Counterclockwise

By L. J. Zephyr

Simon's task is simple: travel back seventy years. Figure out how the apocalyptic Rift began. Come back to his own time, without causing any paradoxes. Hope he'll learn enough to close the Rift, before it swallows the world.

It would be easy, if he didn't start to catch feelings for the man who caused it all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: L. J. Zephyr
• Release date: Aug 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215022856

L. J. Zephyr

I could write about myself, but I would prefer you build your own mental image of me from the vague impressions and reflections of yourself you see in my work.

Book preview

196

Counterclockwise

Smashwords Edition

Copyright L. J. Zephyr 2023

1: A Seminal Work in Temporal Shifting

The words that his supervisor will say ring in Simon's ears, seventy years before. How'd you like to meet your heroes?

Honestly, you can drop your bag anywhere. Miss Mina waves her hand vaguely in the direction of an antique green couch- almost as antique now as it would be by the time Simon Kumar is born. Simon does as she says, still a little awestruck. Miss Mina either does not notice, or is polite enough to not really care. Thank you so much again for your patience with the hiring process. A lot of wires got tangled there.

Simon swallows. He hopes they don't ever figure out just what wires got tangled- it's probably best that even he doesn't know how this job got fixed up for him from the future. He was told not to worry about the butterfly effect; at least, not on little things. Genie rules, the mysterious woman from the Firefly Institute had told him. Avoid changing who dies, avoid large amounts of money, and avoid falling in love. Avoid anything that would change someone's Wikipedia entry. Let's hope that's enough to prevent something worse than the apocalypse we've already got, eh?

It's- it's fine, on my end. Simon's voice feels like it hardly works. Somehow, it never occurred to him that he'd tower over Miss Mina. Maybe it's because the actresses who played her in documentaries and dramas were usually taller, thinner, didn't have as kind of a face. Maybe it's because the history she left behind was so much larger than her little body. She looks up at him with a soft smile, waiting for him to finish the sentence, and Simon feels almost as sick as he did when he stepped into an empty building, looked for the Rift, and saw instead the London Eye. I just- I'm sorry you had to worry about this, instead of the much more important things you've got to be doing.

Miss Mina shakes her head with a little laugh. I mean, that's why you're here, right? Makes it a little bit easier for me. My staff are wonderful- they're doing all the good work we need- but of course I do want to be as involved as I can, you know?

Simon knows. Oh, he knows; she will be his favourite subject in history class. She will always be talked about alongside her son with a large degree of unresolved tension. Fame and infamy, for completely separate reasons, side by side. Simon's father will blame Miss Mina for the Rift. That will be a rare opinion to hold, but not unheard of by any means.

Of course, he says, just a split second after it would be natural. She's grabbing things strewn across the living room table, a thing ornate and old, a thing that reeks of a British aristocracy that Miss Mina does not hold within her at all. That's a little tidbit Simon recalls; she's controversial among the conservative and old, the rich who hold onto a sense of past Britishness, because she signifies everything that isn't them. It's a little bit of everything: she's not the first woman in office, nor the first person of colour, nor the first with a working class background, but being all of those things at once is a shock to the system. It's pretty far down the list of things she's famous for, though. Being the first named victim of the Rift is probably number one, alongside all the fixing she did to the country.

So. I want to apologise in advance, because- I'm not an angry person, or anything, but if I have things on my mind I'm liable to just dump them on you without much warning or politeness. I just need to get the less important things out as soon as possible, you know?

That is what you're paying me for, Simon reminds her, as he comes over to help, with a little, ...do you mind if I...?

She waves her hand to let him help grabbing the papers and sorting them. Well, yes, but I'm essentially just saying that if I give you tasks like you're a shopping list or a robot, I'm sincerely not trying to be rude. I'll try not to be so dreadfully awful all the time.

It's okay, ma'am, I swear, this is my job. He can't exactly tell her that anything's easier than MI5, even and especially the little errands he was always running before this sudden promotion.

Miss Mina pauses for a moment. "Oh, please, just call me Mina. I can't stand ma'am, honestly."

