Date: Tue, 19 May 1998 05:04:47 PDT
From: "Lars M. Culverine" <nardwik@hotmail.com>
Subject: Kidnapping Through the Stream of Time

CONTENTS: M/b, b/b platonic, erotic science-fiction

WARNING:
This story involves description of platonic, erotic and possibly 
sexual relationships between a young male and/or MINOR boy(s).
This is an adult-oriented story. If you are under 18 or under
legal age in your area to read such stories please exit now.

Likewise if you are offended by such material or if a cross-
generational man-boy relationship isn't your cup of tea or if you
would have behaved in some criminal ways after reading this
material, do not read it. You have been warned!

As this story itself appears to be a SCIENCE-FICTION there is no
doubt about that this is a fiction. However, some characters
acting in the story are based on their TRUE opposites and some
of the plots depicted REALLY have happened (in a similar way of
course).

All comments wellcome. It will help me consider my writings not
a loss of time.



KIDNAPPING THROUGH THE STREAM OF TIME
by Lars M. Culverine (c) 1998

CHAPTER 1.
My Little Namesake


There have been just only few seconds left to the start.
I cuddled up in the soft chair, having my body fastened tightly
with a narrow stripe of the 4-point security seatbelt. My heart
was pounding frantically as I watched motionlessly but at
increasing tension all the last seconds that still have left to the
approach of the time of my oath....

Generators went on, filling the cabin with a deafening rumble, cabin
itself made a shake and then it started to rotate, slow at first.
Within some seconds it spinned at a thorough speed.
Just before I could realize what was going on the cabin rotated
like hell. Increasing acceleration override caused to press my
body hard and merciless into the chair, my sight, my hearing and
my consciousness blurred, I couldn't manage to take even a slight
breath, the cabin whirled faster, faster and faster... The last
thing I was able to see was the digital backward time counter,
digits in there, running back at full speed, displayed all
particular years... 1987..1974..1969..1958..1946..1935..19......

Then a deafening explosion hit my ears and all surroudings were
blackened with a sudden impenetrable darkness. I felt as if the
cabin was falling somewhere, for long and long time... Then
a soft impact, a sharp, blinding light... and the frantic whirling
again, a cruel deceleration, pain in my chest, I realized that the
revs were descending, looks like we are clear for landing, the
deafening rumble became silent and I disappointedly found myself
sitting in the cabin, apparently on the same place I started a while
before from. However, I felt a sudden freshness and pleasure when
breathing, as if I would come to a meadow somewhere very high in the
mountains. I still felt some nausea in my head but I realized I could
make it.

I made a brief glimpse to the backward time counter indicator...
and my heart almost stopped. The bluish display on the main board
pointed clearly and undoubtedly to the destination time: 16th
August 1 9 2 7 !

Staggering, balanced, I got out of the cabin. I checked my
indelible SEIKO wrist-watch: contrary to all expectation it
didn't get mad during the frantic time jump, it was still
displaying the same time and date, even though it wasn't July
1998 just now.

I carefully peeked out... Lookyhere! No lab, no glassy building
with the extensive area all around, just a meadow, a forest ledge
and a half-ruined factory, an abandoned house that served me well
as a perfect piece of cover. Hmmm, I must admit I have made
a fine choice, nobody comes over here for couple of hours, it
seems to be quite far from all those inquisitive and curious
people...

Well, as far as it goes, it looks like a daft, foolish bedtime
story for kids and myself, if you think I acted in it as
a positive hero, then wrong! What I was going to do in the close
future was completely out of spirits and ideals of those
positives. How has it all begun, then?

