September 17, 1999
Opening his eyelids, seventeen-year-old Evan Treborn awakes in his bedroom. After using the bathroom as part of his typical morning routine, he walks to the kitchen. Both of his parents are having breakfast.
"Evan," says Andrea, "we're not going to be here for dinner tonight."
"Where are you guys going?" asks Evan, pouring himself a bowl of Kellogg's Corn Pops.
"We're going to a dinner banquet in Manhattan," says Jason. "We'll stay overnight at a hotel and we'll be back Saturday morning."
"You can have some friends over," says Andrea. "No girls though."
"Sure, Mom."
"You can call us on our cell phones if there's any emergency," says Jason.
Evan feels something rub up against his leg.
"Want some breakfast, Crockett?" Evan asks the ten-year-old cocker spaniel.
Oooooooooooooo
It is evening, and thousands of lights light up Manhattan. Most people are on their way home for work, while others work full-time jobs.
In southern Manhattan is the World Trade Center, a complex of seven buildings located in Manhattan's financial district, containing 13.4 millions square feet of office space.
Jason and Andrea Treborn, both clad in fine clothes, arrive in the lobby of One World Trade Center, a tower rising one hundred ten stories above the ground. They walk to one of the express elevators, where others in business suits, many of them here for the banquet, are already waiting. The doors open, and the elevator whisks them to the sky lobby at the seventy-eighth floor sky lobby. From there they take a local elevator to the one hundred seventh floor.
Jason and Andrea walk through a door.
"Welcome to Windows on the World," says a host.
"We're here for the dinner banquet," says Jason, extending his engraved invitation.
"Someone will escort you, sir," replies the host.
Less than a minute later, Jason and Andrea are led into one of the banquet rooms at Windows on the World. They are seated at a cloth-covered table. A street map of Manhattan is printed on the carpet. Two candles adorn the table. The window reveals New York City at night. More and more people enter the banquet room.
Dinner is roasted tenderloin covered with a sherry sauce and garlic, sautéed scallops, white cheddar mashed potatoes, and vegetables. Jason and Andrea eat dinner, talking about their history, and their dreams, even while guests of honor make speeches
"I think I'm gonna go over to the bar and have some drinks," says Jason after finishing his main course. "Gotta mingle with my peers, you know."
"Okay, dear," replies Andrea. "Maybe I'll join you later."
The forty-year-old corporate chairman walks to the Greatest Bar on Earth, which adjoins Windows on the World. Many people from the banquet are here, sipping drinks.
"Get me a screwdriver," says Jason, walking to the bar.
"Okay, sir," replies the bartender, a man dressed in black pants, white shirt, black vest, and black bowtie. He grabs Absolut vodka from the counter in the back and mixes it with some orange juice.
Jason hands the bartender a credit card. He walks around with his drink, to begin networking with others in his field.
"Treborn," someone says. "It has been such a long time."
Jason looks around, seeing a bespectacled man in a business suit, holding a caramel-colored drink.
The man is Bob Schnaufer, now thirty-one years old.
"Good evening, Schnaufer," says Jason. "I suppose life has been treating you well."
"It has," replies Schnaufer. "You definitely did me a favor, cutting me loose like that. I invested my personal funds on those Internet stocks. My net worth skyrocketed. I'm a senior executive for a major investment firm, located just a few floors below us. Sure living in Manhattan is crowded, but having a penthouse overlooking Central Park can make the crowds go away, not to mention a lovely lady."
A beautiful, bubbly blonde takes Schnaufer's arm.
"Oh Bobby boy," says the blonde, wearing a red dress. "Shall we go now?"
"You should have invested in Internet stocks back when I told you," says Bob Schnaufer, walking away. "Who knows how far you could have gotten."
Rage slowly creeps in Jason's mind.
Oooooooooooo
"You haven't been saying much," says Andrea, standing inside the express elevator as it heads to the ground-floor level of One World Trade Center.
"I just ran into Bob Schnaufer today," replies her husband.
"He used to work for you, right?"
"Yes. We had disagreements as to invest into Internet companies. If I had invested in those companies back then…"
"We're already millionaires now, Jason. Don't worry about it. It's not like we're gonna end up in the poorhouse."
"The Internet was the biggest thing that happened in investment history, and I scoffed at it! I missed the early years and now this boom is upon us. If I could only go back and put money into the Internet before it became hot shit."
The elevator doors open. "You don't have to do that," says Andrea. "We have enough."