Oh, sorry! Simon finds himself stumbling over his feet, almost, to step back. She reaches out a hand as if to steady him, a joyful smile on her face. Why are her eyes so god damn kind? It makes Simon sad; he knows they have months yet, but at the same time, he knows that's all she has left. Sorry.

It's okay, she emphasises, patting him gently on the shoulder. Don't be worried about upsetting me. Save all that. Her grin turns into a thin line, and she looks away. Hold onto it, but not for me.

What do you mean? Simon asks softly. He looks down at the papers they're trying to organise; most of these seem to be parliamentary bills. On top there's a speech. His eyes glance it, and he actually recognises it- it's not that they'll study every speech of hers in high school, but rather, he'll look up videos of her when he knows he's going to be coming, watch the way she pulls the crowd this way and that with her words, watch the way that she writes morality on the wall so clearly that you must know to follow her. She's convincing, and this is one of her most convincing early speeches, the one that started the movement of dissolution in earnest. She won't live to see it to its end.

Miss Mina sighs, and gives him a long look. It's still strange, looking someone in the eyes when you know they'll be long dead before your mother's birth. Honestly, a big part of your job is just going to be handling the boys.

Simon's heart sinks. One of the things he'll do to prepare to come here is to visit Noel Spencer. Nothing will happen to him physically, and Noel won't say a goddamn word, but the thought of seeing him again- seeing him for the first time- still makes Simon shiver. It's something in his eyes.

She did say boys, and honestly, it's only then that Simon recalls the second named victim of the Rift: Leon Spencer, the older of the brothers, a footnote in the future history books. 

...Lee largely handles himself, Miss Mina says. He doesn't get himself into a whole lot of trouble, but he always follows Noel into it. Noel's always leading the charge. It's just gotten worse since his birthday, and I don't have time to catch up with them- and evidently Lee can't wrangle Noel on his own. Basically, she says with a sigh, your secret second job is babysitting.

I can do that. Simon's got no other purpose for the next two months- aside from, he supposes, researcher.

You can try, Miss Mina laughs. If you figure out the secret to keeping Noel out of trouble, you let me know, will you?

That bad, huh? Simon asks, and the prime minister shakes her head with a smile.

You're young enough that he might listen to you. You're twenty-nine, right?

Age wise, yes. Technically he's negative forty or so. Yeah.

Well, you can try and be cool with them. Working for me will probably put a damper on things, but it seems Noel will listen to anyone he thinks is cool more than he'll listen to me. Are you cool?

I doubt it.

Eh, just do your best to keep them out of trouble. For now, personal assistant wise, I basically just need all these papers sorted- we were up late last night, so there's a mix of movements we're trying to push through, speeches, letters we've got to send out, all that fun stuff. Most calls about political stuff should go to the Connie or Arif, but you've got Connie's number if you need to interact with that stuff for whatever reason. If you want to meet the boys now, I think they're in the library. Hopefully nothing is broken.

Would you prefer this done first, or...?

Miss Mina waves her hand. Manage yourself, if you don't mind. As long as you do everything on the to-do list by the time I tell you it's gotta get done, I don't care in what order. This only needs done by tonight, but I'll probably dump more on your plate before then.

Got it. Simon nods decisively. Thank you, Miss Mina.

It was a slip-up, if only because Simon has now idea if that nickname started now or if it started after she died; but she laughs. Still just Mina. But that's a lot better than ma'am.

She leaves, and Simon takes a moment to stare at the window. Outside, there's a beautifully maintained garden, work done by a legion of gardeners to make it pretty for people unlikely to see and others unlikely to care. He takes a moment to appreciate the way each hedge is almost lovingly shaped; all of this will disappear in two month's time. The rich curtains, maintained as carefully as possible despite their age, expensive and weighty- Simon imagines them being pulled into a cold white gash in the world. 

Don't be in the house when it happens, the Firefly lady warned him. Because we've got to be able to pull you out. As long as you aren't in the same room as Noel and Miss Mina when it goes down, you should be safe- but I've got to recommend being out of the building entirely. We don't want to change the historical record.

Simon looks down at his phone. It's an ancient model by what he's used to, but it's not exactly difficult to understand when it shows him the date. He's just got to keep an eye on that, not change too much history, and he'll be fine.

