MAN FROM TOMORROW (EPISODE 14)

Martin’s focus returned to the Director, who was shuffling papers around at his desk. He opened the bottom drawer picking out the one he wanted; dropping it on the desk and sliding it toward Martin, who caught it at the edge of the desk and left it in front of him, waiting for an explanation.

"You'll find all the information you need for this job in that folder," his Director began. "But to give you an idea of what we’re looking at… Two nights ago, we put the bureau on high alert when a confirmed terrorist entered New York.” The screen behind him changed from the American flag to the mug shot of a man, the top edge of the photo’s border indicating that the man was known as Joseph Cooper.

“What’s he responsible for?” Martin asked. He pushed everything back from his mind, readying himself to let the facts simmer in his thoughts. He put a finger to his lips, examining the picture of the man, seeking to burn the image into his mind. The man looked to be in his mid-thirties with short dark hair and dark eyes. There were no defining features on his face, but Martin found himself interested in the way his cheek and jaw bones curved; he swore that their shape was unusual compared to the typical facial bone structure, but it could have been a trick of the light, though he’d never seen a good photograph used to apprehend someone.

“It’s believed that he conspired with a group responsible for bombings in Texas and New Mexico. In addition, it’s believed that he’s a contact for a variety of other organizations that seek to transport recruits for terrorist activities from the Middle East into America,” he said.

A question lingered in Martin’s mind. A something that made him believe something wasn’t right.

‘Why was this Joseph Cooper only just becoming high priority the moment he touched down in New York?’

But Martin kept his mouth shut. Likely his Director had nothing to do with it and wouldn’t be able to answer his question regardless.

“So he’s a bit of a big shot,” Martin mumbled, pulling the folder from the desk and starting to flip through it. He scanned through the provided information, getting a quick idea of what he was working with. There would be time to go over everything carefully when he was alone. Martin flipped to the page where Joseph’s photograph was paper clipped to, lifting the photo to view what was underneath and scan the rest of the page. Something else on the page caught his eye, and he lifted an eyebrow, looking back to his Director.

“He’s American?”

“Yes, but he’s supposed to have ties with many nations that consider themselves enemies of America. Removing him from the streets could be a leap toward world peace, or at least toward protecting the people within our own borders,” the Director said, folding his hands on the desk.

(To Be Continued Tomorrow…..)

MAN FROM TOMORROW (EPISODE 13)

The Director's decision was apparently taken after a long, deliberate and intense period of thought the previous day. Here was Martin, the man who had solved tough mysteries like the case of the Mayor's murder. He had even apprehended and single-handedly held out against a gang of Mexican Drug cartels for three whole hours in the siege of Oklahoma. In fact, high on the list of Martin's achievements was the tracing and apprehending of the notorious Bitcoin Brothers. These Bitcoin Brothers had used cryptocurrency for gun running and human trafficking. Martin's actions had enabled the FBI to seize three percent of the world's cryptocurrency which the Bitcoin Brothers had amassed.

“Now, there’s something else we need to tell you before we get into the details. Even though we can’t afford to give you time off before and we can’t now, we’re willing to make a compromise". There, it was the "We" again. "Finish this mission as fast as possible, and you can have all the time off you need. Take a well-earned vacation and settle your affairs. Before you get excited, however, Martin, this case Isn’t going to be easy. you’ll find it stimulating- something that will challenge your abilities.

“Giving you this solo case isn’t meant to be an opportunity to prove you’re still capable of being great or that you can work without a team beside you. In fact, we assign you this mission because We think you are capable of it. This mission will require every ounce of your detective capabilities to solve and close. I have absolute faith in your ability, but Martin, we need you to use your talents now, not in a month from now. This case is high priority, and we need you at your best to solve this before it’s too late. Are we clear?” his Director asked.

“Yes, sir,” Martin nodded. Man! That was a lot of 'we' over there. He concealed a curious sigh before finishing. “I’m ready to get to work.”

It was only half a lie, and he could see on the Director’s face that he knew Martin wasn’t quite ready. But Martin wasn’t about to let the man down. He was sure that the Director knew he would give it his very best, as he always did, even when at his worst. Martin was determined to get that time off, even if it meant temporarily getting back in the game and working his ass off.

“Very well,” the Director paused and pressed a button on his desk, the sunlight projecting through the window screen dimming in response. It was time for him to learn about the specifics, about what he actually needed to get done, how much work he had to put in in order to earn that precious alone time.

With the window’s screen dimmed, it was the darkest Martin had ever seen the room. It was the first time he ever saw the screen in action, and though he could see the American flag on the screen, he could also see the scenery beneath it with perfect clarity.

(To Be Continued Tomorrow…..)

MAN FROM TOMORROW (EPISODE 12)

There was a moment where Martin had no words at all, he was that baffled.

“Sir… May I ask why?”

“We couldn’t afford to lose a good man, even temporarily, on our current caseload. Even at your worst you are still better than most, Martin,” he said.

“I know you intend to ask again for time off, but I will tell you right now that nothing has changed, and that we still need you. Instead we have something else to discuss.

It’s been decided by my superiors and I that you are being relieved of your current assignments and instead are being given an entirely new SINGLE case to deal with. Alone.”

The emphasis on the words 'single' and 'alone' was prominent. The Director paused to let that sink in.

“We’ve known from the start that you were more of a lone ranger, though you’ve still done a marvelous job in everything else we’ve thrown at you. The time has now come for you to act alone.”

A ‘we’? Who was the ‘we’? Martin sensed something off about the ‘we’.

Martin let out a breath and then stepped around the chair in front of him, sitting down in the plush seat. He wasn’t sure he was hearing anything right. He came to his Director’s office expecting to be reprimanded, but instead he was being given a solo job. Surely, he was misunderstanding something? when his racing heart settled and he looked back up at the older man in front of him, he received a nod of approval.

