The atmosphere of the gray, stern boardroom was normally very monotonous, but not today. Today, the sounds of bombs bursting nearby heightened the tension as the men in nondescript black suits argued back and forth.
“We don’t have much time, men. We’ve got to do it.”
“No, it’s an enormous risk, not only for us, but for the entire known universe.”
“Men, we have to go back.”
“I can’t believe they melted the whole damn thing.”
“I don’t care about good intentions, it’s an act of time terrorism.”
After going thought every scenario possible, it was decided; someone had to go back. After the middle-aged men anxiously drew straws, it became apparent that the shortest straw was in the hands of the disheveled, wide-eyed rookie. A re-drawing was cautiously suggested, but it was struck down with lightning speed by those who had been flooded with relief at the length of their straws.
“So, what exactly was the plan?” the rookie asked.
This query didn’t ease the nerves of the boardroom in the least. Quickly, the senior-most man snatched up the rookie’s arm, pulled him aside, and hurriedly yet thoroughly debriefed him.
“Okay, once we get you to the machine, it’ll be easier to visualize. You’ll walk in, you’ll see a screen to your right. You’ll plug in the numbers.”
“Uh, sir, could you refresh my memory on those numbers?” interrupted the rookie.
“Dear God, rookie, were you even listening at all? We may have to sear these numbers into your skin if you can’t remember them. It’s simple. Three tiny, simple numbers, rookie. Can you handle it?”
“I think so, sir.”
“4. 14. 1912. You got that rookie? After you enter the numbers, you hit the big green button, got it?”
“Yes sir. Big green button.”
“After that it gets a little more tricky. As the machine starts up you may feel a little nausea. First-timers usually do. Once everything stills, you’ll need to change into your disguise, and exit the machine. Remember that you need to act like you belong. Keep up the charade at all costs, rookie. Draw no attention to yourself. From this point on, you will have 24 hours to find those damn terrorists and stop them at all costs. Good luck, rookie. We’re all depending on you.”
The rookie is briskly escorted to an elegant chrome machine, and opens the door. He receives a few well wishes, but doesn’t hear them. After a final check of his pack, he seals himself inside and punches in the numbers.
“4. 14. 1912,” the rookie repeats to himself confidently.
He calmly pressed the green button and immediately the machine  began to convulse. The rookie struggled to keep down his meager lunch as he was thrown to and fro, seemingly at random. Just as the rookie was beginning to think that this was all a colossal set-up, the machine gently came to rest. Taking a few moments to prepare himself, the rookie sighed and began to don his disguise. As he slowly opened the door of the machine, the rookie found his jaw dropping and his eyes widening. He was in what seemed to be an endless hallway. The rookie checked his watch and quickly commenced scouring the hall for any sign of another machine like his.
After spending nearly the entire 24 hours searching through countless halls filled with countless rooms, the rookie finally found himself immersed in crisp, saliferous air. Inhaling deeply and forgetting his mission for just a moment, the rookie spun around to take in the view. As he spun, the rookie’s eyes locked onto the first thing he’d seen since he arrived nearly 24 hours ago that didn’t quite seem to fit. A man in very obviously ill-fitting, uncomfortable clothing was acting quite suspiciously at the very edge of the railing. While the rookie watched, the man took out a strange device that was definitely out of the ordinary.
The man began to point the device at a small alabaster object in the distance. The device began to emit a strange sound, almost as if it was warming up. The rookie began to sprint toward the man as the sound switched to a higher pitch. As the rookie launched himself toward the man, the device started to shoot out a bright red laser. Before the laser fully reached the icy, alabaster entity in the distance, the rookie tackled the man, the pair landing on the device and shattering it.
As the rookie laid on top of the man, both of them gasping for breath, the rookie wondered what the world was like back home. Thinking of the death and destruction he had known for nearly all of his life, the rookie decided to talk to the so-called terrorist.
“Why?” questioned the rookie, “Why would you try to change something like this?”
“Why would you stop me?” the man questioned back, “Why wouldn’t you want to save all of these people?”
“You’ve heard of Adolf Hitler, right?” asked the rookie.
“Of course I have,” exclaimed the man, “But what does that have to do with saving all of these lives?”
“One of the descendants of the people who should die here very, very soon will be a monstrous dictator and is destined to kill more than twice the people Hitler did,” explained the rookie.
As the man realized what he had nearly done, the ear-splitting noise of rupturing metal filled what had been a chilly and silent night. A screaming crowd began to flow past the man and the rookie, hardly noticing the shattered, foreign pieces of the laser device underfoot. Both the man and the rookie tried to fight through the sea of people, but soon realized that they would never see the shining chrome of their machines again. Allowing themselves to be swept away by the crowd, their eyes met for a final time and each man gave the other a short, solemn nod.
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The earlier tension of the boardroom faded soon after the last echoes of the bombs did. The men heaved simultaneous sighs of relief as the senior most man smiled.
“He did it, by God. The rookie did it.”