The man standing in front of the mirror was carefully shaving his beard. Even though it was the year 2050, this small ritual still served as a form of relaxation for him. In a world where technology had made everything easier, he enjoyed the satisfaction of doing something with his own hands. As he thought about the long to-do list for the day, he muttered to himself:
"As long as you don't change your direction, it doesn't matter how slowly you go. Right, Mark?"
He finished the final touches and gave himself a quick glance in the mirror. With the refreshing feeling of a clean shave, he took a deep breath and quickly got dressed before heading up to the rooftop.
A short-range private jet was waiting for him, ready for takeoff. As he sat down in the passenger seat, the autopilot started speaking.
"Good morning, Doctor Mark. Would you like to go to the company?"
Mark glanced at the sky through the front window and replied with a determined tone:
"No. Head to Sector B, Section 125. And activate identity masking mode."
As the jet gently vibrated into motion, Mark drifted into thought. Time had always fascinated him with its strangeness. Connor revealing the location of that sector during the meeting had triggered a chain of events that led to this very moment.
Were the decisions made in the past inevitable products of the future? Or were people simply moving within an unavoidable system? Mark had no definite answer to these questions, but one thing he knew for sure: time was a mystery beyond human comprehension.
The mechanical voice of the jet interrupted his thoughts:
"You have arrived at Sector B, Section 125. The entire sector is under red-level lockdown sleep mode."
Mark pulled the console window toward him. Data streams raced across the holographic screen. Scanning the data with precision, he gave a cold command:
"Remember, when the alarms are triggered, fake a crash using heavy traffic and self-destruct. Today, everyone must believe Doctor Mark died in a jet accident."
The robot assistant's voice echoed with a hint of sorrow unique to its artificial intelligence:"It was a pleasure serving you, Doctor Mark. Thank you."
Mark stepped out of the jet and inserted his executive card into the scanner. The massive doors of Sector B opened with a deep groan.
Inside, he was met with silence and dust. The air was thick with the metallic scent of old technology. His footsteps echoed through the dark corridors, adding an eerie depth to the space. After a long walk, he arrived in front of the room he had been searching for. He looked up at the sign above the door and spoke to himself:
"Connor was right after all. B0283..."
The door was protected by a series of fine red laser lines, forming a deadly defense grid against any unauthorized entry. Mark carefully opened the panel beside the door and issued a command swiftly:
"Initiate capsule release."
The voice from the panel responded coldly and precisely:
"Capsule release violates core company procedures. Estimated time for release… Unknown… Error 2310."
Mark paused. This was unlike anything he had encountered before. It was the first time a capsule didn't have a recorded time entry—its placement in this facility was completely untraceable.
"Override Error 2310. Clearance level C3."
After a brief silence, the system responded:
"Override successful—Remote interference detected. Error bypassed. Releasing capsule."
Mark feared something might go wrong, but he didn't let it show—he already knew he had succeeded, thanks to Connor.
When the capsule fully opened, Mark took a step back. In front of him stood a child, looking up at him innocently. With wide, curious eyes and a soft smile, the boy lightened the heavy silence of the room.
"Hello," the child said sweetly.
Mark's heart skipped a beat. He didn't know exactly what was happening here, but his assumptions were proving true. This room was home to the Heir of Time…