“It is imperative that you know that solo missions are not like those we assign Agents to. You alone are responsible for everything pertaining to this mission; including finding and processing evidence and locating appropriate resources. You won’t have any lackeys to send around and have the dirty work done for you. Not that you’ve ever been that type of man,” he said.

“So… you’re not going to fire me?” Martin asked. He still wasn’t quite ready to let go of the possibility of losing his job. It seemed too good to be true, though the Director had made him a bit hopeful at this point. How wasn’t he dreaming? He must have fallen asleep in his office while waiting, and would wake up to find he’d in fact been right.

Not only did Martin not believe he deserved such a mission, he was positive that there was no way anyone else could disagree with his thoughts.

The Director laughed a hearty laugh. “No, of course not.” he cleared his throat.

“Martin, we know that things haven’t been so great for you as of late. We can appreciate the fact that you need a break, despite the fact that we are unable to give you one. You’re fine and your position amongst us is fine, though I’m not supposed to tell you that". The Director said, looking at Martin from the corner of his eye.

(To Be Continued Tomorrow…..)

MAN FROM TOMORROW (EPISODE 11)

Martin remained at the door, keeping a hand on the golden handle. He watched the Director type away on his laptop, not at all seeming to be in a rush. His awe of the room never sank, but the joy associated with it did. He took a shaky breath and kept his gaze on the Director, who he hadn’t seen in person in a long time. What he noticed about the man was something he’d never had an opportunity to appreciate.

Even in the rather short, several week period where he’d gone without seeing the Director, Martin could see how worn the man was becoming as time passed. Creases to signify his age appeared on his face more prominent than before, and his once slick black hair was beginning to grey.  Martin waited there for several minutes in the doorway, but the Director didn’t look away from the laptop sitting in front of him.

“Sir?” Martin asked, reminding his superior of his presence. The man looked up to see him and acknowledge his existence, but then looked back down like he didn’t care. Martin wasn’t sure whether his dismissive attitude was good. It could mean that the Director gave up on him and didn’t care to show him respect, or that the man didn’t really think anything was out of the ordinary. Martin hoped for the latter.

“Come closer. We need to discuss something extremely important,” he said, what felt like hours later, to Martin. The man then pushed his laptop to the side of his desk and folded his hands, finally offering Martin his full and undivided attention.

Martin stepped away from the door and walked further into the office, allowing it to shut behind him. The silence between them was interrupted by the brief boom of the closing door.

“It’s been some time since I last had you in my office,” he chuckled. There was a hesitant pause, like the man weren’t sure where to go from there. Somehow, this eased Martin a little, but it was enough. “Ever since you showed promise as an agent, years back when you were a rookie, I always thought this office would be yours someday. It’s always been impossible to deny your talent., I’m surprised you haven’t taken it from me yet,” he said, unable to stop himself from chuckling.

Martin remained on the other side of the chair sitting in front of the Director’s desk, positive that the man could read the confusion on his face. “Sir… I’m not sure I understand...”

“You’ve always been an excellent agent, Martin, but you’ve… I guess the simplest way of saying this is, you’ve fallen off track. I’m telling you that you could have had my job months ago,” he smirked, his next words to rub it in. “But you messed it up.”

Martin’s heart sank, a fiery spark of rage growing inside him. Was the Director really taunting him? For a moment he saw red and he clenched his fists, struggling to take a deep breath. He realized then, at the peak of his anger, that anger was exactly what the Director was looking for. The red-hot anger inside him sizzled away, and he managed to take that breath. He was being tested. But for what?

“I know I haven’t been at my best as of late, Director, and there’s no excusing that. I tried to get time off in order to let me sort through everything that’s been happening without being a hindrance to the force, but they have repeatedly rejected me,” Martin said, keeping his voice level.

“Yes…” the Director pondered.

“I rejected every single one of your requests for leave of absence myself.” The Director said.

(To Be Continued Tomorrow…..)

MAN FROM TOMORROW (EPISODE 10)

“Have you ever had a hunch and didn’t follow through with it?” she asked, touching the cap of her pen to her lascivious lips. The question seemed completely out of the blue to Martin, but was something he found rather interesting.

“I try not to let the subconscious go to waste,” he said, but then put further thought into it. Wasn’t he doing just the opposite now with his life? He knew for sure that something was up and he was hesitating to act on it. Though, what could he do? That was something else he needed to consider.

“Good. I’ve always thought to do the same, but sometimes what you have to do and what you think you have to do are different things,” she said with another smile.

“I know the feeling,” he said, as the woman got up from her seat. He watched her move to the back of the small room behind the desk, where he could see her sorting through one of the shelves near the door.

In the moment that she was gone, Martin thought about how right the woman was. Unknowingly, she had touched a raw nerve whose implications he did not yet fathom. He would treat every aspect of it with due caution and not let his abilities go to waste. If something seemed wrong to him, likely something was.  Martin leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath. He wasn’t ready to face his superior, but the time had come. He couldn’t back away now.

The large double doors of the Director's chamber loomed over him. It taunted him for being afraid of entering the room he’d often dreamt of having for himself. Of course, those dreams seemed like a long shot now. He pushed himself from the wall and approached the doors despite his severe apprehension. Using all of his supply of built up confidence; he knocked, trying not to make it sound too afraid or desperate. Martin waited for a moment, but there was no immediate response. When he lifted his fist to knock again, he heard his Director mumble acknowledgement from within.

He opened the door and found himself breathless, just as he’d been every other time, he entered the room. Even when he had no hope of having the room to himself, being inside it brought him joy.

The room was large enough to hold well over a hundred people. Both walls on either side of the room were lined with bookshelves that reached from floor to ceiling, made of an auburn wood that Martin didn’t know the name of. Black, shiny tiles covered the floor and ceiling, like onyx sheets built to hold up the room together. On the far side of the room was what mattered most, and often took Martin’s breath away.

