The Time Traveler's Tale

The Novikov Principle

Entry 20xx-11-02

Temporal stability remains one of my biggest concerns with the trans-dimensional transporter. No matter what conditions I set, the modeling results in the breakdown of the affected matter. I promised Gura I wouldn't try it unless I was certain it wouldn't kill me. But these numbers haven't even gotten close to an acceptable range. Worse yet, I've noticed that sometimes the results will deviate between similar runs. None of it makes sense. It's almost as if the model is alive and fighting my efforts.

It might be a good idea to take a step back from this project. I'm young. I've got time – way more than I need. I finished the device last week, much sooner than I expected. It seems Gura has had less of an impact on my productivity than I anticipated. I have caught her poking the device from time to time, but it should be safe. So long as I don't connect the catalyst, it's little more than a fancy box with complicated electronics.

I'm thinking about compiling my notes about Atlanteans. I doubt any major journal will take my findings seriously. They'd want proof, and I'm not about to subject Gura to the cruelties of the world. Maybe I'll publish it as fiction. Might raise a few eyebrows, but everyone has hobbies, and fiction writing could be one of mine.

I wonder though. If Gura hadn't come into my life, where would I be today?

#

"Ame, I'm going out to play!"

Amelia waved as Gura put on her shoes. "You'll be at the beach, right? I'll come and get you for lunch later."

"Okay!"

Several months had passed and Gura had become a permanent fixture in Amelia's life. Though Gura was a free spirit, it was rather nice to have someone else in the house. It was the first time in a long time that Amelia had enjoyed the extended company of another person. After her initial video game addiction, Gura had calmed down somewhat. Nowadays, she would often explore the city during the day, saving gaming for the evenings. Amelia had even started joining in a few of the more shooter-type games.

Amelia let out a satisfied huff as the front door closed. "Now then..."

The workstation near her workbench hummed as it processed another experiment. Work on the trans-dimensional transporter had stalled due to recurring errors. Frustrated, she had taken a step back to examine those errors more closely. The current experiment was unlikely to provide any insight into dimensional travel. But she hoped to at least learn something about the odd destabilization issue. After a cursory check, Amelia made her way to the laptop she used for personal projects. A small light blinked at the corner of her screen, signaling a new message.

"What myth do we have today?" She sat down and got comfortable.

Her side project researching cryptids and rural legends had produced few useful results. After reading through the most popular entries, she was left with smaller anecdotes. Some reports were little better than ramblings of an overworked logger or sailor. Calling those people confirmed as much. Other reports had too many inconsistencies to be reliable. As such, Amelia had hired a few trustworthy people to scour the internet for new reports. If the stories passed the initial filter, her helpers would forward the reports to her. It had been a few months since she had gotten any updates, so she eagerly opened the attachment.

"Fishing boat attacked off the coast of Norway...?" She frowned as her eyes darted across the page.

The attachment was a scan of a newspaper article from a small town near the coast. A man had nearly crashed into the pier, which caused a stir among the residents. When the local officers got to the boat, they had found him slumped over the steering wheel. He was covered in wounds, reported to be cuts and punctures. His left foot was also missing, bound only by a crude tourniquet. The reporter had called his survival a small miracle. But what interested Amelia's contact was the man's story when he woke from surgery.