Chapter 8
I've Got You In My Mind
Bureau of Time Travel HQ, 2175
-HELGA (adult) –
"Okay… I'm gonna ask you to repeat that last bit to me again, because like the orangutan who took a whole package of Ex-Lax, I am about to go absolutely apes***."
So, here's the deal. This day was supposed to just be a fun outing to Dino Land with my husband, my kids, and my friends' kids that got fobbed off onto me because everyone else was too busy to chaperone. One time-displaced daughter later (trust me, this is not too out of the ordinary when you're me), here I am in the 22nd century finding out that Trudy's stuck in the past. 25 years in the past, to be exact. My past. Not 25 years in the past from where I currently am. God, I hate time travel.
"I said that we're the ones who altered your memories," the resident scientist chick replied nervously. Apparently, word of my legendary temper has survived all the way to this far-off year. I mean, it's not as I keep it a secret. It's literally my chosen superhero codename (both as a self-deprecating joke and a reference to my power to generate intense heat and cold).
"Right. Okay. That's what I thought you said. So, any chance you could point me to whichever one of you did it? I promise I'll only murder them a little bit."
"Er, well…" the scientist hemmed, pushing up her glasses, "that will be a bit tricky, considering it hasn't happened yet."
"Oh, of course. It hasn't happened yet. What was I thinking." I rubbed my temples in irritation. "Here I thought that there was clear evidence that it has happened, seeing as my memories have been tampered with at some point in the past, but obviously I must be mistaken, seeing as it hasn't happened yet!"
"Er, yes, what I mean to say is, yes, your memories have been tampered with in your past, relative to your own timeline, but relative to our timeline, we haven't gone back and done it yet."
…right, of course. That actually made sense. I hate time travel. I hate time travel. I hate time travel. I took a deep breath, releasing some of my growing frustration. "Sorry. It's not your fault."
"Well, actually, it may very well be my fault, it just isn't my fault ye-" The scientist stopped herself, probably realizing she wasn't exactly making a better case for herself well-actuallying at this time. "Ahem. In any case, while we haven't gone back to alter your memories at this point in time, we do recognize the signs that it has been done, and we should be able to remove the blocks that are in place. With your permission, of course."
"Why would that be stopping you now?" I asked, perhaps a little too bitterly. Then again, why wouldn't I be bitter about it? My mind had been tampered with against my will. I should be bitter. I should be furious. I should be tearing this place apart. I probably would be if I was my younger self. If I didn't have people depending on me to be stable and steady.
"You must understand that the decision to tamper with memories is not one we make lightly. We only do it in the direst of circumstances. Instances in which the timeline could be irreparably damaged if certain knowledge remained intact."
I sighed. "Yeah, yeah, time is a fragile thing, changing one thing could change everything, butterfly effect and yadda yadda yadda. I understand. I don't have to like it, but I understand. Okay… so how do we remove these blocks? Shine the MIB light in my eyes?"
"Er… not exactly. You see, the alterations we made to your memories had to be very intrusive if they were to survive the changes that would eventually affect your brain. The can be undone… but you will have to make one adjustment before we can."
"Adjustment" was putting it mildly.
It became apparent just what the scientist (who I learned was named Gretel Grindle) meant when she led me to a side lab. Located therein was a tilted examination bed that I was supposed to lie down on, and an elaborate headset designed to beam lasers directly into my eyeballs.
All three of them.
"If you, uh, require privacy to make your changes, I can leave the room until you're ready…"
"Well, you don't have to. We're both adults here. I'd say 'it's not like I have anything you haven't seen before' but we both know that would be a lie."
"I must confess a certain scientific curiosity." She remarked, blushing.
"Suit yourself," I said, removing my T-shirt. Gretel turned bright red and whirled around to face the other way. Just as well. I relaxed and closed my eyes. When I assume my human form, what I'm actually doing is subconsciously forcing my body's cells into a shape approximating my old look, though it's mostly skin deep. My internal organs for the most part stay the same, which is why I haven't been to a doctor that isn't my mother-in-law or Phoebe in 25 years. To change back, all I needed to do was release that subconscious hold and let my body revert back to what it was supposed to be.
