Prologue (Part 2/3)

* * * Flashback * * * One time, when he had been at home, working on his latest personal technological project using scrap parts, Naathan had received a call on the family phone. His sister had called, stating that the school had to let them out early, due to one of the teachers going home sick with no substitute. They both knew that the school did not allow students to remain behind on the grounds after closing hours, as they had attempted such before. In a panic, he had rushed out the door and sprinted along the dry dusty ground, towards the school property, which was normally a 15-minute walk away. Along the way, the tall dried grasses slapped at and left red welts on his bare calves, while small dust clouds formed behind him. Having reached within viewing distance of the school's front door in record time, he had stopped and crouched behind a group of bushes that lay a short distance from the school entrance. This was done in order to catch his breath and hide somewhat from the burning sun. Rivulets of wet dust ran down his face as he wiped away the accumulated sweat. From there, once he had been able to regain enough of his energy, he stood up only to see a scene that left him trembling with rage. It was just in time to see a group of three other students bullying his dear sister. A girl with several exquisite piercings, with an air of being the ringleader of the group, walked up behind Inaaya. With pompous delight, she approached his sister, who appeared to be engrossed in reading a book, and savagely knocked the book out of her hands. Although Inaaya usually had a distracted expression on her face, as if the world around her did not affect her; this act of damaging one of her precious books was a terrible wake up call for her. Not even stopping to think about her own circumstances, she made to quickly reach down and save the book from further damage. Naathan then saw one of the two boys push Inaaya down just as she had grasped her soiled book. Falling into a heap upon the ground, her impact stirred up a scattering of dust, and knocked the book loose again to lay with pages splayed open and bent. Her dress, that had been handmade by their mother, was soiled. Unsuccessfully repressed tears at this uncalled-for abuse began leaking out of her closed eyes, as the attentions she was receiving from her assailants finally dawned upon her. Reaching again for her book, she cradled it tightly to her chest, as if to protect it with her own body. Turning her head downward she sought to protect that which was precious to her from the jeering of the trio. From the close, yet hidden vantage point of this hateful scene, Naathan, being the protective brother that he was, saw red flood his vision. Not until after, did he recall most of what happened. In reflex he tore out from behind the obscuring bushes and clashed with the group of three bullies. The girl who had knocked the book out of his sister's hands, suffered first with a swift fist to her face which knocked her down with blood streaming from the torn piercings in her left eyebrow and nose. Pain flared in Naathan's right hand with the feeling of a break and ripped skin. With no concern for his own wellbeing, he continued his revenge by kicking at the boy who had pushed his sister to the ground. His foot was aimed at the space between the boy's legs. *Eeeeah!* A high pitched scream with the young bully crumpling to the ground, holding his crotch between his hands, was the reward for a well-placed kick. A cathartic sense of satisfaction wormed its way through his rage clouded mind, as he delivered on this built-up sense of justice and revenge. The third student who had not done anything yet, other than cheering on his friends and mocking Inaaya, had made a run for it. In the time it took Naathan to take down the initial two assailants, that student had disappeared from view within the closed school doors. Following the initial rage and mild euphoria of beating the now crying duo on the ground, Naathan reined in his anger, and gently raised his sister up from the ground. Gently wrapping his right arm with the broken hand around her shoulder, to provide what comfort he could, he then carefully took the book from her shaking hands. Doing his best to wipe the book down to remove the dirt and mud that marred its worn surface, he used his good hand by brushing it against his recently cleaned, yet slightly dusty white shirt. He was just about to head home with Inaaya safely by his side, when a group of teachers from the school grounds came rushing out from the front doors. The third boy, who had escaped the earlier violence, gleefully followed behind. Needless to say, Naathan was blamed in full for his brutality and heavy handedness in beating the other students. His sister's current situation and frequent bullying wasn't even factored into the scene. While the teachers debated what to do, Naathan quickly evaded and ignored the warning voices of the teachers, and walked with Inaaya towards their home. It was not much later that day, while Naathan was at the family clinic with his father and mother treating his fractured hand; that the village leader burst into the office with several of his followers. They dragged Nathan, who put up a strong but futile resistance out of the clinic, to the village center, where they tied him to the discipline post. All the while his father and mother who fought to save him were rebuffed by the crowd. As he was tied to the pole, it was then Naathan learned that the two children who had been