One of my praiseworthy duties at home was to visit from time to
time the cemetery not far away and to take care of our family
vault where our grandparents rested, to freshen the water for the
flowers in there or to freshen rather the flowers themselves, to
clean the soil on the grave and so. But, if you were going to get
the water you would have to go quite far, almost across the whole
half of the cemetery and so, in order not to feel myself bored on
the way, I used to read the writings and engravings on the other
graves and to look on the old, yellowed pictures on them... One
day I visited the place again after a long period of time and as
usual I set out for the way to the water pump, dangling with the
can in my hand. And as I was examining all those graves and
epitaphs, I felt a hot wave suddendly flush all over my body, my
heartbeat increased and I stunned there in awe... Right in front
of me there was a common granite tombstone I haven't yet noticed
before... There was an yellowed oval picture of a little boy
placed on it and his stats engraved simply into the stone. Well
there would not be anything strange about this if only there
wasn't the label that readed: Michael Gieronyme, born 16th August
1916, died 16th August 1927.

He died exactly on his eleventh birthday... on the 16th August...
but no, MY name is Michael Gieronyme and *I* was born on the
16th August! Punctually the whole fifty years after the death of
that boy, on the 16th August 1977!

It was incredible, crazy, I could not believe it... Yet the same
day I ran to the city public library, then to the record office,
to the births-and-deaths-register, chasing all institutions
possible just to get known, what had happened the day... I copied
a huge pile of yellowed, even 80 years old files and records,
newspapers, birth certificates, everything I could remember, even
some pages from our local city chronicle.

Then I locked myself in my room at home and started to study all
those materials. As I was just having a brief glimpse to the third
leaf I almost let it fall down. It was a copy of an article from
the contemporary newspaper dated 17th August 1927... The title
readed: "Tragical Accident in Abandoned Factory". It was printed
right on the second page, with inch-sized letters...

I feverishly started to read... A classical routine tragedy... Some
little orphan gets into the abandoned ruins in the area of some
former factory without any supervision and a huge piece of ceiling
crashes down on him. Then a short report concerning his lifetime
fortunes followed by the final warning "instructive" conclusion
added by local police officials. The repeatedly emphasized and
accentuated cause of death right on his 11th birthday also did not
help much to decrease the depresiveness of that article.

I was so sorry of the boy... He died so young, so innocent and
his death was THIS dull and even such cruel and painful...
I swallowed bitterly and my eyes felt wet by tears. I was, let's say, 
supersensitive by nature and I felt terribly moved so easy
by such stories. And what was the worse about it, I constantly
felt guilty. Everytime I had learned about some similar tragedy
I felt guilty. Especially when the story went around little boys.

Well I was 21 and since my 14th year I realized there was
something strange with me. It was the time when I found out that
except beautiful girls I was also attracted to little boys. I was
almost certain about it because there had happened something what
completely reassured me in such a horrendous thought. I met
a little boy... but that is just another story. Well I can
assure you that nothing had happened the day. Maybe after I will
have finished this story I may going to tell you what had
happened but now let's just get back to this one.

I sighed deeply, wiped my eyes and carried on to browse through
the pile of leaves. But as the magic name of the boy and the
incredible match with MY own name still appeared in my mind,
I tried to check the birth-and-death-certificate records. The
year of 1916... The 16th of August... three children were born in
the local maternity hospital the day, two boys and a girl. Mother
that bore the second boy, Rosie Gieronyme, died during the
complicated childbirth! And as nobody else could take over the
proper care of the baby, it was ordered to grant - it also could
be called vouchsafe - a thorough care to the boy in the local
orphanage institute...

The local orphanage?! I never thought about it, I never have
counted with it. Well, as a matter of fact, even in the article
was the boy described as an orphan. The local orphanage...
I wonder whether it still raises on the same place as seventy
years ago? There is some children's and youth care institute in
our city. If this is the same institute and if it is situated on
the same place as the orphanage mentioned formerly in the news
I could surely get some other information from there. It is going
to be slightly complicated, I thought for myself...

+ + +

The ancient building breathed on me with its dank and cracky
millenium of long, long years. However, even though it outlived
more than one hudredth of its mere existence, it was still
well-kept. I felt I was out of humour a bit so I took a deep
breath, held it for a second and with a relievable exhale
I crossed the threshold with my right leg first...

