How could I be so stupid? I assumed from the “future” security footage it was the “twins” who were going to attempt to fulfill the “likely probable” news story about my kidnapping. Meanwhile, it’s the damn FedEx driver.
“Turn right here,” the driver commands, still pushing the gun to my temple.
I round the corner. I have no idea where we are going, but I don’t think I want to go there, wherever it is.
I evaluate the situation. I still have the gun, loaded with the safety off. Now is not the right time to reach behind my back and try to untuck it from my trousers.
The “twins” are not my primary concern right now, but I can’t help thinking about them. My colleague’s facial recognition software identified them not as twins, but as an individual. An individual living in this city. An individual that was reported missing. Missing with signs of foul play.
So who was the second guy? The fact that the probable future showed them at the university at the exact time as FedEx man was too much of a coincidence to be ignored.
“Turn left at the set of lights after these.”
Did the future operators of this project figure out how to send a human “backwards” somehow? That didn’t seem right. The receiving antennas we built in our current spacetime are set up to receive electrons. Data only. No way to transfer human flesh. Impossible.
Then again, this whole project itself seemed like an impossibility at one time. And yet here we were, sending digital information about probable futures through time and space. Or parallel dimensions, depending on how one wanted to look at it.
At present, my most probable outcome is a bullet through my skull. The longer I wait, the more likely that probability will be. Mathematical probability says the time to act is now.
Since my captor is not wearing his seat belt and I am, I try a trick I saw in a movie once.
“I said turn left!” he yells as I accelerate through the intersection. I am picking up a lot of speed.
I reach behind my back, lift up my shirt, and wrap my fingers around the grip of the gun.
“Slow the fuck down!”
I slam down hard on the brakes. Inertia makes everything move forward. The FedEx guy and his weapon slam violently into the dashboard and he loses his grip. My seatbelt digs into my collarbone until we come to rest. I pull my gun out of my waistband and point it at FedEx guy’s head.
I say, “Hasta la vista,” because that’s what you do right before you blow somebody away.
It’s unfortunate I didn’t check my rearview mirror or I would have seen the white van barrelling down on us.