Behind the small desk where his Director sat was the remaining wall, built solely of glass, making it an enormous window to look out into the city below. If that wasn’t enough, it doubled as a computer screen, and the time, date, and temperature were seen on the lower panes of the window.

(To Be Continued Tomorrow…..)

MAN FROM TOMORROW (EPISODE 9)

Right now, Martin’s wife didn’t matter to him, as little as he wanted to admit it. He needed to handle whatever it was that the Director wanted of him, and he had to do that now. Martin lifted his head from the desk and stood, wondering how things would have been if he hadn’t received another bomb of a stress on top of his already stressful life. It was possible that if the divorce hadn’t come up, he could have improved his dropping performance, rather than worsening it. 

Martin’s heart was no longer racing when he left his office, finally able to put his fears away. He knew that to make the best of the cards he was handed; he would need to go with the flow and do what he could. The first step was saving his job. Though, even with this in mind, he expected nothing but the worst.

The hallways of the bureau's main building were busier than usual that morning. Martin suffered through the act of smiling and greeting his colleagues when he passed, even though he was about to break down. He believed that he tricked them all into believing nothing was the matter; a strange tradition amongst Americans. Even though he grew up with it, there were days where he just wanted to tell people he was having a bad day. Instead there was social stigma around making people ‘feel bad’ about your problems. Right.

His thoughts moved back to his meeting with the Director. Assuming they were thinking alike- as they often had in the past- Martin would have plenty of time to get away and breathe for a while. More than anything, he needed a break. Even if he didn’t lose his job in the next twenty minutes, he would put his pride and honor on the line, to get some time off. The thought of needing to beg for such a small thing made his stomach churn.

It wasn’t the first time that morning where Martin became lost in his thoughts. When he came to, he took a step back, slamming into the wall behind him. Confusion overwhelmed him for a moment as he came back to reality, not at first recognizing the tall, oaken doors in front of him. His mind settled when he realized that he was at the Director’s office, having made it there on autopilot. Martin passed through the open doors and moved into the department.

He turned to a corner to find Stella, the woman who had called him a few minutes back asking him to meet the Director. She didn’t notice him at first, as she was scribbling on a paper she had at the desk. she was rather concentrated about doing so. He felt bad about interrupting her, but as he got a little closer, she looked up smiled warmly. He closed the distance between them simultaneously displaying a forced smile and leaned on the desk with his arms crossed.

In the brief lapse of time that he took to reach the desk, the woman looked down at her papers. When she looked back up, her eyes squinted like she’d been disturbed from a deep thought. It was a strange thing to Martin, she seemed to have been ready to speak with him moments before. Before she spoke, she opened her mouth and waited, trying to find the words to say it.

(To Be Continued Tomorrow…..)

MAN FROM TOMORROW (EPISODE 8)

While Martin planned on seeing the Director soon, he needed a few more minutes to himself. He wasn’t quite ready to face all of his fears. Martin resumed his previous resting position. This time he let his cheek sit against the shiny wooden desk, with his hands clenching bunches of his short, light brown hair.

Stressed was a minor word to describe how he felt. He wasn’t sure there was any expression capable of articulating his emotions.

The previous night his Director informed him they had something to discuss. In the past his Director had directly contacted him only once. That first time was about something positive, he wasn’t thinking that was the case with this second call. Because of his performance as of late and the wording of the request, he didn’t consider that whatever followed now would be pleasant. He had no clue what the Director wanted. Naturally, he couldn’t help but contemplate the worst. Since the moment their call ended the previous night, he was increasingly worrying over the Director’s intentions with their meeting.

That morning he’d been eager as ever to get to work and speak to the Director. He wanted nothing more than to get the conversation over with. Considering how things always went, Martin wasn’t surprised. He’d came to work early and he would still to have to wait a large part of the day. The man was so busy, he had a months long waiting list. Martin was only getting to speak to him because of something important that couldn’t wait.

Martin remained in his office brooding- or grieving, depending on how you looked at it. He was worsening the record he was spending all his time worrying about. There was no way to hide how poor his performance had been over the last couple of months. Martin feared that he would lose the job he spent his entire life in, any day now. Losing that job was only his second fear.

Martin’s worst fear was losing the woman he loved. He’d known her for quite sometime. But it was only two and a half years ago when they got married. He’d always thought she was the woman of his dreams; he still thought so even now, when they were on the verge of a divorce. Over the years, even before they married, the two of them had spent great time together laughing, having fun, and just enjoying each other’s company. He had thought, naively, that everything between them would be perfect forever. He wanted to live with her and wake up next to her for the rest of his life. But he’d managed to only get less than three years with her before he’d gone and lost her.

One thing in particular irked him. His soon to be ex-wife was intent on not telling him what went wrong with their relationship. She wouldn’t admit that she wanted something different, that she’d fallen for someone else, or even that she wanted something better. Instead, she only told him it was his fault. He could have saved their relationship. The more he thought about it, he believed that she was the one who stopped caring. if she didn’t want to tell him what the problem was, things between them were already doomed.

He sighed, annoyed at the thought. There was much he would have done for her. Even thinking of letting her go sent his heart spiralling into the depths of sorrow.

(To Be Continued Tomorrow…..)

MAN FROM TOMORROW (EPISODE 7)

Anita looked around, trying to make up her mind. Then gazed backed to the man- the one who drove the truck that almost hit her- and stepped up onto the kerb. The look he gave her was one she knew well. It was the look her boyfriend had given her minutes before inside the coffee shop. A look of expectancy, a pleading look that asked her to comply with his request. For a moment she believed him- maybe, she should go to the hospital may be where she needed to be. Wouldn’t it be quiet there?