primarily bullying Inaaya and were subsequently beaten by him, were the granddaughter of the Sarpanch and the first-born son of the current Panchayat. Needless to say, there was definitely political favoritism occurring. As punishment ordained and carried out by the Panchayat, Naathan was given 40 heavy lashes from a knotted whip. 20 for each student that he had beat. Bearing with the terrible pain he stared hatefully at the two children who watched on, sheltered within the protective bounds of their families. Only by the 15th strike did he cry out in anguish as he made a silent vow to make those responsible for this farce to pay for their hypocrisy. * * * End Flashback * * * Years later, a 17-year-old Naathan was standing in the kitchen with his 14-year-old sister. He had long since had his revenge against those directly involved in the scars that crisscrossed his muscle toned back. With computer parts scavenged from the many dump sites throughout the surrounding towns, he set about preparing his comeback. With meticulous care and maverick-like skill, through the use of a cobbled together computer and iffy internet connections, he was able to embroil both families of the children who had assaulted his sister, in a large case involving medical malpractice and fraud. During the annual health checkups that the Sarpanch and the Panchayat underwent at the distant city hospital, Naathan manipulated the findings. Through the use of a back door hack of the hospital computer system, he meticulously replaced some of the imaging tests performed upon the heads of the families. To keep the falsely diagnosed conditions from being revealed as being a mistake, he gave an occasional touch up with subsequent evaluations. Were it not for the hospital's heavy reliance upon digital records, and his familiarity to medical conditions, courtesy of his parents' insights, all might have been for naught. His efforts took months of dedicated work and manipulation. The fruits of his endeavors that he was rewarded with, embroiled the 2 families in many needless procedures, including exploratory surgery, and other high-cost unnecessary treatments. It required a massive amount of time and work on his end to make things progress as he desired. The Hospital had done an impressive job, as once discovered, of covering up the incidents. Had Naathan not slipped or leaked several key notes and reports anonymously to various news agencies and competing government officials, then the efforts he had spent subjecting those two families in painful and long-term recovery medical procedures, would have likely failed to elicit more. Despite the many investigations into the matter, no one discovered that the now 17-year-old boy could be the mastermind in one of the biggest scandals involving the central hospital, local political leaders, and medical malpractice. The money from the hospital that was offered to the families for mistreatment and malpractice was never seen again by either party, as it was quietly siphoned away into various other accounts which were unable to be traced. Unsure of how his parents would take his actions on the other side of the law, with the malpractice consolation money that he had absconded with, he posed as an anonymous charity that invested in low-cost medical treatment centers. He would donate regular modest sums of money to the family clinic. Other struggling clinics that he heard good things about by his parents also benefited from his hidden wealth, through anonymous donations. However, this spreading of the money to other facilities was more so meant as a cover to hide his true intent of supporting his parents' struggling clinic. This allowed their local medical clinic to develop into more than the hut it initially started out as. Standing now behind the counter of their home, at the edges of the town, the young criminal had taken a break from his studies to make some egg bhurji for his sister and himself. Inaaya was currently engrossed in another book, on relativity that went over his head, as his interest was primarily on the wonders of technology. Naathan's mind replayed scenes from their younger childhood, as he pondered on what led his sister to pursue her current passions. When Inaaya had been but a baby, she had been abnormally quiet most of the time. Rarely would she put up even a minor fuss when she was soiled or hungry, except when left to suffer for too long. Only during the rare occasion when a heavy storm was approaching, or some other noteworthy event that was upon us, would she cry out loudly and be utterly inconsolable. For quite some time, Naathan and their parents proved unable to discover that which had upset her. This led Inaaya to continue crying until the event itself occurred, or it was already too late to prepare for it. Eventually, over time they came to discover a pattern to her rare moments of crying, and they were occasionally able to take appropriate actions to secure themselves from the ensuing chaos of nature or manmade disasters. As she grew, these feelings became more refined, and she could even begin to vocalize what she was feeling. But too often still, she was left with only minor sensations of discomfort and fear as her only warnings of that which was to come. This led to her desire to better understand her abilities which fell outside of normal reasoning. "Hey sis, how are your studies coming?" Her brother Naathan, who was standing behind their rough wooden kitchen counter top, broke her out of her thoughts as she was engrossed in her reading. Waiting