the infinite man
The news hit Nathan like a sledgehammer.
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His wife, Kate, had been hit by a drunk driver while picking up their daughter from soccer practice. Neither one survived.
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His chest concaved as the truth of the nurse’s words ripped through his heart. How does one continue life when the purpose of that life no longer exists? How does one go on? In the deserted waiting room, he prayed to God. Bring them back. Take me. I'll do anything.
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In his despair, he sent his prayers elsewhere.
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It was then that he heard the clinking of coins. He turned his attention to the sound and saw a man sitting at a table in the corner of the room. The stranger was the embodiment of class. His hair was short on the sides and long on top, styled elegantly back yet curling effortlessly at the front. His suit was immaculately tailored and was as dark as his eyes. Casually, as though he had all the time in the world, he rolled two golden coins over his knuckles. They clinked slightly as they kissed briefly. He then caught the two coins in a fist and fixed those dark eyes upon Nathan. “So… you would do anything, huh?”
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Nathan raised a brow. “Who are you?”
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“Call me infinite, for that is my very nature.”
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“I’m sorry, what?!” Nathan’s mind reeled. “What’s your name?”
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Kicking his feet up onto the table, hooking one heel over an ankle, the man sighed.
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“To the Egyptians, I am Heh. To the Greeks, Chronos. The Romans address me as Saturn. Up north, in the frozen lands of the Norse, I am Urdr; while much further south, in the plains of the Lakota, I am Etu.” Shrugging, he added, “I am the personification of Time. Take your pick of names, mortal.”
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It took a moment, but Nathan realized that his jaw had dropped. He promptly shut his mouth.
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“If what you say is true… why would…” Nathan shook his head as though to wake himself from a dream. “Are you here to save them?”
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“Not exactly.” The man folded his arms behind his head as he lounged back in his chair. “I could, though, if I were so inclined. That’s where you come in.”
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“Me? What do you want from me?”
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The dapper man sat up, swinging his feet off the table and onto the floor once more. He tilted his head to the side as he considered the question. “Let us call it amusement. Let us say that I am intrigued to see the destruction that a kind-- yet painfully ordinary-- man can unleash upon the world when given infinite power.”
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Shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, the stranger added, “Also, I’m trying to win a bet against my brother.”
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“What must I do to get my family back?”
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A wicked grin split the strange man’s face. “Why, nothing too complex. You must simply make the world a better place.”
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“Better according to whom?”
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“My, what a clever guinea pig you are!” the man exclaimed. “Squeak! Squeak! This could be quite interesting after all. Why, better according to you, Nate! Just consider me a nonpartisan observer.”
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“But…” Nathan paused, “I’m sorry, I really must have a name to call you by.”
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The stranger shrugged. “The Koreans refer to me as Gamang. For the sake of simplicity, you may call me G or Geo. Whichever. I’ve already given you five names, what’s a few more?”
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“Thank you, Geo,” Nathan said. “How much time do I have to try and win you this bet?”
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Geo clasped his hands together in eagerness. “Well, my little Faustus, let us dance to the rhythm of your unchecked whims. How much time did the dear ol’ doc have… twenty-four years, I do believe. All but a blink to my eye.”
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Nathan tried to recall the classic story. All he remembered was that it was a cautionary tale of a man selling his soul to dark forces. Geo had shown up with two gold coins, waving a proverbial red flag, but it didn’t matter. Not if he had a chance to save what he’d lost.
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“I accept your deal. If I succeed in making the world a better place, then my wife and child will be given back their lives.”
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“Exactly,” Geo said, flashing a grin. “Better according to you. A kind man.” He extended his hand then.
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Nathan felt a chill flicker down his spine, but he would not let this opportunity pass him by. He clasped Geo’s hand and shook, sealing the compact.
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“Excellent!” Geo sprang to his feet. “Where shall we begin… or should I say when ?”
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Attempt #1: Germany, 1939.
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“Why does everyone start here?” Geo scowled as his immaculate leather shoes slushed through the dirty snow.
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Nathan frowned. “What do you mean everyone? You've done this before?!”
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“Obviously, Nate. Come on, keep up. I am as old as the hatred in the hearts of mankind. I mean, look at that…” he pointed across a snow-covered courtyard to a government house, lavishly adorned in yuletide evergreengarland alongside the blood red flags of the Nazi party. “It looks like Christmas in Hell.”
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Nate found himself in agreement. “Let’s get this over with. Are you sure this is the easiest way?”
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“No,” Geo said without hesitation. “The easiest way is when he’s a young boy. His name wasn’t even Hitler then. It was Schicklgruber, a family name on his mother’s side.”
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“What?!”
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Geo shrugged. “His mother got pregnant by her cousin, whom she called ‘uncle’, and eventually she took his last name. The whole thing is bit too 'Game of Thrones' if you ask me.”
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Nathan shook his head. “I can’t kill a child. I don’t even know if I can kill a man.”
