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🏞️ The Shattered Lands

by Tony Dunnell

—and now you’re here. You’re a song of the future, Molly Drakes, so put the gun down. Put it on the table and then we can talk. That’s it, good girl. 

—

Oh, Moll. I’m sorry. Mom died six years ago. Every night she sat out on the porch in her rocking chair, waiting for you. She’d sit there until ten, then she’d say goodnight to me and go to your room. I’d hear her say “Goodnight, Moll,” and she always left your bedside light on. Maybe she thought you’d climb through the window, like when we were kids. Remember?

—

Of course we tried to find you. We never gave up hope. But all we could do was wait. But it’s all okay now, right? 

—

To come back? That was always the plan. And you know it wasn’t me that made you go, nor mom. We all played our part, the whole team. I’m not saying it was right or wrong. You said you were born for this. You wanted to go more than anyone, so we let you. And you were the best choice; no one doubted that. You wanted to see the future, to help save it. But we didn’t know the tether would degrade, that you’d be left there, a hundred years out. No one knew if you’d make it back after that. How did you—

—

What do you mean, ‘there are no songs’? 

—

People, but no songs? You’re not making sense, sis. You’ve been gone too long. 

—

Almost twenty-three years. Hell, that’s why I look like this, with grey in my hair and wrinkles by my eyes. My own kids are older than you, full grown and living lives of their own. 

—

Don’t say that. Why would you say that? They have plenty to look forward to, especially now. We’re making a difference. You said there were people there, so what do you mean? If there are people, then at least we survive for another century. That alone is hope, right? What else if not hope?

—

They call what the Shattered Lands? Call what? 

—

Everything? Moll, you have to explain what you saw. We have to take you in. Dr. Phelps is still there, Nagamato too. 

—

Yes, Nagamato is still with us. The project never ended, but we tether much shorter. Two years forward, then ten, then twenty, but no further. We never tried to go as far as you went—never tried a hundred again. 

—

Yes, they all came back. I went too, Moll. I went twenty years forward and came back after ten days. We’ve built a station tethered twenty years from now. Molly? What’s wrong, Moll?

—

Sure. Sit and we’ll talk. This is all good, Moll. You’re back, back here with us. We’ll get you all the help you need. That’s it, sit. You can tell me everything. 

—

The station? It’s on Chirikof, in the Kodiak Archipelago. It’s a monitoring station—observation only. It’s out in the wilds, Moll. There’s no interference, we just collect the climate data and come back. It’s undetectable, no one will ever find it. And even if they do, there’s nothing there to expose the project, nothing to suggest what we’ve been doing. 

—

In total, since you? Sixteen of us. I’ve been twice. Halper twice. The rest you wouldn’t know. We all came back without problems. It works, Moll, trust me. And things look better than they ever did. We’re turning the corner. We’re convincing the right people of the need to act. We’ve shown them the reality of where we’re heading, what we’re wading into, and now their eyes are open. The public doesn’t know, just as we agreed so long ago. It’s safe, no quakes, no loops. And now, the future looks better every time we go. 

—

Degrading the consciousness of linear time? What does that mean?

—

You are here, though. You’re objectively here, Molly. In body and mind. Let’s take you in, sis. You’re not making sense. 

—

Coming back will condemn us all? Well, it hasn’t. Not me, not Halper, not any of us. Now you’re back and it’s working. We’re safeguarding the future for everyone. 

—

What? No. The timeline is fine. We’ve seen nothing to suggest otherwise. 

—

The next time? What could happen next time? I don’t understand. What are the Shattered Lands? 

—

That I made? I alone can’t shape the future. You know that. But it’s okay. Whatever you saw, we can change it together; we can shape progress and choose the right path. A hundred years was too far, we overstepped, made a mistake. But it’s working now. And you’re finally back. 

—

Shit. Say what you want, Molly. You are here. I can see you, you know that, right? You’re here, right in front of me, sitting at the same table where we sat together for years. With mom, remember? You’re here now, where you’d have been if—

—

Yes, if you’d never gone away. This is where you belong, even if, for you, it’s only been days or months. Jesus, Molly, you haven’t changed one bit. And that’s good, you deserve it. Now you can enjoy this world, this hope. It’s getting better out there, sis, we can see now, I promise. 

—

A thief? Why would you call me that?

—

I haven’t stolen anything, let alone the damn future! It’s not mine—not ours—to steal. 

—

No, Moll, you can’t be sure of that.

—

Oh, I’m sure, thought Molly Drakes. A hundred times over and a thousand more. And still, I’ll always love you, as a sister should. But I’ll cleanse the lines, there’s no other choice. This future cannot be, where shape exists without reason, death without life, birth without conception. I’ll piece the Shattered Lands together, song by song, death by death, no matter how much I cry. I’m untethered here, I’m a time-strewn message, a song of the future. I am Fate’s fractured herald, in the endless conceits of our mother’s kitchen, where we once played cards and laughed before we learned how to ruin time. 

—

Wait, sit back down, Moll. I’ll call Phelps and—

—

What do you mean, he’s dead? 

—

How could you be killing him now? He’s in Mexico, for god’s sake. 

—

Oh, Moll. What’s going on? What have you done? Come on, sit back down. We’ll get you some help. No, Moll. Put the gun down. Molly, put it—