LJ Idol Week 7 - Do what you can, with what you have, where you are

[ofearthandstars]

The following is an entry for Week 7 of therealljidol.

Sarai gritted her teeth with concentration as she tightened the last screws on the temporal phase modulators, her hands moving swiftly over each backpack with a focus and precision that mimicked a mechanical drone.

“We really should have finished these earlier,” she moped, shaking her dark bangs out of her vision.

“It’s not exactly been easy to smuggle parts,” Maya answered. Her focus was on the connection between the laptop and the modulators, a key backup for any hardware fumbles. She wondered if anyone else had ever considered the use of Raspberry Pis for something similar. Probably, she thought. Times are desperate.

Daria piled on, looking askance over the blue frames of her reading glasses as she tied back her reddish-blonde hair. “Some of us with access to university labs have to be careful not to tip anyone off on why some of their expensive semiconductors or capacitors might be missing.”

“And some of us have had to run simulations while our partners are away,” Rabia threw in, as she hovered behind Sarai, double-checking the stitching on every strap.

“And all of us have to meet in the middle of the night,” Maya finished.

“I know,” Sarai said, waving off the smart comments. She turned each of the four devices over to examine them more closely, fearful of having a single diode out of place. “I’m nervous. I hope this is everything. I’m not sure how much longer we’ll have access to what we need.”

Taylor, who’d been reviewing the schematics for the eighteen-hundredth time in a QA of Sarai’s work, scoffed. “It’s everything. Besides, we’d find a way. The Auntie network would help us. We’re not going to let everything we’ve worked so hard for go that easily.” They ran a hand through the roots of their shock blonde hair, which was starting to grow out from a former punk asymmetrical cut.

“Have we settled down on where – or to when - we want to travel?” Maya asked to everyone and no one, her soft black eyes still betraying her worry.

“I think we need to go back to at least October 2020,” Daria said, her eyes flashing with anger. “Before that barely capable Bible-thumping cult freak was illegitimately confirmed.”

“Eh, the problems started before her,” Taylor countered. “Maybe we should go back before the confirmation of the crying beer-loving sexual predator. If people knew now what--”

“For certain,” Daria interrupted. “If that’s the case, let’s head back to 2017, before that extremist corporatist puppet of the Federalist Society was put up.”

“You know,” Maya said, “in that case we should just all go back to 2016. It would head off all of them. And possibly save hundreds of thousands of lives.” She repeated her diagnostic, cycling through all four of the packs to confirm they synced with the hardware.

Sarai stopped her rigorous checks and gave them all a pointed look. “You know the further back we go, the more likely we are to create greater havoc.”

Taylor burst out laughing in discomfort, folding over at the waist to check themselves. “Is greater havoc possible at this time?”

“If some justices had retired earlier, it might not be this way,” Daria sulked, still stuck in fall of 2020 in her mind.

“I’m sure she couldn’t guess whether the senate would act responsibly for her replacement,” Maya shot back, feeling defensive over one of her long-time idols.

“Why not just May 2022?” Rabia responded. “It’s hard to believe that we had a so-called majority at the time. They could have done….more…anything, really.” Her hijab was slipping to the side, but she had more pressing things on her mind.

“That’s the thing, though,” Taylor said. “Like the cultist. Like the senator from Maine, or from the southwest. Those already elevated to power are safe, for the time being. It’s the rest of us who have to suffer and bear out whatever consequences they’ve set for us. Whatever will get worse.”

“Even the protests didn’t stop them,” Sarai said soberly. “Hence why we are moving towards - why we're at - second class citizenship, and why we should have had the packs ready sooner. I had to prove to the bank that I had Charles’ approval to take money out just this morning.”

“Don’t you have your own stash of money?” Taylor asked, surprised.

“Well, sure, that I’ve hidden away,” Sarai answered. “But as a married couple, Charles and I are still trying to keep up pretenses. They’d already moved the mortgage into his name.”

“Ouch,” Daria said, “Glad I’m still renting.”

Rabia’s mind was still racing, trying to reel backwards through the events of the last decade and before then, and the countless simulations she’d run to identify potential time-altering actions. This was easier said than done, given the information overload that had come with social media and 24 hour news – at least before everything became tightly regulated. She had hundreds of modeling files saved to a small pocket terabyte drive. But her mind kept tripping over murder hornets and that damn stalled barge. It was hard to remember the early aughts, the 90s, much less the 80s. “Maybe we should just aim for pre-Reagan. An easy pick.”

“Again,” Sarai said, her voice steely. “The further back we go, the more things may change. We have to target this to a key event. Otherwise goddess knows where we end up.” She was finishing her survey of the last backpack. Satisfied, she tried it on, adjusting the straps to fit her curvy frame.

