The Twin Paradox

by Charles Wachter

Now that he had mastered time, terrestrial delays and waiting for people had become interminable for him.

The terrible beauty of an ocean pouring into the infinite hole of man’s greed spoke truth to power.

The Cave 91a DNA virus experiment was based on CRISPR technology. The plan was to evolve a virus that could spread easily and mostly harmlessly but be trained to kill a single person. For most, it would seem like the common flu. For the one unlucky person it was designed for, a runaway cytokine storm would brew in their lungs, the inflammation impossible to treat, until they drowned in lethal mucous.

“Anywhere else, they would be precious,” said Ralls, “but not here. Not diamonds. Items whose worth is based on how long it takes them to be created are now valueless. Mere trinkets.” Leo chipped off some giant diamonds, nonetheless, pocketing them. “Souvenirs,” he muttered.

Petyr hirsch!

The only truth. There are doors, once passed through, that lock forever. His youth, that long hallway of endless open doors, was behind him, apparent only in hindsight. Alastair couldn’t even see thirty feet into his future. In this moment, all these thoughts rushed through Alastair’s mind. The mist and the wind of the falls toyed with his hair. He had to choose. Alastair tightened the strap on his backpack, turned on every flashlight he had, and faced the cave and the one true monster—the unknown.

Mortality, in her mind, was always about the existential angst of meaning. She had always imagined she would have some profound insight on the eve of her death. Or a profound realization that no profound insight existed. Both options seemed to cover the gamut of what she imagined she would feel. However, in this moment, there she was experiencing a completely different emotion. She felt like a little girl again—as if she was five-years-old, calling for her mother for help. The fear was bottomless. She cried out.