The Eternal Existence of Atticus Bright

By Arthur DeHart

A time traveler that works with the government has been on a manhunt for Atticus Bright. He expected to bring him in for the bounty, not a relationship.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Arthur DeHart
• Release date: Aug 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9781088270066

Book preview

1

Chapter One -1923, New York City, NY USA

The man sat across the room from me.

He was a wisp of a figure, golden and beautiful, yet so composed of shadows that he was almost forgettable. Seated at a round table by the window, light streamed into the cafe, causing his long hair to shimmer. Despite this, it seemed I was the only one who noticed him.

I sat at my own table, captivated as he basked in the sun and reveled in his ethereal splendor. I had encountered this man in many of his previous lives, though never intimately. My knowledge of him was limited to brief glimpses and perusing his files at the station. Every time I saw him in person, I felt as if I knew nothing. This man was an enigmatic entity, perplexing the government agency I work for. He effortlessly stole my words and thoughts.

His demeanor was marked by a certain ease, bordering on inhuman. I would be inclined to believe he was anything but human. Having lived since Ancient Greece, one might speculate that he was a Grecian god who came to Earth and chose to stay. Ageless, his skin was a shade of porcelain, so distinct I wasn’t certain it existed. His very existence raised countless what-ifs, leaving me unsure whether or not to fear him.

Our paths had crossed many times before. I had muttered excuse me as I brushed past him on the street, stood behind him in line at the market, and witnessed his presence in various other places. Yet, I seemed to be the only person capable of noticing him, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had ever noted me.

This immortal man by the name of Atticus, and I, Cecil. Today, our paths would converge like never before, as I would take him into custody and finally fulfill my contract.

Chapter 2

1923, New York City, NY, USA

As a time traveler employed by the US Government, I live in a constant state of temporal disorientation. Born in 1992 and living in 2022, it’s challenging to maintain a clear sense of time and order. Time is not linear, nor does it follow a single timeline. Humanity’s perception of time is rather limited, and the reality is much more complex than most people realize. My father, the inventor of time travel, sold his creation to the US Government, and in doing so, he sold me along with it. I am the only one who can traverse the vortex without turning into a puddle.

Atticus Bright has been a person of interest for a long time, though I must admit, I don’t know why I’ve been tasked with bringing him into custody. My fellow agents haven’t shared much information, and the files I’ve accessed are frustratingly sparse. My moral compass isn’t particularly reliable, especially when money is involved. When the government hands you a million dollars and tells you to retrieve someone, you rarely ask many questions.

I find Atticus sipping his coffee and perusing the first-ever issue of Time magazine—an ironic pun, if ever there was one. Perhaps he thinks so too. His long, blond curls cascade over his shoulders, the only aspect of his appearance that deviates from the era’s fashion norms. A black bowtie adorns his neck, complemented by black suspenders and black pants. He wears a crisp, white button-up shirt, while a long, green coat hangs on the back of his chair. Beside his drink, a black hat with a green feather embellishment rests.

Taking a deep breath, I rise from my seat and approach him.

Is this seat taken? I inquire, gesturing to the wooden chair across from him.

Depends, Atticus drawls, barely glancing up from his magazine. If I let you sit down, are you going to stop following me around? He sounds bored, and I feel flustered.

I-I have no idea what—

Darling, I’ve seen you in every century since the fall of the Library of Alexandria. I was just waiting for you to introduce yourself. His eyes meet mine, a devilish smile playing on his lips. So, yes. Sit.

I hesitate for a moment before taking a seat, feeling foolish. Of course he’d notice.

I didn’t think you noticed, I say, trying to maintain composure.

Well, when you’ve been alive as long as I have, you rarely see the same faces over and over. He abandons the magazine and regards me with a predatory grin. The name’s Atticus Bright. Who might you be?

Leroy—

No. That isn’t right.

What do you mean?

You’ve had a new name every century. So tell me, what’s the real one? If you don’t, I’ll have to make one up, and I don’t think you’ll like that.

"I have no idea what you are trying to get at. You sound absolutely