boulder began to slide open, revealing a passage underground. In the opening stood an android. The android was tall and thin, with a feminine body and angular face. It was silver and red, probably over a century old, but in excellent condition with only minor scuffing at the feet and knees. The android looked at Thomas with its red eyes flickering.

“Traveller, you received our message.” The android said. Its voice modulator was broken, and it spoke as though it had a million voices, some whispering in soft tones, others in louder, deeper timbres. Thomas wondered when the android had last received maintenance. Androids were expensive and could last several centuries if kept in proper condition. It was rare to see one in need of significant repair.
“Yes.” Replied Thomas, stepping toward the android. “Good. We were concerned it may not have reached you when you did not arrive promptly.” Thomas shook his head. “I left as soon as I received your message.” The android cocked its head to one side. “Curious.” It said. “We can discuss this further when we get underground. The air on the surface is no longer healthy for human life. And as our medical officer android is currently offline, we don’t want you to contract a lung infection, as that would likely be fatal. Come along please.” Thomas quickly put his sleeve to his nose and mouth and tried to hold his breath. The android turned and began to proceed into the passageway behind it. Astro, seemingly untroubled, followed closely behind.

Thomas made his way to the entrance of the passage and took one last look around at the desolate surface. Nothing was familiar. Nothing was like the earth he had left five years previously. When he left Earth the global environmental restructuring project had just begun. Synthetic grass grew on all surfaces, even the buildings. Mechanical bees pollinated genetically modified flowers that had been developed in laboratories using the DNA of long-extinct plants. Fresh water canals had been dug all around the cities and everyone walked anywhere they needed to go or took a canal boat. He once again wondered what could have possibly happened to change this so significantly in the short time he had been on the station.
Thomas entered the passageway and the boulder closed behind him with a screeching noise that set his teeth on edge. The passageway was lit with yellow orbs on the walls at regular intervals. The orbs glowed dimly and provided little by way of illumination. The passageway sloped downwards. It was dusty and everything was the colour of rust. It appeared to be quite old, perhaps originally built as a tunnel to a bunker in the last chemical war. Thomas followed Astro and the android on their descent through the passageway.

After what felt like hours of silence, other than the sound of their footsteps, the group arrived at a safe door made of iron. The safe door confirmed Thomas’s guess at the age of the bunker. These types of doors had been designed for banks, back when the earth still used physical currency. The doors had been removed from all the banks and put in the bunkers to help keep out the airborne toxins that sometimes seeped in through the passageways. Because all the banks had been closed and looted years before, government officials ordered all the safe doors to be repurposed for bunkers, as they were most effective in protecting the occupants from the toxins released in the chemical war being waged on the surface of the planet.

The android used a combination of twists and pulls and the door to the bunker swung open. Thomas and Astro followed the android into the room beyond the safe door, and the android closed and locked the door behind them. Thomas looked at the android and raised an eyebrow questioning the need to lock the door. There did not appear to be any life on the surface. “We have many enemies, even still.” The android said in response to Thomas’s inquisitive look.

The room they were in was an iron bunker. It had been modified slightly and looked as though it served as a living space, office, and laboratory. A couch sat next to a table full of beakers, a filing cabinet next to an icebox, and a tower of dirty dishes next to a Bunsen burner leaning against the bunker wall. “We have brought the Traveller.” The android said. From the far corner of the bunker, behind a shelf full of assorted biological samples, came a crashing then scuffling noise. “Good very good.” Came a scratchy voice and then appeared a rodent humanoid in a lab coat.
Rodent humanoids were created at the beginning of the first chemical war when subterranean living became necessary. Their physical skills helped them navigate underground tunnels. They continued to be helpful even after the first chemical war ended, and when the second, and then final wars occurred, their services became indispensable to the continuation of humankind. When Thomas had left Earth, rodent humanoids were no longer being created, but many still lived among humans. No longer needed to assist with survival, they lived normal lives among the humans, though most chose to continue to make their homes underground.

