Maddison Romanoff-Stark

Introducing The Time Heist!

We drive in one of the compound's supped-up Audis. My mom drives, I get shotgun, and Scott and Steve sit in the back. We drive for about three hours or so, and we arrive at our house. We pull up, and no one's outside. I get out of the car and run inside. "Dad! Mom and I are home! We have company! We need your help!" I say. My dad walks into view and hugs me. He slings his arm around me as we step outside.

We stand on the porch to talk. Scott explains his plan, and then he says, "No. We know what it sounds like." "Tony, after everything you've seen, is anything really impossible?" asks Steve. "Quantum fluctuation messes with the Planck scale which then triggers the Deutsch Proposition. Can we agree on that?" says my dad, pouring a smoothie into five glasses. He hands them out, and we all say, "Thank you." "I can agree," I say. "In layman's terms, it means you're not coming home," says my dad. "I did," says Scott. "No. You accidentally survived. It's a billion-to-one cosmic fluke. And now you wanna pull a... What do you call it?" says my dad. "A time heist?" offers Scott. "Yeah, a time heist. Of course. Why didn't we think of this before? Oh, because it's laughable. Because it's a pipe dream," says my dad. "Dad, I know where you're coming from, but look, can we just give it a shot?" I say. "The stones are in the past. We could go back. We could get them," says Steve. "We could snap our own fingers. We can bring everybody back," says my mom. "Or screw it up worse than he already has, right?" says my dad. "I don't believe we would," says Steve. "Gotta say it. Sometimes I miss that giddy optimism. However, high hopes won't help if there's no logical, tangible way for me to safely execute said time heist. I believe the most likely outcome will be our collective demise," says my dad. "Not if we strictly follow the rules of time travel. All right? It means no talking to our past selves, no betting on sporting events." says Scott. "I'm gonna stop you right there, Scott. Are you seriously telling me that your plan to save the universe is based on Back to the Future? Is it?" says my dad. "No," says Scott. "Yes," I say. "Good. You had me worried there. 'Cause, that would be horseshit. That's not how quantum physics works," says my dad. "Tony. We have to take a stand," says my mom. "We did stand, and yet here we are," says my dad. "I know you got a lot on the line. You've got Nat, a daughter. But I lost someone very important to me. A lotta people did. And now, now we have a chance to bring her back to bring everyone one back, and you're telling me that you won't even..." says Scott. "That's right. I won't even," says my dad. "Dad, do it for me. If not for me, then for Peter," I say. "Maybe," says my dad. "Please, dad. I know you want to get Peter back, and I want to get Wanda back," I say. "Fine!" says my dad. "Yes! I'll help you with as much as I can!" I say. "You do that," says my dad. "Thanks, Tony," says Scott. "Look, it's for her. Otherwise, the answer would be no," says my dad. The "her" my dad is referring to is me. Steve and Scott leave, and my dad and I get straight to work. My mom is doing some work stuff.

My dad and I are trying to figure out some different algorithms to make it work. We find a potential one, and we tell Friday to test it in a specific shape. The version fails, and we start over again.

We repeat this for hours. We don't pause to eat or drink anything. We make little tweaks and fixes, and still, nothing works. It's 11:00, and my mom drags me upstairs to go to bed.

I lay in bed awake for at least two hours before I get out of bed and go downstairs. I see my dad still hard at work. "Hey, dad," I whisper. "I knew you were still up!" says my dad. We get back to work, and I figure out a potential solution. 

My dad and I are at the holographic table in the living room, and I say, "I've got a mild inspiration. I'd like to see if it checks out. So I'd like to run one last sim before we officially pack it in for the night. This time in the shape of a Mobius strip, inverted, please." As Friday works on the model, she says, "Processing." I touch a part of the hologram and say, "Right. Give me that eigenvalue of that particle, factoring in spectral decomp. That'll take a second." "Just a moment," says Friday as she makes the adjustments to the model. "When'd you get so smart?" asks my dad. "I don't know. I've grown up working with you. I guess your smarts rubbed off on me," I say. "Don't worry if it doesn't pan out. I'm just kinda..." I say. "Model rendered," says Friday. It boots up, and Model Successful flashes on the screen! I'm in shock. My dad falls onto a chair and says, "Shit!" "Did we just solve time travel?" I ask in disbelief. "Yes. You just solved time travel," says my dad.