Once again, I arrived late for work. I get out of the car, my hair completely messy, my tie crooked, and my shirt poorly buttoned. With a cup of coffee in hand, I run toward the building's glass door. As soon as I step inside, I hear someone say, "Late again?"
When I look over, I realize it's Sheila, the building's receptionist, greeting me as usual.
"— You know how it is," I say. "A scientist needs a little extra time to rest."
I head to the elevator and step inside alone, as protocol dictates. I take out my badge and point it at the scanner above the COP (Car Operating Panel). Contrary to what's normal, it begins to descend, even though we're already on the first floor. I use the time going down to straighten my tie. Looking at my reflection in the elevator mirror, I see how worn out I look. I lick my hand and at least try to reduce the disaster that is my hair.
I try to take a sip of my coffee and end up burning my tongue. "Damn it," I mutter after feeling the sting of the burn. I don't even like coffee, but today is a decisive day for my career—the work of my life. I need to stay awake and focused on everything. I notice my hands are shaking like never before. Anxiety and anguish take hold of me, but I need to stay steady.
When the elevator doors open, I see my assistant pacing back and forth, biting his nails. When he sees me, he jumps slightly, almost with an expression of relief.
Gregório — For God's sake, David, where have you been? You're thirty minutes late!
David — I couldn't sleep last night, and to make things worse, my alarm didn't go off, I reply as I put on my lab coat at the laboratory door.
David — Have they arrived yet?
Gregório — Yes. We're just waiting for you.
David — Here, I bought this for you, I say as I hand my cup of coffee to Gregório.
Gregório — Forget it. Let's go.
I point my eye at the retinal scanner, and a massive metal door opens. As it does, I see my enormous, familiar workspace filled with cables, monitors, pressure regulators, and equipment. At the back of the room, I spot a bald man in a suit from a distance, accompanied by his secretary, who always carries a clipboard. I begin walking toward him. He's already staring at me impatiently, tapping his foot on the floor and checking the expensive silver watch on his wrist.
David — Good morning, Mr. President. Looking sharp today.
Mr. Burnes — Don't try to stall me, David. You're late.
David — I apologize. I had a small setback and couldn't arrive on time.
Mr. Burnes — I don't want to hear your excuses, David. Show me the results of your research.
David — Yes, sir, I reply with my head lowered. Please, follow me.
The atmosphere was extremely tense. I walk toward the door to our project—a massive, round iron door nearly fifty meters tall. I place my hand on the scanner, and it opens with a thunderous roar.
Once it opens, there it is—the project of my life. A newly built time machine, still unfinished. As I approach the structure, I see that it is enormous and cylindrical, surrounded by cables, with a chair positioned right at its center.
David — This is the time machine, model K-7762, our most recent prototype.
Mr. Burnes — Magnificent. Explain how it works.
David — The device is informally known as Kronos, but in the technical records it is called the Localized Temporal Distortion Device (LTDD-9). The massive cylinder attached to the rear of the machine houses the Chrono-Magnetic Condenser, a core of exotic matter stabilized by rotating magnetic fields. This cylinder is responsible for generating a decoupled time bubble—a region where time can be manipulated independently from the conventional timeline.
The chair, positioned at the exact center of the distortion field, serves as the time traveler's anchoring point. It contains neurological sensors and gravitational stabilizers that prevent the human body from suffering the side effects of temporal compression—such as chronocellular displacement or vectorial disintegration.
Time travel is made possible through the manipulation of tau-flux particles, hypothetical particles capable of interacting directly with the structure of spacetime. When the cylinder is activated, it spins at extreme velocities, creating a vortex of chronological energy. This vortex generates a Closed Timelike Curve (CTC), connecting two distinct points along the timeline.
To define the destination, the operator inputs the temporal coordinates—a specific point within the space-time continuum—into the control panel located on the side of the chair. A temporal anchoring algorithm known as ChronoKey calculates the most stable and secure trajectory through the time curve. Once the process begins, There is a moment of temporal rupture, where time inside the decoupled bubble slows to a near standstill while the external universe continues to flow. At that moment, the chronological jump occurs: the bubble is hurled along the closed curve of time and emerges at the desired point.
Mr. Burnes — Alright, alright. I don't understand all this scientific nonsense. I want to see it working.
Gregório adjusts his glasses and scratches his head. "It's still a prototype, sir. It's not ready yet," he says in a low voice, completely drenched in sweat and visibly nervous.