This rodent humanoid stood three feet tall and had a long, naked tall like an overgrown rat. Its ears were pointed and covered with fine grey hair. Its head and face were bald, aside from the whiskers that protruded from its snout. Its buck teeth showed, even when its mouth was closed. The teeth were white and straight and looked well cared for. Thomas guessed the rodent to be in its thirtieth year of life, which seemed impossible. Rodent humanoids were made in labs and were sterile, not able to procreate through copulation. The last rodent humanoids were created more than fifty years ago.

The rodent humanoid smiled and bowed to Thomas. “Welcome my friend. We’re so glad you’ve arrived, despite your delay.” It smiled. “You have met Chiliad, and I am Rodere. Welcome to our home.” Thomas was at a loss for words. “How… I mean…what’s...” “Ah yes, questions, so many, I’m sure.” Said Rodere. “But first, shall we drink?” Rodere went to a shelf filled with oddly shaped bottles of various colours, selected a dark purple brandy decanter, and poured some of the liquid into mismatched mugs. One mug had lost a handle at some point in its life and the other had a crack on its rim. Rodere handed one of the mugs to Thomas. “Neptunian Gin. It’s not bad, though it is weak.” Thomas took a drink. It did not have the sting of alcohol, but the taste of gin was potent. He coughed and took another sip.

Rodere walked toward an overstuffed chair, that leaned because of a broken leg. He was a bit too short, so he had to push himself up using his arms, kicking his feet wildly, and using his claws to gain footing on the chair until he could climb onto the seat. He gestured for Thomas to sit. Thomas sat on a couch opposite Rodere and Astro jumped up next to him. Chiliad stood near the safe door, unmoving. “Chiliad, please sit, or power down or something. You give me the creeps just standing there.” Rodere said to the android. The android walked to the nearest corner and a buzzing noise sounded, and then the eyes of Chiliad went dark, indicating that the android had powered down. “Now Traveller, you have many questions.” “Thomas.” Said Thomas, taking another drink of his gin. It was warming him, and he could feel a flush on his cheeks. Though Rodere said the gin was weak, Thomas had a drink during his service on the station. The last time he could recall having had alcohol was five years ago at his going away party, the night before he had left for his assignment.

Rodere smiled. “Thomas. Thomas the Time Traveller. How’s that for some alliteration? I wonder if that’s why they assigned you up there.” The rodent humanoid chuckled and lapped from his mug. “Well Thomas, how’s about I ask the first question? What took you so long?” Thomas finished his drink and mourned that he had finished it so quickly. “What do you mean? I came as soon as I received the message. Chiliad mentioned something about my delay in arriving as well…” Rodere looked at the android and then back at Thomas. “Well, it has been some time since we sent that transmission. It’s hard to keep track of the days down here, but I would say it’s been at least three months. There must be something wrong with the system. Never mind. What matters is that you’re here.” Rodere rubbed his hands together. Though they were human, they ended in sharp claws. Just like his teeth, the claws were white and well-groomed. “More gin?” He asked Thomas.

Thomas nodded and held out his mug. Rodere scampered down from his chair and took the bottle to Thomas to top him up. He returned to his chair and carefully filled his mug before climbing back up to his seat. “Shall we go one for one? Your turn next? Ask me a question?” Thomas’s head spun. Perhaps it was the extraordinary day and the shock of seeing his home planet in ruins, or perhaps it was the alien alcohol. “I suppose…well…why did you ask me to earth? To these time coordinates? I was almost finished with my assigned time on the station.” Rodere scrunched his snout and let out a whistle. “You Travellers are isolated up there in your stations. No news of the goings on of the worlds. Just writing in your logs. Travelling through time and space and keeping a watchful eye for…for what? Have you ever wondered that? Anything odd? Anything out of place? But what could that possibly mean? The first chemical war was started by a basic disagreement about bagels. How could you ever predict that something that trivial would start such a myriad of terrible events?” Rodere hissed softly and took a sip of his gin. “We called you back because there’s nothing left. Nothing left to protect. Might as well have some company before the end times.” Rodere stared hard at Thomas. His eyes were wet, and Thomas wondered if he was going to cry.

