Chapter 4: Smart Answer

Time: 2048
Location: Berlin, Global Innovation Center

Theo leaned against the edge of the console, the red glow of the malfunctioning core casting long shadows across the room. The weight of Kalen’s words lingered in the air, heavy and inescapable.

Helena’s fingers twitched over her keyboard, her voice tight with frustration. “Theo, we have to act now. Whatever this Kalen did—” she shot him a glance filled with distrust, “—it’s destabilizing the core. We can’t let this escalate.”

Theo’s mind swirled, every thought colliding with the next. “You expect me to just trust you?” he asked Kalen, narrowing his eyes.

Kalen leaned casually against the control panel, seemingly unaffected by the tension crackling in the air. “No. I expect you to listen,” he replied smoothly. His gaze drifted toward the core, its crimson hue throbbing ominously beneath the floor. “You’re standing on the edge of disaster, and you don’t even see it.”

Theo tightened his grip on the edge of the console. “You come in here, sabotage our system, and expect us to follow your lead without question?”

Helena’s eyes darkened. “We don’t have time for games. Either explain exactly what you’ve done, or you’re leaving in handcuffs.”

Kalen’s lips curved in a faint, humorless smile. “You can’t stop what’s already begun. The timeline isn’t just frayed—it’s tangled. Every attempt you’ve made to interfere has caused it to coil in on itself.”

Theo struggled to keep his composure. “We sent one transmission. That’s it. How can a single signal cause this much disruption?”

Kalen tilted his head as if addressing a child. “Because time isn’t linear, Theo. You didn’t just send a message into the past—you sent ripples. And those ripples collided with transmissions from other agents. Not all of them friendly.”

Helena folded her arms, her eyes sharp. “Agents from where?”

Kalen’s expression remained unreadable. “That’s not important right now. What matters is this: You thought you were the only ones playing with the fabric of time. But you aren’t. And the others aren’t trying to stop World War I—they’re reshaping the entire future.”

A chill ran through Theo. His throat tightened as he thought about the shifting events that had begun to appear in their diagnostics—wars out of place, inventions happening centuries too early, alliances that shouldn’t exist. Every fragment of history they knew was beginning to slip away.

Helena stepped closer, her jaw tight. “What’s your goal, Kalen? You obviously didn’t come here just to warn us.”

Kalen shrugged with infuriating calm. “I came to make sure you don’t screw this up any further.”

Theo clenched his fists. “And why should we believe you?”

“You don’t have to,” Kalen replied smoothly. “But if you don’t act fast, the timeline will collapse—and there won’t be anything left to save.”

Diagnostics: 62% complete. Estimated time remaining: 14 minutes.

Helena scowled at the progress bar. “We can’t wait that long. If this disruption spreads any further, the system will fail entirely.”

Theo exhaled slowly, trying to quiet the storm in his mind. “What’s the next step, then? Another transmission?”

Helena shook her head. “We’re already skating on thin ice. Another signal without understanding the interference could cause irreversible damage.”

Kalen straightened, his tone shifting from casual to serious. “Then you need to find the source of the interference—quickly. And I can help you do that.”

Theo studied him carefully. There was a weight behind Kalen’s words, as though he had lived through countless disasters and carried the knowledge of every one. It unsettled him. “How do we know you aren’t working for one of these other agents?”

Kalen’s smile was thin, devoid of warmth. “Because if I were, you’d already be dead.”

Silence descended on the room. Helena shot Theo a questioning glance, as if asking whether they could afford to trust this stranger.

Theo’s jaw clenched. He didn’t trust Kalen—he would have been a fool to. But with the timeline unraveling and every second counting down like a fuse, he knew they didn’t have the luxury of skepticism.

“Fine,” Theo said finally, his voice low. “We’ll listen. For now.”

Helena’s lips pressed into a tight line, but she gave a curt nod. “What’s your plan, Kalen?”

Kalen tapped the edge of the console, calling up a hidden interface. The screen flickered, revealing a set of encrypted files Theo didn’t recognize.

“The interference isn’t random,” Kalen explained. “There are hotspots—specific moments in time where transmissions collide. If we can isolate one of those moments, we might be able to reverse-engineer the pattern and figure out who else is tampering with history.”

Helena frowned. “And what if we can’t reverse it?”

Kalen’s gaze darkened. “Then the timeline breaks. Completely.”

00:07:59 until core stabilization breach.

The countdown glared from the screen, a grim reminder that time was slipping away. Theo fought the urge to panic, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

“What’s the first hotspot?” Theo asked, his voice steady.

Kalen pulled up a series of timestamps, each representing a key moment in history that had been disrupted. “The earliest one is... October 13, 1962. Right before the Cuban Missile Crisis.”

Helena leaned over his shoulder, studying the data. “That’s... a dangerous place to start.”

Kalen gave her a wry look. “Welcome to time travel.”

Theo ignored the sarcasm, his mind racing. “What are we looking for there?”

“Something out of place,” Kalen replied. “An anomaly that doesn’t belong. If we can find it, we might be able to trace it back to its source.”

Helena crossed her arms. “And what happens if we can’t?”

Kalen’s smile was grim. “Then history becomes a nightmare we can’t wake up from.”

Theo exchanged a glance with Helena, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on him. The stakes were higher than they had ever imagined. One wrong move, and the timeline would collapse—taking everything and everyone with it.

“All right,” Theo said at last, his voice resolute. “We go to 1962.”

Helena shot him a wary glance. “You’re sure about this?”

“No,” Theo admitted. “But we don’t have a choice.”

Kalen grinned. “Smart answer.”

Theo ignored him, turning his attention back to the console. He keyed in the coordinates for October 13, 1962, feeling the weight of the moment settle over him like a shroud.

As the core hummed beneath their feet, the countdown ticking steadily toward zero, Theo knew they were standing on the edge of something far bigger than they had ever anticipated.

And there was no turning back.