—April 16, 2120, 10:10:49—

  The briefing room was bathed in the all-too-familiar cool, sterile light, but Silas barely saw the schematics glowing on the display unit ahead of him. His focus was on the faint scar tissue on Maxine’s left forearm, a relic from a faulty plasma conduit they’d welded shut together during the final construction of the Loom. Five years. The thought hit him with the weight of a fallen beam. Five years of their lives, distilled into this last and most crucial moment of testing.

  He let his mind drift, cataloging the cost. The delayed PhDs, a joke they used to make but now felt like a tombstone marking their lost youth. Their dissertations on temporal mechanics and energy-field topology had gathered digital dust, replaced by the sprawling, living manuscript of the Loom itself. Every spare moment had been consumed. Weekends became 48-hour work marathons. Holidays were just opportunities to run unsupervised diagnostics without the distraction of other departments. He remembered the smell of burnt hair from the first failed live specimen test, the endless nights fueled by stale coffee and the sheer, stubborn belief that they could tame the impossible. Their work, their passion—it hadn't just bled into their personal lives; it had consumed them whole, leaving only this room, this machine, and each other.

  Neil’s voice, calm and steady, pulled him back to the present. "Alright. Let's begin the final review." His tone was almost celebratory, but for Silas, it felt like a eulogy for a simpler time.

  “We all know what’s at stake here, so I know I don’t need to say it.” Neil paused. “But I’m going to, anyway. We all were there. We know we have to be cautious. I want to make sure that we give ourselves enough temporal buffer to make sure no mistakes can happen this time.”

  Neil gestured to Judith, and Silas watched the interplay between the four of them. The unspoken partnerships. He had Maxine. Neil had Judith. The Loom had already forged more than just innovation; it had cast their entire reality. There was no turning back.

  Judith cleared her throat. “I suggest we give ourselves a full twenty-four hours on the jump.” Her voice was sharp and precise as ever. “This will ensure that there is no possible risk of Maxine interfering with herself accidentally just in case we get our calculations wrong.” Her piercing brown eyes stared into Silas’. He understood that by ‘our calculations’, she meant ‘his calculations’.

  “That’s a large timeframe to start with.” Silas protested.

  Neil, his gaze staring at a datapad he held in front of him, was scrolling through test reports. “Well, we’ve tested equine, bovine, ovine, and swine specimens at, what, six months each?” He raised his arms in a questioning motion. “No issues found, correct?”

  Judith confirmed. “Genetic testing came back conclusive in each case. No sign of any degradation, decay, or any cellular irregularities.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Silas knew the testing data. He knew Judith was right. But he had a doubt. “Yes, but we always started with much smaller increments. Minutes, an hour, several hours, half a day.” He listened to the silence that followed. “We need to consider the ramifications of accelerating prematurely.”

  “Silas, I understand your hesitation.” Neil started. “But we also need to be practical here. There will never be a use case for this machine that will have a traveller go back less than 24 hours into the past. And we can’t risk another casualty incident.”

  Judith interjected, her voice more firm and confident. “Maxine needs to arrive and become acclimated with the temporal adjustments prior to being sent back to the future. Plus, her current self will need a long enough period to quarantine, allowing her future self to rest, give blood samples, complete cognitive tests, and ensure that all arrival parameters have met specifications before sending her back to the future. Anything less than a full day is out of the question.”

  Silas felt blood rushing to his face, his temperature rising in a rare moment of emotion. He began to raise his hand in rebuttal when he felt it–her gentle fingers on his arm carefully pushing it back down to the table. Maxine looked at him and smiled. It was pure warmth.

  “I know you want to keep me safe, Silas.” He felt her squeeze his arm as she shut her eyes closed just for a moment before looking back at him with reassurance. “But I understand the risks. And I agree with Judith. This is the way it needs to be.” She brought her other hand toward his and clasped it around his fist.

  Silas was powerless to argue with her. If he was wrong and Judith was right, he’d risk losing her the same way Neil almost lost Judith. He wouldn’t be able to live with that.

  “Ok.” was all he could say.

  A wide smile crept onto Neil’s face as he saw his three comrades had arrived at a consensus. “Ok then?” He asked once.

  Nods all around the table, even with one that was hesitant, sealed the discussion.

  “It’s settled. Can we plan on Maxine’s arrival at say…” He looked at the time and pursed his lips, calculating the moments they’d need to prepare. “...fourteen hundred hours, even?"

  Silas looked at Maxine. She nodded, giving him confidence. He sighed. “We can have everything ready and checked by then, yes.”

  “Great!” Neil’s excitement was palpable as he leapt up from his seat and started toward the door. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

  Silas watched as Judith met Neil at the door, hooking an arm through his elbow as both of them whispered and laughed, Judith leaning into him as they walked into the lab. They were right to be excited, he knew. They had all done the work. They all deserved this moment. It should be a happy time, shouldn’t it?

  He looked to his right. There sat the love of his life. His everything. She was so brave, but why did it have to be her? She leaned in, kissed him on the cheek, and gave him a look that echoed the expressions on Neil and Judith’s face.

  “I guess I need to get out of here.” She said, her smile beaming at him. “I’ll see you in the future.” She got up, leaving him seated alone. As she began to depart, she looked back on him. “Or should I say, I’ll see you in the past?” Maxine winked. Silas managed a smile in return, right before she turned and passed through the doorway.

  Silas watched his hands sitting on top of the table in front of him. They shook, slightly. He felt cold. Shivers across his whole body. He swallowed, closed his eyes and breathed out. The emotion he felt now was different. It had been a long time since he experienced this, but it was clear. He knew what it was. It was unmistakable.

  Dread.