Astro jumped down from the couch and walked over to lie in front of Rodere’s chair. Rodere, whose clawed feet had been hovering in the air because of his height or lack thereof, rested on Astro’s back and the rodent humanoid let out a contented sigh. Thomas looked at Rodere and Astro. It was all too much to take it. Five years alone on the station and then, in mere hours, he was here with an android and a rodent humanoid under the surface of a destroyed world. Thomas set down his mug and placed his head in his hands. He wanted to cry, but his eyes were dry. He rubbed his face and then looked up at Rodere. “My turn for a question, eh, sport?” Rodere said, compassion in his voice, but in an assertive tone that implied they were far from done with their chat. “More gin?” Asked Thomas, wearily. “Help yourself.” Rodere said, gesturing to the bottle. Thomas rose and took the bottle and placed it next to him on the couch where he sat back down. He didn’t bother pouring the gin into his mug, instead, he drank straight from the decanter.

“What do you know about the chemical wars?” Rodere asked Thomas. “Not much, just what they tell you in the history books and basic training. A horrible time for all the worlds. One of our directives in our time and space protection missions is to prevent them from happening at all costs. But how to do that, I was never clear on.” Rodere nodded. “Well, they were a horrible time for all the worlds. But preventing them was worse for us all.” Said Rodere, frowning. “What do you mean?” Asked Thomas, taking another swing from the bottle of gin. “When a Traveller finally made a difference and prevented the last chemical war, there was no call to action for the global environmental restoration to take place. The earth was already so far degraded that the desolation was already inevitable, but no one saw a need to change anything, to make anything better, so…well you already know. You’ve seen.” “But that was half a century ago. Nothing changed in all that time to prevent…to prevent that?” Thomas asked, gesturing toward the passageway to indicate that he was speaking of the ruined surface of the planet. Rodere shook his head. “Unfortunately, not. We were so busy and focused on trying to change the past, that we forgot to change the future.” Rodere sighed and reached down to pat Astro on the head. “It’s nice to see a dog again. I haven’t seen a dog in ages. The last one here died years ago.”

Thomas was handling this information better than he had anticipated, but that was probably thanks to the gin. “But if the chemical wars never happened, there would be no need for us Travellers. Wouldn’t it have created a change in the timeline, and I wouldn’t have been up there in the first place?” Rodere smiled at him. “You’d think, so, wouldn’t you? No, you Travellers were still put up there and were still given assignments. There was a memory that the mission was of importance, and of course, if you Travellers weren’t stationed up there you would’ve never stopped the chemical wars. Time travel is a real humdinger.” Rodere shook his head and chuckled. Thomas remembered his five years of boredom. Every assignment without incident, every log entry the same, nothing found, nothing changed. He suddenly realized that perhaps those were false memories, or memories from this timeline rather than the one he had originally come from.

Thomas got to his feet. “Well, I’ve got to go back up there then. I’ve got to go, uh, make the chemical wars happen, I suppose? I’m so confused.” Rodere chuckled again. “Where would you even start my friend? Where would you even start? Which war was the catalyst? Do all of them need to take place? Or just the last? Would the last have been as devastating if not for the first? No, no, it’s hopeless.” Rodere sighed. “But at least we have a little company to watch the world end.” “What do you mean?” Thomas asked, his mouth hanging open in astonishment at Rodere’s bleak disposition. “According to my calculations, this world and all known worlds will end in a matter of days. No help for it. And you’re the only Traveller who answered our message. And I haven’t been able to find any other living beings in all the worlds.” This time, instead of chuckling, Rodere looked down at Astro. A tear fell from his eye and rolled down his snout. His tongue shot out and licked it off as it began to drip.

Thomas slumped to the floor, leaning his back against the couch. Everything was gone. It was just the four of them, waiting for the end of the world. Rodere was looking at him with an expression of concern. “You okay Traveller? I know it’s a lot to take in in short order. Are you hungry? I can wake up Chiliad to make us a bite to eat.” Thomas nodded slowly. Rodere used Astro as a stepping stool, climbed down from his chair, and walked to where the android stood in the corner. Rodere tapped the back of the Chiliad’s neck, and a buzzing sound began. In a moment the android’s eyes were once again illuminated. “Chiliad, please go about making us some grub. The Traveller’s hungry.” Chiliad turned “Of course.” It said in its million voices. The android went behind a shelf and pots could be heard clanking about as it began to prepare food for Thomas and the rodent humanoid.
“I still have so many questions.” Said Thomas to Rodere. Rodere nodded knowingly. “I bet you do. Shoot. We’ll take a break from the inquiries when Chiliad finishes wrestling us up some grub.” “Why haven’t you repaired the android’s voice modulator? If you can calculate when all the worlds will end, surely you can do a simple repair on an android.” Rodere looked at Thomas with sadness in his eyes. “The android’s voice modulator isn’t broken. Chiliad is the downloaded consciousness of thousands of deceased persons. When you hear the multitude of voices come from Chiliad’s mouth, you are hearing the voices of the dead.”