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Opening a side door to the building, Geo gestured for Nate to step inside. “Then this is the easiest way to find out. You won’t even have to watch. There’s rat poison in the cellar, three steps in, on your left. In exactly six minutes and twenty-seven seconds, the chef will exit the kitchen to relieve himself. Best hurry. Knees to chest. Hup-hup-hup.”
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Forcing himself to remain calm, Nathan quickly walked down the hall to the cellar door. It was dark, but he took three steps in and turned left. Sure enough, there was the rat poison. He quickly snatched it and crossed the hall to the kitchen.
Cautiously, he opened the door just enough to peek inside. He watched as a chef, dressed all in white, took off his apron and began to head away from the stove to another set of doors.
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Once the chef disappeared, Nathan moved quickly to the stove top. Bratwursts sizzled atop a bed of caramelized onions. Golden-brown schnitzel lay off to the side, cooling. He raised the poison and pulled the cork from the container. His hand shook as he moved to start pouring.
A thought suddenly occurred to him. This was way more food than one person could eat. He believed Geo when he said that poisoning the food would kill Hitler... but would it be only Hitler? He suddenly highly doubted that.
Just do it! He roared inwardly. Hitler will invade Poland in eight months. Think of all the lives you would save if you killed him now. Think of your family! Save them!
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“My, my… what a sad, little guinea pig. Don’t sweat it, Nate. Ol’ Adolf had it coming about a million and six-hundred-thousand odd times now, give or take.” He elbowed Nathan good naturedly. “I’m rounding up, of course.”
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“I couldn’t do it.”
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Nathan sounded so defeated that Geo’s comment died on his tongue. “Why not?”
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“It wasn’t a meal for one.”
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“Ahh.” Geo frowned as he contemplated why that mattered. Anyone who might’ve been affected by the poison would’ve been dead in Nathan’s lifetime anyway. “Well, maybe instead of killing, you should try saving.”
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Geo’s Notes for Posterity:
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I have recorded merely a fraction of the astonishing debacles of the mortal, Nathan Holmes, who has miraculously failed at every single attempt to change history. The events listed below have been selected as the highlights in the saga that shall be chronicled as “The WaterNate Scandal.”
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Attempt #7 : France,1431. Nate tries to plead with the prison guards holding Joan of Arc captive. This fails because Nathan doesn’t speak French. He is arrested for speaking English and is accused of being a spy.
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Attempt #15: Rome, 44 BC. Nathan attempts to bar Julius Caesar from meeting with his senators. Caesar breaks his nose and has him arrested.
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Attempt #36: United States, 1865. Nate yells out a warning to Abraham Lincoln, but is escorted from the theatre for disturbing the show. Booth then shoots Lincoln amidst the commotion of Nathan fighting security.
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Attempts #49 - #56: Austria-Hungary, 1914. Nathan attempts to stop the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand. To his dismay (and my amusement), the Black Hand society sent eight assassins.
Attempt #56 was almost a success, as Nate stopped the assassin by shoving him off the bank into a river. The drenched assassin calls it a day and grabs lunch. The Acrhduke just so happens to ride by the café, and alas, Nathan’s victory is undone by the best croissants in town.
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Attempt #62: North Atlantic Ocean, 1912. Nate warns Captain Smith about the massive iceberg. The captain narrowly avoids the iceberg and hits another one, portside. I try to cheer Nate up by saying that he at least managed to save Kate Winslet’s Oscar nomination, but he does not find this amusing.
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Attempt #71: Greece, 1297 BC. Nate locks Helen of Sparta in her quarters. She climbs through a window and rides off on one of the Trojan’s horses.
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Attempts #88 & #89: United States, 1968. Nathan pushes MLK Jr. out of the bullet’s path and gets fatally shot instead. I rewind, and he tries again. Nate gets shot a second time, forcing me to rewind, yet again.
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Attempt #90: To be decided...
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“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” Geo asked, crossing his arms. “This is how this works, Nate. I ask, ‘where to next’ and you say…”
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Nathan sighs heavily as he slumps down on the bench outside the Lorraine Hotel in Memphis, Tennessee. He watches people panic and cry as they learn that MLK has been shot.
“What does it matter, Geo?!” He thrusts his hand out, gesturing towards the weeping crowd. “Nothing I do changes anything!”
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Geo appraises him. “I must admit. You are spectacularly bad at this. You should’ve at least accidentally saved someone by this point.”
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In response, there’s a solid thunk as Nathan’s head hits the brick wall behind him.
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“Hey. Don’t sweat it, Nate. Actually, come on. I have an idea to cheer you up!”
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“I already said I don’t want to chase dodo birds, Geo.”
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“Well, first of all, you don’t know what you’re missing out on. You think penguins waddle… You haven’t seen anything.” Geo pulls Nate to his feet. “No, this is something different. It’s something that never fails to make me feel better. I try and do it every hundred years or so, but it’s been a while since I last treated myself.”