He looks at the papers they've somewhat sorted, and despite how much he'd prefer to do this, he has one mission higher than the one Miss Mina just gave him, and that's to learn about the powers that caused the apocalypse in some hopes of learning how to stop it.

Regardless of how oddly terrified he is to meet the man with those powers.

He knows where the library is. Maps of 10 Downing Street will become public knowledge after the place falls into the Rift. It's the same way that getting a realistic British passport will be easy, when the designs are changed after dissolution, or how Simon could easily get a lot of money that isn't counterfeit now, but will be considered out of date by the time he came from. It's still odd to look down at money and to see Queen Elizabeth, sometimes King Charles, but only on bills that are new. Even King Charles money won't be accepted by the time Simon will be born.

The door to the library is closed, and he can hear voices behind it. He knocks politely, and the voices stop; there's a second of muttering, and then a quiet, come in?

Simon opens the door. It's dark, the light from the windows not quite illuminating through the curtains. He can see the walls lined with bookshelves, and a projector lighting up one of those walls of books unevenly, images moving across it although it looks to be muted. Still, none of that is what Simon is looking at. He's looking at the people, and almost instinctively his eyes land on Noel.

Noel is taller than Simon, lanky, with the same dark eyes as his mother, but none of the kindness in them. His hair is cropped short, like he shaved it down a month or two ago and has let it grow untouched since then. He's got none of the sad regret that he'll have at ninety; indeed, there's a winding in his muscles of unreleased energy that seems to need to go somewhere. Right now, his movement is paused, and instead he's glaring a hole through Simon's head for no apparent reason. Maybe he just always looks like that.

There's other people in the room. A girl with dyed blonde hair sits on the floor, holding a glass jar between her legs; she looks up at Simon and pops bubblegum in her mouth. Another two kids, a straight couple who look five seconds from making out at any time, are also staring blankly at Simon like he's ruining their fun. And, sitting on a couch with their back to the door, glancing over, is a person who Simon assumes must be Leon Spencer.

Simon takes a step in before saying anything, if only to get a better look at Lee, and to be honest, he's not what Simon expected. He knows Miss Mina's face, he's seen her speeches and her wax statue and the documentary footage that took from real videos. He knows Noel's face- he's seen his mugshot and footage of his powers working before the Rift and he'll look him in the eyes when he's dying in seventy years. But Lee will remain a mystery, one that Simon won't even think to unravel.

Lee's face is not all too different to Noel's- both have their mother's eyes, although Lee retains the kindness, at least at first glance. He's got a pierced eyebrow, and his hair is long past his shoulders, sitting between heavy curls and coils in a way that defies gravity. He's got a scruff of facial hair, and his hands are covered in rings that emphasise the elegance of his fingers; he moves with that kind of elegance as he sits up straighter and meets Simon's gaze.

Silence.

I'm Simon, he says after a horrid moment of awkwardness. Your mother wanted me to say hello.

The horrid awkwardness continues. Well, he's blown the mission of being cool, of being someone whose example Noel would want to follow. Lee's biting his fingernails, his is the only stare that doesn't feel hostile, and it's the one Simon is forced to break when Noel speaks to him.

Noel's blinking and forced grin do not feel welcoming. Well, Simon, hello. Can we help you?

Simon then processes that Noel is holding matches. The glass jar being held on the floor contains a few burned ones. The projector is playing the kind of annoying YouTube content that Simon didn't realise was contemporary to this exact time, rich people doing fake pranks, but at least it's muted. This is not the mission Simon exactly wanted, now that he's seen what researching the origin of the Rift is like. It's like an immature teenager.

Simon crosses his arms and leans on the doorway. You can help me by not burning down 10 Downing Street.

Lee laughs. He's the only one that does, and the stifling silence of the others shuts him up quick.

Literally who are you? Noel asks, and his words are echoed by the girl on the ground. It's clear who runs this group; it was clear before Simon walked into the room.

I'm here to make things run smoothly, Simon says, and it's half a lie. If you want to throw matches, go do it somewhere other than the most flammable room in the building.

You have literally no authority over me, Noel says with narrowed eyes.

Simon