The tiny affable old lady gave me a curious look through her even
tiner specs: "What do you need it for, young sir?"

"Well," I stuttered, "I'd like to find out what happened to one
of my ancestors... He's believed to attend and to live in this
institute about seventy years ago. I'd like to know whether he's
still alive..., you know..."

The old lady shrugged anxiously: "Well I would be glad to help
you but I have no idea how, you know, it's such a long time,
well, unless... of course!" she glared suddendly, "unless we
would have had a look into our archives. In fact we are having
the most detailed, the most archivable archives here that have
ever been founded anywhere. Well as a matter of fact it has
served us since the building raises. Follow me, young sir."

We went throught a long corridor with lots of doors. The end of
the corridor was occupied by tall, dark colored gate. I had
a hopeful feeling hidden im my soul that maybe from some of those
doors a beautiful little boy would peek out curiously but I was
disappointed at last. Silence glared from everywhere just like
the warm pleasant sunshine weather outside so that all the little
orphanage inhabitants probably were out in the garden.

The tall door creaked silently and we came into the archives. 
"We have arrived," the old lady smiled. "Wow!" I was astonished,
"what a blast!"

I stared like in ecstasy on the walls in the room, completely
occupied by racked, high-to-the-ceiling cases. All those racks
were filled by numerous amount of thick, labelled and numbered
books. The numbers on them apparently presented the year on which
the appropriate files were recorded. 

"Well, what are we going to look for, young sir?" the old lady asked. 

"The years of 1916 and 1927, please." I said. The lady turned to the racks, 
reached out, stepped aside, reached out again and pulled out two volumes:
"Well, here you are."

I opened the older volume first and started to read through...
Yes! It's here! A new "incomer" last-named Gieronyme recepted in
October 1916, born in local maternity hospital on the 16th August
1916, he got his first name Michael, father unknown, mother died
during the childbirth. I reached out for the other book. I had
a brief glimpse for the first pairs of opening pages... Nothing
special. And then it came! It was so unexpecting that I almost
shuddered: a big black-and-white picture titled: "Return from the
homeland study journey of our capital city. Date: 22th May 1927". 
And there, on this picture, middle row third from the right 
in the group of boys, my little namesake, Michael!

I engraved his portrait from the tombstone into my mind so
intensively that I recognized him right there.
But it was not everthing at all... some pages later I found
a pasted double-leaf of paper, framed in a mourning, funeral
arrange... We acknowledge with a deepest sorrow that our dearest
son and friend, Michael Gieronyme, left us forever on the darkest
day of 16th August 1927. Now we must bid you farewell but we will
never forget you!
And another picture followed, this time the boy himself only. 
He was glaring from there right at me, with his slight smile 
and his eyebrows lifted a bit, he looked sort of curious, wondering, 
as if the camera, "laterna magica", snapshot him rather unexpected.

I couldn't have enough of looking at him, the surrounding world
caused no existence for me, time stopped completely. The
black-and-white picture of my little namesake... Now I WAS
struck, deeply, forever and very painfully. I would have never
believed that I would be looking some day on such a beautiful
little creature with so incredibly nice-shaped features, on an
cute angel on the mere prime of his innocent, wonderful, yet such
mean and insidious life when I would be able to immediately have
it out with anyone, who ever dared to hurt him anyhow.

I could feel tears running into my eyes again. I turned away urgently. 
"Have you found anything useful, young sir?" the old lady asked.

"I think so," I answered, "may I have it copied somewhere around here?"

"Sure, the copy machine is just over there, but please be careful
with all that so that it will not damage. All those are just very
old things, you know!" I assured her "of course", placed the first
leaf and turned on the Ricoh...

"Good-bye and thank you, lady," said I as I was about to leave,
standing by the entrance gate, "you helped me so much. It looks
like thanks you we have got to a quite new spot."