A sweet spicy smell began wafting from behind the shelf where the android was preparing their food. Thomas’s mouth watered. He hadn’t eaten anything but his own cooking in five years. He imagined what the android was preparing and was distracted from the conversation he and Rodere were having for a moment. The rodent humanoid began to speak again. “When the earth began to poison the humans, they began uploading their consciousnesses into androids, but as the androids began to run out, people would upload multiple consciousnesses into one android. And then the androids began to break down. Any that remained on the surface would become compromised and corrupted and would eventually shut down. Androids would upload their multiple consciousnesses into a functional android until there was only one left – Chiliad.” Thomas thought how disrespectful it was to treat the remaining consciousness of humankind as a butler but thought better of saying anything to Rodere about it. “You might be thinking ‘How can you treat the last of humankind as a servant?’.” Chuckled Rodere. “Despite all the memories Chiliad contains in its hardware, it’s still a domestic android. It’s what it's programmed to do, its purpose, if you will. Ask it anything, it knows many interesting things from all the consciousnesses it uploaded over the years.”

Chiliad reappeared from behind the shelf holding two large bowls of steaming, fragrant food. Chiliad set Thomas’s bowl in his lap first, and then Rodere’s in his. Thomas looked at the contents of the bowl. Though it smelled delicious, it looked less than appealing. It was filled with what appeared to be grey rice and squares of brown, which were either some kind of synthetic meat or vegetables. Rodere had already begun to devour his food and was eating it with relish. “It’s artificial paella. It’s quite good, though there are some squishy, rubbery bits, but just eat around those.” Rodere said of the food, bits of grey rice sticking to his whiskers. Thomas took a bite. It wasn’t bad. It was quite good.
Chiliad stood in the centre of the room staring blankly at Rodere. “Go sit down Chiliad.” Rodere said. “And thank you for dinner, it’s delicious.” “You are welcome Rodere. We are pleased that you are enjoying your meal.” The android replied. It awkwardly bent its body until it rested in an unusual position that must have been its version of sitting. “I have another question.” Said Thomas. Rodere shook his head. “After dinner Traveller.” They continued to eat in silence. When they were finished, the android took their bowls and disappeared behind the shelf, presumably to do the washing, but by the stacks of dirty dishes around the room, Thomas wondered if perhaps that part of the android’s programming had become corrupted and was no longer functioning.

The rodent humanoid pulled a pack of cigarettes from a pocket of his lab coat, shook one out, and lit it with a match from a book of matches which he scooped out of a candy dish on the coffee table. He offered one to Thomas, and Thomas shook his head. “Aren’t those bad for you?” He asked. Rodere shrugged. “I am a human rat, what does it matter?” He said, puffing on his cigarette. “That was going to be my next question. How are you so young?” Rodere leaned back. “In this timeline, my kind were not needed to help humankind in the chemical wars.” He flicked the ash from his cigarette onto the floor. “Then why...” “When the earth began to deteriorate and the air became toxic, the leaders of earth knew they would need to take humankind underground if there was any hope for survival. That’s when rodent humanoids were created in labs. We were created to help humans survive, but subterranean living is much harder on humans than it is for rodent hybrids. They struggled with the lack of natural light, they became irritable and irrational and sometimes went mad. And living in close quarters made viruses thrive and they jumped from human to human, killing them off in the thousands. But we rodent humans survived for some time longer, though of course there was no way to create more of us by that time, and when the last of my brothers and sisters died, I was left alone here with Chiliad.”