for her to respond, he had taken a moment to wipe away the sweat that had accumulated on his forehead, as cooking in a kitchen without air conditioning had forced his body's only reliable method to cool down to work in overdrive. Inaaya lay the book she had been studying down on the low table in front of her, before picking up the glass of water that still had some traces of ice remaining. Taking a solid gulp to wet her throat she responded. "It is going slow with a few inconsistencies." Her eyebrows creased in frustration as she teased about various theories in her head. Naathan simply shook his head in bemused endearment, causing his ear length dark curls to bounce about. He knew that any true attempt at getting into his sister's head space was an impossible dream. Her thoughts were as fluid and ephemeral as the topics she studied. It was quite often his responsibility to keep her centered in reality, and when it mattered, to remind her of other daily necessities, in order to keep her healthy. If not for him, she would go more than a day without eating as she either had her head stuck in a theoretical book, or gazing off into the horizon watching the rise and fall of the sun and moon and passing of stars. At this time, he had just finished preparing an aromatically flavorful dish, made up of eggs, cheese, trace spices, and locally scavenged mushrooms for the both of them to share. Bringing over a separate plate for her, he placed it on the small table next to her many books. Careful to not soil her precious study materials, he meticulously multi-tasked, holding her food and utensils in one hand, while setting aside the 5 books that she was currently invested in. Gently removing the current book in her hand, he placed a nearby scrap of paper in it to hold the place. Replacing her now empty hand with a fork, he sat back to watch her try out his newest experimental dish. Looking forlornly at the book now being held hostage by her brother, she let out a small huff of air. Then with a resigned sigh she brought the fork to her plate, and took up a bit of the egg, mushroom, and cheese mix. Her eyes briefly closed as she savored the taste. But then a hint of yearning crossed her expression. Looking up at her brother, who was observing her reaction she asked. "Are we still out of hot sauce?" With a smirk tugging at his lips and a chuckle, Naathan pulled out an unopened container of flaming hot salsa. Inaaya's eyes perked up in happy surprise. "When did you get this?!" She exclaimed in trepidation mixed with relish. Unable to hold back at the anxious look in her eyes he responded. "I was actually saving this for a happy occasion. I heard from Mom and Dad that they are able to take a break from assisting at the field medical office, and are coming back early today to spend some time with us." "Mmmm, that is good." Inaaya smiled with calm acknowledgment. Naathan rolled his eyes at her passive reaction. Knowing how her thoughts ran, she was probably already aware of this, despite no-one telling her. She could be so oblivious at times, while scarily in the know at other moments, as was attested by her genuine surprise at the salsa. Almost religiously, she took the aforementioned salsa from his hands, and after breaking the seal, she drizzled out a thin layer of the spicy concoction across her plate. It was well known within the family that she loved spicy foods, but those were currently in short supply in their part of the world, with the circumstances surrounding the war. Necessities like wheat, corn, certain livestock, and other staples of food were the main focus to grow and raise. This came at the increased expense and exclusion of luxury foods. Cheese was hard enough to get, but salsa even more so. As she took a few bites, and relished the various flavors, she finally expounded on his initial question. "I'm having a hard time figuring out how someone could travel backwards in time, while retaining their current memories." Naathan sat down next to her to enjoy his own plate with a very small amount of salsa. He kept silent as she continued explaining. "I mean, I guess someone could send back electrical impulses in time which, with enough energy and correct manipulation, it could potentially leave a message or something. But the problem is the occurrence of a paradox. If someone were to try to affect the past, then it is almost guaranteed the situation that warranted the attempted change would no longer be present. And thus, would never have been done in the first place." He looked at her with an extremely skeptical expression and tried to verify what he thought she was trying to say. "So basically, what you are saying is it's impossible to go back in time unless you were to create an entirely new universe and reality, right?" She paused for a moment as if to think that over. "No" She replied. "It should be possible to turn back the hands of time. However, the circumstances would have to be incredibly limited, and the amount of interaction would have to be completely inconsequential, or at least incapable of creating any noticeable changes from that of the before. Either that, or like you said, the one going back in time would have to cross over from an alternate reality." She reached out into the air as if to grasp at the concept that she was currently studying. His sister's interest in time and relativity stemmed from her unique sense of forewarning and foresight. There had been a few notable occasions where a strong sense of foreboding had preceded bad news, or a troublesome situation.