Chapter 9: A Rift Through Time

Time: 2048
Location: Berlin, Global Innovation Center

The projection of 1962 shimmered in mid-air, casting ghostly flickers of Havana's streets across the dimly lit control room. Theo stared at the unidentified man holding the briefcase, unease crawling up his spine.

Helena’s fingers moved swiftly across the console. “There’s no match. No records of his existence. Whoever this is, he wasn’t supposed to be here.”

Theo narrowed his eyes. “A ghost in the timeline.”

Kalen gave a soft, amused chuckle. “A ghost—or someone playing a bigger game than you realize.”

Theo shot him a warning look, but his attention quickly returned to the anomaly. “We need to know what’s inside that briefcase.”

Helena arched an eyebrow. “You’re suggesting we investigate directly?”

Theo nodded. “We don’t have a choice. If this man is the cause of the anomaly, then everything depends on stopping him.”

00:08:03 until core stabilization recalibration.

The hum of the energy core pulsed beneath the floor, growing louder with every passing second, as if warning them of the ticking clock. Theo’s mind raced through their options.

Helena leaned closer to the display, frustration evident in her posture. “Even if we wanted to, how do we isolate one man from a single moment in history? We can’t exactly jump back and take a peek inside his briefcase.”

Theo folded his arms, his gaze locked on the shimmering image. “Then we need to send something smaller—a temporal probe.”

Helena gave a slow nod, her expression shifting as she ran through the possibilities. “If we can drop a probe close enough to his location, it could scan the briefcase remotely and send us the contents.”

“But,” she added, her tone growing grim, “if the anomaly shifts before we retrieve the data, the probe will be lost in the timeline.”

“Then it’s a risk we take,” Theo said decisively.

Kalen smirked. “Now that’s the spirit.”

00:05:47 until probe deployment.

The room buzzed with focused urgency. Helena synchronized the temporal probe’s coordinates with the moment in Havana. Theo watched as the projection expanded, zooming into the alley where the mysterious man stood.

“This is as close as we can get without triggering detection,” Helena murmured.

Theo gave a sharp nod. “Deploy.”

The core pulsed, sending a thin beam of violet light through the console. On the display, the tiny probe materialized in the past, flickering into existence near the man’s feet like a stray insect.

For a moment, everything seemed to be going smoothly.

00:02:19 until data retrieval.

The probe transmitted its first readings—a detailed scan of the briefcase’s outer shell. But just as Helena initiated the deep scan, the projection flickered violently.

Theo’s heart sank. “What’s happening?”

Helena’s fingers flew over the console. “The timeline is shifting again—something’s destabilizing the anomaly.”

Before Theo could respond, the projection twisted, as though reality itself were folding in on the image. The man in the alley turned—just for a moment—and locked eyes with the camera.

Theo’s breath caught in his throat. The man knew they were watching.

And then, without warning, the probe was gone—pulled into the swirling chaos of the fractured timeline.

“Damn it!” Helena cursed, slamming her palm against the console. “We lost it.”

Theo’s hands balled into fists, frustration clawing at him. “What the hell just happened? How could he know we were there?”

Kalen stepped forward, his expression unreadable. “I told you—you’re not the only ones playing this game.”

00:00:37 since probe loss.

Helena frantically tried to retrieve the last fragments of data before the timeline fully collapsed around the event. “We have... something,” she whispered, her voice filled with disbelief. “A partial data packet.”

Theo leaned over her shoulder. “What does it say?”

Helena pulled up the contents of the fragmented transmission. A single document flickered onto the screen—a letter. But as Theo scanned the page, confusion turned to horror.

The letter was addressed to him.

Decrypted Transmission:

"Theo,
I know you’re watching. You won’t understand yet, but you’re part of this—just like I am.
Do not follow me. If you interfere, everything falls apart.
Signed, K."

Theo stared at the letter, his pulse pounding in his ears. “This... this doesn’t make sense.”

Helena looked equally stunned. “It’s addressed to you. From... whoever that man was.”

Kalen’s grin returned, sharp and amused. “Well, that’s interesting.”

Theo rounded on him, his patience wearing thin. “What do you know about this?”

Kalen shrugged nonchalantly. “Nothing more than you, I promise.” But there was a glint in his eyes that told Theo otherwise.

Helena ran a quick trace on the fragmented transmission. “The timestamp on the letter—” She trailed off, her voice filled with disbelief. “It’s from five minutes into the future.”

Theo blinked, stunned. “That’s impossible.”

“Apparently not,” Kalen said, clearly enjoying the confusion unfolding before him.

00:01:52 until temporal core realignment.

The room felt colder now, as if the boundaries between past, present, and future were dissolving. Theo tried to wrap his mind around the letter, the impossible time loop it suggested.

“Someone’s pulling the strings,” Helena muttered, breaking the silence. “This isn’t random. It’s a setup.”

Theo’s thoughts raced. If the man in Havana was connected to him... if he knew Theo’s actions in real-time...

“We’re chasing our own shadow,” Theo whispered, the pieces starting to fall into place. “Every move we make—they’re anticipating it because they’ve already seen it happen.”

Kalen gave him an approving nod. “Now you’re starting to understand.”

Helena shot Theo a worried glance. “If they know everything we’re going to do... what’s the point of continuing?”

Theo exhaled slowly. “Because stopping isn’t an option. If we back down, we lose control of the timeline for good.”

“And if you keep going,” Kalen added with a sly smile, “you just might become exactly what they’re afraid of.”

Theo ignored the unsettling implications of Kalen’s words. He had come too far to stop now.

“Helena,” Theo said firmly, “we need to track every signal originating from this building—past, present, or future.”

Helena gave a sharp nod. “I’m on it.”

Core Stabilization: Complete.

The energy core pulsed one final time, its glow settling into a steady, neutral blue. For now, the timeline held—but the cracks were still there, waiting to spread.

Theo stood at the console, the weight of the unknown pressing down on him. Somewhere out there—maybe in the past, maybe in the future—someone was one step ahead of them, pulling invisible strings. And the worst part?

That someone might just be him.