The ash on Rodere’s cigarette dangled from the end and hung for a moment before dropping to the floor, he didn’t seem to notice, his eyes looked into the distance, thinking of days past. “I’m thankful for Chiliad, though it makes for terrible company. I would’ve gone loony without this android.” Thomas nodded. “That’s how I felt about Astro when we were on the station. How long have you been alone here with Chiliad?” Rodere shook his head. “Like I said before, it’s hard to keep track of the days down here, but I would presume it has been several months.” Thomas shivered at the thought of Rodere and Chiliad alone in the bunker for months.

“You mentioned something about your calculations and all worlds ending…” Thomas said. Though the paella had sobered him up some, he couldn’t quite remember what Rodere had said earlier on the subject. Rodere nodded. “Back when we all originally went underground; I was somewhat of a scientist. Not a very good one, but through the months and years I’ve had the time to become more accomplished in my modest skills. According to my most recent calculations, all worlds will end Thursday, by cosmic failure. You’ve heard of the Big Bang? It’s basically the same thing in reverse. The universe is going to implode on itself and take all this,” He gestured around vaguely, “with it.” “And absolutely no sign of any other life in any other world?” Thomas asked. Rodere shook his head. “You were the only one we found. We’re not sure what happened to the other Travellers or what happened to life on other planets. You’d hope that the other worlds would’ve been wiser than Earth when it came to caring for its planet, and perhaps they were and passed on from some cause other than environmental devastation. Who knows? My last communication with any other living being from any other planet feels like it was eons ago.”

Chiliad reappeared from behind the shelf with two more bowls. These bowls contained some poor imitation of ice cream, but Thomas ate it, despite its chalky consistency. Chiliad took the empty bowls and disappeared again. “Though the worlds are ending, I am glad you’re here. You’re much better to talk to than the android.” Rodere said, lighting another cigarette.

From outside the safe door came a clanking noise. Rodere perked up in his chair, his whiskers twitching, his eyes bright and alert. “What’s that?” Said Thomas. “I thought we were the only life forms left?” Thomas suddenly remembered something that Chiliad had said: “We have many enemies, even still.” “We are. That isn’t a life form out there.” Said Rodere. “Then, what is out there?” Rodere held up his hand to silence Thomas and continued to stare intensely at the door. After a few moments had passed the clanking noise stopped and Rodere relaxed, leaning back in his seat. He sighed. “The death breathers and the Robotic Patrol.” He said. “What?” Thomas asked. “When the earth went toxic, some humans refused to believe the safest course of action was to shelter underground. Many continued to live on the surface until it was too late.” Thomas shook his head. “So, they died?” Rodere nodded. “Yes, they died, but they continued to walk the earth. Their breath and scent became toxic to living humans, and if they met any live humans they would die as well. Not so deadly to us rodent humans, but many still did meet their doom that way. And to combat the death breathers the human leaders created the Robotic Patrol, a misguided attempt to protect themselves from the inevitable.” Rodere made a soft hissing sound through his teeth. “The Robotic Patrol was put together hastily and without proper protocols or programming. They vaporized some of the death breathers but vaporized even more of the humans themselves. As well as my brothers and sisters.” The humanity in the hybrid’s face was most evident in moments when he shared his sorrow.

Chiliad reappeared from supposedly cleaning the dishes, this time empty-handed. “Chiliad, please get Thomas some fresh clothes. His are covered with travel goo and dirt. Also, perhaps some slippers.” Chiliad disappeared once again. Thomas wondered how large the bunker was. According to the history of his timeline, they were not very large, but it seemed as though the android kept disappearing to other chambers within the bunker. Chiliad came back with a pile of clothing and a pair of shabby-looking slippers. “Thank you, Chiliad.” Thomas said, taking the clothing and the slippers from the android. “Chiliad will show you where you can bathe and change and then perhaps one more drink and a few more questions before we retire to bed.” Rodere tapped the face of an old-fashioned alarm clock that sat on a table near him. “It’s been sundown, or so we can assume, for several hours already.”