Ooooooooooooo
September 20, 1999
Jason parks the 1995 Lincoln Continental and walks to his private office at Temporal Financial Services. Immediately turning on the Apple Macintosh LC 580, he ponders on exactly what to write as the Macintosh's operating system boots up.
He opens the folder containing scanned 1995 photos. He searches his memory to recall when Schnaufer had advised him to go into Internet stocks.
He sees the photograph dated Oct-2-1995. He remembers that day; it was when he had gone back in time to stop Evan and his friends from blowing up a mailbox, killing a young mother and her baby girl. After his return, he had taken a photograph.
He stares into the photograph.
And falls into the past.
Ooooooooooooo
October 2, 1995
Jason finds himself holding the Polaroid camera, and the photograph is ejected from the slot. Checking the screen of the Macintosh, the date reads 10/2/1995.
I wonder if I should be this. I am still a millionaire.
He opens the TeachText program to type a message for his thirty-six-year-old self to read.
September 20, 1999
October 2, 1995
In the next four years, the prices of Internet company stocks such as Amazon, Google, Yahoo!, Lycos, E-Bay, Expedia, and Travelocity will skyrocket.
Please make sure to make appropriate investments.
And make sure to keep Schanufer around; he has very good insight.
From the future,
Jason Treborn
Jason saves the document for his past self to read. He then scans the photograph that had just been taken and saves the file into the 1995 Photos folder.
And he waits, just going about the rest of the day, having meetings and talking to clients. It is rather annoying to have to relive a typical day. Not for the first time, he wonders if he would have to relive every second up to the time he flashed back from.
He walks into Bob Schnaufer's office.
"Is there anything?" asks Schnaufer.
"This Internet thing, Schnaufer," says Jason. "I've been looking it over and there might be something to it."
"It's the next revolution, sir. Missing out on this would be like an investor missing out on the Industrial Revolution."
Jason smiles. "I'll take a further look at those companies before making a decision. I'm sure that waiting a day or two won't hurt."
He closes the door behind him. He knows for a fact Schnaufer is right; he will not admit it this early.
He has lunch at the café, and continues the rest of his work day.
Then, around 4 PM, time seems to fast forward.
Ooooooooooo
September 20, 1999
The first thing Jason Treborn notices after the images flash by is a pounding headache.
He next notices something trickling from his nose.
Grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket, he pinches his nose. With his eyes he can see a screen displaying Netscape Navigator.
Leaning back, he can see that the screen is not that of a Macintosh LC 580.
He looks at the desk, and it is different from the one he had back in 1995. It is made of wood instead of steel, for one. The telephone is a different model than what he is used to.
The chair also feels different. Bending his neck, he can see the seat is well cushioned, with black leather covering the chair.
Looking past his desk, he has a full view of his office. The office is much larger than one he had before; it appears bigger than the office suite Temporal Financial Services had in 1995. The floor is covered in black marble tiles. Plaques are pinned to the wall.
Looking behind him he can see two other skyscrapers as well as a huge grid of streets of buildings. He recognizes this as a recently constructed commercial development in White Plains; in fact, he remembers a few years ago discussing this with the developers. From the view he can tell he is very high up.
Jason gets up and walks across the marble-tiled floor. He sees a framed copy of BusinessWeek hanging on the wall.
The cover has his own picture on it, with the caption, "America's Finance Guru – Jason Treborn Explains How to Secure Yourself Financially".
Hot shit.
Looking further, he sees photographs of him together with President Bill Clinton and Governor George Pataki.
He opens a single door to the right of the room. Inside is a marble sink with brass handles and a faucet. The floor has the same black marble tile; this room is a private bathroom.
He walks back to his desk and uses the computer – he sees that it is a Power Macintosh G4. He opens the Bookmarks menu to select the web site for Temporal Financial Services. The web site looks the same on first inspection. The front page advertises the company's services; it offers the same services as before.
He clicks on the link explaining the company's history.
Founded in 1991 in White Plains, New York, Temporal Financial Services has been offering a wide variety of products and services. It has grown from one office to a network of branch offices nationwide. The company went public in 1996, with an IPO of sixty dollars per share.
Today, Temporal Financial Services is America's leading financial services company, with a reputation for staying ahead, offering brokerage services, financial advice, and mutual funds. Its income, reported in 1998, was one hundred ten million dollars.
Temporal Financial Services – Three steps ahead of fate.
Jason then clicks on another link.
