$20,000 and Some Time

“Are you going to be recording this?”

“Not at all.”

“Then why are you holding that tape recorder?”

“Well, I mean, I couldn’t have recorded this, I hadn’t pressed play yet. Now it’s recording.” The doctor set the tape recorder down onto the middle of the table, between himself and the volunteer. The room was lit with a single fluorescent bulb, dingy and yellow and buzzing. The damp cement hadn’t been cleaned in ages, and cobwebs gathered in corners of the stale-aired room. The volunteer had short, patchy hair, and sunken eyes. Their jawline was sharp and their expression was blank. The doctor leaned back in his chair, which squealed under his weight. “You understand the terms of this study? My good friends outside explained it to you?”

The volunteer nodded their head.

“Okay. Good. Great. So you know about the compensation? The $20,000?”

The volunteer nodded their head.

“And the other stuff, nondisclosure, all that?”

”For legal reasons, I’m going to need you to say the word ‘yes’ into that tape recorder.”

“Yes”

“Perfect, then let’s head to the lab.” The doctor pulled away from the table and gestured to a rusted metal door on his left. He pulled a small black book and pen from his breast pocket and started scribbling. “What’s today’s date?”

“The fifth, I think.”

“No, I mean the hour,” the doctor waved his pen in the air.

“It’s 6 o’clock.” The volunteer checked their watch. The doctor wrote it in his black book.

“Welcome to a new frontier of science, volunteer! At this facility, we’re engineers and artists building new pathways into the future.” He looked up from his writing. “You’re part of history, whether you like it or not.” His pen wrote dry and he tossed it behind his shoulder, grabbing a second pen from his pocket in one fluid motion.

“I’m kind of nervous,” the volunteer started.

“Nervous? You shouldn’t be. You signed a waiver that said you wouldn’t be. Do I have to get the waiver?”

“Wait, what did I do?”

“Well I’m sure you didn’t just ask a question, because I’m pretty sure you’re also not allowed to ask questions,” the doctor’s voice raised and the ink from his pen ran dry again. He tossed it behind his shoulder and reached into his pocket to grab a pencil. The hallways seemed to stretch on forever, featureless and gray.

“I’m not allowed to ask questions?” The volunteer asked, questioningly.

“No, that one was a joke. You can ask all the questions you’d like,” the doctor laughed.

“What am I going to be testing?” The doctor opened a door into a dark room and gestured for the volunteer to go first. The volunteer crossed through the doorframe and the doctor followed.

“Well, it’s kind of a place.” The doctor pressed a button on a console near the door. Machines zapped to life, and screens all over the walls, floor, and ceiling glowed an eye-watering blue. The doctor leaned onto a table in the center of the room. “Legally, I have no idea what we do here.” An orchestra of whirs and beeps and dial tones erupted from every screen in the room. Speakers on the wall echoed a trebly monotone. The walls started to shake, and sparks shot from the screens. Something in the room burst into a rain of glass and the lights went dead. In the blackness, the volunteer could only smell smoke.

When lights flickered back on, the volunteer was standing alone. An intercom on the wall buzzed.

“There should be a black bag on the table in front of you.”

“I can’t see anything!”

“Then reach around for it. It’ll feel, you know, like a black bag.”

“Okay.” The volunteer waved their arms around and brushed against the bag. They grabbed it and brought it to their chest. “I have the bag, now what?”

“Okay, listen carefully. You cannot let go of that bag, no matter what. You are one hour in the past. Do you understand?”

“I’m one what in the what?!”

“You are one hour backwards in time.”

“And you want me to take this into the future? Won’t that mess up time?” The volunteer held the bag away from their body.

“Trust me, hold onto that bag. We’re going to get you out of there.” The doctor turned the intercom off and the room started to vibrate and glow white. The volunteer shut their eyes and dug their nails into the bag.

When they opened their eyes, the volunteer was back. The doctor was smoking a cigarette.

“We couldn’t pay you for your help without this money.”

“Whose money is this?”

“Ours.” He took a drag on his cigarette.

“Then why couldn’t you just pay me with this when I got here?”

The doctor put his cigarette out on the glowing blue floor and opened the door to the exit. “Some maniac broke into our lab an hour ago and stole it.”