I have mentioned before that my former job-title was “chronoteur”. This job involved my being sent back in time, for the purposes of controlling (what could only be referred to in retrospect – since there’s no “present tense” way of referring to) the passage of time.
Long-story-short; I was born with abilities that were exploited by a blacker-than-black-ops organization. I was sent back in time over and over, as a form of “damage control”. That is to say, my missions had to do with eliminating evidence of events that didn’t “support” CANON OFFICIUM.
Also, I had no idea about the temporal displacement I was participating in. I wasn’t given much info at all, and was mostly under the impression that I was traveling to other planets (which may or may not have ALSO been the case.)
Some of the things I was required to do had immediate effects on my own perception of reality; i.e. my memories, and the memories of everyone else – I tweaked history.
If I haven’t lost you yet, I’d like to give you an example of one of my very first missions.
I woke up in the woods with three other soldiers. We had orders to find 30 targets. These targets were turds. Literally. They were big piles of dung of some kind.
It didn’t take us long to realize that we were cleaning up after a creature from urban folklore and indigenous mythology. One we’d grown up reading about in comic books and monster magazines. Seen on TV shows hosted by Leonard Nimoy.
My memories of this (like many of my others) are fuzzy. We were to incinerate the targets using special flamethrowers that were designed to otherwise not disturb the surrounding areas. We neutralized 5 targets in one location and then I woke up in another, as if I’d been asleep for hours. I then neutralized 10 more targets. Repeat.
Only this time, I wake up in the snow. No matter, find 3 or four more piles of frozen poop and light ’em up. Repeat.
I’m not sure how many other missions I went on before realizing that an urban legend I grew up with had changed names.
You know him as BIGFOOT. That is mostly because of me.
I grew up with the legend of BIGSTOOL.
We weren’t told to cover up any footprints. Well, attempts to were eventually made, but it suffices to say that my work served to quell a curiosity about “the unexplained” that would’ve been considered unmanageable by the ones in charge, and apparently the footprints weren’t as big a deal.
YOU grew up with the legend of “BIGFOOT”.
[wpforo item=”topic” id=”23″]