Perturbed Future

            35-year-old Gambit stepped onto the pod on the platform in his clunky astronaut-like suit, knees shaking. He looked upon the giant portal-like structure in front of him. He was about to become become the first human to travel through time.

            “Start up the machine!” yelled one scientist. Another wrote down various codes on a screen and pushed down on a lever.

            Gambit looked on in awe. The machine began whirring, subtly at first. Within minutes it began to grow louder, sparks accompanying the noise. 

            “Set up the date!” 

            The technicians, furious at work, set the date to be August 1st, 3012. Gambit gulped. The whirring had grown into a furious roar, and the sparks had grown in number. 

            “T minus ten seconds.”

            Gambit braced himself.

            “And launch!”

            And with that, Gambit’s pod was launched from its platform into the ever sparking portal. 

            One of the scientists picked up the radio communicator and dispatched, “Gambit, this is the crew. Do you copy?”

            “Loud and clear, sir.” Everyone got up and clapped in unison, cheering happily. 

            “Congratulations on becoming the first time traveler!” exclaimed the dispatcher. 

“It’s an honor. I—”  the transmission was cut short.

“Hello? Gambit do you copy?”  Silence followed. “Gambit, do you copy?” The crew members were getting concerned, exchanging glances of worry.

“Gambit, do you copy?” repeated the scientist. As the crew was getting increasingly perturbed, a dusty pod suddenly shot out of the portal. 

A message finally came back from the radio:  “Shut down the portal, now!”

The technicians quickly worked, flipping switches and typing furiously. The dispatcher saw silhouettes of figures from the portal that resembled humans, but were much lankier and paler in complexion. An arm was outstretched, and crossed the portal.

“Hurry, we don’t have much time before they cross!”

Finally the time machine deactivated, closing up the portal and severing the arm of whatever entity attempted to cross. The crew breathed a sigh of relief. 

The crew’s attention was now directed to the crumbling pod that had just come out. The doors of the pod opened, revealing a man in a decaying astronaut suit. He lifted up his helmet, revealing an old man, wrinkled and greying. 

“Gambit?” asked the dispatcher.

            The man took his communicator from the dashboard and replied, “It’s been over 30 years since I last heard someone call me by that name.”

            The dispatcher looked troubled. “What were those figures? Is that the future that lies before mankind?”

            Gambit chuckled, “That’s just the tip of the iceberg of the horrors that are to come.”

© David Yang

 

Bio: David Yang lives in Cerritos California where he attends Cerritos High school. His hobbies include playing tennis, drawing, and reading comic books. He can often be found playing tennis with his friends and family during the summer. In particular, David Yang has always shown a strong interest in drawing. Although drawing to him at first was a way to relieve his boredom, David soon realized that he could use this skill to channel his emotions and creativity. As a result, he is often seen drawing in order to both stimulate his creativity and to express how he sees the world.