Duplex Tempus

By Derek Power

In the late 2070s the Douti Device practically eliminated murder. So, when a double homicide crosses the desk of Detective Olivia Temple, it immediately grabs her attention. Not only is it a chance to work the first real murder in years, but it is also because of the victims' identities.Two bodies of the exact same person.As Temple works the case, trying to figure out how somebody has committed an impossible crime, it becomes apparent that something much bigger is at play…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Derek Power
• Release date: Jan 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393785965

Derek Power

I began writing in early 2001, mainly focusing on short stories. After winning the odd contest here and then I figured I would try and write something a little longer. A few false starts later I managed to complete my first novel, titled Filthy Henry: The Fairy Detective, in early 2013. I currently live in Skerries, Co. Dublin, Ireland with my wife and young children. A synopsis of my most recent work can be found below. 

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Books by Derek Power

––––––––

Filthy Henry Novels

Filthy Henry: The Fairy Detective

The Impossible Victim

Accidental Legend

Stolen Stories

Other Works

Duplex Tempus

Copyright © 2021 Derek Power

All rights reserved.

Copyright 2021 © Derek Power

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.

Trademarked names appear throughout this book. Rather than use a trademark symbol with every occurrence of a trademarked name, names are used in an editorial fashion, with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

The information in this book is distributed on an as is basis, without warranty. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this work, neither the author nor the publisher shall have any liability to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

dupe djuːp/

verb

1. 1.

deceive; trick.

the newspaper was duped into publishing an untrue story

synonyms: deceive, trick, hoodwink, hoax, swindle, defraud, cheat, double-cross, gull, mislead, take in, fool, delude, misguide, lead on, inveigle, seduce, ensnare, entrap, beguile

noun

1. 1.

a victim of deception.

men who were simply the dupes of their unscrupulous leaders

synonyms: victim, gull, pawn, puppet, instrument

noun

1. 2.

slang term used to describe a temporal duplicate.

My dupe is going to work instead of me today. Boss will hardly notice.

synonyms: copy, duplicate, clone

1

...which is how the Douti Industries time splitter, or Douti Device, works. Now, I won’t bore you with all the technical jargon. Talking about things like Time Crystals, paradox prisms and refocused Gödel Metrics. In layman’s terms the device creates a sustained paradox field, allowing a person to exist alongside their future self for about eight hours. Can you imagine that? Twenty-four hours in a single day and the Douti Device basically gives the user another eight hours. All because somebody figured out time-travel was, technically, impossible. Now, you did ask about the colour of the Device earlier. Well you can have any colour you want, just so long as it’s blue...

—Chris Rewop, appearing on

The Jane Show, April 2nd, 2089

Wind whipped against Nick Haywood’s cheeks as he plummeted towards the ground. It was refreshing, exhilarating. He spread his arms wide and smiled as the material on his shirt began to flap in the air, like tiny cloth wings. Nick imagined this was how birds felt when they first took flight. Looking back over his left shoulder, he watched as the tiny prop plane he had jumped from became smaller with every passing second. The distance between them growing.

Jumping from a plane, without a parachute, was not a new idea. In fact, Nick had read about it in some article while travelling into the city a month ago. It had grabbed his attention, nestled deep in his imagination. He had booked a spot on the next available excursion that very same day.

People still jumped out of planes the old, safe, way. Small propeller aircraft ferrying people up to a height of 12,000 feet, a height no Spinner could manage without serious modifications, so they could jump out and land safely on the ground thanks to a parachute. But for people who could afford to use a Douti Device there was no need for a parachute. You simply made sure that you timed everything perfectly.

Then one of you jumped.

Sometimes dupe-jumpers did not work out their timings correctly, resulting in a hard impact and painful experience for the jumper to remember later. But Nick had worked it all out, to the very second. He would fall, zoom past the point where a parachute would be deployed, and continue on his way to the earth below. Then, seconds later, his timer would run out before he crashed into the ground. No impact, no painful end to his existence.

He moved his body, causing it to roll slowly in the air, and let out a roar of delight.

