Blake Schwendiman's Blog and Blook

Chapter 22

Thursday, 10 March 2022 – 10:00 a.m. MST

Ramesh lay on something unfamiliar and oddly hard and cold. His body tingled from his head to his feet and he was having trouble focusing. He heard two voices, distant, speaking in hushed tones.

“I was afraid of this,” said a man’s voice.

“You couldn’t have known how he would react,” a female voice responded.

Ramesh forced himself to focus. He opened his eyes. Valerie was crouched beside him, pressing a cool damp cloth to his forehead. He felt a tinge of nausea and his whole body was drenched with perspiration.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You passed out.” Valerie wiped his face. The coolness resurrected more of his senses. He smelled the pungent aroma of bile.

“Did I ... vomit?”

“Yes, but don’t worry about that. We’ll get it all taken care of. Just relax until you feel like you can sit up. Do you want anything?” The concern in Valerie’s voice was clear and so tender that Ramesh lay still just to enjoy her care and her touch.

“Something for the taste. Water, juice, anything.” He was embarrassed to speak, certain that the smell of vomit on his breath was surely horrid.

“Here,” Quinn leaned over and passed Ramesh a bottle of water. “Take it easy, though. Don’t move too quickly or we may lose you again.”

“How long was I out?”

“Less than two minutes.”

Ramesh forced himself to sit up. He sipped the water. The front of his shirt was saturated with vomit. He saw that he had made it about halfway from his chair to the elevator. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be,” Valerie answered. “It’s all fine.”

Ramesh pushed himself up to his feet.

“Easy,” both Quinn and Valerie called at the same time. Valerie leaned in to support Ramesh to a chair. He nearly sat when he saw that both his pants were also wet with vomit.

“I need to clean up,” he said, looking to Quinn.

“Absolutely,” Quinn answered. “We have showers in the restroom up here and I have several changes of clothing that you’re welcome to wear. Are you sure you’re okay now?” Quinn’s demeanor had softened significantly.

“Yes. I’m fine.”

“Let me show you to the shower,” Quinn offered. He led Ramesh through his office and into his private restroom. At the back of the restroom there was a small dressing room, a shower, steam room and a sauna. “Take all the time you need. We’ll be waiting for you back in the conference room.”

“Thank you.”

Quinn returned to Valerie. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She was visibly shaken. “I didn’t expect him to be so ... I didn’t think he would take it so hard.” She looked at herself. “I need to clean up too.” She walked to her own office and closed the door.

Ramesh sat on a changing bench and removed his clothing. He folded them and set them aside, unsure where exactly to put them. In front of him was a vanity and mirror. At the side of the sink, there were four sets of clothing, apparently set out for him to choose. Ramesh was just slightly shorter than Quinn with nearly the same build. He didn’t feel that he was in the same physical shape as Quinn, but he was feeling pretty good for a fifty-three year old. He stared at himself in the mirror. The light flocking of white on his jet black hair was the only real indication that he was no longer in his thirties. He sighed. He tried not to think about what he had just learned.

He leaned in toward the mirror, supporting himself on the marble countertop. His eyes welled up as he thought of his beautiful Padumi and the twins. The twins were just over two years old. They had just started speaking – a mix of English and Hindi that only he and Padumi could recognize. They were so young. Perfect. A tear escaped. Ramesh breathed in deeply and stepped away from the mirror.

As he showered, his grief and sorrow turned to anger. He let them die. Hot water steamed. So young. Rage swelled. Who is he to decide?

Ramesh spun and slammed the faucet. His face burned as he quickly threw on some clothing. Barefoot, hair wet, Ramesh rushed out.

“You self-righteous, self-serving, selfish goreh!” Ramesh stood over Quinn’s chair, pointing a finger in his face. “Who are you to decide the fate of my wife ... my children?”

“Ramesh...”