Born and raised in a small town in Connecticut, Jason Treborn started his career in financial services with an internship with American Pride Financial Services. He was hired as a financial advisor after his graduation with a Bachelor of Science in Finance.
In 1991, he went on his own, founding Temporal Financial Services, which has grown to a network of over two thousand financial advisors across the nation.
Today, Mr. Treborn serves as chairman of Temporal Financial Services and sits on the boards of several charitable organizations in New York. He has appeared as a guest host on CNN's Moneyline.
Jason continues browsing the company web site. The telephone on his desk here.
"This is Jason Treborn," he says.
"Mr. Treborn," says a female voice. "Your 10:15 appointment is here, sir."
"Thanks."
The wooden doors open, and a man in his fifties, dressed in business attire, enters the room.
"Ah, good morning," says Jason, extending his hand.
"Mr. Treborn," replies the guest. "Nice speech you gave at the banquet Friday. Nice office you have here."
"We can get you some snacks, sir."
"I am a busy man. How about we get down to business?"
oooooooooooo
After a morning of reading reports, Jason finally leaves his office. The décor of the Temproal Financial Services office suite is much richer than it was in 1995.
"Oh, Mr. Treborn," a voice calls.
Jason turns around, recognizing Bob Schnaufer.
"The staff and I made some reports on that business proposal with Sony," says Bob Schnaufer.
"How about we discuss this after lunch, Schnaufer?" asks Jason.
"Okay, sir."
Oooooooooooooo
After a day consisting mostly of reading reports and holding meetings, Jason leaves the office and walks to the elevator- noting that Temporal Financial Services is located on the 27th floor penthouse.
The elevator descends to the lobby of the building. Jason and the others in the elevator step out onto marble-tiled floor of the lobby. A water fountain serves as a centerpiece. A Wells Fargo bank is located next to the lobby, packed with customers.
"Have a good evening, Mr. Treborn," says Schnaufer.
Jason walks to the parking lot, seeing his 1995 Lincoln Continental. He notes that the space is reserved for the Chairman of TFS, Inc. Stepping into the car, he starts the engine and drives off. The song "You Were Meant For Me" by Jewel plays on the stereo.
Earlier he had checked the address on his New York driver's license, noting that he now lives in Rye, New York. He checked a road map to find out how to get to where his home is now in this revised history. As he drives, Jason notes that the route seems familiar.
He turns on to a residential street. On both sides are mansions with well-manicured front lawns. He checks the numbers painted onto the curb.
And then he steers the Continental onto a driveway. The driveway leads to a garage attached to this huge brick mansion. A balcony hangs directly above the front door. Jason feels familiar with this place.
Opening the thick wooden front doors, Jason emerges into the front room, the floor covered in white marble tiles. A stairway rises from the floor to a platform, where stairs rise from the left and right to an interior balcony. The railing is varnished wood, and Jason can see that the support pillars are finely carved with intricate patterns.
Walking through a door to the right of the front hall, he steps onto the soft carpet of the living room. Inside the room are couches, a Pioneer plasma color television with an attached satellite box, and an Aiwa stereo system that is currently playing the song "Torn" by Natalie Imbruglia.
Two teenage boys sit at the coffee table reading textbooks.
"Hi, Dad," says Evan Treborn.
"Hello," replies Jason. "Oh, hi, Lenny."
"Hello, Mr. Treborn," says seventeen-year-old Lenny Kagan. Evan and I are studying."
"Good. And how are your parents?"
"Fine, sir."
"I had dinner with the Kagans last Friday," says Evan. "You know, when you and Mom went to that banquet in Manhattan."
"Of course," replies Jason. He goes to the main hall and enters the kitchen. The kitchen's countertops are covered with blue tiles. The sink's faucet and handles are made of brass. The Kenmore refrigerator includes an ice and water dispenser. The interior of the refrigerator has two liters of Coke, some Budweiser beer, a bottle of wine, and two water pitchers. Jason then leaves the kitchen and walks up the stairs, walking along the balcony and going through a door to the second floor hallway. Walking into one of the rooms of the mansion, he sees a collection of Nautilus workout equipment. He takes a closer inspection.
"Gonna work out in those clothes?"
Jason turns and sees his wife Andrea. "Hi there," he says. "How was your day?"
"I was over at the kitchen with Irene," says Andrea, referring to a soup kitchen for veterans. "The stories people will tell."
Jason takes his wife into his arms.
