People revert to their patterns.
“The doctors said that personal memories were the most likely things to disappear during your stay here. But everyday habits stick with you. Chopsticks. Coffee with honey. Arsenal. Like muscle memory. See? People revert to their patterns. I can’t believe they use forks still, it’s such a pain. Well,” he said, holding up his chopsticks before turning away, “duty calls.”
“That’s timeline corruption,” Kin called out as Markus began to walk away. He stopped and turned to face him. “That thing you said about slowing people down. You’ll do the same thing ordering food. I should turn you in.”
“Protocol Seven-Fifteen—era visitation. Walk on empty streets. Don’t buy when there’s a line. Don’t sit in a crowded place. Execute with zero impact. Midnight is the perfect time for that.” Markus’s eyes lit up, flashing as if he forgot that lives hung in the balance for a moment before returning to reality. He glanced at his watch. “Two a.m., Kin. Then we leave. You can bring some keepsakes if you want.” Kin continued glaring at his supposed friend until his silence was met with a short nod and a silent march.