“No. Don’t you talk to me in your condescending, self-righteous tone. You had no right. None. You cannot decide who lives or dies.” Ramesh struggled to get his thoughts together. He wanted to hit Quinn, but restrained himself.

“Can you?” Quinn asked.

“What?” The question disarmed Ramesh momentarily.

“Can you decide who lives and dies?”

There was a pause. Ramesh clutched his anger – he felt stronger with it. “Don’t you turn this on me.”

“That’s not my intent, Ram. Please. I know what you’re going through. Just sit down and let’s talk about it.”

“No. No you don’t know. I won’t sit down. No more talking. I came here ... you gave me no reason. And now I learn this? What do you expect me to do? Rush off to Durban? Why would I do anything for you?”

“Ram. I don’t expect anything. I was hoping you could help. I understand...”

“No, Quinn. You don’t understand. You don’t know. Your wife is alive. Your children ... they are alive. You have them. You hug them. You kiss them goodnight.” Ramesh choked. “Tell me, Quinn. Tell me if they were on that flight. Would you have let them die?”

“No.”

“Have you made every effort to protect them? Have they been in danger?”

“Yes.” Quinn looked down. These were the questions he knew that Ramesh would ask. He thought he was ready to answer them. He was wrong.

“And all this time you’ve been peeking into the future. Stealing. Building a fortune. Getting rich. Protecting your family. Did you never think of anyone else?”

“Actually. I did. For a long time I did. Brad always wanted us to do some good. And we did, honestly. But it was most important to Brad. Any time we furthered our business by lifting a patent from the future, Brad would have us do something positive. He felt that it balanced our lives. Karma or spiritualism or whatever. We would seek out something that we could do. Some big. Some small. We had a unique position because of our contacts at the government. Our defense contracts provided us with personnel that we could provide tips to. We tried to help.”

Quinn stood and paced over to his desk. He picked up a Darth Vader figure. He turned it over in his hands. “The problem is that every action creates so many reactions. The butterfly effect...”

“The what?” Ramesh had loosened a bit, but his tone still maintained its edge.

“The butterfly effect – chaos. Technically it’s sensitive dependence on initial conditions. What it means is that a tiny or insignificant event can possibly trigger an enormous set of events in the future. In our case, we tried to make positive changes by averting man-made disasters, but many times we made things worse.” Quinn twirled the Vader figure in his hands.

“Saving my family would have made things worse?” The thought sparked Ramesh back to defense and anger.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. I couldn’t know. By that time, I had stopped getting involved. We had stopped getting involved.”

“Not completely,” Ramesh fumed. “You still protect your own family. You still grow your companies.”

Quinn sighed. “You’re right. We made a collective decision to stop getting involved in things that did not appear to have immediate impact on ourselves or our business. You’re right. It was and is still a selfish position. You’re right. It is biased and unfair.”

“And what about Brad? He just decided to stop helping?”

“Not exactly,” Quinn sighed. “He didn’t just decide to stop helping. He was trying to help. We had identified a catastrophe. A dirty bomb had been detonated near Orlando ... I mean to say that a dirty bomb was planned to be detonated in Orlando. We had details. We knew what day. We knew that it would arrive on a passenger ship.” Quinn looked up at Ramesh. There was recognition.

“But the bomb did not reach Orlando.”

“No, in fact, our intervention at first only had the effect of changing which ship was used. We intervened again, but it was too late. We identified the event too late and the plans were so far advanced that we could not avoid it. The terrorists simply updated their plan and detonated at sea. It was a complete loss. Fewer people were killed than would have been affected had the bomb detonated on land, but the impact was more personal.” Quinn set the Darth Vader down and walked back to his chair.

“Brad’s parents,” Ramesh whispered. He remembered that Brad’s parents had been killed aboard a passenger ship. It had been a devastating act of terror. Brad had been inconsolable. He blamed himself. Ramesh thought that Brad assumed responsibility because he had paid for the trip. He had no idea that Brad had been so closely involved in the tragedy.