This was going to become his new hobby, Nick decided. Jumps like this each month, all thanks to Douti Industries and their wonderful device. Opening his eyes, Nick watched as the ground below rapidly approached. He brought his left arm into view and looked at the bright blue numbers that glowed just beneath his skin, already counting down the last few seconds of this duplication window. Then Nick spotted two people on the ground, right beneath him, standing in what would have been his landing zone if this had been a normal parachute jump.

Two people, one who was definitely meant to be on the other side of the city sitting in a restaurant at that very minute.

The person Nick recognised looked up at him, while a hooded figure stood beside them.

Nick stared down at his own face, that of his Primary, looking back up at him. Tears ran down his Primary’s face. The hooded figure standing beside his Primary held a gun.

Without warning, the hooded figure pulled the trigger and shot Nick’s Primary in the head. As his Primary’s body vanished, Nick’s left arm tingled briefly. He looked at it just in time to see the numbers fade from sight. A rush of memories flooded his mind, the re-sync after a dupe-window, including the painful sensation of being shot in the head at point-blank range.

As these new memories settled into his brain, Nick had the horrible realisation that with his Primary gone he had been promoted. Nick Haywood, the one and only, was now plummeting to his death.

Oh no... was all he managed to say before crashing into the ground, dying on impact.

#

Bob Hoban replaced the back panel on the Douti Device and reconnected the main power-line. There was a low-level hum as the machine ran through its booting process, then each of the diagnostic panels lit up and began reporting the status of the device. He stood up and slowly read the output on each display, tapping a few buttons to adjust some settings. The machine let out three shrill beeps, then all the displays showed green.

That it? Machine fixed?

Bob looked over at the police officer sitting on a chair, reading something from his personal display unit. A standard, government issued, PDU.

That’s it, Bob said. I just need to test it. Make sure everything is working as it should.

The officer turned off the holo-display on his PDU and frowned.

You need a test subject? To step into a machine that causes people to be cut in two. Better go find one somewhere else, because I am not doing it. I just about like using the fully working machines, never mind one just repaired and untested.

Bob Hoban shook his head.

That isn’t the way the Douti Device works, he said. You see what actually happens is...

The officer held up his hand and gave a slow shake of his head.

I ain’t looking for the technical mumbo jumbo, buddy, he said. Just test the damn machine and let me know if it works or not. I’m fed up watching you fix one of the station’s machines to make sure you’re not tampering with it. I’ve got cases I could be working.

I’d never tamper with it, Bob Hoban said, genuinely offended. I work to the best of my abilities all the time. But we at Fracture Fixes, the best Douti Device repair company in town, are under strict instructions when it comes to testing these machines. The Fracture Fixes engineer needs to ensure it works as expected.

Ouch, the officer said. That’s a pretty crappy policy your boss has there. What if the machine doesn’t work?

Bob shrugged his shoulders.

They pay our family out a large lump sum if that happens. That’s another reason we are meant to work to the best of our abilities. We literally put our lives on the line.

He turned back to face the Douti Device and looked at it.

Every Douti Device came off the assembly line identical to each other, as if some gigantic chicken were laying huge metal eggs. At eight feet by seven feet, the dimensions of the machine meant there were very few people who could not step inside it. The reflective metal surface, tinted a beautiful shade of blue, always reminded Hoban of an obelisk from an old science fiction movie he once saw.

Taking a deep breath, he reached out and touched the top display screen. The machine hissed as hidden hydraulics moved the door to the left, allowing the user to step inside. Bob looked over at the police officer once again, grinned at the man as he gave Bob a thumbs up, then stepped into the machine. He turned around, settling into the black foam padding. The door slid back into place, obscuring the outside world completely. A tiny light turned on above Hoban’s head, illuminating the interior of the machine, and a small display appeared just in front of his face.

Hoban never understood why there was a display on the interior of each Douti Device. Once inside there was a limited amount of room to move. A single button, located on the floor in order to be pressed with a person’s foot, allowed a user to open the door from the inside if required. Other than that, you just waited for the program entered on the exterior display to activate.

I wonder if anyone else hates this part? Bob Hoban said to the display.

As expected, the display did not answer back. Instead a ten second countdown appeared in bright green digits, counting away as Hoban watched.

