The Mission Begins

The year was 2036, and the world was falling apart.

John Titor sat alone in the underground bunker, staring at the sleek lines of the 1967 Chevrolet Corvette parked a few feet away. The vehicle gleamed under the dim lights, its midnight blue paint a stark contrast to the dull concrete surrounding it. But this wasn’t just a car. It was a lifeline. His lifeline. Inside that Corvette sat the C204 Gravity Distortion Time Displacement Unit, a device that would either save humanity or leave him stranded in the past forever.

The bunker was silent, save for the faint hum of the time machine’s standby mode and the ticking of a distant analog clock. It had taken years to perfect the unit—an experimental device created from breakthroughs in particle physics at CERN—and it was now ready for its most important mission yet. A mission that had fallen to John.

“John.” Captain Raines’ voice broke the quiet, pulling him back from his thoughts.

John looked up. Raines, his weathered face marked by years of conflict, stood at the entrance, his gaze fixed on the Corvette. The man’s presence carried authority, but today, there was something more—worry.

Raines stepped forward, his boots echoing in the cavernous space. “It’s time.”

John stood, his body tense. He had prepared for this, but no amount of preparation could ease the weight of what was about to happen. The year 2036 had been brutal. Society had crumbled, torn apart by war, famine, and a technological collapse that threatened to push humanity back to the Stone Age. And in just two years, the UNIX 2038 problem would wipe out what little infrastructure remained.

He knew the stakes. Without the mission’s success, the world would fall into chaos beyond repair.

“The IBM 5100,” Raines continued, stepping closer to the car, “it’s our only chance to prevent the collapse. The 5100 can read and debug the legacy code running our critical systems. Without it, the UNIX bug in 2038 will bring down everything—communications, power grids, even what’s left of the internet.”

John nodded. The IBM 5100 was the key. A portable computer from 1975, but more important than its portability was its hidden ability—an ability known only to a select few engineers at IBM when it was built. It could emulate mainframe code, specifically the code for IBM’s older systems like the System/360 and System/370. In John’s time, it was one of the last tools capable of reading and fixing the old mainframe code still critical to modern systems.

“And you need to bring it back,” Raines said, his voice tightening. “Physically. The original machine.”

John ran his hand along the Corvette’s hood, feeling the cool metal beneath his fingers. This car had carried him through the wastelands of the post-collapse United States, but now it was something far more. The C204 unit, built into the vehicle, would create a gravitational distortion field using twin microsingularities. Once activated, the field would bend space-time, allowing the car and its occupant to slip through time itself.

Raines reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled photo, holding it out to John. “Remember this?”

John glanced at the image, the scene familiar but still jarring. The photo showed his instructor, sitting beside the C204 unit, a thin red laser beam bending unnaturally in the air. The beam was visibly curved near the displacement unit, the effect made clearer by the haze of cigar smoke in the room. It was one of the first demonstrations of the gravitational field’s power—a visual proof that the singularities contained within the machine could indeed warp reality itself. John had seen it with his own eyes.

He remembered his instructor’s deep voice as he explained it back then: “That’s the distortion in action. This isn’t theory anymore, John. This is real.”

The image of the curved laser stayed with him, a constant reminder of the risk. The distortion field was capable of bending light, matter, and time itself. But it was also volatile, dangerous. The same forces that allowed time travel could tear apart everything around them if not controlled with precision.

“I know,” John said, his voice low, as he handed the photo back. The weight of what he was about to do sank in further.

Raines stepped back and placed a hand on the car’s roof. “This thing… it’s a beast, but it’s your beast now. Just make sure you keep control of it.”

John gave a sharp nod. The car’s control panel flickered as the machine powered up. The gravitational distortions began to hum within the vehicle, barely perceptible, but enough for John to feel a familiar pull deep in his chest. The singularities were spinning, bending space-time around the Corvette like they had done so many times before in testing.

John flipped a switch on the panel and typed in the coordinates—July 28, 1975. The calculations spun across the screen, the machine preparing to open a gateway through time.

“You know the drill,” Raines said. “The calculations need to be exact. No margin for error. The Earth won’t be in the same place when you come out on the other side.”

The car trembled slightly as the field expanded, the air in the bunker beginning to warp. John took one last look at Raines and the dim concrete walls around him.

“I’ll see you when I get back.”

Raines nodded. “Good luck.”

With a deep breath, John pressed the activation button.

The world exploded into a tunnel of light and sound. John felt his body press against the seat as the car was torn from the present, pulled through the singularity. Everything around him bent, stretched, and collapsed into darkness.

For a moment, he felt weightless, his body suspended in the void. The familiar worldline of 2036 fell away, replaced by a swirling, distorted reality where time no longer flowed in a straight line.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, the world reassembled itself.

John blinked as sunlight streamed through the Corvette’s windshield. The engine hummed softly beneath him, the car idling on solid ground. He slowly released his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles white.

He was no longer in 2036.

The car sat at the edge of a quiet field, surrounded by rolling hills and a scattering of trees. The sky was clear, and the distant sound of birds chirping filled the air.

The year was 1975.

John exhaled, his mind still racing from the jump. He glanced at the control panel. The displacement unit was stable, the singularities back in their dormant state. The mission had begun.

The IBM 5100 was out there, somewhere, waiting for him to find it—and he had to take it back to 2036. Without it, the future would crumble.

And he had no time to waste.