Oooooooooooooo
November 25, 1999
Immersed in hot sunflower oil, the turkey cooks inside the deep-fryer at a temperature of three hundred seventy degrees Fahrenheit; steaming from the inside out. A propane gas tank heats the pot.
"Only a few more minutes," says Andrea, looking at a Casio digital stopwatch.
"Interesting method of cooking a turkey," says her husband.
Jason and Andrea are outside in the backyard patio, surrounded by the autumnscape. A greenhouse is attached to the mansion; flowering plants are visible from here. In the backyard is a huge oak tree. A fire extinguisher is close at hand. Both of them wear aprons and googles and thick gloves.
"My mom used deep-fried turkeys. Keeps the moisture in. I learned how tio do this over twenty years ago."
"My mom was from Alabama; deep-fried food is a tradition in her family."
It takes about an hour to finish deep-frying the turkey.
"I'll prepare the French fries," says Jason even as his wife places the deep-fried turkey into the kitchen. "It should be easier to handle than the turkey."
Jason smiles at a JVC digital video camera mounted on a tripod.
Ooooooooooooo
The doorbell rings.
Jason, clad in a sweater and khaki pants, walks to the front hall opening the door.
"Jason," says to his brother Scott.
"Welcome to my home," he says to Scott and the others.
"I am impressed by this place," says Dana, who is Scott's wife.
Four other people enter the mansion.
"Hi, Uncle Jason," says a twenty-two-year-old blond-haired woman.
"Hello, Chrissy," says Jason.
A man in his early twenties with slick black hair, wearing a sweatshirt, enters and places his arm around Chrissy's waist.
"Hello there," says Jason. "What was your name?"
"Roland. Roland Caculitan."
"Well, come on in." Jason remembers attending Roland and Chrissy's wedding
in California a few months ago. "How are you two doing?"
"We're doing well," says Chrissy, patting her bulging belly. "So when will dinner be ready? I'm eating for two, you know."
The doorbell rings again.
"I'll get that," says Evan. He looks through the peephole and opens the door.
"Grandpa," he says.
"Evan," replies seventy-two-year-old Chris Treborn, his hair now mostly gray.
"Hi, Dad," says Jason, giving his father a hug.
"Good to see you, Jason," says Chris. He goes on to greet his son, daughters-in-law, and grandchildren. They all update each other on their lives.
"So what do you do now, Grandpa?" asks Scott's nineteen-year-old son, Nick.
"I jog in the mornings, watch TV, sometimes I go to the senior citizens' center. I still has some life ahead of me."
"I'm sure you have twenty or thirty years left, Dad," says Jason.
"And you know this how?"
"Just guessing."
"Hi there," says a female voice.
Andrea looks and sees her sister-in-law, Meaghan Treborn. "Hello there," she says.
"We're all here, and it's already six," says Jason. "Let's eat!"
Inside the main dining room, a deep-fried turkey sits on top of a bed of French fries which sits on a plate which sits on a cloth-covered table. Accompanying the turkey are some bottles of red wine, a casserole dish full of stuffing, and sourdough bread rolls in a basket. Jason takes a a huge Cutco carving knife and carves the turkey. The others in the room look with hunger.
They all take slices of moist turkey, hcewing it in their mouths.
"This is some great shit," says Scott after swallowing a piece of turkey. "It is a lot better than the turkey they served us in 'Nam back in Thanksgiving of 1970. That shit was as dry as a bone."
"You should thank Andrea," says Jason. "She cooked it."
"And my mother taught me," says Andrea.
"you know," Chris says to Roland, who is new to the family, "My ancestor, Ezekiel Treborn, was at the first Thanksgiving; he came aboard the Mayflower.
"That's interesting," replies Roland.
In about an hour the turkey is finished. The party moves from the formal dining room to a den. The den is covered with a hardwood floor. A huge Pioneer plasma television is the centerpiece, with a satellite box and a Toshiba VHS video cassette recorder. Evan turns the television on, and a football game is displayed on the plasma screen.
Sometime later, a commercial appears, starring Sam Waterston from Law and Order.
"When it comes to your money, your future," Waterston says in the commercial. "nobody is more trustworthy than Temporal Financial Services. For eight years they have helped Americans plan for the future and build shelters to prepare for what life throws at them."
"Temporal Financial Services," says another voice as the logo for the company appears. "Three steps ahead of fate."
The football game continues. About two hours later, Jason leaves. He walks through a door to the greenhouse. He sees his father standing near one of the tropical orchids.
