The Eternal Bargainers

Hector Mares found himself standing before the iron gates of Dr. Carlos Biltong’s secluded estate, the cold mountain wind biting at his skin. The estate lay hidden deep in the Andes. It was late, the moon barely visible through the thick mist that clung to the jagged peaks, and the air buzzed with electrical energy. He had been summoned here by Biltong, the head of the science team, to share some critical insight—something that could upend the very fabric of time.

Hector had never been one for secret meetings, but in his line of work as an armorer for the Canadian Spacetime Agency, discretion was everything.

Now, here he was, face-to-face with Carlos Biltong, a man who held the key to his future, for better or worse. Biltong’s offer of a position in Lima, should Hector choose to accept it, could be the chance to rebuild his career. But at what cost?

Carlos believed the strange, glass-like pyramid on the Nazca plain might have been from the future. It was brown in part, smooth, with ramped sides, and seemed to pulse with an energy that disturbed the very ground it stood on, radiating out to the Nazca lines etched in the desert floor. The monument’s appearance had set their minds racing.

Giselle, his wife, had been the first to see the pyramid, and it was Giselle who had alerted the Peruvian military. Her actions had led to her being interrogated, spending a night in a Lima prison, where she was given neither food nor water. Desperate, Giselle revealed that there was Prometheum there, leaving the military to grapple with the problem of recovering it. Giselle exuded an otherworldly beauty and a conscious sadness, her eyes reflecting deep suffering and hinting sensual delight. This was her bargaining chip, and they had released her at dawn, for her to make her way to Biltong to debrief.

That’s why he hadn’t been surprised when a sleek black car arrived at his doorstep at exactly 9:00 a.m., its tinted windows hiding him from plain sight. He knew this was to be a covert meeting, from the regulation attire of the bodyguard expressed in their choice of suits. The car whisked him through the bustling streets of Lima and out and up into the mountains, where a reclusively sited house awaited him. The estate was crumbling at the edges but still sturdy enough to hold the meetings which excluded snoopers.

Inside, the walls were adorned with bas-reliefs that seemed almost alive—buxom women of surreal proportions, their figures emerging from the stone. Their expressions were serene, each curve of their bodies, each swirl of their hair, giving Hector the impression that they had once been in the possession of a hedonistic owner, now occupied by government forces. Their golden adornments glinted in the low light, caught Hector’s eye. The figures lent the room an air of erotic grandeur, a celestial indulgence that made the whole space feel like it existed outside of time.

“Señor Mares, welcome.” A voice interrupted his thoughts. Hector turned to see Carlos Biltong standing in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of the room. Biltong’s presence was commanding. Despite being in his late forties, his skin had the tautness of someone who had undergone subtle bio-enhancements, though streaks of silver hair betrayed the passage of time. His eyes, however, were sharp and calculating, pupils adjusting swiftly to the dim light, revealing a mind that never stopped analyzing. His body was lean and poised, the result of precision calisthenics, no doubt honed through personal trainers and muscle regeneration therapies.

The doctor stepped forward. “Señor Mares,” he began, “the real price for our kind is often death; but beyond that lies eternity, not fame or recognition,” as he held out a small data drive. "This file is encrypted," Biltong said, in a low voice. "It contains classified information—data on the Prometheum alloy. The Agency stole it, and as you know, the Russians are interested in Prometheum, since we have both listed it as extremely rare. Humanity’s struggles, including greed, violence, and the decay of society, suggests a relentless cycle of life, death, and the pursuit of pleasure. I suggest before you open this data drive that you make a bittersweet acceptance of life’s transient pleasures."

Hector had to grapple with the inevitability of fate and death and took the drive. He knew the implications of what Biltong was saying. He put it on the player and it suggested that Prometheum was given to the present day by the Eternals and might hold the key to what lay ahead for him.

As Hector pocketed the file, his thoughts spiraled back to the past. As a scientist, he had pushed the boundaries of what was possible, but he had overlooked the skewing of his commission to unwrapping the paradox of time - that not exploring space would secure a world for the Eternals from the future.

Now Hector was greeted by a gathering of powerful figures—scientists who played with time. Among them was Giselle Prata, the anthropologist who specialized in Nazca culture, her face pale, her eyes tired. She pulled Hector aside, her voice low and urgent.

“We’ve angered something we can’t begin to understand,” she whispered.

