Deep underground, far below the Pentagon, John sat in an old leather office chair.  He had woken only minutes before and was taking in the changes to his office. Today was the first day he had seen this particular computer. Someone had replaced his previous computer with a laptop. The room was an odd mix of old and new. The wall calendar was current but the daily quote calendar on his desk was 8 years out of date. The furniture would be described as 'vintage', yet the phone was brand new with an LCD display.  John thought the new sunlight simulating faux window was a nice addition since he rarely left this basement.  He remembered buying the coffee pot in 1975 at a small appliance shop in Arlington during one of his rare forays beyond the walls of the building like it was only months ago. The artificial potted palm had been a gift from a friend when he took the job with the Temporal Studies Program in ‘63. The sign on his door only said “TSP” in a standard font, which most people outside the office thought it stood for “Thrift Savings Plan”.

 

“Mr. Ecks…”

 

John looked around to see his assistant standing behind him with a cup of coffee held out for his taking. He gingerly accepted the full cup as he looked at the first face he had seen since waking from his four-year nap. He could see new lines on the old woman’s face that he did not remember seeing last time they spoke.

 

“June!” he answered, confirming for her that he had not forgotten her name. “How are you?  How was your last four years?” he asked, looking at his watch as if to confirm how long it had been. It had been their standard joke for decades.

 

“The new budgets are being worked upstairs but it looks promising for us to be funded for yet another run. Also, the new hire is here… you know, I have to retire soon. I can’t keep this up forever, unlike some people,” she said dryly. “Anyway, the updated World Events binder is on your desk. I tried to limit it to just highlights, there has been a lot going on lately.”

 

John nodded and took a sip of coffee. “Thanks,” he croaked. The coffee was hotter than he had expected.

 

“Oh, and please read the binder before you watch any news… it will be less upsetting that way.”

 

“Sure,” he said managed and leaned back in his chair. “June...” he paused and shook his head, “never mind.”

She patted his shoulder and left him to his thoughts. How much real living had he missed since he began his life as the director of TSP and its only test subject?  He took another sip, more carefully this time, and he opened the binder.

 

“Now what new mess has the world gotten itself into?” he muttered. After skimming four years’ worth of highlights, some good but most bad, he closed his eyes. He leaned back and reflected on the life he had left behind so many years ago.

 

He was thirty-seven when he made his first jump forward. Before that, he had spent most of his postdoctoral career working for the Department of Defense and the Brooklyn Project. He had barely left the Pentagon since that winter day in 1963. Although it had been less than a year for him, lived one week at a time, he had left behind his wife and young daughter decades ago. Now his world was the basement of the Pentagon and he spent most of his time catching up to current events.

 

June knocked softly on the doorframe. He saw June standing in the doorway with a young woman behind her. He waved them in.

 

“Mr. Ecks, may I introduce Ms. Mary Goldwater,” June said. John nodded a response.

 

“Mr. Ecks, it is so nice to meet you. Thank you for considering me for your assistant,” Mary gushed. Mary was a reasonably attractive, smartly dressed woman in her mid-30s. John thought there was something vaguely familiar about her features, but he could not place it.

 

“I didn’t know I was,” he teased. John raised an eyebrow at June.

 

“John, I told you about this four years ago,” June said. “I am retiring!”

 

“I know, I know,” he smiled.  He motioned for Mary to take a seat across from him and June left them alone to talk.

 

“Do you understand that this job is a very long commitment?” he asked.

 

“I do,” she said.

 

“And did June explain what we are doing here?”

 

“You are protecting the Pentagon from nuclear attack by maintaining the ability to leap forward in time. If nukes are inbound, you would cause the whole building to leap forward to a time after the radiation would be gone. Or something like that?” she answered.

 

“There is a lot of complicated physics in the details but that pretty much sums it up,” he said.

 

“May I ask a question?” she asked.

 

“Of course.” John leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers in his lap. He watched her as she worked through some internal struggle. He smiled slightly, hoping to put her at ease and project a professorial quality.

 

“Why did you have to abandon your daughter?”

 

“What?”  His professor-like demeanor dropped away. “How do you…”

 

“She was my mother,” she said. 

John struggled to comprehend the words.

Mary continued, “It took me a long time to find you." She paused before adding, "She died last year.”

 

A new pain crawled through John's body. A pain that time could only magnify.