I felt it now, my toes and fingers melting together, my lower arms, wings, horns, and tail regrowing, my ears and tongue reshaping, my canine teeth and fingernails enlarging and growing sharper, and my third eye emerging from the recesses of my brain, through its reforming socket.
"Okay, you can look now," I said.
Gretel turned back to face me. "Oh, you're… still not wearing a shirt, are you."
"Doesn't exactly fit over the wings. Besides… I'm pretty sure you've seen these before… you have a pair…" I joked.
"Yes, but not, ah… that color… or, uh, size…" Okay. I'll give her color. Humans generally don't come in the shade of pink I do. But it's not like they were that big. Not small, either, but that was only to be expected from Miriam Pataki's daughter. She should see Lila. Now that girl is endowed. It's like she welded two ripe honeydews to her chest. Must be that farm upbringing.
"You don't get out much, do you," I remarked.
"I do not, no," she admitted.
Changing the subject, I asked "So, I lie down here, then?
Gretel cleared her throat. " Ah, yes. The padding should conform to your, uh, unique anatomy so that you'll be comfortable on your back."
"All right then." I got on, arranging myself as best in could. True to her word, the pad remolded itself to fit the contours of my body. Various monitoring electrodes were attached to my back near my spine, to my upper-right and lower-left hands, to my chest, to my neck, and to my forehead. Displays of my internal anatomy popped up on the holoscreeens. Finally, Gretel attached the modular headpiece to the machine, aligning each of the three tips with one of my pupils.
"This may be a bit unpleasant for you," she warned, taping my eyelids open, "but we need to ensure you don't close your eyes.
"Right, but be quick, I have to meet me droogies at the ol' milk bar," I said in a mock-British accent.
"…beg pardon?"
"Nothing, dated movie reference, you probably wouldn't get it. So, how long before this thing kicks i-"
There was a sharp jolt of pain as my vision whited out completely. "The blindness should be only temporary," assured Gretel.
"Thanks for the warning," I sarcastically shot back.
"Well, I was going to be shining lasers directly into your pupils, what did you expect?"
"Touché," I admitted. "Now long before this thing kicks in?"
"Not too long. You should soon be recalling those memories that were repressed, beginning with the most re-"
I looked on from my vantage point in the shadows as the cops loaded Nick Vermicelli and his associates into the back of the paddy wagon. It didn't matter how resourceful his lawyer was this time, there was no way the man was getting out of prison any time soon. Not on multiple counts of kidnapping and attempted murder.
Arnold, Gerald and Phoebe sat on the sidelines, wrapped in the blankets the police had left. They would still remain in the area until everything was in order, but for now, the situation was at an end. Arnold's grandmother, clad in camo fatigues and an army helmet, stood vigil, assuring no further harm would come to the children. I was certain the tough old bird was up to the task.
"So, you gonna go talk to him or what?" asked a voice to my left.
"What would be the point?" I asked its owner.
"Well he kinda does owe you his life," the red-skinned, multilimbed, three-eyed preteen replied with an impish grin. "People do tend to be grateful in that kind of situation."
"Yeah, right," I muttered. "Like I could've done any of it without your help. Besides, if I do, I'll probably just wind up sabotaging myself like I always do. It doesn't matter how many grand gestures I make. He's never going to see me as anything more that that weird, mean, ugly girl who's constantly tormenting him."
"That's not true, Helga," she said. "I think your persistence is going to pay off in the long run. Probably sooner than you think."
"What are you talking about? The boy's head over heels for YOU, Trudy. Not me. Even knowing what you really are."
Trudy shook her head. "Believe me, Helga. The absolute last thing I want to do is get involved with Arnold Shortman." She shuddered at the thought.
Despite myself, I found myself taking offense at her flat-out rejection of my beloved. "What, so now he's not good enough for you? Miss Mutant here thinks she's better than him?"
"Trust me, Helga, that's not the reason at all."
"Then what is it? What could possibly be the reason you'd reject Arnold?"
