Maybe it will be different this time, I’d always tell myself. But with each rewrite of history, there came a point when I knew the march towards catastrophe had begun again.
Invariably, it started with a minor incident. Perhaps an affront to an ambassador, or an inadvertent airspace violation. But the initial ripple of tension grew into a surging tide as the world’s leaders made increasingly hostile threats against one another. When no one blinked first, the vainglorious fools began entering launch codes, knowing full well no victor would emerge.
The first time it happened—humanity’s trial run, as it turned out—I assumed the tragic turn of events was a fluke. Surely, they would fare better if given another chance. And so, before the missiles could reduce flesh and flora to bitter ash, I turned the hands of time back a hundred years. It was not a rewind; I was giving mankind a fresh start, where anything could happen.
The reset century brought myriad changes compared to the original version, making me optimistic that the humans were heading down a better path. Yet they ended up repeating their mistakes until they were on the cusp of destroying themselves again. Before man could seal their fate—for had they erased their future, I would have been unable to give them another chance at the past—I set the clock back by five hundred years. I thought this opportunity would lead to more favorable fortune, but they ultimately arrived at the verge of nuclear catastrophe once more. I was bewildered.
I cannot say for certain whether it was obstinance or hope that drove me; perhaps it was a combination of the two. Obsessed with seeing humanity avoid the disastrous results I had witnessed repeatedly, I reversed time over and over, setting it back increasingly further with each new start. But in spite of my efforts, man unfailingly brought themselves to the brink of extinction.
It was unfathomable. How could a race capable of such brilliance keep falling back into the same self-destructive pattern? Why did their weaknesses always prevail? No matter how many times I watched the events play out, I came no closer to an answer.
And now, they have done it again. Orders have been given. The harbingers of the apocalypse are rising up, ready to deliver annihilation.
Of course, the humans have no idea that I have been attempting to save them for all these millennia. To them, Father Time is merely a legend, a myth. They cannot comprehend that the nightmare about to unfold is one I have helped them escape countless times before.
It is ironic that it has taken me this long to accept the truth: the outcome I have been trying so hard to prevent has been mankind’s destiny all along.
As the missiles begin to fly, I send the Grim Reaper the message she has waited eons for:
I give up. They are all yours.
This story previously appeared in The Shadows We Breathe, Volume 3.
Edited by Marie Ginga
Maria Carvalho’s published work includes stories with Roi Fainéant Press, 101 Words, Twin Pies Literary, and many anthologies such as The Pelagic Zone: Uncharted Waters and the Owl Hollow Press Anthology Series. She is also the author of the children’s book Hamster in Space! which was praised by Kirkus Indie Reviews for its "sharp understanding of kids' wacky sense of humor." Find her at Bluesky and Twitter: @ImMCarvalho,and Amazon.