It only took half a second to change her mind. She needed to leave, now! and the hospital wasn’t where she needed to go. Where she did need to go, however, still remained a mystery. She thanked the driver for his thoughtfulness. Before he could respond, she rushed back into the crowd that had gathered by the road. Even if he had said something, it would have gotten lost in the sound of everyone else’s muttering. Plus, Anita was no longer listening.

Though her destination remained unclear, the tag in her pocket felt like hot coal. It made her mind focus on one terrifying fact: She should be dead.

Someone had saved her. But who?

Anita thought the tag was in some way a relic of the man who saved her, she just didn’t know who.

***

Martin Phillips was a man of many talents. The downside to that was he expected way too much of himself, and thus, especially as of late, let himself down. But he knew that mental exhaustion was playing a large role in what he saw as not only underperformance, but failure. The thought of being a failure made him miserable, a thought he couldn’t share with anyone else.

For the last few days, he was beginning to believe it would be the end of his career. Weeks before that, he was believing it was the end of his life. He hadn’t yet been able to decide which was worse, or if he would survive the possibility of them both being the truth. If he was older, neither possibilities would have bothered him, but he was the young age of thirty-seven. Before he’d began to think of himself as a failure, he had neared the status of legend amongst his peers, superiors, and co-workers.

He had the pleasure of working as an agent for the FBI. That alone was a feat that anyone would be proud of, and he was.  There wasn’t a day on the force that he wasn’t immensely proud of his position. He jumped to his feet in panic and surprise when the secretary chimed in on the speakerphone.

"Martin, the Director is ready to speak with you.” Her voice would have been pleasant on any other day. He lifted his head and looked at the black speakerphone sitting on his desk. The thought of grabbing it and throwing it from the desk seemed appealing. Summoning all his self-control, he grumbled to himself reaching for the phone and held the button down. He summoned the most pleasant voice he could.

“I’ll be right in.”

(To Be Continued Tomorrow…..)

MAN FROM TOMORROW (EPISODE 6)

Maybe if someone else had seen him, they could point her in the right direction. Looking up at the driver, she saw his brow furrow, showing he didn’t know what she was talking about, and his mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he spoke.

“Didn’t see anyone else here, miss, just yourself,” he smiled.

Anita knew that he thought she was crazy, but she didn’t blame him. wasn’t she the one who jumped into the middle of a busy street? She was thinking of herself in the same light.

“Do you want to be taken to the hospital, just in case? They could check for head trauma or internal bleeding if you fell hard…”

Anita knew that he was suggesting she go away, but that didn’t matter to her. She shook her head, much too distracted to respond with words. Plus, that sinking feeling telling her she needed to get away was returning.

Where could she go? Home wasn’t too far away, but it would take her through many busy streets. She needed some alone time, that instant. Her mind needed to be clear, so she could think.

***

The Director of the FBI was puzzled as he entered the conference room at the white house. The previous night, he had received a call from the President's White House Chief of Staff. A nagging thought troubled him since then. As he entered the state-of-the-art conference hall for this meeting, he glanced towards the chair that was meant for the POTUS- The President of the United States. It was empty. But to the right of that chair was sitting a burly man, the one who had summoned the Director on behalf of the POTUS. The Chief of Staff motioned to the Director to take a seat to his right. The Director smiled- "POTUS not yet back from India, eh George?"

The Chief of Staff smiled back saying nothing.

The Director's Puzzlement grew to surprise when he saw the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff of the Pentagon. He is the highest ranking General of the United States Military. He was seated to the left of POTUS' empty chair. Surely, this was not a Defence meet? And that too when the POTUS was absent. If it was, He was not told about it. There was no specific crisis the Director could think of, that would entail such a meeting. The POTUS was out on a state visit abroad. Surely there was no pressing emergency that the FBI Director wouldn't know of?

His surprise grew to astonishment when he saw the Head of the NASA seated to the left of the Pentagon General. Strange indeed. The Director sat down in his chair. The door opened. In came a tall man whose face the FBI Director very well recognized. He was The CIA Director. The CIA head took a seat beside the FBI Director.

The FBI Director looked at the people around him. He was amused by the thought that the men in this room had enough authority to detonate a nuke on the moon, covertly. He suppressed a chuckle and focused on the agenda at hand.

With all the five men seated, the Chief of Staff began- "I would like to inform all of you that the minutes of this meeting here are not classified. In fact, it is so high on the list of Top Secret that no minutes will be drawn up and this meeting will never be deemed to have taken place."

The FBI Director raised his eye-brows as his mental alarms went off. How many times have such a kind of meeting taken place? He thought to himself.

Zero.

Even the meeting to discuss Osama Bin Laden’s execution had minutes, though it was classified at the highest level. This was something different altogether.

"You may now begin", the Chief of Staff gestured to the head of the NASA.

The NASA head began- "Gentlemen, we have a problem..."

(To Be Continued Tomorrow…..)

MAN FROM TOMORROW (EPISODE 5)

Anita was gently rolled off her savior's arms, and she felt his presence disappear. There was a faint sound of his shoes scraping against the sidewalk when he stepped away. Anita sat up and opened her eyes to see who had risked their life for her. She only saw his back when she spotted him, but it was someone she recognized. It was the man wearing the familiar, tight leather jacket who disappeared into the crowd. Anita was sure it was the same man she bumped into on the sidewalk minutes before, but she hadn’t gotten the chance to thank him. If she didn’t thank the man who saved her, she would not feel good.

She turned her head from the crowd and the man long gone, to the street. The truck that almost hit her idled on the road, the driver jumping out of the front seat to see whether or not he’d hit the woman. Anita saw his face first, an expression of pure panic.

There was no one to blame but herself for that; she knew she would feel the same way if she thought she hit someone. She might even blame herself, regardless of who was at fault. Most people with decent morals would do just the same. He rushed toward her, but she was no longer interested in him. In the corner of her eye, she saw a strip of silk stuck to the kerb. Around it was torn pieces of leather, bits that were scraped off of the man’s coat when he saved her. She grabbed the piece of silk rolled it between her fingers, seeing that it was a tag; where the fabric should have been sewn into clothes there were bits of leather hanging onto the threads. There was no mistaking where it had come from.