The android led Thomas past several shelves to another safe door. Chiliad opened the door to reveal another chamber. This chamber was tidy and contained several bunk beds, a shower, a toilet, and a sink. “Thank you, Chiliad.” Thomas said, and the android took that as a dismissal and left the chamber, leaving the door open. Thomas took off his boots and his Travller uniform. He left it all in a pile on the ground and stepped into the shower. He ran the water as hot as it would go, which was lukewarm at best. There was a bar of hard, brown soap. He lathered up using it to wash his whole body including his long hair. After he had soaped himself, he stood in the shower and let the water run over him. Then, he cried. He wasn’t sure why. He hadn’t lost any family, friends, or love with the new knowledge he had received from Rodere. He had been an orphan when he enlisted in the Time and Space Protection program, and he had never been one to make friends. But the knowledge that humankind was extinct and that he soon would be dead was overwhelming.

In the stack of clothing that Chiliad had provided Thomas with, there was a rough, large towel. Thomas dried himself and dressed, sliding his feet into the slippers, which were surprisingly comfortable and warm. He hung the damp towel by the shower to dry. Sometime during his shower, Chiliad must have returned because the pile of clothes he had left on the ground was now gone. He walked back through the doorway that Chiliad had led him through, but soon realized that he must have been mistaken because the room he now stood in was a dimly lit library. The library’s walls were covered with built-in shelves filled with books. Thomas walked around the room running his hands along the spines of the books. This room compared to the main bunker was amazingly organized and dust-free. The light changed, and Thomas turned to see Rodere standing in the doorway.

“You’ve found my pride and joy.” Rodere walked in his strange, rodent-like way, toward Thomas. “These are all the volumes I saved through the years of death and desolation. As things progressively got worse, the most valuable currency was knowledge. People would travel miles through the underground tunnels to reach my library.” “How is this bunker – I mean, it seemed so small at first, and now seems infinite. I was trying to get back to the main room and somehow, I ended up here.” Rodere nodded. “That’s the thing about being underground, it’s quite disorienting at first. That’s why my kind comes in handy.” Rodere smiled with pride. “In the few days we have left, you are more than welcome to read as much as you like and explore this space – I can be your guide if you feel unsure, but eventually you will end up where you started, I promise you that.” Thomas smiled. He loved the idea of reading in this library and exploring the rooms of the bunker, though the ominous inclusion of the limited amount of time life did sour the excitement some.

Thomas followed Rodere back through the doorway and into the room he had showered in. On the other side of the bunk beds was another door, the door Chiliad had originally shown him through. They were now back in the room they had shared their meal in. “Shall we finish the bottle?” Rodere asked, gesturing at the decanter Thomas had left on the couch. “That sounds good.” Thomas said, sitting back down on the couch, pouring a generous helping into his mug, and then passing the bottle to Rodere. Rodere emptied the decanter into his mug and placed the decanter back on the shelf with the other spirits.

“How will we know it’s Thursday?” Thomas asked. Rodere turned from the shelf and looked at Thomas. “Because we will be gone.” Thomas nodded at this bleak statement and took a swig of his gin. Rodere moved around the room shuffling through the items, apparently looking for something. Finally, he came back to the centre of the room with two things in his arms. He set both items on a small table and began assembling what he had placed there. One was an old spool-style projector, the other was a reel of film. He fed the film into the projector and clicked on the ancient device. It made a whirring noise and then the wall across from the projector became illuminated with images. The wall was not ideal for projection; there was a large, uneven crack in the wall which distorted the images, making them even more terrible.

The images were of the earth, not as Thomas had ever known it, but as it had been in this timeline. The different stages of deterioration, animals lying dead and dying, humans with ugly sores, struggling to breathe, death breathers being vaporized by the Robotic Patrol, and the Robotic Patrol vaporizing other life forms. The images became more and more disturbing, and then the reel came to an end, and the film flapped several times in the projector’s spool before Rodere turned the machine off. Thomas realized then that he had been crying, his face was wet, and the taste of salt was on his lips.

“So, that’s what happened.” Rodere said with a sigh. At some point during the film, Chiliad had returned from wherever it had been and was standing, unmoving. “Chiliad will show you back to the bunks.” Rodere said. “I will join you, but first I want to do a few more calculations. See if there are any changes.” Chiliad led Thomas back to the room with the shower and the bunk beds. The bunk bed was firm and cold. Chiliad covered Thomas with a heavy blanket and left him in the dark.

