The air rippled like heat waves on asphalt as the device in Damian Cole’s hand crackled to life. It was a small, unassuming object—a cube of sleek metal with glowing blue lines etched into its surface. A moment later, a deafening pop echoed through the deserted alley, and Damian staggered forward, clutching the cube tightly.
He had made it back. Year 2025. Ten minutes before the event that would seal humanity’s fate.
The future Damian had left behind was a smoldering wasteland, a world where the skies burned red and the ground was cracked with drought. Civilization had collapsed into chaos, all because of one catastrophic moment: the detonation of a bioengineered bomb in the heart of the city. Billions of lives snuffed out in seconds, and the survivors cursed with mutations and madness. Humanity’s worst mistake, all traced to this single point in time.
Damian’s mission was clear—stop the bomb, save the future.
He checked the watch on his wrist. Nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds. The glowing countdown pulsed in sync with his racing heartbeat. He stuffed the cube into his jacket pocket and sprinted down the alley, merging into the crowded streets of New Manhattan.
The city buzzed with life, oblivious to the disaster about to unfold. Neon signs flickered above storefronts, holographic advertisements projected enticing deals, and throngs of people moved with the kind of distracted urgency that modern life demanded. Damian pushed through the crowd, scanning faces, searching for the woman who held the key to everything: Dr. Eliza Morgan.
Dr. Morgan was a brilliant geneticist, a pioneer in bioengineering. She had no idea that the experimental technology she had developed was about to be weaponized by rogue operatives within her own research institute. Damian had seen the footage in the archives—a grainy recording of her entering the institute’s lab, carrying the prototype in a secure case. Minutes later, the explosion.
He found her outside a café, sipping coffee and scrolling through her tablet. She looked younger than he had expected, her auburn hair tied back in a loose ponytail, glasses perched on her nose. She exuded an air of quiet intensity, the kind that came from living in her own world of equations and discoveries.
“Dr. Morgan,” Damian said, approaching her table.
She looked up, startled. “Do I know you?”
“No, but we don’t have time for introductions. You’re in danger, and so is everyone in this city.”
Her brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”
“The prototype you’ve been working on,” Damian said, lowering his voice. “It’s been compromised. Someone’s planning to use it as a weapon.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know about the prototype? That project is classified.”
“I know because I’m from the future.”
She stared at him for a long moment, then laughed, a short, incredulous sound. “This is a joke, right? Some kind of prank?”
Damian pulled the cube from his pocket and set it on the table. The glowing lines pulsed faintly, casting an eerie light over the café table. “Does this look like a joke to you? This is a temporal displacement device. It’s how I got here.”
Dr. Morgan’s skepticism didn’t waver, but her curiosity was piqued. “Assuming I believe you, which I don’t, why come to me? What am I supposed to do about it?”
“You created the technology. You know how it works. If we act quickly, we can stop this.”
She shook her head. “Even if what you’re saying is true, I can’t just abandon my work. My team is waiting for me at the lab.”
“That’s exactly what they want,” Damian said. “The moment you walk through those doors, they’ll take the prototype and detonate it. I’ve seen it happen.”
The weight of his words seemed to sink in. Dr. Morgan leaned back in her chair, her expression conflicted. “If I don’t go, what happens to my team? They’re innocent.”
Damian hesitated. “There’s no easy answer. But if we don’t stop this now, billions will die. The entire planet will suffer.”
She glanced at her watch. “How much time do we have?”
“Seven minutes,” Damian said.
Dr. Morgan stood abruptly, grabbing her bag. “Then let’s go.”
They arrived at the lab with three minutes to spare. The building was a towering structure of glass and steel, its modern design hiding the sinister events unfolding within. Damian and Dr. Morgan slipped through a side entrance, avoiding the main lobby where security guards were stationed.
“The prototype is in Lab 7,” she whispered as they moved through the sterile hallways. “It’s heavily secured. How do you plan to get in?”
Damian held up the cube. “This isn’t just a time travel device. It can disrupt electronic systems. Give me thirty seconds, and I’ll get us inside.”
They reached Lab 7, where a keypad and biometric scanner guarded the entrance. Damian pressed the cube against the keypad, and the glowing lines brightened. The lock emitted a high-pitched whine, then clicked open.
Inside, the lab was a maze of equipment and workstations. At the center of the room sat a metal case, identical to the one Damian had seen in the footage. He approached it cautiously, his heart pounding.
“Wait,” Dr. Morgan said. “If you tamper with it, you could set it off.”
“Do you have a better idea?” he asked.
She hesitated, then stepped forward. “Let me. I know the failsafes.”
As she worked on disarming the device, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the hallway. Damian turned toward the door, his hand instinctively reaching for the weapon holstered at his side.
“How much longer?” he asked.
“Almost there,” she said, her voice steady despite the tension.
The door burst open, and two armed operatives stormed in. Damian fired, hitting one in the shoulder. The other returned fire, the bullets ricocheting off the metal walls. Dr. Morgan yelped but didn’t stop working.
“Got it!” she shouted, slamming the case shut. “The prototype is disarmed!”
The remaining operative lunged for her, but Damian tackled him, the two of them crashing into a table. Glass shattered, and equipment clattered to the floor. Damian managed to subdue the attacker, leaving him unconscious.
Dr. Morgan looked at him, her face pale. “Is it over?”
Damian checked his watch. The countdown had stopped. “For now.”
Hours later, as the sun set over the city, Damian and Dr. Morgan sat on a park bench, watching the skyline. The tension between them had eased, replaced by a tentative camaraderie.
“What happens next?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Damian admitted. “The future I came from doesn’t exist anymore. It’s up to us to make sure this technology is never used for harm.”
She nodded. “And you? Will you stay here?”
He looked at the cube in his hand. “I don’t belong here. But maybe I’ve earned a second chance.”
Dr. Morgan smiled faintly. “We all have.”
As the city lights flickered to life, Damian allowed himself a rare moment of hope. The future was unwritten, and for the first time in years, he believed it could be bright.