She looked up and met eyes with the truck driver walking toward her and she realized then how surreal everything was. She’d brushed up against death and was thinking about the man with the strong arms. How she wanted to drink a cup of tea and fall asleep for the night! How much she wanted to be home, along in her own space. She stifled a sigh and with a shaking hand, moved to brush blonde strands of hair from her face. In the same movement she stuffed the tag into her pocket for later.

“Hey lady, you, all right?” the baffled driver asked her. He stood there, all awkward at first, looking back from the crowd of people on the sidewalk and to her several times before reaching to help her up. Anita hesitated to lift her hand to his, but finally decided to accept his help. Once she was standing, she took a wobbly step backwards, still disoriented from everything that’d happened in the span of the last few minutes. How she was even calm after being in a deathly accident was beyond her.

“Yeah, I…” she looked around, hoping that maybe she could spot the man who helped her. She knew it was a futile thought. A question came out without her even thinking of saying it.

“Did you see who saved me?”

(To Be Continued Tomorrow…..)

MAN FROM TOMORROW (EPISODE 4)

Anita knew that if he didn’t think twice about cheating on her the first time, it would be much easier for him to do it again. Besides, how could she say that this was the first time? Forcing herself to think poorly of her ex didn’t make her feel any better, or make her hurt any less.

Anita’s thoughts shattered into incomprehensible mush when she heard the loudest honk ever. She whipped around to see where it came from. Instead of being down the street or on the other side of the road, it was a vehicle that was heading straight for her.

She realized then, she was no longer on the sidewalk; no longer surrounded by strangers walking along the same path. Her eyes widened with fear, not able to react in any other way while in such a state of shock.

How hadn’t she noticed that she had stepped off the kerb? She became paralyzed at the thought of turning into road kill. Her first thoughts after that realization were all morbid; she is too young to die, too pretty to die, and too smart to die by being such an idiot.

One thought then replaced everything else as she gazed into the speeding truck’s headlights: She was going to die. There was no doubt about it. She surrendered herself to that fate, though she still managed to take a startled step back. Again the vehicle’s horn blared at her, a deafening sound that made her body shake, but she remained frozen. There was nothing she could do but wait for the inevitable. Finally, she managed to force her eyes shut, no longer wishing to see the incoming vehicle. She opened her pink lips to scream, but no sound came. Maybe she’d already been hit; her voice had been knocked out of her.

Her world seemed to topple over, and everything, for a moment, went black. There was no faint light in a tunnel seen from beneath her closed eyelids. Had she died? Was it over already? She hadn’t sensed anything at all.

She realized that wasn’t the case when her hearing returned, hearing the echo of the horn screaming at her. The sound of screeching tires erased all the city’s other sounds beneath its urgent, terrifying squeal. Anita couldn’t feel anything more than her hair thrashing around her, and it was like she was alone in the centre of a storm. Anita didn’t know how much time passed, but finally her hair stilled and she sensed her side crumple against something-the ground; it was like a year had passed.

She was dead, either everything was broken, or she was out of it. Time would tell.

She realized then, the force that knocked her away wasn’t the steel frame of the vehicle; instead she felt another person’s arms around her, a familiar sensation, like the ghost of a memory. Her weight fell on top of his body when they both crashed into the edge of the street. she heard a masculine grunt when they landed.

But as quickly as her savior's arms were around her, they were gone.

(To Be Continued Tomorrow…..)

MAN FROM TOMORROW (EPISODE 3)

Anita at least, kind of hoped her boyfriend would call her back. Because then, maybe she could offer him the same pain he’d given her, by not returning.

She didn’t stop to turn around and see if she was right; there was no way she would be dumb enough to bother risking her sanity by spending another moment in that man’s presence. Only minutes had passed since she fled the coffee shop, and her mind was already clouded with dark thoughts. Thoughts she knew would continue, unless she kept moving and found someplace where she could be on her own. For the moment, she’d forgotten about the man she bumped into on the sidewalk.

Anita focused her gaze on the sidewalk ahead of her, taking deep breaths to slow the tears and erase her thoughts. At first it seemed to work, but erasing her thoughts was to prove a fatal mistake. Within moments of being calm, she became worse. It would be impossible for her to be better while surrounded by so many people; there was no point in trying.

Her determination stretched in a different direction instead, aiming not to feel better, but to get away from her current surroundings. The loud, busy atmosphere was getting to her head, and she needed to get out before she went insane. At least now she had a purpose in running so fast.

She continued racing alongside her fellow citizens- most of who didn’t like her shoving by- it was getting more difficult to avoid people without pushing someone else out of the way; her pace slowed to the point where she was reduced to walking, and then she was standing still. She was determined to go on, but her limbs began to shake with the terror accompanied by the dark thoughts seeping into her mind.

She had to move on for fear she’d collapse into a sobbing mess in front of a hundred strangers. The thought was horrifying enough, but that her mind was deteriorating by the second was enough to prompt her into shoving her way through the crowd. She pushed through the crowd, but while she did so, she couldn’t quite avoid pondering why she was such a disaster over a breakup.

It wasn’t even that she was particularly hurt by having to break things off with her boyfriend; it was the betrayal that came along with it. Even focusing on pushing through the crowd became a chore. It was difficult to keep her mind off of all the events surrounding her current state.

Anita and her boyfriend had been together for two years now. She’d become comfortable with him, more so in the last one year, and it all turned out to be for nothing. Several days prior he asked her if she’d be interested in an open relationship, something that she clarified she had no interest in. Not that she wanted to limit the man’s sexual pleasure… she just wasn’t comfortable with it, and that’s what she told him. Instead of leaving it at that and respecting her wishes or breaking it off, he’d fooled around with another woman. She figured that, if he so let himself be discovered, he’d been fooling around for some time already. He had stopped caring enough to hide it from her. She had then decided it was time to break it off.

