Riches of the Past, Love Lost

How could you? What compelled you to do such a thing?

The Washington Gazette had us on the front page holding a time capsule. The photo captured us in our youthful prime, clutching what we believed to be a time capsule unearthed in a building my company was working on.

Our hearts raced with excitement at the incredible discovery. The media coverage would undoubtedly attract new customers and boost my fledgling company. We couldn’t wait to uncover the secrets hidden within the canister, our curiosity growing with each passing moment. The mayor wanted to make a grand spectacle out of the unsealing of the capsule, so it sat on my bookshelf, covered in a thick layer of dust, like a forgotten relic.

The capsule didn’t appear like any time capsule I had seen before, and we weren’t even sure how it opened.

It was late in the evening when she finally spoke about it. A shaft of moonlight filtered into our bedroom. Her breathing was not slow and rhythmic, and I knew she was still awake. Much like waiting for a shoe to drop, I knew she wouldn’t let it go.

“Why the hell are we holding off on this? Aren’t you dying to see what’s inside?” She asked.

“Of course, I’m intrigued. There’s bound to be some juicy details on John Astor, who erected that historic building back in the day."

“He vanished without a trace, and they never found his corpse. You know what? I’ve been digging into that case for ages now.”

I rubbed my chin before turning on my side to glance at her. “Sylvia, I have no idea how to crack open this thing. If we botch it, you can bet your bottom dollar the newspaper folks will know.”

Thirty minutes of cajoling later, I threw in the towel.

As we descended the stairs, they groaned under our footsteps, like a pair of mischievous teenagers trying to escape the house.

“It’s got a seam that hints it might unscrew.”

She was spot on. In the eerie light above the dimly lit kitchen, I could discern what seemed to be a line that might divide the two halves. The flickering bulb cast eerie shadows, adding to the tension in the room.

Cleaning the grime from the capsule unveiled a chrome-covered relic that appeared like an enormous pill from a medicine bottle.

Standing over two feet and nearly a foot in width, the cylindrical form was surprisingly well constructed despite my inability to determine its origins.

I grasped the bottom of it while she firmly held onto the top. We twisted and tugged at the capsule, feeling the resistance give way as the seam transformed into a deep crevasse.

Before curiosity took over, our gazes met, and I couldn’t help but be intrigued.

The stillness of the night was abruptly interrupted by a resounding crash as the device slipped from the capsule and landed on our kitchen table.

There were no papers or objects that she could identify. Only this one thing existed. It was nothing that man had made; it was something much more sinister than I could ever imagine.

The events that unfolded next were utterly unexpected. Without a doubt, our lives were completely transformed, and we were fully conscious of this reality, making it impossible to return to the way things used to be.

The artifact sat on the table, its sleek metallic surface reflecting the dim light of the room like a black mirror.

It was about the size of a toaster, with an array of buttons, dials, and blinking lights adorning its surface.

This piece of technology seemed both utterly alien and eerily familiar.

As we approached the artifact, we could feel a strange energy radiating from it, pulsating through the air like an invisible heartbeat. The hairs on my neck stood up, and I shivered involuntarily as if the room had suddenly grown much colder.

I reached to touch the artifact, my fingers hovering just millimeters above its surface. I could feel the heat emanating from it, a strange warmth that seemed to penetrate my very bones.

I hesitated momentarily, then slowly pressed my hand down onto the metal.

As soon as I made contact, the lights on the artifact began to flash more rapidly, and the buttons seemed to hum with a low-frequency resonance that vibrated through my entire body. I felt a sudden surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins as if my body was preparing itself for some unknown threat.

I glanced at Sylvia in her diaphanous nighty. She was immersed in the object, her eyes wide with wonder and curiosity as she ran her fingers gently over its smooth surface.

Pulsing lights made strange patterns on the walls and ceiling. Little did we know the chaos that awaited us; otherwise, we would have taken a moment to dress appropriately.

I stepped back, my heart pounding as I tried to process what I had just experienced. This was no mere trinket or bauble; this was a piece of technology that defied all explanation, a relic from another world that held within it secrets that could change the course of human history forever.

I cleared my throat, trying to break the silence that had descended upon us like a heavy fog. “Sylvia,” I said softly, “maybe we should put that thing away for now.” She looked up at me, her eyes glazed over with a strange, distant expression. “Why?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. “It’s fascinating, don’t you think?”

I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. The truth was, I didn’t know what to think about the object. It was unlike anything I had ever seen, and the more I spent with it, the more uneasy I became.”

Sylvia, please,” I said, my voice growing more insistent. “We don’t know where that thing came from or what it does. It could be dangerous.”

She shook her head, her eyes never leaving the object. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “It’s just a thing, that’s all. Look, see how the lights flash when I touch it?”

As if on cue, the object began to emit a low, pulsating hum, like a thousand distant heartbeats. The lights on its surface began to flash more rapidly, casting an eerie, strobe-like effect across the room.

Suddenly, without warning, the object came to life. It levitated off the table, hovering in mid-air as if invisible threads held it up. Sylvia gasped in shock, her eyes widening in terror as she stared at the object in disbelief.