I returned back home and soon after some other questions strated to
wear me away. What if there really is some ancestor-relationship
between the little Michael and me? What if I have overlooked
something? I grabbed the copies of leaves from the birth-and-death
records... I browsed quickly the files concerning our family...
then everything about our ancestors... Rosie Gieronyme? Nothing. 
No spot that there is any ancestor-relationship with our family...
I fell down to the chair, exhausted... It's so incredible! 
Such a fantastic chance!

Suddendly I felt I longed to meet the boy, whose name was just like
mine, who had died exactly fifty years before I was born myself and
from between his and my birthday the whole 61 years elapsed. But how?
How to do it for the gosh sake when we both were split from each
other by such a long time?

Time? T i m e ! This is it! My God, I have the chance! Our company
works around a very lucrative government order, it is all about the
investigation and exploration of possibilities of time-and-space
travel. We have had incredible results with it. We have succeeded to
transport the lab rat one minute first and then even the whole 30
minutes into the future!

Concerning the past and the returns from the past, we have still
experimented with that only once, however only special appliances
could reassure us that the experiment did not fail. All equipment
possible matched in showing that the rat really appeared on the
pre-computed place. No other irrevocable and useful proof of it was
obtained, the videorecord from the camera was blurred and distorted.
And so we just waited the order from above to be allowed to send
a human being and we were also expecting some volunteer that would be
ready to realize this historical time-space travel.

And I was just struck be the idea. I will try! I'm going to meet my
little namesake if everything turns out well! A severe nausea
enveloped all my mind, my head swam and all my conciousness was
overflooded by a cheerful wave of joy... I turned on my computer...
I scanned and saved all particular files onto the CD and discarded
all xero-copies.

Next day I came into the lab, hearing out with a stiffled joy that
there was "nothing new about it" and took an usual snug perch by my
terminal. I pretended to work on the emergency backup energy supply
for the time machine. (In fact, I have just finished it, anyone could
just launch it now.) I uploaded all data from the CD and started all
those too-much-long calculations concerning time-space trajectory,
start and destination places and such ones. I could not forget even
a slightest detail, I chose the arrival time early in the morning of
the 16th August 1927. According to the contemporary coroner report,
the accident should have happen around eleven a.m., the way
I obtained three hours in advance. I should count with all solid quakes
possible, I should count with the unstable structure of the building
thereof as well as with the appearance of all potential witnesses. 

As the last shift was about to finish, I gave back that I would possibly
stay by the computer for a while and that I would probably work for
some time at night. Within one half-an-hour the building depopulated
completely and I remained in the lab completely alone.

I knew very well what I am allowed to do when I set out into the
past and what I am not. The only chance to preserve the
time-space continuity was to stay awaiting on the place and to try
to communicate with the boy before the tragedy is going to occur.
Then I felt compelled to think about what to do after that,
I wished to take the boy back with me so much and save him but
I was afraid of it...

I had to know, I was eager to get known for all the costs what
is going to happen with my own present time if I would change the
stream of history in the past and what am I expected to do then so
that the history wouldn't change at last... I launched the simulation
of the changed stream of time... I almost killed the computer for
those were billions and billions of possible situations. And then it
appeared!

My eyes popped on the monitor, I felt a sudden hot wave all over my
body as I watched in disbelief what I saw there... My wildly pounding
heart banged even somewhere in my throat. I swallowed then, instantly
reading the test results again and again:

"Probability of the time-space corruption during the transport of the
pursued object from different time-space area into the present:

If some spots of presupposed death of above mentioned object will be
left in the area of quadrant E38 sector A87 together with removing
all spots and proofs of appearance of the time machine as well as of
the person non-belonging to actual time-space zone in the area, the
probability of the time-space corruption after the transport of the
pursued object into the present will be less than 0.00012%"

I could not believe it. The computer itself gives me a challenge to
realize exactly what I have been longing so much... I was launching
feverishly another and another calculations just to check everything
once more and to learn about any possible things to avoid... The
results were rather surprising to me. As far as I got it, I could
even sneak around the city, if only I would keep an eye to uphold the
prescribed process of course, if nobody else except the "pursued
object" would notice the time machine, if I would not be going to
"terminate anyone's life" and if I would not get in a closer touch
with "anyone else than with the pursued object".

