CHAPTER THREE: SAVING TIME
He finished the work on a weekday night. At first it didn't even register, and then he stepped back and realised that he'd created a perfect replica of the Chronos in his garage.
Well, almost perfect. Like he'd thought about, he'd disguised it as a photo booth complete with a working camera. Just to be safe. As safe as he could get with this enormity in his house, anyway.
Hiro put a hand on the machine, feeling the cool metal under his fingertips. Then he wiped the sweat from his brow and broke into a hesitant, relieved smile. He'd finally done it. All that remained was to go back to the past, stop Tadashi from going into the fire, and live the life he was meant to.
With a start, Hiro glanced up at the calendar and realised that 12:01 tipped him right into April 14th. The day of Tadashi's death. Exactly two years, then. How fitting it felt--as if all the stars had aligned themselves for this fateful moment.
But now he was just being dramatic. Hiro gave himself a little shake and stepped into the Chronos II, skin tingling. The door let out a soft swish as he closed it behind him and sat down gingerly. Swiftly Hiro got rid of the false photo booth cover and into the time travel system.
Cold and blue, the screen blinked back at him. Strangely, Hiro hesitated for just a second, trembling fingers hovering over the keys. His mind buzzed with pure adrenaline, and he couldn't think straight.
Breathe.
Taking a deep breath, Hiro set the time and date.
April 14, 2032, 10:30 PM.
The night of the showcase. The night of the fire. The night he was going to change forever.
The little red light next to the screen flashed once. A brief, high-pitched beep rang out. In no time at all he'd travelled two years into the past.
Again Hiro took a breath, feeling the still air fill his lungs, and opened the door of the Chronos II.
~~~
To an outsider, the garage wouldn't look any different, but Hiro knew instantly that Chronos II had worked. For one thing, the dark space had a lot less mess, missing the clutter that had accumulated over two years. For another, he could feel it. No matter how unscientific it sounded, he could feel it. Not so much in the place itself, but in his connection to it--he felt floaty, detached, the same way he used to feel on those half-lit evenings when he sat in his beanbag chair and thought about Tadashi.
That same detachment followed Hiro as he left the garage, double-checking the calendar on the wall just to be sure. Usually after a project worked he would celebrate, let out a couple of exhilarated whoops, but this time he only felt devastatingly clear-headed. It wasn't his project. It was his mission. With that he refocused his mind, narrowing his eyes, gulping in breaths of night air, and boarding the train to the Institute.
He had timed his arrival well. As he disembarked and checked his mobile phone the night was still silent and cool, but he knew that the fire had probably already begun to lick at the exhibits in the Showcase Hall. He had memorized the exact time the explosion went off, and ten minutes remained for him to make his way there and stop his brother from making the worst mistake of his too-short life. Yet Hiro couldn't take his time; his steps were powered with a fervent urgency.
Grinding to a halt just outside the hall, Hiro looked up at the imposing building, now engulfed in flames, lighting up the night with an orange glow like a massive funeral pyre. Two years and still the horror was just as fresh. But he couldn't afford to stand there immobilized, no matter the fears screaming in the corners of his mind. At the edge of the fire he saw two small figures, the taller one in a baseball cap standing on the stairs, the shorter one clutching the other's arm, shaking his head in a silent "no."
Hiro ran.
As much as seeing his younger self jolted him, he ran with singleness of purpose, yelling at Tadashi to stop. The confusion in their eyes flashing past him, Hiro rammed straight into his brother, the sixteen-year-old doing what his fourteen-year-old self could not, saving Tadashi through sheer, desperate force. The hapless young man soon recovered from the shock of having a complete stranger bowl into him and started to fight back, but then turned to the Showcase Hall as it blew up, sending out vibrations that knocked all three to the ground.
The sound of the explosion still ringing in his ears, Hiro struggled to his feet. Relief surged over him in a crashing wave, slackening his tense muscles so much he almost fell over again, washing away that cold determination with a burst of warmth.
He'd actually done it. His crazy, stupid, outlandish idea had worked. In spite of everything he'd saved Tadashi, snatched him right back from the fiery jaws of death.
He'd saved Tadashi.
Said Tadashi--how incredibly good to see him again!--was right then staring at him with a befuddled expression on his beautifully alive face. Next to him Hiro saw a brief puzzlement in 2032-Hiro's eyes. He laughed then, huge, gasping, relieved laughs that threatened to split his face in two. This only increased their perplexity, but still he laughed.
Controlling himself, he levelled a steady gaze at Tadashi, unable to keep the corner of his mouth from turning upwards. "You're welcome," he said cryptically. "Don't do anything else stupid."
Leaving them at a loss, he headed back to the garage with the job done, feeling like he was floating on air. In a haze of joy he pushed the "return" button. How would Tadashi look two years older? Surely not too different. Surely he would still have that easy smile and reassuring voice that made you feel like you could do anything. Anything--like travelling back in time to save a dead man.
Back in his own time, Hiro fell over the curb of the Chronos II in his excitement, anticipation pricking up his arms. Didn't the garage look just a little more orderly than when he left it? Of course. Tadashi was far more organized than he. At that moment Hiro looked very much as he had as a child: spikes of hair falling into his face, brown eyes wide, flashing a gap-toothed grin. He charged into the house, calling out his brother's name in a loud voice, certain that any moment he would hear a yelled "yes?" in reply.
That same detachment followed Hiro as he left the garage, double-checking the calendar on the wall just to be sure. Usually after a project worked he would celebrate, let out a couple of exhilarated whoops, but this time he only felt devastatingly clear-headed. It wasn't his project. It was his mission. With that he refocused his mind, narrowing his eyes, gulping in breaths of night air, and boarding the train to the Institute.