(To Be Continued Tomorrow…..)

MAN FROM TOMORROW (EPISODE 2)

The young woman dashed through the crowd of city dwellers clogging the sidewalks. She was dodging those blocking her path, but not enough to avoid them. No one liked it when she inadvertently hit them with an arm or a shoulder on her way by. Their nasty looks and angry words didn’t faze her one bit.

The Starbucks she ran from was half a block away by the time she lifted her arm and used the sleeve of her jacket to wipe away the tears streaming down her cheeks. Her momentum faltered, and she stopped dead in her tracks in an attempt to collect herself. But someone else’s arm slammed into her side with enough force to topple her over.

Her body arched sideways to fall, and she did before the man who hit her moved with lightning speed to catch her. His strong arms wrapped around her waist in an embrace, for the briefest of seconds before he pulled back from her, steadying them both on the sidewalk. 

He pulled her back up to her feet effortlessly. Both of them remained in the middle of the sidewalk. Due to their encounter, they stared into each other’s eyes, neither sure what words would defuse the situation. Angry walkers still wandered about around them, grumbling and cursing them for taking up much of the walkway.

The man stared at her long enough to see that the woman’s light blue eyes were puffy from crying, and that her cheeks were still streaked with tears. More tears continued to stream as they stared at each other, and she was too stunned to back away. 

Realizing that he had noticed her distress, she mumbled an apology before turning and fleeing in the same direction as before. Away from him.

He remained standing on the sidewalk, knowing that something more was off about the woman than just her distress. For a moment he only walked, but then he followed.

Anita Williams thought as she walked away from the encounter; that the man looked like no one else she’d seen before. Not that he was attractive- he was, a little. He had dark hair and eyes. That didn’t matter to her. 

But in the brief glimpse she had of him, she noticed that there was something about him that seemed off. The intense feelings she experienced while gazing at him during her suspended fall were unlike anything she ever felt before. 

She couldn’t quite place what she felt, either. 

Awe? 

Confusion? 

Perhaps a sense that combined both, but its name escaped her; if it had a name at all. She wanted to know why she felt this way. 

With more consideration, she realized it was his arms that she noticed. When they were wrapped around her for the briefest of time, she felt how muscular they were. Anita had been with many muscular men in her life, and still she’d seen nothing like it. Felt nothing like that before- never thought it was even possible. 

Once he’d let her go, she couldn’t help but glance at his arms. They were covered with a sleek leather jacket. Beneath that, his muscles pressed hard against the expensive fabric. They were incredibly eye catching and visible. Her thoughts were quickly taken from that track, however, when she swore, she heard her now ex-boyfriend calling her from behind. 

                                               (To Be Continued Tomorrow.....)

[Dear Readers, beginning today, I will be publishing DAILY EPISODES of 'THE MAN FROM TOMORROW'. Please Subscribe/Follow for Daily Updates. Wish you all an interesting DAILY READING experience! ]

MAN FROM TOMORROW (EPISODE 1)

PROLOGUE

Somewhere in North Korea...

A lone bespectacled man clutching a briefcase approached the reception desk. He was in his forties, average height. There was nothing to set him apart from his countrymen except a linear scar across his forehead. The spectacles made it more prominent. He wore the yellowish green uniform of the Korean People's Liberation Army (KPLA). Chest lapels wore no decorations but two bronze stars polished to sparkle, adored his shoulder lapels. He wore a cap. On his chest was a neat name badge. It read ‘MAJOR KWANG’.  

He was at the office of the Vice-Chancellor of the University; there weren’t many in this country. That the Institution also housed the fastest supercomputer wasn’t coincidence either. Closing time approached. The University would remain on holiday for the weekend plus a few days thereafter, on account of the Great Leader’s birthday festival. 

The young lady with a heavy make-up, at the reception raised her head, a broad smile on her face. 

"Yes sir, how can I...."

"I am Major Kwang.” the man cut her off in the middle. 

"Take me to your Vice-Chancellor. Now!" 

The smile from her face disappeared. She began to tell something, but stopped. There was something menacing to this robot-faced man. She dare not tell him that the Vice-Chancellor is busy, and unavailable.

"Yes sir, please follow," she came out of her desk and led him across the big hall.

With practised military rigidity, Major Kwang followed her. 

The reception hall-cum-lounge of the University was huge to say the least. An old palace renovated, it still exuded ancient grandeur and majesty. It took the duo a full minute to arrive at the Vice-Chancellor's office on the first floor. 

The receptionist knocked gently over the massive teak doors. No response came from within.

They waited for a while.

She noticed that the man was getting irritated and his mask like face began breaking into frowns.

Feeling uneasy, she pushed the door. It was not locked and opened inside.

Afraid to face the Vice-Chancellor, she stood back and motioned the man to get inside. She waited till he went inside and then closed the door behind him. 

She did not want to get rebuked by the Vice-Chancellor before a stranger.

The Vice-Chancellor, a man in his sixties, bald head and wrinkled face, looked up from his papers and adjusted his spectacles. Unannounced intrusion annoyed him. He decided to discipline his receptionist and threaten her.

As he raised his head, he noticed the man from the army. His expression changed from annoyance into a broad grin.

He rose from his chair and greeted the person

"Welcome to the University..."

"I am Major Kwang, I have a message from the General."

He opened his brief case and took out a sealed envelope in one swift motion and handed over to the Vice-Chancellor.

"Of course..."

The Vice-Chancellor mumbled and opened the letter, which had only two lines in it. He extended his hand to the guest.

"How is the Gen..."

"Open the room." Major Kwang was terse.

The Vice-Chancellor looked up at the man who cut short his pleasantries. 