It was wild. I felt I could not lost any minute. I launched the
"Greenbeard", which was the secret indication of the time machine
activation program. I set the time circuits for the backward travel
as well as for the return into the future, I'm going to return in
about a minute, meanwhile there will elapse 3 hours in the past
followed by the whole long 71 years... I locked the lab, entered the
cabin, closed the sheet front cover and fastened the seatbelt...

+ + +

I left the gloomy cracked walls of the building that were
surrounding me and in which accompanion I felt so much out of
humour. I breathed out with relief when I got outside and
then I started to slowly summon some thoughts about what I was
going to do next. I had a huge lot of time left actually. But as
I moved aside, there suddenly sounded an ominous, increasing
rumble. I stunned speechless as my eyes shrieked with horror,
then I turned rapidly.

A piece of mossy, brick-orange tile tore off from the rooftop, rode
a long rattle-rumbling way down, copying the angled surface of the
roof and hit the ground afterwards with a hollow crush. Yes, there
was no doubt about it, there in the factory, a lethal time-bomb had
been already ticking. Then I startled: what if only my presence in
here is enough to change the past? What if the ceiling is going to
crush down sooner? Or later? Or somewhere else? Is the time machine
in any danger then? But no, the calculations prooved enough that
there should not happen something like that. But, the dull piece of
the torn-off tile as well as its ominous rattle bit my mind so much
that I urged to get back to the time machine and check all the
calculations one more time... Yes, everything was all right... the
building stability wasn't neither affected nor weightened.

I wiped the icy-cold drops of sweat from my forehead... Well, that
could do! Then I had a brief glimpse to check the energy supplies.
Well, so far so good, only 35 percent of main supply exhausted,
there have been left 65 percent for the way back including any
unexpected energetic outcomes and then still the whole roundy-round
100 percent in the backup system. I rubbed my hands together...

I got out of the cabin and stepped outside. Now I'm supposed to
think about what to do at the critical time when the boy would
appear in here. I sat down onto a flat stone lying aside the road
that led around the building and, having my head covered in my
hands I pretended I was thinking seriously. I could not find any
suitable idea however, even though I was sure about that
I couldn't just appear simply in front of the boy saying: "Hi!
I'm from the future and I came to save you!"

Suddenly an unpleasantly fast approaching sound of footsteps tore
my thoughts off and in an instant a shape of a little boy, not
even 100 yards from me, emerged from the bushes at the road's
bend!

What?! It cannot be him at all! Immediately, I darted away
disappearing in the factory hall. I fell down onto the chair of the
time machine, breathing heavily: It's not possible! It's not possible
at all! Shouldn't there have been more than two hours left before the
boy was going to appear? What a mistake the coroner made as he was
determining the presupossed time of death! But there wasn't much to
do about this one, the boy was here. Let's hope he hasn't noticed me
yet. And is it really him?

I inconspicuously sticked my head out of the cabin. My sight to the
opened factory gate (or rather to the ruins of it) was obstructed by
a massive pillar that now served me well however, like an effective
cover. Now I was dodging instantly behind the fat rounded pillar
pretending desperately than neither me nor the big gizmo-gadgetty
construction called the time machine is here... In front of the
sunlit opening that was bordered by wide-stredched, almost torn-up
gate, a dark silhouette appeared. I held my breath, stunning. The boy
stepped a bit further and the glaring sunbeams lit his face. My heart
rate increased. It was him! What now?