Giselle encouraged Hector to shed his personality, which she described as a prison, to experience a transformative journey through the time machine of Biltong and the South American governments' own making. The atmosphere between them was intense. Hector Mares stood at the edge of the circle gathered around Biltong, his eyes fixed on the glowing maps of the Nazca lines that adorned the walls. The lights seemed to dance over the intricate patterns, illuminating the spot where the Pyramid stood out. At the center of the room, a holographic projection flickered. The enigmatic monument in Nazca, the strange pyramid made from Prometheum alloy, had stirred up a crisis. The Canadian Spacetime Agency had been informed, the South American governments, and no one else.

Hector felt liberated, even exhilarated, when he saw how the time machine would dissolve him into multiple versions of himself, each with their own time arc. He was being drawn into a world where forces represented by Biltong embraced the thrill of rebellion against the Eternals. We wanted space, even more than becoming eternal, he thought.

He walked through the old part of town encountering a man who drew his attention to a mysterious theatre performance marked "Not for everybody", and he purchased a ticket in so doing increasingly wandering the streets as he grappled with his loneliness all night in the black darkness of the alleys, where he encountered a friendly girl who invited him to drink with her. She treated him with a mix of mockery and encouraging him to talk; she challenged his dancing skills, highlighting his tendency to avoid using the simple tools of life as Hector reflected on his relationship with Giselle. He grappled with the idea of temporary joy expressing dissatisfaction, learning about himself that, in a crisis, he would enjoy life. Yet he craved a deep, meaningful life that would affirm his existence and willingness to be a patriot and serve his country. Giselle often told him that both of them were sensitive people in the world that often prioritised trivial pursuits over patriotism and duty. The memory of driving away from the secret meeting was still fresh. He had been speeding through the sprawling city streets. At the time, there had been a small measure of relief that space travel was finally underway after the 50 year hiatus. He had driven through the night, his mind filled with visions of a stable future in the booming tech-driven armoury industry, a future where he might finally gain respect from Giselle.

The world was changing, the full scope of the Crisis was becoming clearer. The Pyramid could destabilize the fabric of reality itself. Its bizarre characteristics had already begun to alter the world.

As Hector stared at the maps and holograms in front of him, he felt this was his chance to make things right. Mares began to understand the anomaly threatening the Canadian Spacetime Agency’s objectives in the Nazca region.

Hector could ally with Dr. Carlos Biltong and the Eternals, who sought to preserve the timeline at all costs, or pursue a more dangerous path with the Canadian Spacetime Agency and their clandestine experiments which sought through time travel to release humankind to explore its first passion, space. Both paths promised peril. He felt that the Pyramid, with its menacing yet silent presence, was a harbinger of an uncertain future. Hector recounted a poignant evening spent with Giselle, where he felt deep connection. Beneath the superficial joy was an awareness of impending change and mortality, and the nights were fraught with the tension of love and loss, as he and Giselle coped with the inevitability of fate and death. They went to a dance as he navigated through the noisy atmosphere in a dimly lit room where he encountered a familiar figure - a friend from his youth - but it was Giselle in disguise who exuded charm and playful banter and they shared drinks and as the night progressed Hector experienced a profound sense of connection to the crowd, losing himself in the collective joy the event. He danced with various partners, feeling the exhilarating sense of unity and liberation. Amidst the flowers, the intoxicating scents and enchanting rhythm of the post-rock music Hector recognised the deep yearning that his encounter with Giselle produced which rekindled his desire for pleasure. They embraced the feeling of joy that night. Hector remained captivated by the powerful bond he shared with Giselle, blurring the lines between individuality and collective experience. As the scene faded he could still feel echoes of their shared happiness.

Later that evening, over dinner, Hector sat across from Giselle, trying to make sense of his new reality. They discussed his job loss and the possibility of working with Biltong, her former professor and the science lead who could offer him a lifeline.

As the night wore on, Hector Mares found himself standing once again at the crossroads of personal and global events, with the future of both hanging in the balance. He adjusted the sleek cuff of his tailored suit, feeling the current time and temperature were pressing as the deadline of his decision approached. The subtle offering of quantities of Prometheum answered one question by presenting him with the opportunity to work it into his designs for time suits, a quiet reminder of the deeper allegiances he’d chosen not to fully acknowledge. Hector knew that Biltong was more strange than sincere. There was always something carefully calculated about him, as if every move, every word, was measured for maximum effect. His dark eyes for one thing, sharp and unyielding. "You’re here because something extraordinary has happened, Hector," Carlos had said, his voice low and deliberate. That wasn't insulting to his intelligence, but left questions about his loyalty open.

