Segmented

In the corner something was blinking in and out. There, then not. Having struggled so long against the distortion waves, vertigo was easily induced. Trying to focus on something that was flickering in and out of space was working a number on my head.

Remember the training. Look for the shadow. Confirm what you're seeing. I gripped the 460 and took a few steps closer.

My God.

I fight through the suppression and try to remember. I've seen this before when something had gone wrong at VChicago; a Controller screwed something up and one of us were caught between the fragments. It must have been early on in the program, all the kinks hadn't been ironed out. An Everett, like me, was stuck in some continuous loop, here then not. Riding the currents of time but not space, living some ghost existence.

I was seeing it again. I got as close as I dared to the figure appearing and disappearing in the damp corner. I felt like I was kneeling next to a coiled snake.

What had the Controllers done with that subject? Too many layers to fight through in my mind, but ending it mercifully doesn't seem like their style. I wonder if that poor soul is still flittering through the fragments like that.

I count the seconds between appearances, trying to determine how many lives he's existing in at once, but I forget the formula and can only guess.

When you see someone as all the possibilities fate, or chance has provided, it's hard to recognize them off-hand, because in this life they have short hair, in another half their ear is missing, hundreds of deviations, paths, and this bastard was living all of them at once. The only thing I can tell for sure is that this person was a part of Everett or Sebastian Group.

And then it clicks; I'm looking at Subject: J. And he doesn't appear to be much of a threat.

Gone.

A patch over his right eye, grinning, "...ok if I call you, 'Clock'?"

Gone.

Bald, scars criss-crossing his face, "...hated you all this time."

Gone.

Handsome, clear eyes, "...you're a pretty cool guy."

Gone.

Does he even know what's happening to him? Has he gone insane? I consider shifting to see if I can pull him out of the loop, when I remember why I'm here. I don't think he can understand me, I don't think he even sees me. But now I'm shaking and my breathe won't come, but I can at least do one thing for him: explain.

"Subject: J. You were a part of Sebastian Group of VChicago. You were number twenty-seven of forty. You, and three others, Subjects: R, D and V escaped from a quarantine and fled to this Time Fragment. The people who oversaw Sebastian Group, the Controllers, determined that the four of you constituted a threat to the time lines. You were tracked here, to this Time Fragment, because of a man named Entroop, whether the four of you were specifically looking for him, or he somehow contacted you, I do not know."

He doesn't hear every other word as he blinks in and out, but it's important for me to do this, so I continue.

"My name is Pedaf Truman. I'm from Everett Group of VChicago. My Controllers have sent me to kill you, and the other three."

Gone.

Long, stringy hair, impossibly pale, "-orget something aga-,"

The blinks were coming closer together.

I looked at the 460 in my hand and was amazed I still knew how to handle the weapon. Maybe not everything is suppressed. Then a thought, what if I fire this at the wrong time, just as he blinks out? Do I just keep firing until he happens to appear in this time? If Entroop is still down here that might be showing my cards a little early.

Gone.

Piercings stud his face, "-is time. I didn't die li-,"

I shift the rifle to my hip and grip the hilt of the Samurai sword, it is a well-made blade and it slides from its sheathe unerringly.

Gone.

Deeply tanned, smiling, "...get things back to normal, you kn-,"
I slowly slide the blade into the time-space Subject: J occupies, as he flits in and out of it. At once there is resistance, and then not. Resistance, then not, as I slide it home.

Gone.

Bearded, cold eyes, "...think I'm bleeding? Does...,"

His body slumps against my sword, no longer phasing in and out, the ghost flicker over, and I see him how he was in this Time Fragment; young, pragmatic. I can only pray that he only had to suffer one death. The thought of this scene playing out over and over again for him makes my stomach lurch. I have a feeling I've done this kind've work before but it doesn't appear to get any easier.

"I'm sorry, J."