Mr. Burnes — What did you say?!
The company's president shouts furiously.
— You've been working on this project for five years! When I gave the green light to start production, you guaranteed results within four years. This is unacceptable!
David — I know, I know you want it ready as soon as possible, and we're working tirelessly to make that happen. If you could just give us a little more time—
Mr. Burnes — Oh please, David. Not this speech again. You told me the same thing last time, and the time before that, and before that. I said that if you didn't show me something useful today, I would shut this research down. Do you have any idea how much I've already spent on your work?
Secretary Cíntia — It's already surpassed the one-billion mark, sir. That cylinder alone cost nearly half a billion dollars.
Cíntia. How I hated that woman—an obvious sycophant. Rumors say she has an extramarital relationship with the company's president, which is how she keeps her job.
Mr. Burnes — Marcos presented me with some very interesting ideas yesterday. Perhaps I should put him in charge of the project.
David — Mr. President, with all due respect, I've been on this project for five years. It's not fair to simply remove me and hand it over to Marcos.
Mr. Burnes — Fair? You want to talk about fairness? What isn't fair is funding a project for five years without a single tangible result! I want you and Gregório to hand over your badges and get out of my company. You're fired.
David — Tomorrow. Give me until tomorrow and I promise to demonstrate the machine working. Please.
Mr. Burnes — You just said it wasn't ready, and now you're telling me you can produce results tomorrow? I don't have time for games.
David — I studied and graduated from the most advanced academies, always at the top of my class. I won awards for my scientific discoveries and I'm highly respected in the field, so I'm certainly not here to play games.
The room falls silent for a moment. I stare straight into the president's eyes, almost as if I could see his soul. He notices my determination.
Gregório adjusts his glasses and scratches his head. "It's still a prototype, sir. It's not ready yet," he says in a low voice, completely drenched in sweat and visibly nervous.
Mr. Burnes — What did you say?!
The company's president shouts furiously.
— You've been working on this project for five years! When I gave the green light to start production, you guaranteed results within four years. This is unacceptable!
David — I know, I know you want it ready as soon as possible, and we're working tirelessly to make that happen. If you could just give us a little more time—
Mr. Burnes — Oh please, David. Not this speech again. You told me the same thing last time, and the time before that, and before that. I said that if you didn't show me something useful today, I would shut this research down. Do you have any idea how much I've already spent on your work?
Secretary Cíntia — It's already surpassed the one-billion mark, sir. That cylinder alone cost nearly half a billion dollars.
Cíntia. How I hated that woman—an obvious sycophant. Rumors say she has an extramarital relationship with the company's president, which is how she keeps her job.
Mr. Burnes — Marcos presented me with some very interesting ideas yesterday. Perhaps I should put him in charge of the project.
David — Mr. President, with all due respect, I've been on this project for five years. It's not fair to simply remove me and hand it over to Marcos.
Mr. Burnes — Fair? You want to talk about fairness? What isn't fair is funding a project for five years without a single tangible result! I want you and Gregório to hand over your badges and get out of my company. You're fired.
David — Tomorrow. Give me until tomorrow and I promise to demonstrate the machine working. Please.
Mr. Burnes — You just said it wasn't ready, and now you're telling me you can produce results tomorrow? I don't have time for games.
David — I studied and graduated from the most advanced academies, always at the top of my class. I won awards for my scientific discoveries and I'm highly respected in the field, so I'm certainly not here to play games.
The room falls silent for a moment. I stare straight into the president's eyes, almost as if I could see his soul. He notices my determination.
Mr. Burnes — There it is—the look of determination that made me give you a chance on this project. Five years ago, you came to me and convinced me with that same determination. Very well. You have until tomorrow morning to show me some relevant result from this project. If you fail, it's over for you and your assistant.
Secretary Cíntia — Sir, are you sure about this?
Mr. Burnes — My decision is final. Don't make me regret giving you this chance tomorrow. Come on, Cíntia.
They leave the room, walking slowly. When the door finally closes, Gregório and I collapse onto the floor, drenched in sweat, as if we had just finished a marathon.
Gregório — Have you lost your mind? Tomorrow? How are we supposed to finish a time machine in one day? We still don't fully understand chronocellular behavior. The chair is inaccurate when setting dates, and the bubble keeps malfunctioning. There's no way to fix all of that in a single day.
David — We don't need to fix everything. Just enough to show something.