At zero the Douti Device started to hum loudly and the chamber became incredibly bright, causing Hoban to close his eyes tightly. 

When he opened them again his location had changed. Hoban no longer stood inside the machine, instead he was now outside it once more. Staring directly at himself.

Rather, staring at his temporal duplicate or ‘dupe’ to use the street term.

There was a feeling of disorientation, then the other Hoban rolled back the sleeve of his overalls to reveal a string of six blue numbers just beneath his skin. He ran his right thumb over them, stretching the skin and distorting the numbers briefly. When they returned to their original position, the blue digits began counting down from eight hours.

The dupe looked at Hoban and pointed at the glowing numbers on his arm.

Looks like you’re the Primary, he said.

Hoban nodded his head.

Looks to be that way, he said. I’m done here officer. Machine is fixed.

The officer looked at the pair of them, then shrugged his shoulder.

Great, he said. Means I can finally get my dupe and go on patrol. Stupid budget cuts in the police payroll means you have to partner with yourself. But then I guess that means you don’t have to worry about your partner sleeping with your wife. Or do you? Ha-ha.

Hoban-Two, as Hoban now thought of his dupe, knelt, closed his toolbox, and stood up. He smiled at the officer.

I guess not, he replied. To Hoban he said. I’ll go start the van.

Just can’t use this unit for the next eight hours, Hoban told the officer, watching as his dupe left the room. Until my dupe-window expires, this machine is in active use maintaining the paradox. Out of phase with the world slightly, to prevent tampering. A bomb could blow up right beside it and the machine would be undamaged while out of sync. Have a good day and don’t forget to leave feedback on your Fracture Fixes experience today.

Hoban picked up the toolbox and followed Hoban-Two out of the precinct.

#

Olivia Temple stared at her holo-screen and felt the mind-numbing boredom of paperwork seep into her brain. She was a homicide detective without any homicides to work, any real homicides, all thanks to the Douti Device. The improvements technology brought to mankind always had a price, just nobody knew for sure what that would be until much later. With the arrival of the assembly line many people who built things by hand found themselves out of work. The Douti Device was no different. Give people the ability to be in two places at once, for an eight-hour period, and it became increasingly hard to kill somebody. Taking out the Primary meant their dupe simply became the new Primary in this timeline. Killing a person’s dupe meant they knew something had happened and would be on their guard, maybe even go into hiding until they could use a Douti Device again.

More importantly, people generally did not hang around with their dupe in the same location. Mainly to avoid the risk of an untimely death. Plus, it made it easier to fully enjoy life if you were in two different places doing completely different things. Who would pass up the opportunity to swim with the dolphins while at the same time complete a round of golf, while later enjoying the memories of both experiences?

This had the unforeseen effect of making homicide detectives the unfortunate victim of the Douti Device’s success. Less homicides, less murders to be solved. Less untimely deaths to be investigated meant more boring paperwork in order to continue earning a wage. You still could work other cases, such as robberies or violent crime. But when your heart and soul was in solving murders all other crimes lacked that mental hook to keep a person interested. 

Temple wished, not for the first time, that the Douti Device had never been invented. She continued reading the file currently open on her holo-screen and sighed.

It was the closest thing she had gotten on her workload that even resembled a murder. Jimmy Figgs, a local loan shark with a penchant for being brutal when it came to collecting payment, had started to kidnap and bring people to some unknown location. Once there he would make the person use a Douti Device, then kill one of them at random in front of the other. All to serve as a warning that if the money owed was not paid back soon things would get very ugly. Once a person had the memories of being killed put in their head it was surprising how quickly funds could be gathered to pay Jimmy off. Temple’s problem was that nobody knew where he performed this horrible life lesson, even the few brave souls that had reported the event to police lacked the knowledge. Technically Jimmy was not guilty of murder, only dupe-assault. A crime, but one way down the list of important crimes for a homicide detective to work.

A knock on the surface of her desk drew her attention away from the file.

