BioPunk focuses on biotechnology -- technology that alters the genetics of an organism. Broadly, this can even refer to selective breeding, but for the purposes of BioPunk fiction, it tends to refer to things like bioengineering, or biomods, which a...
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Last month's challenge asked you to continue the following AfroFuturism prompt:
The year is 2147. You've been chosen by Lord Jah to go back in time and prematurely end slavery, altering the course of black history in unforeseeable ways. As you emerge through the portal to what is meant to be the year 1847, the time machine malfunctions and your world fizzles away.
Ebe's wrist unit—his time machine—had been destroyed in the jump back three hundred years. In addition to the smashed screen, the green guts of the device hung out in the form of cables and chipboards. He didn't know how it had happened—how the device had been mangled yet he himself had not.
Clearly Jah had greater plans for him.
Ebe glanced around, taking in this small settlement in the American frontier. Sturdy log buildings—all made using local materials, no doubt. He removed what was basically now a broken, oversized, anachronistic watch, and put it in the pocket of his dapper coat. He'd dressed for the occasion, as all of Jah's Timeseekers did when going out on missions.
No one would accost him based on his clothing.
There were a couple problems he saw for himself, though.
The first, obviously, was that he had no way to get back to his own time. Jah willing, this wasn't actually a problem at all.
The second problem was the fact he was a black man in a time and place where black people were enslaved. Obviously he'd been aware of the risks. But the cause was just.
And he was armed.
On with the mission.
There was a man here—a white man, naturally—who would prove influential in future race relations. Ebe knew the man would be seated on a round log behind the saloon. Ebe knew the man was slicing the skin off an apple and dropping it to the soil below. Ebe knew these things because this otherwise-dull event had already occurred—this moment in time in particular—but the man had done this same act of slicing the apple on the round log behind the saloon many times before, and—unless Ebe intervened and put an end to the man—many more times in the future, too.
Ebe found the saloon, the rowdiest place in town. He followed its length to the building's rear. He rounded the corner and saw—
Himself. His own body, his face, even his damn clothes. Ebe 2 was seated on the round log behind the saloon, aiming a gun at him.