Thomas tossed and turned for several hours before sleep finally came to him. He dreamed of the station, except the station was upside-down and the fish tumbled out of the tank and lay flopping and gasping on the ceiling. He dreamed of rat-faced men, towering over him. He dreamed of a beautiful girl, vaporized by the Robotic Patrol. He dreamed he drowned in Neptunian gin. Then he dreamed that he heard a voice say “Chiliad, if these calculations are correct, the Traveller could be the key, the key to changing the whole story.”

When he awoke, he presumed it was morning, but there was no way to tell. Light shone into the room, but it was not sunlight. He stretched and wondered what the point of getting up would be. The worlds were ending and there wasn’t much to do underground except drink. He decided he would get up, and he went to the sink to rinse out his mouth. He splashed water on his face and dried it with the towel he had left hanging near the shower the night before. He ran his fingers through his hair to smooth it down, then followed the light out of the room.
Someone had turned the lights up more brightly than the night before, perhaps to emulate natural sunlight in some way. Rodere had cleared away a great deal of the mess in the main room and sat on the floor with several large sheets of paper covered in equations laid out before him. He scratched away on one piece and muttered to himself. Occasionally he would shout out a few digits and Chiliad, buzzing, would repeat back the numbers and a new number and Rodere would either shake his head or nod emphatically.

“Good morning.” Thomas said. Rodere, startled, turned to look at Thomas. “Oh, Traveller! You’re up! Wonderful! Chiliad, quick, breakfast!” The android moved behind the shelves obediently, and the rodent human scrambled to his feet and ran toward Thomas. “I’ve figured it out! Or at least I think I have! How we can change the whole thing! How we can fix it!” Rodere had clasped Thomas by the arms and was shaking him with surprising force considering his small stature. “What... I thought you said it couldn’t be done?” “I did, I did, so I did! But I think I’ve changed my mind! And just in time! Tomorrow’s Thursday!”

Chiliad reentered the room carrying a tray with two bowls filled with gruel and two mugs of dark liquid. Rodere sat back down on the floor and Chiliad placed the bowl and the mug in front of him, and he immediately began to devour his breakfast. Thomas took a seat near him on the floor and began eating his breakfast. He was happy to find that the dark liquid in the mugs was hot coffee, bitter, but satisfying.

“So how do we do it? How do we fix it?” Thomas asked, in between bites of the gruel. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was, and the gruel was very satiating. Rodere licked remnants of his breakfast from his whiskers and rubbed his hands together with excitement. He picked up one of the sheets of paper he had been scribbling on and pointed to an equation. “See here? You’ve got to go back, to back before the altered timeline.” Thomas nodded, hoping that his face did not betray the fact that he did not understand the equations whatsoever. “And when you get there, you’ve got to convince them to enact the environmental restoration initiative. I don’t know what you’re going to do to get them to do it, but you’ve got to. Everyone’s survival depends on it.” Thomas nodded again, but his brows furrowed. “Aren’t you, well, concerned? Concerned that I could make it worse? Or that you’ll never exist in another timeline?” Thomas asked. Rodere looked at him. “Better my sacrifice, than the end of worlds. My life has been mostly meaningless anyway, this would give me some purpose, even if I never exist.”

Then there was a flurry of activity. Chiliad took their dishes and returned with Thomas’s uniform and boots, now completely clean. Rodere rolled up several of his papers and rushed about the room. Thomas dressed and Rodere, Chiliad, and Astro began to ascend back to the surface. Chiliad had outfitted Rodere and Thomas with complex breathing apparatuses and had attached Thomas’s in some way to Astro so that Astro could also benefit from the filtered air.

When they got to the mouth of the tunnel, Chiliad opened the safe door. The wind whipped rust-coloured dust in the air and stung Thomas’s exposed skin. Rodere scampered to the time and space machine and began to punch in the coordinates from one of his sheets of paper. The machine opened and Thomas and Astro stepped in. “Good luck Traveller, we’re all counting on you.” Rodere said and waved at him as the doors closed and Thomas made his way into the unknown to try to save the worlds from ending.