Captain Patrick O’Toole smiled at Temple and handed her a cup of coffee. As he extended his left arm towards her, Temple saw the tell-tale blue numbers that indicated he was the captain’s dupe. Captain-Two, to use his scientifically correct designation, sat down on the edge of her desk.

Do I still have to call you ‘sir’, sir? she asked him, taking the coffee.

Don’t see why you wouldn’t, he replied. I’m still the captain. In fact, I am more captain than the Primary, since a dupe is pulled to the present from one second in the future. If I was in line for a promotion, I’d get it a second before the Primary. But let’s not argue semantics about stuff you don’t concern yourself with. Not to mention things you already are fully aware of. I know you’re just doing it to wind me up.

Temple turned her swivel chair away from the desk and gave a mock salute.

What’s up, captain my captain?

Three things actually, he said. First off, what’s with the tattoo? Is it new? I’ve never seen it before.

Temple looked down at her left forearm, smiling at the tattoo on her skin. Six blue zeroes placed exactly where the timer for a dupe appeared. She slowly brought her gaze from the tattoo over to the captain’s arm, watching the numbers on his arm counting down.

You know me, cap, she said. Just like to pretend the world isn’t all it seems to be. I’ve had this for a few years now, though. All that time behind the desk must be dulling your detecting skills?

Watch it, I can bump you down to a beat cop on a whim, he said. Besides, you generally wear your jacket. Sleeves are fantastic for covering artwork on a person’s arm, I find. Now, I’ve got to ask again because the numbers aren’t adding up. How are you clearing more cases than any officer in the place? All without using the machine to get yourself another eight hours. What’s the deal? I know it isn’t down to huge amounts of overtime.

Temple leaned back in her seat, allowing the backrest to adjust so she could get into a more comfortable position.

This was a conversation herself and the captain had almost quarterly. Why would she not use the machine? How come her clearance rate was so much higher for a person working solo? What was the real reason for not using a Douti Device, other than some sort of philosophical change of heart?

I’m your best detective, Temple said. You know that. Why would I make a copy of myself? How does that saying go? ‘A copy is never as good as the original.’

Captain O’Toole-Two made a face as the insult landed. He took a sip from his coffee, glaring at Temple over the mug, then stood up from the desk. 

The Primary wants you in his office. Now, he said, standing up from her desk. I’ve got other things to take care of. Dupe things.

Olivia Temple smiled as her commanding officer’s temporal duplicate walked down the row of desks, then stood up and headed for Captain O’Toole’s office. She knocked on the frosted glass window in the door, waited for Captain O’Toole to grunt loudly from the other side, then opened the door and entered the office.

You’re copy-from-one-second-in-the-future told me you wanted to talk.

God dammit, Temple. Do you have to be so anti-dupe all the time? It’s borderline racist.

I’m not anti-anything, I just don’t like what those machines do, Temple said. Ever since my accident involving one of those bloody Douti Death-traps, I’ve gone off them.

Captain O’Toole looked up from his tablet and frowned.

A slight power surge as you split doesn’t really count as an accident, he said.

It does when you feel like your entire body is on fire, Temple said, closing the office door behind her and walking over to one of the chairs in front of the captain’s desk.

She pulled it back a bit, sat down, and looked around the office.

The captain had clearly been involved in the decorating of the office. Most precincts were all made from cold metal and glass panels. Even the bullpen, where Temple’s desk was, looked like something from an old-fashioned science fiction movie. But Captain O’Toole’s office was all decked out in wood. His desk was some sort of solid wooden piece and most of the walls had wood panelling on them. It looked like a private detective’s office from 1960. The only way to know you had not time-travelled after stepping through the office door was because of the holo-screens behind Captain O’Toole, displaying open cases and various reports coming in from around the city.

You’ve got to stop with this anti-dupe crap, he said to her. Dupes can make reports to HR just as much as their Primary can.

Yeah, yeah, Temple said. I’ve heard all the ‘Dupes have Rights’ rhetoric before. I’m just not going to use that machine again and you can’t make me. Got the contract updated to ensure there was a clause in there to ensure that. Anyway, you didn’t call me in here to talk about my views on temporal duplicates. What’s up?