He took back his hand.

"Yes comrade, please follow me."

He came out of his desk, walked towards a huge safe, punched in some numbers and opened it.

He extracted a wooden box and opened it...

A gold-plated Key was inside.

Without looking at the Major, he took the key and led him to another room across the lounge in the same floor.

He opened the room and waved the Major in.

Vice-Chancellor switched on the lights and in a moment the grandeur of the room came alive.

He turned towards Major Kwang and began to tell something.

Kwang did not look at him. He was looking at the massive machine occupying half the big room.

He raised his hand towards the Vice-Chancellor and said "You can go."

"Ok comrade, in case you need...."

"You go now." the man seemed irritated.

The Vice-Chancellor left the room closing the doors behind him. 

Major Kwang was waiting for this moment for the last one decade. At last, he could play with the toy of his fantasy.

He went to the world's fastest supercomputer and sat in awe of it for a full minute.

He switched it on. Within minutes, it came to life and began humming. It would shortly go online.

He did some basic checks and appeared satisfied. He opened his briefcase, got the pen drives and CDs out and inserted them into the super computer.

He knew the task ahead would not be easy. He was prepared for that.

Major Kwang, a computer expert in the Korean People's Liberation Army, was about to unleash the full might of the world's most powerful supercomputer, hitherto non-existent, on an unsuspecting yet formidable American Target.

***

The tall, muscular man stood in a dim room, lit only by the slits of light filtering through the window blinds. He was standing beside the sun’s rays, allowing them to shine undisturbed onto the adjacent wall. The soft Eastern European sun illuminated the wall in an otherwise dark and eerie room.

Twelve photographs on the wall, aligned in 2 neat rows. The first picture, that of a woman, not young, in her mid-forties, and not good-looking. There was a red ‘X’ drawn over her. The next picture, a man, he too, marked by ‘X’. Eleven of the twelve photos held the same mark. The final picture on the wall was unmarked, on his photo there was nothing, as unlike the others, he remained living.

The man stared at each photo for a considerable length of time. He watched their lifeless eyes and faces, remembering how each of them looked when he took their lives. 

Distinct from most assassins, he was always with them in person when their heart stopped beating. Each time a new mark died, he heard their last breath, saw the light drain from their eyes, and felt their heart stop. Contrast to most killers, these experiences, different for each person who died by his hands, allowed him to cherish every one of his victims. He believed that when they died, they became a part of him, a part of who he was. A part of his whole. 

But his latest target had escaped him. He was more frustrated than he would admit; Few knew of the ritual he spent a decade perfecting, and that was how he liked it. Here, he spent weeks tracking him, and then right when he was about to move in for the kill, he disappeared, off of the face of the earth. Only two days ago he was told that his target would be traced. Therefore, today he was expecting a call that would give him the finalized details. Soon he would know where 'He' was, and soon he could resume the hunt. 'He' would become a part of him, just like all the others.

His gaze remained on the elusive target's photo for a long time, much longer than the time he allotted for his already deceased victims. He didn’t need to look at them for as long; they were always a part of him, and he already knew how they affected him. But this man, he was a different story. He didn’t yet know how this man would change him. The vibration of his cellphone broke his reverie. The man turned away from his wall of photographs, picked it up, and said nothing, waiting for the other end to speak first.

"It's time." It was a voice that he hadn’t heard in a while. He scratched his tightly shaved scalp; a personal choice.

"Very well. When will I have the details?” he asked. 

His accent was only noticeable to those with a keen ear, as the once thick, Eastern European accent was replaced with a more tasteful, American style accent.

"You’ll be receiving what you need to know via an encrypted e-mail within the next forty minutes. A flight has already been arranged. You are to leave at once. No time to waste.”

The line went dead, but the man held the cell to his ear for another moment before he slid it back into his pocket. He crossed his arms and looked back to his wall of photos. While he was never happy to leave them, he had no choice but to resume his hunt. He was a slave to the pull and desire to kill. It was comforting to know that soon he would return, and when he did, his whole self would be different.

***

A single computer console remained lit in the dark lab that housed the Supercomputer. The Major of the KPLA leaning over it was enthralled in his work. He determined to finish what he started; a project he knew, if successful, would be worth more than anything.

He tilted his head away from the computer to rest his eyes; the constant white light was draining him. He reminisced for a while, the look on the Vice-Chancellor's face when he saw the letter. That was many hours ago. Now it was deep in the night. Light from the screen still reflected off his glasses while he looked elsewhere, but a moment later he focused his gaze on the monitor in front of him. His eyes narrowed on the several programs remaining open on the computer screen. All the programs worked together to achieve a unified goal: to get access to the NASA computer network.

The man typed away for two minutes before leaning back in his chair. He eyed the screen, only for a second, and then moved back in to tap a few keys before resuming his relaxed position, this time crossing his arms. His progress noted on the screen, he watched with great interest as different lines of code got scanned and analyzed; most only showing on the screen for a split second. He knew he was getting close, but yet felt far from reaching his goal. It was no surprise when the program stopped abruptly. Its body highlighted with the word- ‘ERROR’. Where all the previous lines of codes were displayed, a single strip remained highlighted and blinking, telling him exactly where the error had occurred. Though, much to his annoyance, not what was wrong with it.

He opened the panel that displayed the written code he provided. Looking through it to discover where he went wrong didn’t take much time; deciding how to fix the problem did. He had given the program a very specific command, and he would have to make some serious changes to continue with that command. He would have to rewrite several sections of it so as to have it complete the same process a different way. This opened the code up for more potential errors. He took a moment to stretch his legs. He fiddled his fingers in an overhang of hesitation. Finally waiting with his hands gripping his forearms, deep in thought, came to a decision. For the next several minutes he adjusted the code to complement his new plan; he rewrote complete sections of code, reordered the entire script, and then finally restarted the program altogether. 

