The Clout of Gen (15 page)

Sergi spent the next two days resting. His headache was getting worse, and he was very nauseous. He knew it wasn’t from something he’d eaten. He simply felt ill, and a visit to a local doctor didn’t prove much, as all his vitals were normal. Since they couldn’t find any cause for his discomfort, the doctor related it to stress, and Sergi felt that could be the issue. After all, it was very stressful pushing his dog off a bridge, traveling through time, and making plans to change the world forever.

When the time came, Sergi went to the temple early and arrived there around one p.m. He checked the area where he had entered the coordinates for his travel back to the future, his present later that night, and all seemed normal. He would have to sneak in one way or another after the temple visiting hours were over.

Around a quarter till two p.m., Sergi saw Hitari from a distance, looking anxious and confused. Sergi waited for it to be exactly two p.m. and then went to talk to him. Hitari seemed like a raging bull, a person in need of answers. He was all fired up, and that was exactly how Sergi wanted him to be. After some give-and-take, Hitari’s interest in the whole thing was undeniable; he was ready to take responsibility.

Hitari offered to take Sergi somewhere private, but before leaving, Hitari wanted to pay some respect to the temple. Sergi had to take off his sunglasses and remove the toothpick out of his mouth. He couldn’t throw it on the floor, so he just pushed it into a bag he was carrying and joined Hitari in paying some respect. Sharing Hitari’s beliefs that moment was the least Sergi could do for the man who was going to spend his life carrying out his plans.

Their meeting took many hours, and it was very tiring for Sergi. He felt so sick at times that he had to excuse himself.  He instructed Hitari how to handle the files he gave him, but he was sure Hitari would understand exactly what he had to do and when to do it. He had to follow a strict time schedule, and Sergi insisted that it should be followed to the last word. He assured Yaturo several times that it was all about saving lives and changing the world. Sergi told him that without it, the world would be a darker, crueler place. He knew he could play on those cards, for those were Hitari’s weak points, and he was sure Hitari would follow every word written in the files and would listen to his last wish as well and carry it out without hesitation.

Just as he was about to leave, Hitari asked Sergi a question, a question he had anticipated, and was well prepared for. He wanted to know his name. He couldn’t give his real name, so he offered the name of the closest thing to him, closer than any human being: his dog and savior, Alexi.

The plunge from the temple worked later that night, and Sergi was back in his office, in 2034. His illness was progressing rapidly. Not only was he nauseous, but he was beginning to cough up blood. He was confident that it was merely a side effect of the radiation, and he decided he should have done more trials before traveling himself. The radiation might very well prove fatal, but he had seen his plan through, and he didn’t care what happened to him.

He needed some rest, but he had to make at least one more visit back in time—a visit to a person who would play a crucial role in changing the past, a person he didn’t mention to Hitari. He had to visit that person himself. He had to visit his father, and he decided to do so on the day of his own birth, the day Sergi came into the world.

He took a look at his office. He knew he had to destroy everything; it was his discovery and his alone, and he did not want anyone else to benefit from it or take credit for all his hard work. He took out the files, burned them all, and deleted all the memory that contained all his years of research. Then, it was time for Sergi’s last adventure.

Despite his pain and weakness, the experience was unique; it was more than amazing. Sergi was looking at himself through the mirror at the hospital, standing in the corridor near the nursery, looking at all the babies who had just been born. He was waiting for his dad Dmitri to come look at his newborn son. When Dmitri arrived, Sergi approached him and said, “Your son seems smart, Dmitri.”

“Excuse me? You look familiar. Have I met you somewhere? How do you know my name?” Dmitri asked.

“That’s not important now, Professor,” Sergi replied.

“Again, how do you know my name? And why are you here?” asked Dmitri nervously.

“I don’t have time to talk. Please read this, and if you are convinced, please follow its words. Other than that, there are two things I want from you, Mr. Armanov. Teach your son how to hunt at a young age, even before he goes to school. He needs strong arms. Secondly, be sure your son becomes a physics genius. You only have to lead the way for him,” concluded Sergi, and then he ran away before his father could catch him. He knew his father would do as he had asked, and what he had written would surely convince him.

His headaches became intolerably painful, but he felt he was fulfilling his destiny. He knew he was close to dying. He took off the watch, removed the minerals from it, and put them in his pockets. Then, he smashed the watch into pieces and scattered them about as he was walking.

Sergi made the decision before traveling back to the current date. He knew he was about to die, and he knew when and where he wanted to do so—at the place where he had found those minerals. His father’s mining plant had made it all possible. When he reached the place, it looked different. That came as no surprise, because the mining hadn’t started yet, and nothing had yet been discovered there. It would take years for them to start working in the area, and he walked around until he found what he thought was where they would establish their findings. The weather was cold and snowy, and he eventually reached an icy lake. “It should be around here somewhere,” he said to himself between bloody coughs.

He walked carefully on the ice until he heard a crack and felt it breaking beneath his feet. Below him, the icy layer shattered, and he was quickly sucked into the deep, freezing waters.