Before we knew what happened, we left our home.

“Oh, I say, what sort of voodoo magic is this?” were the following words we heard.

The look of shock on the homeowner’s face matched Sylvia’s and mine’s surprise.

In the middle of his drawing room was our kitchen table and two people from the 21st century wearing sleeping attire at best and, as for Sylvia, next to nothing.

Before speaking, both Sylvia and I looked around to see that this was no dream. The gentleman was wearing an elegant frock coat made of black wool, sitting in a velvet-upholstered armchair. His trousers were also made of black wool, while his waistcoat featured a subtle plaid pattern. A crisp white starched shirt and a black bow tie completed his outfit.

The drawing room was furnished with a settee, a side chair, and a small table adorned with a brass oil lamp. A large fireplace, with a blazing fire casting a warm, inviting glow, served as a focal point of the room.

The scent of woodsmoke from the fireplace mixed with the smell of his pipe.

The room was bathed in a faint glow, casting an ethereal light on Sylvia’s body through the thin veneer of her nightgown. This captured the interest of the homeowner whose house we had entered.

The mantlepiece displayed personal artifacts, including books and a small sculpture.

Sylvia turned away from the blinking artifact, her steps quickening as she walked away from me and the table. The man’s gaze followed her, his eyes fixed on every movement of her body.

“John Astor, I presume?”

***

After he got over the shock of two people materializing in his house, he noticed the device and smiled.

“By Jove, I fear I’ve been rather careless in concealing this matter. When, pray tell, might one inquire as to your origins, dear friends?”

Sylvia finally became self-aware, blushed, and asked him where she might find something to wear. While a servant took her to a guest room, he and I chatted about the device and its history.

We discovered he had acquired the cursed trinket while journeying through unknown lands. He received the mysterious device from a few strange, unsettling folks as a sense of unease washed over him, knowing its power to manipulate significant historical events.

It was finally revealed that he had shamelessly used it for personal gain, accumulating great riches and secretly hoarding them in one of his buildings.

When he journeyed into the future, he witnessed a world teetering on the edge of self-destruction.

While Sylvia appeared captivated by John, she and I didn’t fit in here.

He recounted the instructions he received. Imagining a location or time, the device would read your thoughts and transport you there. It seemed simple enough until we attempted it.

Much later, we learned that, with his newfound fortune, he had escaped the future. He returned to the past, where he embarked on a global trek. Eventually, he found himself aboard the ill-fated Titanic’s maiden voyage. In that alternate reality, he didn’t escape death.

As I pondered our home, she remained fixated on him. The machine, it seemed, was bewildered by our thoughts. Consequently, we found ourselves at one historic event after another.

After experiencing countless escapades, the final one led us to a tribe of cannibals. We barely escaped, only to be whisked away again by the device.

I waited until she dozed off before holding her hand and pushing the button. Our home had changed. We were also much better off through the activities of our travels through time. Risking unpredictable paradoxes, Sylvia had made an investment that paid off handsomely.

When she awoke to find herself in our home, the habit of time-hopping seemed contagious, addicting, and just fun. I knew that time-hopping was perilous, but Sylvia glanced at the opulence around her and found the danger minimal.

“You must never touch that blasted contraption again,” I implored her, the urgency of my words barely contained within the confines of our living room. She nodded solemnly, her eyes reflecting the light from the crystal chandelier as she grasped the gravity of my warning.

“We’ll have to return it to the capsule, and then, using our newest toy, a superyacht named “Epochal Empress,” we’ll cast it into the abyssal depths of the ocean. It’s the only way to ensure this monstrous invention doesn’t fall into the wrong hands,” I continued, my voice tinged with grim determination.

Her eyes widened at the mention of the Epochal Empress. She was a sleek and powerful machine designed to conquer the vast expanse of the sea. The mere thought of us sailing through the azure waves atop such a majestic vessel made our hearts race excitedly. But now, we were to use it for an even more crucial purpose – the safe disposal of a device that could potentially unleash untold horrors upon our world.

Had I known her excitement was not for the yacht but something else, I might have kept the trip’s goal to myself.

Together, we would embark on a journey that would test our courage, our wits, and our unwavering commitment to safeguarding mankind's very existence.

I called the superyacht management company to arrange a trip to the Marianna trench area. Our story was to bury the ashes of a loved one at sea. It seemed simple enough. Little did I know she had other plans.

We toasted our good fortune the night before the trip. She handed me a glass of champagne, smiled, and the lights went out...

***

The distinct odor of urine filled my nostrils as I sputtered to life.

The cacophony of loud televisions filled the hallway outside my tiny bedroom. A small roll-a-round table held a tray filled with what appeared to be breakfast and cold coffee.

I glanced around to see a small white paper cup with pills and an old beat-up newspaper that had turned dark brown with age. The headline was the marriage of John and Sylvia Astor. The photo was of him and Sylvia from over a hundred years ago.

Tears dotted the fragile paper, which had the photo of my girlfriend and John on the front page, where we had once been, standing in front of an old building holding a time capsule.

“How could you…?”