At the center of it all was the pyramid-shaped structure, its angular design seemingly at odds with the organic curves of the surrounding lines.

Biltong's tone had shifted. "This is why you're here. A Pyramid has appeared in the Nazca lines. We believe it's a time machine, sent from the future by a group known as the Eternals."

"The Eternals... they’re real? And what do they want with us?"

Biltong had spent thirty seconds in silence. "We need a time machine—one that can be sent back to the era of the Nazca lines. So we will have to steal their technology."

Hector raised an eyebrow. "Could we do it?"

"We need to ensure the timeline is altered correctly." Biltong was speaking as if he was accepting the bet of a whale on the outcome of the election.

"And if I refuse?" Hector asked, though he already knew the answer.

Biltong’s smile returned, colder this time. "You won’t."

“You’ll have ten years—ten years to blend into their society, track their routines, and either assassinate the layers of the lines yourself or hire someone from that era to do the job. The goal is to ensure that the Nazca lines—the lines that drew the attention of the Eternals—are never constructed.”

Hector sat in silence, absorbing the enormity of what he was asking. He tried to imagine the ripple effect of such a task, his mind grappling with its implications. "And how does that stop the Pyramid from appearing?"

Biltong leaned forward, his voice low and measured. "If the Nazca lines are never created, the Eternals' timeline will shift. They’ll lose their foothold on this region, and the Pyramid—being tied to their manipulation of the timeline—will never appear in the first place."

Biltong detailed how it created disturbances that weren’t paradoxes, but rather moments of turbulence in time, where the natural order was reversed—effects preceding causes. Hector could feel the weight of the conversation, as though the walls were closing in around him.

Hector exhaled slowly, the knot in his chest tightening. “And you’re giving me all the resources of the Peruvian and Brazilian governments to do this?”

Biltong nodded gravely. “Full backing. Funding, equipment, everything. But the clock is ticking. We don’t have much time.”

“What exactly do you want me to build?”

“A time suit,” Biltong explained. “One that can withstand the rigors of time travel. You’ll be making multiple trips, and only you have the expertise to craft something that will keep you safe.”

Hector stared at him. “You really think I can pull this off?”

“I know you can,” Biltong replied, his words leaving no room for doubt. “You have to.”

Finally, Hector turned to Biltong and nodded. “Alright, I’ll do it.”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

But there was no turning back now.

***

The being sat cross-legged, shrouded in a cloak that shimmered faintly, as if it was woven from the very fabric of time. The chamber was lit by an eerie blue light that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. Hector froze, his heart racing, but the Eternal did not move. It was as though time itself had paused in the chamber, leaving them both suspended in a moment of tense stillness.

“She is beyond your reach, armorer. And yet, her fate is tied to yours. You have come seeking answers, but the truth will destroy you.”

Hector's grip tightened on the hilt of his knife, a useless comfort against a being like this. "I’ll take my chances. Tell me where she is."

The Eternal tilted its head, a ghost of a smile on its lips. “You still do not understand. Death already claimed her. And it will claim you too, in time.”

Hector felt the ground shift beneath him. Panic rose in his chest. He had come so far, but now it felt as if time itself was unraveling around him. He could feel the weight of ages pressing down, crushing him under the enormity of what he faced.

But he couldn’t give up. Not now.

His mind reeled, trying to make sense of the events. The mission had been simple, at first: neutralize the Pyramid’s core, save the future. But nothing about time was ever simple, and now Hector was left with the haunting realization that time had a way of spiraling out of control, no matter how hard you tried to bend it to your will.

He staggered forward, the Prometheum clutched tightly in his hand, its faint pulse now completely extinguished. It had once been a source of immense power, capable of shaping realities, but now it felt cold, lifeless—just another piece of lost history.

 ***

Then the Pyramid was gone, its ancient secrets lost to the ages, but the ripples of its destruction still felt.

A soft sound broke through his haze—a rustling in the distance. He looked up, squinting through the settling dust. A figure was approaching, limping through the rubble. His heart leapt in his chest. It was Giselle, bloodied but alive, supporting herself on a makeshift crutch. Behind her, another figure stumbled, someone Hector hadn’t expected to see again. Biltong.

Hector nodded, his throat tight with emotion. He looked around at the desolate landscape, at the ruins of the Pyramid that had once stood as a monument to the Eternals' power. Now, it was nothing more than debris, scattered across the sands like so many lost hopes.

Because time, for all its twists and turns, could never fully extinguish the flame of human resilience. And that, Hector realized, was the only power that truly mattered.