The Contingency

They were training me for something.

I didn’t know what it was. Come to think of it – I didn’t know much about anything going on at the time. My days were repeated cycles of regimented activities. As far as I could tell, every day since I was born in that windowless box had been the exact same. Wake up. Learn history. Exercise. Eat. Sleep. That was my life for 25 years. They never mentioned the outside world… hell… they barely mentioned anything outside of history class. It was an airless circle that was grinding me to oblivion; I thought I was being tortured… that it would never end.

Until the day I saw the owl.

“What did you say?” My Professor asked sharply. His words pinged off the restrictive walls as he looked at me with an intensity I’d never seen before.

The Professor was the only person I’d had contact with since my first memories in the room. Every day after my morning meal, he would enter the room though a door that was otherwise locked at all times. He was kind to me, firm but patient; he knew how to ease my thoughts and fears, and how to inspire me. He was like a father to me, and his intense look made me feel like I’d said something wrong, maybe offensive.

“I’m…” I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… to upset you.” I returned with trepidation.

“I’m not upset, Samuel, I just want to make sure I heard you correctly.” He eased.

“I just found it odd. I barely have dreams, or remember them, and this one was so vivid.”

“And you had a dream of a barn owl?” The Professor pressed.

“Well, he was in a barn.” I responded.

The Professor was usually even and in complete command of his emotions, but that day he eyed me with a certain sadness in his eyes. I didn’t know it, but he had been dreading the day where he had to utter his next words. “You’re ready.”

“Wh-What?” I rightfully responded.

“You will be induced into a state of regression to remember your briefing, Samuel. Take what you’ve learned here. “He said as he pulled out a small device from his pocket. “Follow the owl.” He said to me before reaching down and speaking into it. “Commence briefing.”

As the lights dimmed, the Professor’s voice seemed to echo around me while soft pulses of sound immediately brought me to a state of complete relaxation.

“Follow the owl.” The Professor repeated as the lights diminished to pitch black. “And good luck.”

I couldn’t feel my body, nor could I see anything around me. I wasn’t panicked or afraid, but rather composed and calm. A soft breeze sweeping over my face made me realize that my eyes had been closed, and when I opened them, I realized that I was face-to-face with a magnificent snowy white barn owl.

It was statuesque; reddish brown eyes cut through the darkness with an unblinking stare directly at me.

I remember feeling the air from its wings when It launched into the sky, revealing a path lined with black and white images; moments I had learned about from the Professor – tragic events in human history that filled me with dread. I tried to avoid these images but always found my eyes lingering back to them. They were jostling something loose in a deep corner of my mind; something buried…

I could see the owl up ahead, a welcome sight compared to the harrowing images to either side. It landed on a leather chair, at the shoulder of a figure sitting down…

My mind was buzzing as I stepped closer to him, it was the Professor, who looked at me with a smile as the owl rested on the arm of the chair. “An owl is a symbol of wisdom, Samuel. Did you know that?”

“No.” I responded.

He smiled. “Do you know where you’re from?”

I drew a breath to respond with confidence but there was nothing to say as I probed my mind for a location or memory.

“It’s okay. I know it must be confusing but stay with me. We’re getting there.” He said. “You and I – we’ve spent 25 years learning the history of mankind. All the successes and failings. Have you ever wondered why?”

“Of course, I have.” I quickly responded. “But it’s all I know… I didn’t question it.”

Just then, a light blinded me from the horizon. The Professor and the owl didn’t react, they only stared at me… waiting.

My mind buzzed with unrivaled intensity. Images and emotions began flooding my cognition with overwhelming speed -- forgotten memories.

I remembered the cold steel on my small feet as my mother and father guided me through the crumbling halls; the crew waiting for me near the machine…

“I…” I croaked. “It was the end of the world.”

“Keep going.” The Professor eased.

I stepped deeper into the memory. The crew yelled at each other over the chaos, calculations for this machine I had no idea about. All I can say is what happened next. My father grabbed me by the waist and placed me in that machine.

“And what did they say to you, Samuel?” The Professor asked.

Past the tears I could see pain in their eyes. “I can’t remember... everything is so loud.” I said.

“Listen under the noise. These are your parents last words.”

I looked into their eyes as my mother leaned forward and kissed my forehead. A tear fell from her eye as she whispered in my ear: “Change it.”

And with a blink I was back in front of the Professor who stared at me with a smile. “Do you understand now?” He asked. “You know every moment of human history. You know where we went wrong. It’s up to you, Samuel, to change it.”

“How?” I asked bluntly. “I’m nothing special – just a normal person.”

“A normal person from the end of the line.” He quickly returned. “From the end of everything. You’re equipped with a machine that will take you to these moments. It’s your job to influence them. To change them”

And just like that…

I woke up in that bright room once more… my machine.

The Professor was nowhere to be found, nor was the owl… just an open door leading to a world I had only seen in pictures and films.

And as I sat there processing my mission and responsibilities, I couldn’t help but wonder if I could actually make a difference; if my existence in this failing world can help or if I would just make it worse. I looked at that door and suddenly a warmth washed over me. Beyond this threshold I held the hope of a second chance. And maybe it wouldn’t be a grandiose event, maybe the point of one individual going back is to create a spark… to fan the flames…

Maybe one small moment, in one tiny pocket of time is enough to change everything. I thought as I approached the door. And with a parting look at my room, my home, I smiled with the hope of a brighter tomorrow.

And left.