It booted up with no immediate errors and began running through his new code, but there was something telling him that it wouldn’t be enough. He waited until several seconds passed after all of the program’s processes were active. He ran his fingers across the keyboard, took a deep breath and felt a tinge of pride in the strength of his code. He wasn’t sure of its ability to combat the protective measures set in place to guard the computer network. He ended up giving his programs and his own system more commands to combat the security features keeping him from his goal.

The computer took some time to process the commands, but it was soon ready. It then began moving through them, success after success, until it paused at 99%. It remained there for several more minutes before it ticked to 100%, but even then, it wasn’t quite finished. Another minute passed before the program completed all of its background work and brightened with the words ‘ACCESS GRANTED’. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He blinked and watched the screen, waiting for the computer to tell him there was an error. That was what he expected to happen; it couldn’t have been quite that easy. Yet, there was never any sign of a problem. His hand hovered over the mouse for a moment. His fingers touched down on it. A wide grin spread on his face as he began to navigate the complex directories in the system he’d accessed. Somehow, despite all the odds being stacked against him, he’d gotten in.

***

He took his time looking through the system. There was no nook, cranny, or file that went unopened by the end of his search. But he quickly stumbled upon a single folder with an additional layer of protection. Having password protected folders inside a heavily guarded directory wasn’t unheard of. It only confirmed that there was something valuable inside; there was no way he intended to leave something that NASA considered that valuable unopened and unsearched.

There were two ways he could break the code, but he figured he’d start with the simplest. He opened up an intelligent program specifically designed to crack difficult passwords, which would definitely be the case here. If they bothered protecting it at all, it wasn’t going to be some flimsy four-character password he could guess on his own. Breaking encryptions like these was the reason he was at the console of the world's most advanced supercomputer. He spent the first several minutes tuning the program to the NASA system, and resetting the features enabled for his last hacking endeavor. He did not do much to set it accordingly. Once set, he clicked the ‘START’ button on the screen. It ran and began doing its thing. While it did so, the man couldn’t help but wonder at the complexity of how the program worked. He was its principal creator. But he hadn’t had any time to dig deeper inside to see if it would work.

His attention turned back to the program. It was still adjusting itself to the changes he had made before it tried to get around the system’s strong encryption architecture. At first it only scanned the password system put in place. It seemed to be taking its time, determining how difficult the code would be to crack. As soon as he thought that, however, he picked up his cup of coffee from the desk and lifted it to his lips. Before he’d even been able to take a sip, the password lock broke. He was all the way in.

He took a long quick gulp of coffee. He was hesitant to move on; unsure whether he’d actually gotten in or if the foreign system had just sprung a trap. The anonymity and possibility of denial was what had led him to use a University Supercomputer rather than a defense Supercomputer. There was no dearth of defense super-computing systems in his country. But the Americans cataloged and carefully monitored them in real-time. The time log on supercomputers in the University was also monitored secretly by the Americans. That's why The Major had to use a hitherto undeclared Supercomputing grid, the key to which the Vice-Chancellor had given. It was like the power of the Supercomputer had not existed before it was put online by the Vice-Chancellor's Gold-plated key. The Americans would be taken by surprise by this new, humungously powerful system suddenly coming online. And by the time they traced it, a long period would have passed. Not that long, but long enough to get his work done. 

He reasoned that if it were a trap, there wasn’t much he could do about it now. It was better to see what he found and suffer the consequences of his discovery later on, if that were even the case. There was no more hesitation in his thoughts when he went ahead and began navigating the folder and everything inside. The main folder had a single name-"PROJECT 209". The Major's eyes sparkled with patriotic delight.

***

The first folder contained three more, all of which opened to a variety of different files. Everything in each one, however, was encrypted. The man was tempted to sort through it all right then and there, but it was already getting late. No matter how curious he was as to the file’s contents, it could wait until leisure. Then, he could review everything with a fresh mind, and make sure everything he found was correct and not a ruse for something else. So much time was already spent accessing this information, and there was no way he could leave it behind. He carefully compiled everything from the once protected folders onto his machine, ready for him to review once he went back to where he came from. He then took one final sweep over the system, just to be sure that there wasn’t anything of interest that he missed.

Before leaving, he organized the compiled files according to how he found them. Some were encrypted, others not, and the ones that were in the folder he spent extra time cracking, were kept separate from all of those. Once he decided he was done, he exited, without a trace. He went through the procedure of shutting down the grid in the reverse order of how he had started it. Finally he locked the key securely back in place. While hacking into NASA, he had pirated signals from Japan, China, Russia and even some countries from Europe. Any attempt to trace him would lead to dead-end searches to all these countries. These countries have heavy internet traffic. The Major’s foray would be lost in the heavy internet haze of the Far East and Europe. 

Even if traced, the servers and the extra grid would be dismantled in the next few days anyway, making it extremely difficult to trace the hack to this time and place. It would be replaced by a new system, for a future contingency. True, it would cost a few tens of millions of dollars. But neither he nor his government cared for such 'extravagance', for the resources of the state were plenty, if America was the target. And his Great Leader had pretty deep pockets for such endeavours. His people could starve, while he played with his toys. Even if somehow traced to this time and place, its was the University Vice-Chancellor that was answerable. The Vice-Chancellor, honoring the instructions in the letter had allowed him to use this awesome machine. Explaining the machine’s usage to the Army top brass was the Vice-Chancellor’s responsibility. Unauthorised access or anything off, the Vice-Chancellor would face the music, execution even. 

Daylight was breaking, though it was not the first time he had seen sunset and sunrise in a single wakeful sitting. He placed the Disks carrying the hacked information in his briefcase. It had been a long Day, and night. And he was satisfied with a work well done.  It didn’t bother the man that he was not actually Major Kwang from the KPLA.

(This will be a weekly series. To be continued next Sunday on DAILY BASIS......)