"Nice place you got here," says Chris.
"We had it constructed last year," says Jason. "Gardening is one of Andrea's hobbies."
"You've made yourself quite a fortune, Jason."
"I worked hard for it, Dad."
"I remember the last Thanksgiving I had with your grandfather. It was back in 1946."
"How is he doing?"
"Your grandpa's still alive and in the institution."
"He has to be over a hundred."
"Yes, he is. I first heard about your grandpa being committed back in 1948. Your grandma wrote me a letter. I took leave from the Marine Corps in 1949 and came to visit him. My conversations were interesting."
"you know how he has that fantasy memory, Dad," says Jason.
"That's what I thought first," replies Chris. "When I first spoke with him, he last remembered that it was October of 1962."
"But it was 1949 when you spoke with him."
"Yes. Dad told me that he had been elected President of the United States in 1960. He said that in October of 1962, the Soviets had missiles in Cuba. They refused to back down, so your grandpa acted. There was a nuclear world war over the next several days."
Jason recalls that part of history from his history classes. "That did not happen yet when he told you."
"I know. It wasn't until the Cuban Missile Crisis happened that I knew he was right. Meanwhile, I started having these flashbacks when I looked at pictures."
"When did these start?" asks Jason.
"I remember it was when I was serving in Korea. I looked at old pictures and then I relived that moment. I didn't think nothing of it at first. Later, I think it was '54, I was looking at some old pictures of me, and then I found myself back there for a while."
"So you could relive your wedding with Mom, right?"
"Yes. I was beginning to wonder what this was though. By '54 I was out of the Marines, your mom and I raising your older brother. I looked at one picture, taken during the Chosin Reservoir campaign."
"And you went back."
"Yes. I was hoping to flash forward before the enemy would attack, but it was not to be. I was fighting in the war again. I remembered a tank coming in by surprise. I ran and saw the Russian-made tank used by the Chinese. I drew their attention and threw a grenade into the hatch. After that I flashed forward."
"Wow," says Jason.
"It didn't happen that way originally. Then tank was supposed to ambush us, killing my friend Ash. A few months after that, Ash contacted me. He survived."
"So you changed history."
"Yes. I did more research into my family history. I learned that the men in our family line had a tendency to either drop dead suddenly, or end up institutionalized, like your grandfather. I even found out that Ezekiel suffered from mental illness, unable to remember new things. From what I had learned, I found out that this ability I had was passed on from father to son, and that using this ability could lead to memory loss. That is why I rarely used it. I never stare at a photograph for too long."
"Did you use this to try to save Mom?" asks Jason.
"Yes," replies Chris. "It was a risk worth taking, and I was not trying to change something that happened long ago. I went back and left a note to myself. Obviously it didn't work. Not much you can do to prevent someone dying from a stroke except try to get them to the hospital early."
"I guess there are no guarantees. But don't you wish you could go back to see Mom again?"
"No. I knew what happened with so many men in our family, the toll their flashbacks took on them. And I want to warn you about this. I know you have these, and I know you used them to make your fortune."
Jason remains silent for a minute, amazed that his father figured this out. "I'm just trying to provide a better life for my wife and my son," says Jason.
"It's best to stop now while you're ahead, Jason," replies Chris. "Andrea and Evan might lose you if you keep trying to rewrite history for your financial gain."
"Just what is the big deal?"
"What right do we have to change the past for our own whims? What right did I have to kill those Chinese soldiers when I went back that time?"
"They were the enemy."
"They were the enemy of my younger self serving in the war, not a visitor from the future. Who is to say that it is better that they died instead of my friend Ash? If we alter history to prevent our problems, especially distant history, we can not grow as people. There are parts of my history which I did not like living through, and yet I know it would be foolish to change things, for that could destroy the person that I am. And I certainly would not change the past to become ungodly wealthy."
"I'm not saying that I'm gonna go back to change what happened years ago. Not anymore."
"This power is dangerous,; it could cost you your health. You've made your fortune, Jason. Just quit while you're ahead."
"You're just jealous, Dad," snaps Jason. "You're just jealous because you had this ability, an ability few other people will ever had, and did nothing with it. All you had was some little grocery store that went out of business a few years ago. I am the chairman of one of the most successful finance companies in the world. Look around. You squandered your talents and your life. I am moving ahead. I am going places. And you are going nowhere."
"I'm sorry, Jason."
Chris walks away, towards the mansion's living room.
I told him everything. It is his choice now.