Gregório — A single miscalculation could cause a catastrophic accident—like a black hole forming right in the middle of the lab, or even a tear in the fabric of spacetime… or things we don't even understand yet.
David — I know. That's why I need you to help me work so none of that happens. And stop rambling.
Gregório — And what was that speech about elite academies and institutions? Didn't you study your entire life in public schools? And as far as I know, you never won any awards.
David — I know, I know. But I had to say something, didn't I? I couldn't just let him destroy the work of our lives.
Gregório and I began working. It was obvious we wouldn't be able to finish everything in a single day, but we devoted every second we had to achieving at least some result. Before we even realized it, it was already one in the morning. My body was tired, my mind exhausted—and Gregório didn't look much better.
Gregório — I'm heading out. I promised my wife I'd get home early. I'm going to get scolded once again.
David — See you tomorrow, my friend.
Gregório — You're not leaving?
David — No. I'm going to review and test a few more things.
Gregório — Don't overdo it. Don't forget you have a life outside of work too. Good night, partner.
Time passed, and the silence of the laboratory was deafening. I sat down in the chair beside my desk, completely exhausted. It was already three in the morning—only a few hours remained before I had to present the results of the research.
Suddenly, a light on the desk caught my attention. I looked down and saw my phone vibrating. I picked it up and realized I had fifteen missed calls. It was Tatiana, my wife.
"Damn it," I muttered. I had become so immersed in my work that I forgot to warn my own wife that once again I wouldn't be coming home tonight.
David — Hello?
Clara — Don't give me that "hello." Where are you? It's almost four in the morning.
I run my hand through my hair, fully aware of the mistake I've made. I shift in my chair, lowering my voice and softening my tone.
David — Oh, love, I'm sorry. I forgot to tell you. I was busy at work.
Clara — I don't want to hear excuses. I barely see you anymore. You practically don't sleep at home. Yesterday you got back late and I barely saw you in the morning, and now you're not coming home again?
David — I was given an ultimatum by my boss. I need to show him something tomorrow or he'll cancel my work.
Clara — Maybe he should. Ever since you started this job, I hardly know who you are anymore. I need you here with me.
David — Look, I'm sorry, my love. I know you miss me—I miss you too. I'm working a lot, but I promise I'll make it up to you.
Clara — Look, I fully support your work—you know I've always stood by your side. But you also need to pay attention to your family. You married me, not your job.
I notice a trembling, almost tearful tone in Clara's voice.
— Sometimes I can barely remember your face. You spend days sleeping at work. I need you with me. I need you here, at least a little. Tell me you're coming home.
David — Love, I… I'm sorry.
Clara — This has nothing to do with merit or scientific recognition, does it? You want to go back in time and save him, don't you? You have to accept that he died, David. You can't bring him back. You have to accept that once and for all.
David — It's not like that. I just—
The line goes silent for a few seconds. They feel like an eternity. I hear her sniffle, and moments later the call ends.
"Damn it. What did I do?" I try calling Clara again, but the phone only rings endlessly. Even my messages are completely ignored. I collapse back into the chair, reflecting on what I've done. I really have given far too much attention to my work. I know exactly how she must feel, and I feel horrible for it. She doesn't deserve a man like me.
I look at the desk and see the framed photo from our wedding. I pick it up and stare at it closely. That was the best time of my life. I was marrying the woman of my dreams and had just been accepted into the laboratory. Back then, I made her happy.
I'm sorry, my love. This project is the most important work of my life. I can't walk away from it.
I place the frame back on the desk and stand up. There are only a few hours left. I need to finish working on the time machine. I still have to calibrate the chair's neurological sensors—I have no desire to be disintegrated during any test.
At exactly 7:30 a.m., Gregório is the first to arrive, bringing two cups of coffee. Even though I hate coffee, I accept it. I need to stay awake and focused—after today, there would be no second chance.
Gregório — Did you stay up all night?
David — Yes. I finished calibrating the chair's sensors, reviewed the energy required to operate the cylinder, and tried to keep the Chrono-Magnetic Condenser stable. I ran and reran the calculations to ensure there wouldn't be any instability.
Gregório — You redid the calculations without me? Are you sure they're correct? We'd better review them.
David — We don't have time for that. The president will arrive any moment. I believe a short trip won't be a big problem… but we still have one issue.
Gregório — What issue?
Gregório asks immediately, worry evident as he brings a hand to his face.
David — The temporal anchoring algorithm is unstable for the selected time period. I couldn't perfectly tune it to the interval we chose.