He had timed his arrival well. As he disembarked and checked his mobile phone the night was still silent and cool, but he knew that the fire had probably already begun to lick at the exhibits in the Showcase Hall. He had memorized the exact time the explosion went off, and ten minutes remained for him to make his way there and stop his brother from making the worst mistake of his too-short life. Yet Hiro couldn't take his time; his steps were powered with a fervent urgency.
Grinding to a halt just outside the hall, Hiro looked up at the imposing building, now engulfed in flames, lighting up the night with an orange glow like a massive funeral pyre. Two years and still the horror was just as fresh. But he couldn't afford to stand there immobilized, no matter the fears screaming in the corners of his mind. At the edge of the fire he saw two small figures, the taller one in a baseball cap standing on the stairs, the shorter one clutching the other's arm, shaking his head in a silent "no."
Hiro ran.
As much as seeing his younger self jolted him, he ran with singleness of purpose, yelling at Tadashi to stop. The confusion in their eyes flashing past him, Hiro rammed straight into his brother, the sixteen-year-old doing what his fourteen-year-old self could not, saving Tadashi through sheer, desperate force. The hapless young man soon recovered from the shock of having a complete stranger bowl into him and started to fight back, but then turned to the Showcase Hall as it blew up, sending out vibrations that knocked all three to the ground.
The sound of the explosion still ringing in his ears, Hiro struggled to his feet. Relief surged over him in a crashing wave, slackening his tense muscles so much he almost fell over again, washing away that cold determination with a burst of warmth.
He'd actually done it. His crazy, stupid, outlandish idea had worked. In spite of everything he'd saved Tadashi, snatched him right back from the fiery jaws of death.
He'd saved Tadashi.
Said Tadashi--how incredibly good to see him again!--was right then staring at him with a befuddled expression on his beautifully alive face. Next to him Hiro saw a brief puzzlement in 2032-Hiro's eyes. He laughed then, huge, gasping, relieved laughs that threatened to split his face in two. This only increased their perplexity, but still he laughed.
Controlling himself, he levelled a steady gaze at Tadashi, unable to keep the corner of his mouth from turning upwards. "You're welcome," he said cryptically. "Don't do anything else stupid."
Leaving them at a loss, he headed back to the garage with the job done, feeling like he was floating on air. In a haze of joy he pushed the "return" button. How would Tadashi look two years older? Surely not too different. Surely he would still have that easy smile and reassuring voice that made you feel like you could do anything. Anything--like travelling back in time to save a dead man.
Back in his own time, Hiro fell over the curb of the Chronos II in his excitement, anticipation pricking up his arms. Didn't the garage look just a little more orderly than when he left it? Of course. Tadashi was far more organized than he. At that moment Hiro looked very much as he had as a child: spikes of hair falling into his face, brown eyes wide, flashing a gap-toothed grin. He charged into the house, calling out his brother's name in a loud voice, certain that any moment he would hear a yelled "yes?" in reply.
But no such answer was forthcoming, and Hiro's grin weakened. He searched the house, pounding on doors. Perhaps Tadashi had just fallen asleep? Yet the bed upstairs was desolately empty save for a single baseball cap. Had he gone out? Hiro occupied himself with these questions instead of noticing that the attic room appeared unchanged, ignoring the itching dread at the back of his mind.
Then Aunt Cass came up from the cafe, letting out a little sigh as she stretched tired legs. Hiro bounded down the stairs, striking elbows against the banister. "Where's Tadashi?" he burst out, and watched the exhaustion in her eyes turn into unmixed pain.
"Hiro, I..." His aunt hesitated, voice quavery, stating what he'd been trying to avoid for several minutes. "Don't you remember? Tadashi's gone." She fought tears as he recoiled, speaking in a whisper more to herself than to him. "I thought you were better, Hiro...even in those days you never...how did you forget?"
Hiro barely heard her, too busy with his own demons. Her words forced him to face the truth. It hadn't worked. He'd pushed Tadashi out of the way with his own hands, he'd seen the two brothers leave safely with his own eyes, and yet somehow it still hadn't worked. Tadashi was just as dead as he'd ever been.
Dazed, Hiro stumbled back to the garage and into the stillness of the Chronos II. For a minute he just sat there, head in his hands. What had gone wrong?
He was going back. He needed answers. That was what they always said at school. If something didn't work the first time, figure out why and fix it. If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.
Hands trembling, he once again keyed in a time and date, only minutes after he'd stopped Tadashi from going into the fire. What had happened in those minutes? Had Tadashi run in anyway? It would be just like him.
But no. As Hiro once again traced the steps to the Institute, steps he'd walked hundreds of times and would walk hundreds of times more, he saw the two figures moving away from the inferno. His relief, though, was short-lived, because though it wasn't the fire something had happened, and he needed to find out what.
Then he saw it.
It came around the bend too fast, a mass of screaming metal, and before either Hiro could react it smashed into their brother, who crumpled to the ground like a loose-jointed doll.
Hiro's blood was rushing, yet he took far, far too long to reach Tadashi and fall to his knees beside him. "No, no, no," he muttered, feeling at Tadashi's wrist, looking wildly about for anyone, anything that might help, but knowing from one look at that white face that his brother was dead.
The younger Hiro too had fallen to the ground, but he wasn't hurt, only winded, and staring at the sky in shock. Hiro gazed into those enormous young eyes--how strange to see them on the face of another--and felt an immeasurably heavy sadness.
"I'll come back," he promised, and left once more for his own time.
He didn't see the tiny robot thrown out of a jacket pocket and flopping on the floor.
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