"Well… for one thing, I'm hecka gay."
A very long, uncomfortable silence, as it sank in and I realized just how completely off my reading of the situation was.
"Ohhhhhh," I finally replied, breaking it.
"Actually, I should probably break it to him. He thinks I've been rejecting him because of something wrong with him. And that's the last thing I want. But… the area's still crawling with cops, and I can't let myself be seen like this. It's still gonna be a bit before I can go human again."
"Jeez, what is with you? It's like you have some kind of vested interest in seeing the two of us get together."
"Maybe I'm just a shipper at heart," she said, smirking. "Maybe I think you two would be cute together. Maybe I have other reasons. Does it matter? I'm on your side here."
"Yeah, but why? What IS your deal, anyway? You show up outta nowhere, nothing about your background makes sense, and you're secretly some kind of awesome super-powered monster girl? What's your story, and why do you care so much about what happens to me? Are you my guardian angel or something? Figures mine would look more like she came from the other place…"
"I… I can't say. I wish I could tell you. I wish I could tell you everything, but I can't. I really shouldn't have even stayed here as long as I have, but I couldn't resist getting to know them, even though it was probably the wrong thing. As it is, today's probably the last day any of you will ever see me."
"Getting to know who? What are you talking about? Why do you have to go?"
"Because I was never supposed to be here to begin with! Every minute I'm here there's more of a potential for things to go wrong."
"Why, though? What's the big deal? Barely anyone knows about this whole situation here. Just a few kids who won't tell anyone, a bunch of criminals who nobody will believe, and a 'crazy' old lady."
"It's not just that. I…"
We were interrupted by a strange noise from behind us… stranger still considering we were in a dead-end alley and all that was behind us was a brick wall. Said wall seemed to distort and deform before our eyes, opening to reveal swirling portal. Three figures stepped through, two men and a woman. One of the men appeared tall and distinguished, dressed in anachronistic Victorian-esque attire, complete with pince-nez glasses and a top hat adorned with needless goggles. The other man was much more casually dressed in a red, orange and yellow tracksuit and sunglasses.
It was the third that captured my attention the most. She was a tall, striking blonde clad in jean shorts, a T-Shirt advertising something called "Monster Princess", and sunglasses, as if she'd just come from some sort of vacation.
I didn't have much time to speculate on the woman's identity, because it was immediately revealed when Trudy yelled "MOM!" and leaped into her waiting arms.
"Mom?" I repeated, incredulously.
"That's right, Helga," the woman replied warmly. "I'll be taking my girl home now. Thanks for taking care of her, but then, I expected no less from you."
My eyes narrowed at her. "Wait… how do you even know my name?" I glared at her. "Is this some kind of scam? Have you been spying on me or something?"
"Nothing like that," she said. "The answer's a lot simpler."
"What do you mean?"
"Well… I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell you. Considering none of you are going to remember any of this."
And with that, the dam broke, and it all came flooding back.
"Stop," I said, as I snapped back to reality (though it was hard to tell, as I was still pretty much blind). "Turn it off. I remember everything."
I heard the sound of the machine being shut off and a feeling of relief as I could no longer feel the lasers penetrating my eyes. I felt hands helping me into a sitting position as I should off the disorientation.
"What did you see?" asked the blurry shadow that I assumed was Gretel?"
"Well, you don't have to worry about finding the guy who wiped my memory."
"Oh, you saw who it was?"
"You could say that. It was me."
A. N.: Another short chapter. It's mainly transitional, as from here on in we'll be focusing entirely on the kids in the past. I also went back to first-person narration despite having done all the future segments in third-person because, honestly, I feel more comfortable writing this way.
Flashing forward to the story's ending might seem like an odd choice, and it probably is, but we haven't seen everything, and we don't know how we get there just yet. I think it has more impact to actually see what Helga is seeing than to just show the procedure from the outside and then have her say, "Oh. I did it."
J.A.M.: Kablam indeed.
Jose: Helga is in many ways her own worst enemy, yes.
Next: "In the Dark"