He seemed however as if he hasn't noticed anything for he entered and
continued carelessly further inside. As he approached almost several
feet from me, he glanced around, searching, then moved a bit further
up to the pile of iron scrap nearby and reached into his pockets
pulling something out. I could not see what he was doing there so
I sneaked as silently as possible, trying s-l-o-w-l-y and
ca-re-ful-ly sit down back on the chair. A rather reasonable plan
started to grow in my mind. I thought about this: as soon as the boy
is going to concentrate on his stuff, whatever he does there, I will
start the generators, just at very low rev rate so that it would not
be that loud, pretending I have just landed. I only hoped that it
won't startle the boy so that he would run away.

Then I suddenly heard a silent cracking noise, right form the point
where the boy stood. I carefully peeked out again from behind the
pillar and stunned: the boy held a matchbox in his hand, he scratched
a match-stick and lit a cigarette! So THIS was the thing you had in
your pocket! Oh boy, you shall never forget that cigarette of yours!

I silently sat back on the chair and with certain amount of malicious
joy I clicked the tumbler under the "Turbo" label up and then
I switched it swiftly back down. The generator quaked, roared loudly,
the turbine inside let out a short wailing sound and then from all
that grunt-rumbling fortissimo there has been left only a silent
decrescendo of a whizz belonging to the slowly descending revs.

And the boy? As he just inhaled the smoke from the cigarette and blew
it relishly out through his nose, a loud rumbling roar and wailing,
sounds he has never heard before, exploded right next to him.

Shocked, he let both the cigarettes and the matches fall down,
scattering everything on the floor but he never seemed to notice.
With an expresion of horror in his scared face he turned back staring
at the puff of dust slowly descending on the floor causing to
disclose a metal monster that has never been before a while at all!
And what was even worse, some humanoid-like creature staggered
out of the monster, well it looked like a human but it was very
strangely dressed, it coughed and it brushed off the dust from its
clothes! The boy felt his ice-cold drops of sweat running down his
back, he felt he wanted to yell, scream, run away head over heels but
in such state of shock he has just experienced he could only stood
there speechless and unable to move as if being frozen on the place...

And that way I also found him there. A biblic salty-pillar.
A petrified boy. I even felt I was a bit sorry of him. So
I mimicked a rather surprised expression in my face, moving one
step back at the same time. It looked as if this plucked up his
courage, because the boy suddenly asked in a shivering voice:
"Who are you?" 

I tried to grin as spontaneously and nonchalantly as possible, 
with an expression full of optimism and an infectious joy, to help 
the boy get rid of his apprehension and I exclaimed proudly, imitating 
the voice of the country fair caller and circus director: 

"Hello! I'm a traveller! A time traveller! My name is..." then I stopped, 
embarassed, "well, my name isn't that important. What is important to me 
however, is the date today. What do we have the date today, young man?"

A completely nonchalant intonation of my voice affected. "The 16th of
August," peeped the boy noticeably louder. "Marvellous," I exclaimed,
"and what year do we have now?" "Nineteen twenty-seven."

"Oh, Lord! Great! Excellent!", I cheered, "what's your name, little one?" 
The boy dropped his sight a bit, then said silently: "Michael.
Michael Gieronyme." "Splendid," I said (and felt an marvellous wave
of joy in my mind), laying my hand onto the lustrous massive skeleton
of the time machine, "well then, Michael, let me here introduce the
XTR-2000 to you, a brand-new prototype of the time machine. I'm not
sure if you are going to believe me and, in fact, I don't care about
it at all, but you should know, that I have just returned with it the
whole 71 years back in time, for both of us come from the year of
nineteen ninety-eight!"

The boy dropped his jaw. His eyes widened with awe and
I continued: "If you were talking the truth and if we now really
have the year of 1927, then you have just witnessed the
historically very first travel in time and space for more than
20 years!"

"Wow!" breathed out the boy, glaring. "Yes, there is no doubt about
it. It's the true time machine. Do you want to visit the ancient
times of pyramids, pharaohs and mummies? Do you want to see how the
world will be like in the next 100 years? Do you want to experience
the two years of vacation and then get back the same minute you
started? No problem!"

