The 51st Century

Chapter 16 - The 51st century

The Keep was a sanctuary of order, a stark contrast to the chaotic void that now existed beyond its walls. Yet, within its pristine halls, Shuri felt anything but safe. The holographic display at the center of the throne room flickered, a constant reminder of the world that was gone. It wasn't just a visual representation; she could almost feel the phantom weight of its absence, a gaping hole in the fabric of reality.

She sat huddled in one of the armchairs Devon had conjured, the soft fabric doing little to comfort her. Her mind replayed the events of the past hour: the monstrous Paradox, the desperate battle, and then… nothing. Just empty space. It was too much. The Avengers, the X-Men, the Guardians—gone. Reduced to nothing more than absorbed energy. And Devon… he had simply erased it all.

A wave of anger washed over her, hot and bitter. How could he be so detached? So pragmatic? It was as if he hadn't destroyed lives, but merely deleted a file. She glanced at him. He stood by the holographic display, his back to her, seemingly absorbed in its flickering images. He looked weary, a subtle slump to his shoulders that hadn't been there before.

She remembered the fight, the sheer terror of the Temporal Echoes swarming her. She'd barely managed to keep them at bay, improvising weapons from the lab's debris, her mind racing to find any way to interact with the phasing creatures. Then, there was the armored figure—Devon—engaging the Paradox. She'd seen an opening, a moment of instability, and she'd acted. The Spatial Disruptor, a cobbled-together device she'd barely had time to test, had emitted a burst of energy, destabilizing the Paradox just long enough for Devon to press his attack.

A flicker of… something that wasn't anger stirred within her. Respect? Gratitude? She pushed it away. It didn't matter. Nothing could justify what he'd done.

Devon turned from the display, his gaze meeting hers. The usual detachment in his eyes was tempered with a hint of… understanding? "You were… a significant part in defeating the Paradox," he said, his voice quiet. "Your… attack, it created the opening I needed. And you kept the Echoes from overwhelming us both. That was very resourceful."

Shuri remained silent for a moment, processing his words. Was he trying to compliment her? It felt strange, out of place.

"It doesn't change anything," she finally said, her voice strained. "You still destroyed a world."

Devon sighed, running a hand through his hair. She doesn't understand. It was a mercy, not a massacre. That timeline was already crumbling. But how do you explain that without sounding like a monster? "I know it's difficult to understand," he said, his voice low. "But there truly was no other way. I couldn't risk the Paradox escaping, not with the energy it had absorbed. It was a threat to all realities." He paused, his gaze meeting hers again. "And… I appreciate your help. Truly."

Shuri looked away, her gaze falling back on the holographic display. The void stared back at her, empty and unforgiving. Devon's words, his acknowledgment of her contribution, did little to soothe the ache in her heart. He was right, though. She did understand the logic, the cold, hard pragmatism of his decision. But understanding didn't equal acceptance.

Her thoughts turned to his offer. Another universe. Another version of her family. The idea was both tempting and horrifying. Could she really replace the people she'd lost with… copies? Could she live with that? The thought of seeing her mother, her brother, again, even if they weren't her mother, her brother… It was a powerful lure. But the thought of leaving this reality, of abandoning the memory of her own world, felt like another betrayal.

She closed her eyes, a single tear escaping and tracing a path down her cheek. She was trapped between two impossible choices: live with the unbearable weight of loss or embrace a pale imitation of what she'd lost.

"If you don't want to decide about my offer just yet, you don't have to. Where I'm going… I could use a brilliant mind like yours." Devon glanced at her, a hint of genuine invitation in his eyes.

Shuri's brow furrowed. "Where are you going? And why would you need my help?"

A faint smile touched Devon's lips. "The 51st century."

"The what now?" Shuri's eyes widened in disbelief.

"As I said, I traverse space-time. The multiverse holds endless possibilities, and we're about to visit one of them." He gestured towards the holographic display, a complex web of lines and nodes representing the timelines.

"What about the Paradox?" Shuri asked, her voice sharp. "Weren't you going to investigate what happened?"

"I intend to," Devon replied, his tone serious. "But there's precious little to go on right now. Even the Keep's records are incomplete. I'll continue the search, of course, but frankly, we could both use a change of scenery."

Shuri's gaze swept around the throne room, taking in its austere grandeur. "This is your spaceship?"