Epilogue

Tuesday was a special day for the retirement home, the day of the week when most of the residents’ families brought life to the place by visiting their loved ones. For English, as his friends at the home called him, it was just like any other day: breakfast of a cheese sandwich and coffee at eight a.m., then out in the garden for a nice stretch, weather permitting.

Ever since he’d arrived at the place more than three years prior, no one had ever visited him. He’d spent a long time  in a coma, and he couldn’t remember a thing. The hospital had no other choice than to send him to a state-run facility when he woke up and didn’t fit back in the daily life, and the residents and staff there had become his family because he couldn’t remember who he really was. On Tuesdays, he shared in the visits with some of their loved ones, but then he wandered off to watch TV alone, passing the hours away in lonely desperation.

He was watching the news when they started talking about a Russian billionaire who had been missing for weeks. The maid who passed by every week had filed a missing persons report, but the police had no clues of the man’s whereabouts. His name didn’t ring a bell, but when the news showed his photo, English felt something, some slight twang of recognition. His head began to spin, and he started to see things: a young boy and a dog running in a park. He was holding his head, wailing in pain, when one of the nurses came running. The staff rushed him to his room and gave him some sedatives to calm him down. It had never happened to him before.

Later that night, the same thing happened again, and he began seeing more vivid flashes. He saw the child and the dog again, and then he remembered the child calling a name. “Alexi?” he said aloud. “Yes, Alexi!”

He asked one of the staffers what she knew about his past and what had happened to him, but all she could tell him was that he had suffered a severe head injury more than twenty-some years ago and had gone into a coma as a result, his treatment was all taken care of by an anonymous person to keep him alive. He’d woken up in a Russian hospital and was admitted at the home since he could not remember anything about who he was or where he was from. They called him English because of his native language since he could not remember his name.

More and more flashes came to him as the days wore on. In every one, he saw the same park, the same child, and the same dog. He heard the name “Alexi!” being called over and over again, and then one day, more came back to him.

He didn’t tell anyone about his memory gradually returning, as it was still unclear to him at that point who he really was. At the same time, he tried to remain calm, and he didn’t want any added pressure from anyone. In time, he remembered why he spoke English. He was an American—an American named John Teddy.

He started taking long walks in the garden, as it was helping him piece the strange memories of his past together. Every day, things became less fuzzy for him, and he began to understand himself more, to know who he really was. He remembered pieces here and there, including some memories about his son, his wife, Japan, and an odd little man named Yaturo.

He remembered the day of his injury well. He’d been shot, but it was him who wanted to kill that boy.
But why would I want to kill a child? And who shot me?
So many crucial pieces of the story were still missing.

One thing was for sure: He had to get out of that facility one way or another. One thing John hadn’t lost was his curious nature, and he had to search for himself. He had no documents, and it was impossible for them to let him go, but he had to escape, so he did so the very next day.

All he had in the line of personal possessions was a watch. It looked expensive, and he assumed it must have been a gift or something. The watch was quickly pawned for a meager $900, but that was enough for him to reach Moscow and buy him time. He had an underlying instinct that he needed to leave the country. Somehow, he knew Russia wasn’t safe for him.

He met several people in Moscow who offered to help, but  all wanted money in advance, and he had nothing to offer them. Finally, one of them contacted John in private. The stranger wanted to help not out of generosity, but because he felt there was something special about John. He teased, “I know you’re rich. I am sure you have money hidden somewhere. I‘ll help you get anywhere you need to go, as long as you promise to pay me right when you figure out how wealthy you really are.”

John replied, “Get me to Stockholm, and you’ll get more than you want.”

A few days later, John was in Stockholm. The bank was surprised to see him after all those years, and his money had increased greatly from all the accrued interest. The contents in the safety deposit box, which required his fingerprints to open, gave him a clear idea of what had happened. It was a smart move to leave a notebook behind recounting the events leading up to shooting.

John wondered how Sergi lived after the attack. Where is he? Is he really missing, or is he even alive? How did he do it? How did he travel back in time? All those questions started to build up in his mind. He didn’t have any answers, but for once, he didn’t care. He had already lost years of his life. He had tried to change in the past, and that had gotten him nowhere except into a coma. John decided that he was powerless to do anything, and his will was weaker than Yaturo’s. All he wanted was to know what happened to his son. He had to find Adam.

It wasn’t difficult to get a new American passport, as his old passport and an explanation for his long disappearance was enough. John was eager to go back to the States and to find his son.

Interestingly enough, Adam was working as an instructor at the university, teaching Japanese. He seemed to be doing well. John thought of revealing his identity to his son, but he decided there was no sense in complicating Adam’s life any further. He was just happy to see that Adam had survived and was doing well for himself, and he was happier that Adam had chosen to study and teach Japanese. John could only assume that was because he loved and missed his father so much and that he had always been on Adam’s mind, and that made him feel wonderful.