Guilt still weighed on his conscience as he surveyed the landscape of bodies.
The assassins had been sent back in time to murder Jean-Paul Sartre, thus ridding the world of a wealth of existentialism. Whatever their nefarious purposes, Mills knew he couldn’t stand by and let them carry out their plan.
His resolve was firm. For just this once, his epistemic loneliness was overshadowed by a sense of duty.
The enemy’s time travel capability was impressive, but by employing the help of engineering marvel Superdoofus Stratodrive, he managed to construct a time machine that was better by several orders of magnitude. Diesel hybrid.
Stratodrive offered to come along, but Mills refused.
“This is something I have to do myself.”
The stories of the following battles upon the Eiffel Tower and assorted zeppelins are well-known by all. Not only did Sartre live out the natural course of his life, but not since have hundreds of deadly cyborg assassins from the future dared to interfere with humanity. If they ever do, they will surely be met once again by Earth’s most beloved tragic hero.
In a Manhattan loft, the post-coital embrace of two secret lovers is illuminated by the glow of nearby Macbooks.
He brushes aside a strand of blonde hair from her face. Her look shifts to despair.
“Where is this going, David?”
“Where is what going?”
“Us. This.”
“Oh. Well, you see, you probably won’t believe this, but I was kind of a loser growing up. The girls called me Chicken-neck-pees-his-pants. I still can’t eat chicken to this day. Now I’m number 43 on NYPost’s 50 hottest bachelors. I can have just about any girl who’s ever shopped at Urban Outfitters. Tumblr is my very own casual encounters site.”
“You can’t be serious. What about Caroline?”
“What about me?” sneers Caroline, whose silhouette is now visible in the doorway.
“Caro!” says David, panicking. “This isn’t what it looks like!”
“Meaghan,” says Caroline calmly, “get your stuff and go. Now.”
“I’m so sorry,” Meaghan quietly says as she gets her clothes together.
“Save it.”
After she hurries out, David and Caroline are left staring at one another.
“Listen,” says David, “maybe we should start seeing other people.”
In a secret underground control center somewhere in northeast America, a warning light that had never flashed before started flashing.
“My god.”
“What is it, sir?”
“We’ve got a Code One outbreak! Alert all units!”
An hour later, panic was widespread on the streets above. Chaos reigned supreme. Babies were crying. Planes were falling from the sky. There was no looting because nobody saw the point anymore.
The army Chief of Staff was awoken to the sound of gunfire and wailing. He called the command line.
“Sit-rep,” he said. He listened to the situation. “Dear lord. What are we talking about here? One or two pictures?”
“An entire zip file, sir.”
“God have mercy on us all.”
“Should we brief the President?”
“It’s too late for that.” He sighed as he looked out his window. “It’s been an honor and a privilege.”
“I just don’t think we should advertise our relationship. The internet doesn’t need to know.”
“Are you ashamed of me, Peter? Is that it? It’s not like you don’t look like a human hedgehog. You have no right to be ashamed of me.”
“No,” he sighed, “if you must know, there’s a hit out on me and I just don’t want to put you in danger.”
“A hit on you? Are you serious?”
“I got into a bit of trouble with my fantasy football bookie and he told me that one of these days I might not make it home from a Giants game, or alternatively, he’ll send someone to dislocate my finger.”
“Say no more, I understand. Oh, is it okay if I tell everyone about how small your dick is?”
“I’d prefer you didn’t.”