"The Keep of Echoes is the nexus point for my travels," Devon corrected. "The Chronarium, just outside, is… well, you could call it a graveyard of realities." He gestured to the holographic display again. "As you can see, much of time is unraveling. Half of it is broken, events out of sync, temporal anomalies popping up everywhere. We can't access most of it right now. But," he pointed to a specific point on the display, "there is a stable point in the 51st century."

"Why the 51st century, then?"

"It's the furthest point in time I currently have reliable access to. And I need something from that future." He glanced at the small, intricately carved wooden box he kept tucked inside his coat. The box, its surface worn smooth with age, was the only item he carried from his original timeline. He ran a finger across its lid, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

Shuri narrowed her eyes. "Something to do with the Paradox?"

"No," Devon said, a hint of something unreadable in his expression. "Something… personal. But it also happens to be a remarkable utopia. So," he offered a genuine smile, "what do you say? Fancy an adventure?"

"Wouldn't messing with time like this affect the timeline?" Shuri asked, her brow furrowed. "And are you really using your powers… just for fun? I'm pretty sure Strange once said time was incredibly volatile."

Devon chuckled, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Most people have a rather… simplistic understanding of time. They think it's a linear river, flowing inexorably from past to present to future. That includes Strange, with all due respect. Time is far more complex. It's not a river, it's… more like a tangled ball of yarn. Or perhaps a vast, interconnected web." He picked up a nearby crystal goblet, holding it in his palm. With a subtle flick of his wrist, the goblet shimmered, briefly becoming a cracked, aged version of itself before returning to its pristine state. "See? Not a single, flowing line, but a multitude of possibilities existing simultaneously. The trick is knowing how to navigate the threads and to keep your temporal footprint light. Unless you suddenly become a galactic celebrity, we won't cause any ripples."

He paused, a mischievous glint in his eye. "And to answer your other question… Yes, I do occasionally use my abilities for my own amusement. It's a perk of the job, wouldn't you say?" He offered a playful shrug. "Now, I suggest you stick close. Who knows what the present might look like if I accidentally bumped into my past self? Or worse, someone else's."

The Keep's interior shifted again, this time adopting a sleek, modern aesthetic. As the walls shimmered and reformed, a low, almost purring hum vibrated through the Keep, as if it were pleased with its new look. "Don't mind it," Devon said. "It cycles through different themes."

Devon willed the Keep to shift through time and space. As the familiar sensation of displacement settled, his gaze landed on Shuri. Her post-apocalyptic travel gear seemed jarringly out of place within the Keep's polished interior. "You need a wardrobe change," he commented dryly, snapping his fingers. A wave of energy, barely visible, washed over Shuri.

Her scavenged clothes vanished, replaced by a striking ensemble of dark blue and black. A high-collared, form-fitting jacket with intricate gold embellishments materialized, the dark blue fabric possessing a subtle sheen. Beneath it, a dark, fitted undersuit extended into gloves and thigh-high boots. The most striking feature was the elaborate, segmented pants, composed of overlapping plates edged with gold.

Shuri blinked, surprised by the sudden change. The high-collared jacket felt strangely comfortable, the fabric smooth against her skin. She flexed her fingers, the segmented pants moving with her effortlessly. Elegant menace, she thought, a small smile playing on her lips. She felt… powerful. But also slightly self-conscious. This was a far cry from her scavenged gear.

A low hum vibrated through the Keep, confirming their arrival. Devon turned toward the door. "Let's go."

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Universal Translator - Multiversal Edition (and its Literary Leanings)

Before the portal, Devon gave Shuri a wristband. "Universal communicator. Originally a gift from Kree, heavily modified by yours truly. Translates anything, anywhen, any universe, written or spoken. Thanks to The Keep's database."

Shuri eyed it suspiciously. "The Kree gave you a gift. How the hell did that happen?"

Devon chuckled. "What can I say? I am charming."

He activated the portal. "Ready?"

Shuri tested the communicator, speaking Wakandan. It translated: "Greetings."

"See?" Devon said.

Shuri tried a complex proverb. It translated: "Hark! A wise saying!"

Shuri rolled her eyes. "Shakespearean Wakandan."

She spoke a made-up language. The communicator went silent. Shuri tried calling Devon. Nothing.

"It's not working," she said.

Devon frowned, tapping his wrist. "Odd." He tried his communicator. Nothing. "Peculiar."

Shuri stared at the silent wristband. "Shakespearean, robotic when confused, and can't call you? Your 'safe' Kree tech?"

Devon sighed. "Communication anxiety. Overwhelmed by potential conversations. Give it a minute." He nudged her toward the portal. "Let's go. Hopefully, the 51st century speaks… well, something."

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