Let me tell you a story (END)

Let me tell you a story

The next day, Isaiah woke up, his mind filled with strange images of human sized bunny running after one another. After a hot shower and getting dressed, he headed to the subway when he noticed two men glancing at him in an odd way. They had the same tattoo on their hands. Fanatics? The color red popped up in his mind: it struck him. The book. They’re probably looking for that.’ Isaiah didn’t pay more attention to these men. He went to work as usual and waited for the dark to crash into the city to leave. His pursuers stayed put until their pray made a move. Once the latter got out, they followed him for a moment, when he suddenly made a left turn in a small alley. As they walked in the shadow between two buildings, they saw him, sitting like a vietnamese drug dealer: he was waiting for them.

  • What do you want?’ Isaiah said as he stood up. A silence passed.

  • Where is he?’ asked one of the pursuers.

  • He?…Who?’

  • Don’t play games with us. Where is the protector?’ said the other one.

  • Protector?’

  • Enough!!’ yelled the first pursuer. He stepped forward. All of the emotions he tried to keep for himself, from the moment he saw his savior killed to the moment he will face his assassin, suddenly came out on his face. ‘He doomed mankind to its end! So you’re gonna tell us where he went.’ He calmed down as he got closer to Isaiah. The latter remained silent for a while. He glanced at his pursuer’s fist then replied:

  • I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

The calm tone and relax attitude of Isaiah made the pursuer loose his temper. He threw his right fist to Isaiah’s face. The latter dodged it then walloped his opponent’s stomach. He could see a reaction from his victim but immediately, an elbow hit him on the temple. He stambled away from his opponent. As he recovered, the latter ran towards him, jumped to hit him from above, but as a reflex, Isaiah rolled on the side and got back up on his feet. He locked his eyes on his ennemy and forgot his environment, when he descried something on his right. The world made a 45 degree turn. Then everything went black.

When Isaiah opened his eyes, a bright light blinded him. He blinked a few times to get his vision back. He looked around: he was laying in bed in the middle of a room. On his left side, a woman was sleeping in a chair, covered by a blanket. Next to her, an image moved in synchronization with a sound. At the feet of his bed, his clothes were folded in a bag on a small table. In front of his bed there was a door, slightly opened, leading to a bathroom. On his right, another door gave to a hallway where people dressed in a uniform walked back and forth. Isaiah tried to sit but his body didn’t respond as much as he wanted. Hefelt a discomfort in his left arm and llooked down. A needle was taped into it. ‘Aaaah…’ is all he could say. The woman next to him woke up. She smiled. ‘We’re at the hospital’ she said. ‘You hurt your head pretty badly.’ She paused. ‘What happened?’ Isaiah took his time to remember his situation. The book. He pulled the intravenous out of his system, walked somehow to the table, grabbed his stuff then disappeared in the bathroom. Half an hour later, he came out and stood still. Two doctors appeared in the room. ‘You need to rest for a moment.’ Isaiah ignored their advice and kept on walking. As he passed next to them, he whispered: ‘I hear you… But I need to leave.’ After struggling to get back in his appartment, Isaiah crashed on his couch and fainted.

A ray of sunshine found its way through the blinds and landed on Isaiah’s face. It woke him up. Slowly but safely, the latter found his bearings again. He went straight to his bed and dived his hands under his pillows to find it. He sighed, relieved that the two men who beat him up weren’t curious enough to search for clues in his home. He stared at the object for a moment. He lost himself in his thoughts. No one knows about this. But it looks like this story is real… That can’t be. No one can return to the past. It’s… impossible…. Or is it? If it’s fake, why would they look for James? That dude is way to honest and straight to be inrolled in any kind of trouble. Which makes this story believable. He’s trustworthy. But… Time travelling doesn’t exist… Yet. So in 2027, it will be…real. Wait, the first trial led Eden/Ethan to the year of 2023. His objectif was to sabbotage the birth of the timemachine. So in 2023, we can, theorically but with realism, travel through time… Amazing…. But not the issue. Eden killed Ethan. Which means that reality must have changed… Somehow. So this reality took a separate road from the ‘original’ reality. Alright… But does that mean that the world will still end? Is it inevitable? If so, what to do? How could we know? What could we do? On that last question, Isaiah started to brainstorm on an idea to actively change the world. Or more precisely, to change Humanity.

It took him several years, many obstacles to overcome and mutliple failures to count , before Isaiah could see it. In the year of 2026, where it’s written that the world’s selfdestruction is supposed to begin, nothing happens. At the age of 36 year old, facing the large window of his office at the top of the highest building in New York City, Isaiah whispered to himself: ‘Humanity made it right.’ Below him, streets were cleaned, people respected each other and violence was reduced to almost 4%. The same situation spread all around the world, slowly but surely. Isaiah made sure of that.

Earth and mankind are now on a good track to reconcile with each other.’ Isaiah said. His voice was low, I could barely understand his words. I looked at him: his eyes hasn’t change since the day I met him, only few wrinkles appeared now and there around his mouth, nose and on his forehead. His hair turned completely grey, it gave him a certain charm. His hand was warm. But weak. He squeezed mine as hard as he could. I looked him in the eyes. A smile was drawn on his face. ‘I trust you.’ I figured that he could see my fears on my face. I smile back. His eyes blinked in rhythm, closing slowly. The pressure of his hand decreased at the same pace. Tears came up. Before his chest stopped moving, I whispered to his ears: ‘I won’t let you down…’ He smiled as he heard those words. Then his hand let go of mine and his eyes were completely closed. ‘I love you, Grandpa.’

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