Segmented

He could see everything from here. All the pieces moving in a current he alone controlled. He half-smiled, before the feeling came back, the feeling of being watched. He had had it before, knew it well, but that was so long ago.
What could he have done with more time? What would he have done with more time!
And now Entroop was pushing his hand. Damn that fool!
The clouds rolled beneath them and the weight of isolation bore down on him. He had shored himself against this, and even with the man behind him, he felt utterly alone.


"What if "Project Window" wasn't what you thought it was?" the man said.

He did not turn from the window, could see the trim man behind him in the reflection. He thought his heart was going to burst. He wanted to clench his fists, but breathed evenly, and didn't. The man behind him was from a past he didn't remember, and a future, too. Sometimes he had trouble wrapping his head around the whole thing.


"This is where everything began?" he asked.


"Most would say 'ended'," the man said.


Was this more of the memory suppression? He tried to retrace his steps, where was he before...here?

"Pedaf?"

He pressed his head against the glass, "Were you one of the Controllers? Or, the Handlers? Were you one of those?"

The man stood up, "You could probably say that. Yes. But you weren't assigned to me. I was with the Sebastian Group."

"Sebastian. And me?"

"You were with a group called "Everett" and your number was thirty-two," the man said.

He turned to face the man, "And you're here to help me? To help me find Entroop?"

"No," the man said, "I'm here to observe. I'm here to warn the others if you fail."

He approached the table, there were black and white photographs strewn about it. All the images seemed to portray the same four people over and over at different ages, sometimes together, mostly not.

"The four of them were from the Sebastian Group. That's why we had to use you, we thought it would be too dangerous to use someone from the same quarantine,"

"-quarantine?"

"Yes," the man continued, "everyone, even you, were under quarantine. It's easier to manipulate the Time Stream that way, but it's very damaging to the person. That's why we had to use the memory suppression, and implant false memories."

"The aliens? The...what was it, Tripes?"

"False, just a story," the man consented.

He sat down, or fell, into a seat. He didn't recognize any of the people in the photographs. Sebastian Group. Some how these four had escaped and landed here, in this time. And for some reason or another, he was now involved. "Do they, I mean, did they have names?"

"Yes, but our intelligence on the ground tells us they've adopted new names since they've been here. Also, there's been a splintering, this one," he pointed, "doesn't associate with the entire group."

"You have intelligence on the ground? More Controllers?"

"Not exactly," the man said, "but that will be kept on a need-to-know basis, to avoid compromising them. We have a few people inserted in a group that calls itself Gaw."

"What does "Gaul" have to do with this?"

"Gaw, G-A-W, it could be an acronym, we're not sure yet. These two are very close to the group, immersed, some have said."

"This is a little much to take in. What am I supposed to do when I do make contact?"

The man's brow furrowed, "Isn't that clear? Kill them."