Quinn sat with his head in his hands. He spoke to the floor. “After that we backed off. Brad never completely recovered. He became obsessed with creating a way to change the past – to fix all of our mistakes. When he left here with Sireesha and Daniel to establish the Naidu companies, Sireesha promised him that they would pursue his ideas. It was a lie. She wanted Brad for the political and financial clout he brought to her fledgling enterprise.”

Ramesh paced. He struggled within himself. In a surreal way, everything Quinn said made sense. But he fought with his own loss. He had buried those emotions so deeply for so many years that once they resurfaced he felt incapable of burying them again. But he did care about Brad. Their friendship was still as vibrant in his mind as ever, though he had not spoken to Brad for several years.

“You want me to go warn Brad?” Ramesh asked.

“Yes.”

“Of what, exactly?”

“I’m not sure, but I need you to find him. I need to know what he knows about Sireesha and Daniel today. Something big is happening and I think Brad may know what it is.”

Ramesh voiced skepticism, “That doesn’t sound like a warning. What do you really want? Quinn, if you expect me to help you after all of this...” Ramesh turned toward the elevators again. Quinn had reconfirmed his own self-interest. Ramesh spun and shook his finger at Quinn. “You know, Quinn, I really thought you wanted me to help. To help Brad. But all you really want is more information – information to help you. If that’s what this is, go get it yourself.” Ramesh turned and took several strides toward the exit. The door to Valerie’s office opened and she stepped out. She stopped, startled.

“Wait, Ram. Please,” Quinn called. “They’ve threatened me. Something is going to happen to Laura.”

Ramesh stopped. His shoulders fell under the weight of Quinn’s plea. Without turning, he asked, “What do you mean?”

“Look at the display.” Quinn pointed at the wall opposite him. Ramesh looked up and saw the three kids again, those who had recently died. “This is why I have brought you here. The message.”

Ramesh nodded. “Explain this message.” He turned to the displays. Valerie walked behind him and sat near Quinn.

“These three would have married my children. The oldest boy there, he was going to marry my Jordan in about three years. That had about a ninety-three percent chance of happening. The girl, April, was going to marry Josh. Eighty-two percent. The Ortega boy would have been a professional hockey player and my son-in-law with about sixty percent confidence.” Quinn stopped short. Ramesh saw his eyes well with tears, but Quinn forced himself to stop and changed his expression.

Ramesh wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t know how to offer condolences on the deaths of potential future children-in-law. He did know that Quinn was obviously affected by the deaths and that Quinn clearly believed that they would have become his children’s spouses. “I’m sorry,” he managed to say. It sounded hollow.

Quinn shrugged. “There’s more to the message.” He walked over to his desk and pulled a picture frame from the top drawer. He handed it to Ramesh. There were two frames. On the left Quinn stood with his wife and three kids – a perfect family picture. On the right, the same picture was framed, but Laura had been digitally removed from the picture. “I received this by courier Tuesday evening just before I saw the news.”

“Who is it from?” Ramesh asked. He sat down and stared at the picture. The emptiness of the right-hand frame resonated inside him.

“There was no indication on the delivery. But it’s clear. Only a very few people could have sent these messages.” Quinn sat down and stared at the kids on the view screens.

Ramesh set the picture aside. He rubbed his hands together. “So. You need me to go find Brad. See what he knows. You want me to save your family?”

Quinn nodded.

“You want me to save your family. And you let my family die?”

Quinn looked up. His eyes were brimming. He nodded. Valerie watched the interchange. She had not expected the directness.

“Padumi.” Ramesh hung his head. “They were innocent. My babies. They didn’t deserve that. They’re gone. Everything beautiful in my life was taken away. It’s gone.” Valerie turned her head. Ramesh paused and gathered himself. “What makes you think I would help you?”

Quinn stared. In his mind he had gone over this conversation a dozen times since he decided to involve Ramesh. It was the only thing he was sure about – that Ramesh was the only person he could trust. “Because you are a good person.”