Taylor sighed and plopped in a chair, digging into a box of granola bars. “Hear me out. What if we each take a pack and travel to a different event?”

Daria scoffed again. “Isn’t the whole point that we go together to work together? To make sure that the change goes into effect?”

“Yes,” Sarai said. “That was the plan. We all go and stick together, and we all get back here safe. But Taylor may have a point. If we each travel to a different event--”

“Except Maya,” Daria interrupted, her eyes inadvertently straying to Maya’s abdomen. Maya's long black hair fell around her shoulders and spilled around her belly like a frame.

“—except Maya, who will be here watching over us,” Sarai corrected. “If we each travel to a different event, at least one of us is likely to trigger a phase change that helps us to correct this.”

“Just thank me for thinking outside of the binary,” Taylor smirked before coughing around a chunk of granola.

“That assumes that you’re all successful,” Maya said, her voice unsure.

“At least one of us will be successful,” Rabia answered. Sometimes it was her job to rally Maya’s confidence. “Hopefully more than one of us. And honestly…” Rabia paused to look at Sarai apologetically, “I did run several simulations with more than one event variable, and with several mixed-events.”

Sarai smiled softly back, tucking her hands into her lab coat. “That’s actually wonderful news – but what did they show?”

Rabia’s confidence faltered a little. “Well, as I’ve explained to all of you – since there has been very limited experience with time travel –“

“None,” Daria said quietly.

“—it’s very hard to know whether the inputs and variables in the model will be what actually happens. I mean, you’ve followed climate modeling, right? Things didn’t exactly go as planned there, we couldn’t account for certain accelerations or sinks in the carbon and methane cycles. And…. I haven’t had 30 years to perfect this,” Rabia finished.

“Okay,” Sarai sighed. “Did the mixed-event time phase simulations show any of us dying horribly or the world turning into pit of nuclear hellfire?”

“Only a few of them,” Rabia replied.

“Is losing our lives really that much worse than what’s happening now?” Taylor asked. “I don’t want to be forced into marriage, into parenthood, just to be allowed to exist. I don’t want to be forced into a single gender, damnit. I don’t want to be told who I can love, or what my family should look like. I cannot – I will die before I submit to any asshole.”

“Co-signed,” Daria added, tears in her eyes.

“I –“ Maya paused, emotional, her hands hovering over the keyboard. “You know I can’t let this go on like this.”

“Same,” Rabia said, gently wrapping an arm around Maya.

“Well then, if everyone is on board, we’ll take our chances with separate events.” Sarai, relieved she wasn’t deciding for them, was only stating the next step out loud. “So, let’s all try these on then?”

Rabia, Daria, and Taylor each took up one of the backpacks, each outfitted with a time phase modulator. They fit perfectly once adjusted, as designed.

Maya looked to Rabia. “Okay, so… May 2022…October 2020… October 2018 –“

Taylor interrupted, “Make sure I get the crying beer-lover. I’m going to love making his confirmation hearings even more miserable.”

Maya smiled and hit a few keys. “You’ve got it. Okay, so Taylor, Daria, and Rabia are set. Sarai… do you want October 2016 or earlier?”

Sarai paused. “How close can you get me to that FBI guy who fumbled weeks before the election? Or the Tiny-brained Tyrant himself?”

Maya smiled and wiggled her fingers. “I have the keys to the universe. Thanks to all of your help, of course.”

“October 2016 sounds pretty good then,” Sarai said, waiting and watching as Maya typed in her course.

“So, uhm, we’re good to go here?” Daria asked.

“Almost,” Taylor said, handing them each a granola bar, a small palm-sized 3D-printed gun, and a similar sized pack of ammunition. “For your safety, of course.”

Daria spun the small gun around in her palm, a playful glint in her eyes. “I may enjoy this after all!” she joked.

“For your protection, Daria,” Sarai repeated. “The computer has already assigned specific instructions for how to non-violently disrupt the event to result in the best possible outcome. Just check the output on your backpack when you arrive.”

Daria nodded and slipped the gun into her pocket.

“Alright, folks,” Maya said, her eyes growing misty. “Group hug?”

The five of them embraced, all keenly aware of the danger ahead. The women and Taylor looked at one another in the eyes. Everyone knew what was on the line.

“Let’s take these puritanical asshole theocratists down,” Sarai said.

Maya double-checked her laptop one last time. “I think we’re good to go. Try not to lose your pack, anyone.”

The others lined up side-by-side, their fingers hovering over the switches on either strap of their backpacks.

“Three… two…To bodily autonomy,” Daria said, trying not to shake.

“To bodily autonomy!” they all repeated as they engaged the modulators, flashing out of Maya’s sight.

“And now we wait,” Maya said to her laptop and her belly, wondering if her future daughter would have more rights and opportunities than she had. “And hope at least one of them succeeds.”