Time Capsule

Time Capsule

"I'll record dates and scan any photos I find," I reassured the operator.

"Remember, kid, October, twenty thirty-one. Don't go taking this to no-body else. I gave you the address; I take what you find. Stay safe." The crackling words said. The call ended.

I lowered a foot into the hole. The Old World chill bit at my skin as I scanned the Top Side surroundings before descending. Each rung of the ladder drew me down into the cold pitch-black abyss. The Top Side lights and activity drifting ever further away as the Old World pulled me in.

Hard bitumen never felt so welcome as I dropped off the final rung. An expanse of ruined suburbia stretched on before me in darkness. In the distance, far and away from anyone willing to bother me, lights flickered amongst the ruins. I squeezed my headlamp and waited for the shallow hum of my green light to illuminate my surroundings. My watch flashed the time and temperature, and the dread of stepping into this Old World settled in my stomach. I should have a few hours…

The bleak silhouettes of homes and storefronts laid dormant and bereft of life around me. Not a soul presented itself, but the eyes of those long since gone still watched me as I walked deeper into the abyss.

My goal; the modest-sized home was picturesque in the green light, stood tall despite the destruction surrounding it. How many years has this stood empty? On approach, I spied the ransacked mailbox. A cursory probe confirmed my thoughts. Of course, all the letters would be taken already.

I cracked open the front door, the stiff hinges giving way and echoing out a cacophonic creak. The air inside was damp; the wooden floorboards had long begun sagging in the entryway. Once I tested the floorboards that were safe to walk on, I got to work.

I unpacked my small working lamps and placed one in each room, casting a soft amber light in each space. First, I scoured the study, then the living room desk. Nothing. I packed up the lamp in each room. The kitchen laid barren as well; the fridge door had been torn from its hinges, and its magnets sprawled across the floor. Nothing, not even a photograph.

Feeling the time escaping me, I thumbed in my earpiece and dialled the operator. "What was your tip about this place?" I questioned.

"Good to hear you're safe and sound." The operator replied. "The couple that lived here may or may not have had a wedding in twenty thirty-one. Look for a marriage certificate or an invitation."

Bedroom.

"Thank you." I hung up and made for the stairs.

Empty picture frames dotted the ascent. Shattered glass dusted the grooves and corners of each step and crunched under my boot. The collapsed roof had fallen in on the upstairs bathroom and sunken the floorboards leading in. I’ll check there last.

The master bedroom was ransacked as expected. The closet doors thrown aside, and the clothes bundled on the floor. A safe lay opened, and its contents rifled through. The remaining papers adhered together, and all lettering faded. Nothing of importance remained.

I pressed the earpiece in once again and waited for the crackle on the other side. "There's nothing left."

"Look again." The operator replied in kind.

I took a few steps around the room and spied every considered space to keep paperwork. I dropped to the floor and pressed my face into the damp carpet to seek out anything hiding under the bed. Nothing. I stormed out into the hallway to search the adjacent room.

“Recently married?” I confirmed with the operator.

“As recent as the Old World can be.” They answered.

“Recent enough to the October date you’re after?”

The sound of rustling paper crackled through the earpiece. "The last few related dates seem to have come from printed emails from relatives. They're congratulating someone on some event over a year ago, and they're sorry they missed it for 'obvious reasons'. A lot went on in the world then, but no one can say what."

“And you’re betting on sometime in October two-thousand thirty-one?” I asked as I turned the lamp off in the adjacent room.

"I'm not betting; I'm hoping."

"Hoping for what?"

"The payday that comes from selling off a day that sits squarely in the middle of our darkest gap in history. Find something then, and you'll cast a very dim light on a very dark age of history." Pride tinged the operator's voice.

Forty years were lost in the blink of an eye. A single date won't help any.

"I hate to cast an even bigger shadow on that dream, but I can't find anything in this place. Your tip is out of date." I groaned. There was silence on the line for a few moments, followed by rustling papers once again.

The last door down the hallway was closed and teased me with the unknown. One last room. I hopped around the warbled floorboards and tested the handle. One smooth, uninterrupted twist and the door swung ajar.

My dull green light highlighted a childish wallpaper along the back wall. Little cartoon windmills and rolling hills with cows and sheep. A bassinet and change table were set up across from the door, and a scattering of toys dotted the floor. There won’t be anything in here.

"Last room. Looks like a nursery." I murmured.

"Don't wake the baby." The operator teased.

Very funny. I drew out one of my lamps and planted it on the floor before pressing it on. Amber light flooded the room and cast an eerie set of shadows along the wall; the playful kid's room became an uncomfortable tomb to raid in seconds.