Captain O’Toole shook his head and tapped a panel on his tablet. A shrill beep sounded from Temple’s trouser pocket as her PDU received a file.

She made no move to pull it out.

You’ve a copy of what I’m about to open up on the main display, the captain said.

He tapped some more panels on his tablet and a holo-screen on the wall updated to display a new case file.

Multi images appeared, the windows overlapping as they loaded and stacked up like a spread of playing cards. Three small video windows appeared, the third of these displaying a life feed of a crime scene. This was evident from the number of uniformed officers standing around a cordoned area in what looked like a field. Some surveillance drones passed across the feed, no doubt making a detailed scan of the area for computer modelling later.

Temple watched the feed for a few minutes, waiting for the captain to speak again. When he said nothing, she decided to break the silence and ask her question.

What are we looking at?

Captain O’Toole ran his hand through his ginger hair, one of the clear signs of his Irish ancestry, and turned his chair around to look at the holo-screen.

We’re looking at a crime scene, he said. To be specific, a homicide crime scene.

So?

The captain looked over his shoulder at her.

Last time I checked you were still a homicide detective working in my precinct.

I’m the only homicide detective still working in your precinct, Temple said. Ever since the Douti Device was invented murder rates nose-dived and the others all transferred to different areas of crime solving. Now it is only murders of passion or stupidity. Hence the decline in homicide detectives on the force. I’m the last of a dying breed. A living legend.

That’s one way to look at it, Captain O’Toole said, pointing at the live feed with his index finger. But this is the first, ever, dupe murder.

Temple let out a laugh.

Come on cap, I know you are a hundred years old, but even you know that isn’t true. Dupes get murdered all the time, it’s the whole point of having them.

No, it isn’t the whole point in having them, the captain said, totally avoiding the dig at his age. But that crime scene there is not a dupe death. Since, as you know, if the dupe or the Primary get killed the body is removed from this time-stream as the survivor becomes the only version of the person alive.

He had a point. One of the odd, almost magical, qualities that a Douti Device had was how it handled the removal of a person’s temporal copy. If the full eight hours ran their course the dupe simply vanished. But sometimes a dupe might be mortally injured long before the eight-hour window expired. The way the eggheads who invented the machine explained it, in layman’s terms, was that the dupe’s body ceased to exist in the present timeline. The Douti Device maintaining the time-field powered down, ending the paradox of a person having a one-second-ahead copy beside them.

If a Primary died their dupe was, for want of a better term, ‘promoted’ into being the only version of that person alive. Again, all down to some magic that the Douti Device did which Temple never fully understood.

Still not sure what the point of this chat is, she said to the captain. If that isn’t a dead dupe up there, then it’s just a standard murder. You’re sure getting very excited about it. Not that I am not, in a very professional way I assure you, happy that I have a real murder to work.

Captain O’Toole turned his chair back around to face her.

According to witnesses, that there is a truly premeditated murder. Somebody brought the victim’s Primary to the spot their dupe was sky diving over, without a ‘chute. Then killed them. While the dupe was free falling to the ground. Dupe becomes the Primary, then splat.

Temple felt her eyes open wide with surprise.

It took a certain type of psychopath to come up with a plan to kill somebody. But to work out how to manage it with a person’s Primary and their dupe, that took extra flakes of crazy.  This was not just a homicide; it was the first homicide of its kind.

A unique case.

Who’s my partner? Temple asked.

The captain shook his head once.

No partner on this one, not unless you want to start using the Douti Device again. Go take a spinner from the roof and fly over to the scene. Location is in the file; you can read it on the way. Good hunting.

Temple did not waste another second. She gave Captain O’Toole a curt nod of her head, stood up from the chair, then left the office.

2

"One thing worker unions did was gave the workforce a single, sometimes over-powered, voice to fight for employee rights. Working conditions improved under them, as did pay. However, they soon gained the power to stop factories entirely over the slightest change that the workforce did not like. Then along came dupes. While employment contracts gave rights to the workers, their dupes had, technically, never signed a contract. At least not one in this timeline. Companies brought in Douti Devices to effectively double the workforce, while costs remained the same. It gave rise to conditions, horrible conditions, for dupe workers.