Dating : TELL THEM

They plucked you from the street, while you were on your way to finish the job that might let you keep your place in line. In line for a chance to live in an actual room. In line for a chance to not sleep in the shelters, among the rest of the people who were caught outside on that gray horrible day.

The job was to make sure the drains were clear. You were cleaning the sludge from the pipes and gates and tunnels, and you were mostly done. In the control room, they would see the water levels go down, and they’d know you did it, and you just might keep your name on the list.

That was all over now. They nabbed you from the sky. Their drones were silent, fast, and harsh. Something shot under your arms and around your torso and almost choked you in surprise. You flew up in the air, toward one of their ships, massive mountains of screeching turbines, kept aloft endlessly by what they claimed were perpetual motion machines. No way to know, just what they said.

That day. That horrible day. In the middle of telling us how great they were and how great they would make us, they seemed to change their minds. Maybe they found out something about us that disgusted them, or maybe the speaker spoke out of turn. Either way, we lost it all in a day. Every military obliterated, leaders vaporized, and a purge begun.

Drones took people into the sky, and came back empty. No word. Strange diseases spread fast. Food stores rotted overnight. Survival meant having no qualms about anything. Just being indoors became the greatest luxury.

And now you are going up there.

You are dumped through a sudden opening in the ship’s hull, into a room, and then the opening is gone. A large, hand-like thing flattens out into a ‘stop’ shape, so you do. The room is bare except for strange small bright lights in the walls. They would be beautiful if they weren’t so intense that you instantly felt a headache starting.

Something looking like a curtain slides down the middle of the room, a few feet wide. There’s a distorted image on it at first and then it comes clear. It’s the other side of the room and there you are, in a chair.

You are bloody and badly beaten. You look like your left arm is broken and your right shoulder is not set like it should be. There’s blood dripping out of the bottom of your pants. You spit dark liquid onto the ground and the other you recoils at the almost solid splash of it.

That other you turns and looks at you. Those eyes are swollen, and lost, and half dead. You hear the sound of some mechanical thing rolling. It comes into view through the opening. You could not see it before. There is some kind of long stick pointing out of it at your other head.

The same moment that you realize what this is, a deep, artificial, alien voice, sort of speaking your language, says “That is the future. Tell us what you were planning, and you’ll live.”

You scramble for an answer. There is none.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say. “I was cleaning the drains.”

“Lies,” comes the voice. “You are part of something. Something that opposes us. Tell us, or you will die over there, in the future.”

You think harder, which isn’t easy with the blinking lights all around digging into your mind. Nothing. Nothing at all. Wait. Just wait. Maybe there is something. That guy. The one with the knife. He was going to do something with it. He was going to cut some wires from the control room and take it somewhere. He needed someone to watch out for him, in case someone came. You said no. He started to plead and you said NO! Then you ran. You looked over your shoulder to see if he followed and saw him going up in the air. A drone got him. Serves him right, you thought at the time. You don’t think that now.

You aren’t sure if you should tell them. Maybe it is a revolution. Maybe people are planning something, an attack, a weapon, something to disrupt their signals.

This might be your moment. If enough resist, anyone can be overthrown. You think you read that somewhere. Or you just thought it up. Hard to tell as things are getting confusing with your headache. You don’t know more than they probably already do. Then again, maybe not. Maybe he wouldn’t break. Maybe they searched the drone’s memory and saw him talking to you.

Those wires he was after. They might be important. No, you decide not to tell them anything.

“I’m telling you the truth! I know nothing! I just want a safe place to sleep!”

The hand tilts and then a shimmering reveals what it is attached to, a large humanoid, scales and fur, four arms, massive head, stout bottom half, maybe wings? That’s as much as you catch before you get backhanded against the wall.

“You lie. You know something. You know what that man was trying to do. He asked you to do something and you said no. What did he ask? Answer right now, or you die over there in the future, after I snap you.”

The choice is now. Everything you’ve ever heard, or felt, or imagined, about being in such a moment. “What would you do, given a choice?” echoes in your head. Thinking of those German citizens who opposed the rise of the Nazis, and died for it, never to be known for what they did. Thinking of those who said no to their muggers, their rapists, their murderers, said no to anyone who would break them and destroy them. The history of true resistance. Not the running of the mouth resistance, but real resistance. The kind that costs you everything. The kind that gets you killed.

You choose.

Then comes your voice from the other side. “Tell them.”

“No!” you scream at your future self. You realize your future self didn’t tell them. “Why didn’t you tell them?” you ask.

“Because I can’t remember. They hit me … too hard. I can’t even remember my name. It’s … all fuzzy. I don’t even … know why I’m here … anymore. I wouldn’t tell them when … I was you, and now it’s too … late.” Future you spits more. “You have to tell them … what you know…. please … before… before we die.”

That last bit is weak, and your future self’s head drops down, raspy breathing the only sound coming, and it’s erratic.

The alien grabs your shoulder and squeezes. You feel it crack, and then burn inside.

“Tell us, and that future won’t happen. You’ll live. We’ll fix you and put you back down there. We’ll even make sure you get inside.”

Tears are running down your face, pouring for the pain.

You are dragged over to the opening. The alien puts something in your hand, your hand from the good shoulder. It’s a box with a button. It moves your finger onto the button, its strength overwhelming. Then it puts its hand around yours and you feel it start to squeeze.

Again, the deep voice, approximating your speech: “That button tells the drone to cut you into scraps.”

There’s a sound from the other side, soft, weak, desperate.

The head lifts a bit over there. “Tell them. I … didn’t tell them … whatever it was. They made me … push … the button. Please … tell them.”

You are going to become that person unless you tell them, but any detail they get might be enough to stop whatever is going on. It might be nothing, just a scavenger after scraps. You don’t know that for sure though. For all you know, the wires they were going to steal could be the most important wires ever stolen.

No one comes back, you remember. Not one person has ever come back who was taken into the sky. You know most probably broke, told them everything, told them anything. In the end, it doesn’t matter. They don’t come back.

No, you can’t give it to them. You have to fight. That other you was forced to kill their future self. It’s a loop and they are betting eventually, things might change to their favor. So that’s all you have, making sure things don’t go their way. Making sure time works in humanity’s favor. It isn’t much, but it might be enough.

Looking at the alien square in the face, you push the button yourself, and you laugh.

Now you know what you’d do in that moment.