Gregório — What's the error rate?
David — Somewhere around thirty to forty percent.
Gregório — That's extremely high, David.
David — I know. But if we choose a short interval—just a few minutes—it might not have such a severe impact.
Before the conversation can continue, they hear the massive metal doors opening, followed by the sound of expensive shoes echoing across the room.
"He's here," Gregório whispers.
"Now or never," I reply in the same hushed tone.
Mr. Burnes — Gentlemen, I hope you've prepared something for me.
David — Of course. Please, follow me, sir.
Mr. Burnes, Cíntia, and Gregório follow me into the experiment's main chamber. When the enormous round iron gate opens, there it stands—the Kronos Project, the creation I had sold my soul to complete.
I pick up an apple and place it on a table five meters away from the chair.
David — I'll sit in the chair now, and Gregório will activate the system. We'll reset time to just before I placed this apple here. I'll take a bite of it, then jump back again by sitting in the chair and returning to this moment.
Mr. Burnes — Five years of work just to see a bitten apple? Is that serious? Well, at least it's progress. If it works, show me.
I sit down in the chair and position the neurological sensors across my body. I adjust the timer on the side of the chair to five minutes. Considering the forty percent margin of error I had calculated, it should take me back to a moment slightly earlier than five minutes ago.
My entire body begins to tremble, and I start to sweat as if I were in the middle of a …sauna. This machine had never undergone experiments with human subjects. I would be the first test subject of my own experiment.
Gregório — Everything's ready. Just waiting for the signal. Please step back and remain behind the protective wall.
Mr. Burnes and Cíntia move behind a reinforced wall and put on protective suits—thick, silver coats that cover their entire bodies, along with dark, round goggles. I give Gregório a thumbs-up, signaling him to begin the experiment.
He pulls a lever mounted on the wall beside him, lifting the protective cover and pressing the red button beneath it. Slowly, the cylinder behind the chair begins to rotate, faster and faster. The speed becomes extremely high, forming swirling vortices.
It's working, I think, stunned by the events unfolding before my eyes. A bubble begins to form around me. I can feel time gradually slowing down, just as we had calculated. Outside the bubble, everything seems normal. Mr. Burnes's eyes gleam as he finally witnesses tangible results from his investment.
Alongside the vortices, several electrical arcs begin to appear. Everything seems perfect—until…
Gregório notices that one of the pressure gauges is rising rapidly, something that should never happen during a short temporal jump. In that instant, he realizes the error rate was never forty percent. In our field, a single misplaced decimal can cause a catastrophe.
There could be no uncertainty—no "thirty or forty percent"—especially when attempting something as monumental as manipulating time itself, the unknown. There is no room for doubt or error. But Gregório, overwhelmed by anxiety and fear of losing his research, had let that detail slip.
Now it was too late to stop the machine.
The electrical arcs intensify around the cylinder. A blinding flash begins to form at the top of the machine. Suddenly, an explosion erupts from the rear of the cylinder, followed by a surge of dark energy spilling out from the back.
Gregório — The Chrono-Magnetic Condenser has been exposed! Run! Get out of here!
Mr. Burnes — Gregório, what is this?!
"Run!" the scientist shouts as he desperately begins pulling at the cables connected to the machine. But it's impossible to stop it. The blinding light intensifies, flooding the entire room.
Gregório can do nothing more. He runs out and slams the enormous, thick, round iron door shut, sealing the chamber. Alarms blare, signaling that everyone must evacuate the building.
I remain motionless in the chair, unable to move due to the temporal bubble.
Is this the end?
I couldn't even have one last conversation with my wife… or visit the my best friend's grave one last time.
The blinding flash reaches me and robs me of my sight. A crushing headache follows. My vision fades to black, and I hear nothing anymore. There are brief moments of silence—it feels as if I'm floating—but soon that silence is broken by a siren.
I feel something touch my shoulder. I hear muffled sounds, as if they're coming from very far away. Am I lying down? No—I'm just resting my head on my arms.
I raise my head and try to open my eyes, but my vision is completely blurred. The noises gradually become clearer. Soon, I hear a voice saying, "Come on, hurry up before it ends."
It's a familiar voice, but I can't remember whose.
My vision slowly returns to normal. When I finally manage to see clearly, I can't believe what's in front of me.
Standing before me is my friend—the one who should be dead. Behind him, there's a blackboard.
Am I in a school?
Did the time machine work?
What is happening?