To tell the truth, I wasn't sure if the boy was ever noticing my
country-fair-like babble and prattle, because he almost absorbed the
glistening silhouette of the time machine with his glaring eyes, with
that absolutely sincere, honest, joyful awe, that you would be
possible to experience only at boys close to his age (it's the kind
of awe I've always loved so much). Finally he turned to me and asked
shyly: "Can I...? Could I look at it closer?"

The question was spoken rather uncertain and embarassed but his
beaming eager boy-eyes almost exclaimed it in an longing hope.
He got me. Under his pleading look I haven't any slightest chance to
resist (and in fact I never wanted to). I only advised: "Of course
you can have a look, but please don't touch anything in there!" 

The boy darted nimbly onto the seat, turning and cocking his head in 
all directions, with an unceasing interest he looked at all those
switches, indicators and dials. Suddenly he stopped: "What's the
stab-le struc-tu-re of the buil-ding? And what's the pur-su-ed
ob-ject?" I stiffened. My heart began to pound frantically...

The results of the last measurements still left on the monitor!

Oh God, no!

But the biggest shock still awaited me. "And what shall happen round
eleven o'clock?" an innocent but crushing oathsome question followed.
The boy turned to me with the simple, still glaring look and with
a smile, that froze quickly on his lips, as he noticed my pale
expression that I wasn't able to cover even if I desperately
wanted to.

Hardly to control myself, I swallowed and breathed out: "You know,
Michael, there are things around the world, you should not rather
know about. And this one, this one is a very serious thing. It is so
serious that I'm afraid you will not believe me, that you will call
me a liar, because..." I dropped my sight and then I suddendly fixed 
my eyes at his face: "...because this thing does concern especially YOU, 
Michael." The boy paled white.

"Your name IS Michael, isn't it?"

"Yes," he uttered.

"Michael Gieronyme..."

"Y-yes," he stammered.

"You were born... on the 16th August 1916..." the boy was speechless.
"...you cannot remember your Mommy because she died as you were born
and then they gave you into the orphanage, where you were living
until now, is that right?"

Michael could only manage to stare in disbelief, he wasn't able even
to nod. When the primary shock and panic was gone, he asked in awe:
"How come you know all this?"

"Well I come from the future. We who come from future, we know
everything about the past. Or almost everything. And this way
I also know everything about you. And I also know what is about
to happen in here round eleven o'clock."

Then I decided to bet everything on the last card.

"I shouldn't rather tell you about it," I hesitated, "I'm not sure
whether you would be strong enough to bear that."

"I'm not a chicken-heart, you know," Michael objected.

"Well then," I sighed, "I don't know what you were up to in this
abandoned factory (the boy's ears noticeably reddened), but you should 
know that the ceiling in here is about to crush down in a while. 
And what is the worst about it," I continued, "the ceiling should crush 
down on you. And that's why I came here. I came to save you!"

At the same time the well-known rattle-rumbling sound appeared, this
time it didn't cease, however, on the contrary, it grew in loudness
and power... with an jerky, lacerate sound a huge, heavy piece of the
ceiling vault tore off, it whistled the dozen feet way down and,
crushing in an deafening bang, it hit the floor very close to where
we both stood. If the boy would have stayed on the original place, 
he would be surely killed on the spot. Michael jumped away,
panicked. It was just 9:08 a.m. The history has changed.

This time...


<End Chapter One>


ONE MORE WARNING: This is and adult-oriented story involving
several kinds of cross-generational relationship between a young
male and a MINOR boy. NO RAPE & COERCION. NO ABUSIVES. NO
UNWILLING PARTICIPANTS. NO GRAPHICS VIOLENCE. NO DANGEROUS ACTS.
NO READERS UNDER 18 ALLOWED. This story involves a very special
content for a very special minority of people who like to read
such stories. If this isn't your case, please don't read any
more. You have been warned.