The chest of drawers was missing all three drawers and their contents. A photo album sat perturbed on a shelf, but all photos had long since been pulled. There is nothing h…

My breath was sucked from my lungs, and the chill in the air set within my bones. A frail and emancipated lady rested in an armchair across the room. Gangly strands of hair hung low over her sorrowful features, and her lifeless eyes cast down into her clasped hands.

“Quit breathing so heavy.” The operator cut through.

"There… There's a." I babbled.

"There better be a signed and sealed copy of some kid's birth certificate."

“There's a body in here!” I spat out.

"Oh... First time seeing one?" The operator asked.

"Yes," I answered and looked away. What if she's not dead? I spun my attention back to them to find she hadn't moved.

"Surprised there are any left to find. It was more common early on when we cracked open the Old World. Back then it wasn't nearly as cold down there as it is now. Some of those poor souls looked far worse for wear." The operator said.

"She looks sad, but it doesn't look like she's been down here for forty years. It looks like she's holding something," I said as a shiver trembled my words.

“Does it look like she's holding a wedding invitation or birth certificate? I’ll accept an overdue mortgage bill.” The operator snarked.

I swallowed the trepidation that had stricken me and pushed forward. I was expecting the woman to notice me or flinch as I approached. There was no flicker in the eye or a sign of vigilance, just the resting stillness that I was eager to let lie.

A simple gold chain trailed down from her hands and cradled in her fingers was a simple locket. Please don't be awake. I spooled the gold chain and tugged gingerly until the locket was pulled free from her stiff grasp. The woman sat unperturbed and made no attempt to snatch her locket back.

The locket was weightless and less than palm-sized, and heart-shaped. I thumbed the latch and waited for the slow spring to open two halves. Inside, the leftmost heart was a piece of folded paper pressed in tight. The right housed a much-faded photograph, long since erasing any identification. I plucked the folded paper and unfolded it.

“Was a locket in her hands. It looks like a letter folded inside, along with a photograph with no date.” I informed the operator.

“Is the letter dated?” The obvious question was asked.

Unfolded now, the piece of paper was a rough half of a page torn from a longer letter. The handwriting was both immaculate and hastily scrawled on either side. Whoever wrote this seemed to be running out of time.

"The day we said 'I do' is forever burned into my memory. Saying those two precious words with all those who could attend was one of the most heart-stopping experiences of my life, second only to…."

Over the page, the lettering was scrawled and hard to decipher. A much smaller print than the page prior, written as if done days apart.

"… twelve have been taken now. I hope to see you soon once those responsible are detained. I've requested to be home for the delivery, and I assure you management is doing their best to release me. If only we had time to visit your parents before the lockdowns stopped travel. I hope you've found some way to inform them? I know it has been a very tough three months for you… Being separated is difficult... But the detainments are essential to keep the country safe. I assure you. Please accept this letter for the time being. If the phones worked anymore, I'd call just to hear your voice every early morning and late evenings.

Please stay safe. With all my love…."

The letter ended. Lockdowns? Who was being detained? The impassioned letter left me feeling colder than just the chill in the air. The quiet emptiness inside the room matched my own. I let out a long sigh and searched the letter again. Not a single date. Too many questions posed, and none answered. When was this written?

My earpiece crackled and cut through the deafening silence. "Sure hope you're still there, kid."

“I’m still here.” I whimpered back.

“Find anything you can use?”

"Nothing. The letter was worthless." I muttered and felt the sting of the words on my tongue. I tossed the letter aside and snapped the locket closed before spooling the chain around it. Worthless to us. I returned the locket to the woman’s hands. I’m sorry.

“Best you get out of there unless you’re fixing to start a fire. Gonna get awful cold down there real soon.” The operator chimed in.

"Good idea. I'll speak to you top si…." I stopped in my tracks and spied something hiding behind the door. I swung the door shut and watched a calendar resting against the skirting board fall flat to the floor.

“Find something?”

"I think so," I responded and flicked through the fading images.

Each month was a family portrait. Starting from a couple in January, two-thousand thirty-one. As the months progressed, the woman's belly swelled in size. By August, her partner was gone, but she stood proud with a framed picture of him and a swollen belly. In October, she looked ready to burst. By November, she was sitting up in an armchair, nursing a newborn in her arms and smiling for the camera. The time stamp on the photo was October thirtieth, twenty thirty-one.

I looked back at the woman in the armchair. Her sad eyes still locked to her hands. Her last moments resting on the memories she held within her locket. We'll piece together the world's memories one day. The body remained unperturbed in its sadness. At least the world's memory of you will be your smile...

"I have something. I'll see you Top Side." I said and hung up the call.