Date Justice

[Write a fiction story about a time traveler who tries to alter a historical event.]

Natalia couldn’t remember how long she had been saving to finally afford to rent the time machine. She only had until the end of the month before she had to return the device, yet it had already been a week in her possession and she still hadn’t made her first time-jump. She was curled on the couch of her cozy Brooklyn apartment with a globe on her coffee table for ideas of where (and when) to go. Her planner was open to the current month, February, which happened to be her Birthday month, and why she had rented the device. But now, looking at the calendar, Natalia was suddenly furious. How could she not have taken into consideration that she rented the time machine during the shortest month of the year? A whole two to three days shorter than any other month. She would have to call the company to check if she could keep it for a full 30 days – unless… She frantically reached for the time machine, adjusted the dials, pressed the button, and held her breath.

Forty-eight years before Christ. She’s come back this far in an attempt to fix her greatest pet peeve: The calendar. Twenty-eight days in February?Not anymore, not if she can help it.

The plan: Seduce Julius Caesar and convince him to equalize the number of days to give February its fair share, before he finalizes the Julian calendar.

“Noster Caesar,” claimed one of Julius’s messengers. “There is a woman here who claims to be an omen who can see far into the future. She heeds warnings she wishes to share with you.”

Julius barely raised a brow. He is seated at the end of the table facing his council composed of philosophers, mathematicians, and advisers overlooking scattered sheets of papyrus in an attempt to solve the ongoing issues with the current solar calendar.

As it currently stood, the Greek calendar had somewhere between 355 to 366 days, which, per his observations during his recent travel to Egypt, was incorrect. Even Greek astronomy had recently discovered such. The Egyptians had a fixed calendar year of 365 (and a quarter) days a year and so would the Romans! Several guards were posted by the tall stone columns around the spacious room to ensure none of the scholars were disrupted by their task at hand.

The messenger stood nervously behind Julius, swallowing hard with increasing perspiration forming on his forehead. Finally, the leader addressed him, “Why are you still here Manius?” he exclaimed with annoyance.

“Most generous Caesar… please forgive my lingering, the woman is insistent.”

“IF I interrupted all my days whenever a self-proclaimed prophet was to claim news for me, who would have conquered Gaul?”

“Of course, merciful Caesar, but–she predicted you would claim as such, and she said things… things I mustn’t say out loud –”

His tempter tested, Julius turned towards the messenger, with death in his eyes, and claimed sternly, “WHAT did she say, you fool?”

Manius whimpered in fear of being struck in the crossfire. His face was red when he leaned in close, cupping his mouth with his hand as he whispered into Julius’s ear a long inaudible sentence.

The commander went still as stone. His eyes widened and his breath sucked out of him. The rest of the room went silent as the scholars turned to face the stunned emperor. Julius rose at once to address the room. “I shall return in a moment. Prepare to report upon my return.” And with that, he strode out of the room to meet the mysterious woman.

As Natalia watched Caesar stride down the hallway, she realized that this mighty historic man was… much shorter than she imagined. Perhaps she could use the couple of inches she had over him as a means to intimidate the famous man into getting what she wanted. She still couldn’t believe the time travel had worked! And although she wasn’t fully clear on the terms and conditions of her commitment, she decided she would worry about those later. The particular time period she picked was not as glamorous as she expected. The architecture? Breathtaking. She could barely take in enough. The people, however, … smelled. It was hard to judge them given that showers had not yet been invented and, in fact, would not originate for almost two thousand years.

As Julius approached, Natalia was relieved his scent was masked by the smells of olive, laurel leaf, and cypress, likely rubbed on him daily by one of his handmaids.

Her thoughts were interrupted by his warning, “You best hope you have value to share with me you witch, or I shall feed you to my lions! Perhaps even to my newest wild acquisition, a spotted brown beast with a neck taller than a tree!”

“You mean to imply the giraffe in your garden? It is an herbivore, so let us not waste each other’s time with empty threats.” She retorted. Just as she expected, her basic knowledge of zoo animals had impressed him, judging by the slight shift in his stance. She felt a sense of pride for all the hours binge-watching nature documentaries on Netflix. Natalia cleared her throat and focused on her task; she did not know how long she had before she would be transported back to where she came from.

“Listen closely...” she said theatrically with a deep stare into Caesar’s eyes.

Natalia pitched her speech to the famous emperor. Told him that in the future, people would think of him as egocentric for making the month of July extra long and stealing the days from February.

“Do you mean Februarius?” He interrupted. She only gave him a nod.

“It cannot be done, witch! Making Februarius any longer would disturb Lupercalia festivities; it would be a scandal in all of Rome!”

“Lupercalia?” Natalia exclaimed. Truthfully, she had never even heard of such festivities, but she could not admit it.

“Lupercalia, will not be remembered in the future. You are compromising your short-term reputation over your long-term legacy! Februarius will be remembered as a month dedicated to the celebration of love via new festivities called Valentine’s Day. If you truly care for your honor, then know that in the future people value love above all!”

She did not mention that Valentine’s Day will also come to defame the Greek God Eros by rendering him an infant wearing a diaper and a quiver of heart-shaped arrows. It was a small sacrifice to pay as February and its red and pink themed colors alongside caramel-filled chocolates are superior to green clovers and creepy bearded leprechauns that come with the early entrance into March.

Since he did not speak, Natalia continued; “And what of the twenty-ninth of Februarius? What of the children that will only celebrate their birth once every four years? Surely you do not wish for generations of spite –”

He was not listening, only watching her hands very intently. She frowned and looked at them herself and realized she failed to remove her watch from her wrist. What it must be like, for a man to see the shiny metal of her Rolex Datejust during a period where the sundial was the only option for tracking time. Rolex did advertise the style as “timeless,” and now was her chance to see if the statement holds true. Natalia slowly unclasped the watch from her wrist and presented it to the great emperor.

“This is called a wristwatch. Where I come from, in the future, it is used to read the time at one’s will. It can measure not only the hours and minutes of the day but also the seconds! And no sun is needed for it to function.”

Caesar’s hands were practically shaking as he reached for the cold metal. Before he could grab it, Natalia swiftly drew the watch behind her back and presented her opposite empty palm to the emperor.

“Perhaps a trade,” she purred.

Caesar’s face flushed with rage – had anyone ever dared to defy his will? She was playing with fire. “Enough of your circus, sorceress! On with the armored dial!” Natalia chuckled at the term. His rage grew.

“It is yours to further your conquest in exchange for thirty days in Februarius. You gain a priceless tool and honor for centuries to come.”

She extended an open palm towards him again, and though she could sense his resentment, he grabbed her hand in his and shook strongly. Natalia handed him the watch. He examined it closely and played with the clasp to secure it to his wrist, then turned and proclaimed loudly “Guards!”

Before she could protest, dozens of men with tall iron spears and helmets encircled her. She tried to run to ambush the emperor, but her hands were already pinned behind her back. Mercifully, she could feel her body starting to shift, to feel light, and to slowly soften as if being pushed back into space.

“You must fix it!” She yelled at Julius. “February, to thirty days! It is only fair! It’s the month of Love, think of your true love, Cleopatra, what would she think if she knew –” a strong man covered her mouth with a gloved hand. Julius did not bother to turn to her one last time to witness that Natalia had dissolved out of the guard's hold like pixels into the air, transported back in time. “February…” And he glanced at the watch on his wrist “We shall keep it as it is, short and sweet.”