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Geo slams his hands together and pulls them apart like he holds an invisible accordion. His fingers bleed wisps of ethereal blue light that form into horizontal lines, like a blank sheet of music. Geo speeds the lines back from the time of MLK, a long, long way back to the year 1492.
“Ah, here we go,” he says as he touches the specific note in time.
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Like always, Nate is overcome with a sense of vertigo. Over time, he learned to close his eyes and force himself to breathe deeply. When he opens his eyes, he finds himself standing on the deck of an old wooden ship.
Massive white sails whip above his head as a salty sea breeze gusts westbound. He then notices that he’s surrounded by an absolutely filthy crew of half-starved sailors who look extremely violent. “Geo, where are we?!”
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“Shhhhh, wait for it.”
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Suddenly, the main cabin door opens and out walks a sweaty nobleman of short stature. What the man lacks in commanding presence, he makes up for in scented oils. The breeze blows in Nathan’s direction, making him choke. He feels movement beside him as Geo steps forward.
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“Hey, Chris! Long time, no see!”
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“Che cosa—”
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Geo rears back and punches Christopher Columbus right in the face. The blow is so powerful that the pompous Italian is launched backwards, only to land hard on his tailbone.
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“Gah!” Geo exclaims as he draws in fresh air to the bottom of his lungs. “That never gets old!” He slowly turns to Nate. “Come on. I’ll rewind it for you. You’ll see.”
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“No.”
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“No?!”
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“No, Geo. Take me off this damn ship. Take me to Colorado. Hawthorne High. 2005.”
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Geo swears under his breath but slams his hands together and scrolls the ethereal blue lines forward. Before Geo even presses the note, Nathan closes his eyes to fight against the vertigo. Suddenly, it’s there, pulling on the pit of his stomach like the drop in a free fall. He forces himself to breathe.
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The feeling begins to subside, and he calms enough to open his eyes. He sees the hallways of his high school, red lockers wall to wall and tall oak doors acting as gateways to different studies. Crossing to a bulletin board, he checks the date on the lunch schedule—October 3rd, 2005.
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“Are we punching a teacher?” Geo whispers.
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“No, Geo.” Nate checks the clock on the wall-- 3:15. “We’re making the world a better place, according to me.”
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Exiting the red, double doors that lead into a covered pavilion connecting separate hallways, Nate breaks out into a run. Guided by nostalga, he makes his way down the hill to the sports annex and the soccer field. Towards her.
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The girls’ team is stretching on the field, while the guys’ team is running warm-up laps, both preparing for practice at 3:30 sharp. He sees her then. Number six. Her long brown hair is pulled back. Her smile is both radiant and quick. The same as it’s ever been.
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Unchanged by time, as it’s hers and hers alone.
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“What’s the plan, Nate?”
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“I’ve been thinking about why I can’t change anything, Geo. I’ve been running around trying to change the world, trying to save innocent bystanders, trying to save great people who had their time on Earth cut short. But the hard truth is… I can’t. I can’t accept the repercussions of changing the world. It’s too much, and the results are too unpredictable.”
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He smiled as he watched the younger version of his wife cross the field and smack the younger version of himself on the backside. He chuckled lightly and then drew a jagged breath, steeling his resolve for what he had to do. “You said I had to make the world a better place, according to me, a kind man. I don’t know about the ‘kind’ part, but I do know that there's no ‘better’ world that doesn’t have Kate in it.”
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He raised his sad eyes to Geo’s lost ones. “If she’s not with me, then she’ll move to Ohio with her family. She’ll have our daughter there in eight months, and she’ll never get hit by that drunk driver coming back to our house on Second Street ten years later.”
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Nathan knew exactly what he would say to his younger self. He’d break him with truths only he could know. He would rip himself asunder to save her. It had to be this way. He took a step and then another, then suddenly the unexpected happened. The vertigo hit.
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He wasn’t prepared for it, and he slammed his eyes shut, to little avail. When he felt himself steady, he opened his eyes and realized he was in his living room, sitting on their leather couch. Geo sat in Nathan’s favorite recliner and steepled his fingers as he leaned forward. “I do believe our deal is terminated, Nate.”
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“Terminated? In what way?”
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“Well, it would seem that in the fashion of idiot savants, you have managed to stumble upon success. I told you that I sought to win a bet against my brother, and so I have. He argued that no man with infinite power to change their own destiny would be capable of sacrifice, as absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Geo flashed Nate a grin. “It has taken me a very long time to find someone like you, Nate.”
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“Does this mean that you’ll save Kate and my daughter?”
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Geo shook his head. “I didn’t save them. You did.” He rose from the chair and went to peer out the window. “Nine seconds now.”
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A thought then occurred to Nate. “Who’s your brother?”
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“Ugh, a pretentious know-it-all, named Fate. Pray you never meet him.” Geo said, with a wink. “Take care, Nate.”
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Nathan opened his mouth, but his response was soon forgotten as he heard Kate’s car pull into the driveway. Throwing the door open, he ran outside and took her into his arms.
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