ECHOES

Penny’s head throbbed as she stirred from unconsciousness. The world was dark and muffled, her breaths shallow, strained. She tugged at her arms, feeling the rough bite of rope around her wrists, realising her hands were bound to the back of a chair. Panic surged through her veins.

“Hello?” Her voice was weak, muffled by the thick fabric of the bag over her head. She struggled, her pulse racing. “Hello? Fuck!”

Silence hung thick in the air. But then, the faintest sound of movement. Someone was there.

“I know you’re there!” she called, heart pounding. “Get this thing off me! Please, I can’t breathe.”

A calm voice replied, "Give me a moment."

Penny’s mind raced. She didn’t know where she was, didn’t know what was happening. Tears stung her eyes, slipping beneath the rough cloth covering her face. “I don’t want to die. Please.”

“I know,” the voice replied, still steady, unmoved. “I just need a second.”

There was movement again, a shuffle in the room. Penny’s breathing became erratic, her pleas more frantic. “What’s going on? Please, take this fucking thing off me!”

“Okay.” 

The bag was yanked away, and light pierced Penny’s vision. She blinked, disoriented, before her eyes landed on the figure before her. A woman, almost identical to her but different. Older. Sharper. Her features etched with the weight of something Penny couldn’t yet grasp.

“What… what the…”

“Breathe,” the woman said softly. “Don’t talk, just breathe.”

Penny inhaled deeply, trying to steady her trembling body. The room was small, bare, the air thick with something unsaid.

“Can you untie me?” Penny asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” came the response. Cold. Final.

Penny’s tears returned, this time quieter, more resigned. “Fuck,” she muttered, forcing herself to calm down. The ropes were tight, unforgiving, there was no point in struggling now.

“You understand,” the woman said, more of a statement than a question.

Penny hesitated, wiping her tear-streaked face on her shoulder. “You mean what’s happening?”

“Yes. Do you understand?”

Penny’s breathing slowed as her mind finally started catching up. “Almost… yes.”

The woman nodded. “Good.”

Penny let out a soft, hysterical laugh, the absurdity of it all creeping in. “Fuck me.”

“I’m sorry,” the woman said, her voice devoid of emotion. “There was no other way.”

“Right,” Penny chuckled bitterly, “whatever you say.”

She looked around the room again, then back at the woman. The recognition hit her hard. “So, when did I build it?” She corrected herself. “When did we build it?”

The woman’s expression didn’t change. “Good first question.”

“Oh, you’re taking questions now?”

“We have time.”

Penny sighed, the weight of everything pressing down on her. “So… when did we build it?”

“Maybe two years from now. Roughly.”

Penny nodded. “Not bad.” She leaned back as far as the chair allowed. “I know the calculations already.”

“We do. But it’s the building that takes time.”

Penny’s gaze hardened. “So, you’re here to stop me? You don’t need to tie me up to tell me it’s a shitty idea.”

“It’s not like that,” the woman replied quietly.

“Sure sounds like it,” Penny said. “If you’re here to stop me, I won’t build it. I quit. See?”

The woman shook her head. “It doesn’t matter if you build it or not. What’s done is done.”

“What do you mean?” Penny asked, her confusion growing. “Knowing I did it is enough. Ok. I quit. I quit.”

“Nothing you can do changes anything. At least not for me. It’s done.”

Penny’s mind raced. “Of course it does. You’re changing history just by being here.”

“Your history. Not mine.”

A heavy silence followed, then Penny whispered, “Many worlds?”

The woman nodded. “Every time I go back, it triggers a new timeline. But I always return to my original timeline, where nothing changes. I’m anchored to it.”

“That can’t be right…”

“It is. I…we thought it was the same timeline. But it’s not. The machine triggers new timelines every time I use it. I return and it’s all the same. Nothing changes. Trust me. This isn’t my first run.”

“So… why are you here?” Penny asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” the woman replied.

“Fuck you. It matters. Why are you here? Why am I tied to a fucking chair?

The woman was silent for a moment before answering, “I’m here to replace you.”

Penny’s heart skipped. “What?”

“I’m here to live your life.”

“You can’t have it,” Penny said, her voice shaking. “It’s mine.”

“I’m not asking for permission,” the woman replied, pulling out a gun.

Penny’s voice trembled. “You can’t just shoot me.”

“It’s a gun, Penny. I just point and pull the trigger,” the woman said softly.

“No, wait!” Penny’s panic grew. “Maybe… maybe we can figure something out! Go back to the calculations…”

“Penny.” The woman’s voice cut through her rambling. “There’s no fixing this. I want your life. That’s it. There’s no changing my future, no changing my shitty past. What’s done is done. I want to live here…in your life...in your place”

“But why?” Penny asked, desperation creeping into her voice. “Why?”

“They die,” the woman whispered. “There’s an accident in my timeline. A car crash. And I can’t stop it. I’ve tried. But in your timeline, I can stop it.”

“They die?” Penny echoed, her voice barely a whisper.

The woman’s eyes darkened. “Yes. And I’m going to fix it here, and then I’ll live as you.”

Penny’s heart raced. “You’re a fucking psychopath.”

“Penny, this is what you would do…right? This is what you are doing,”

“You’re a monster. You’re insane!”

“Well, you’ve always been like this.”

Penny was silent again, muted by the shock of what seemed to be her own actions. “I’m not like you.”

The woman turned scornful, “You don’t care…I don’t care. Nothing changes. Nothing changes us. You want something, you take it. I want something, I take it. It doesn’t matter what the cost is…we don’t care.

“I do care,” Penny argued, though she lacked the conviction.

“No, you don’t. You only care because you’re about to lose everything.”

The woman raised the gun.

“No! You can’t!” Penny screamed, her voice cracking. “Please!”

The woman held her gaze on Penny’s face. “I had my doubts, but I see now that I can,”

A shot rang out followed by the sound of a body collapsing to the floor. Penny’s breath caught in her throat. She turned to see another figure standing in the doorway. It was her, an even older version.

“You good?” the older Penny asked.

Penny, still shaking, whispered, “What are you doing here?”

“Think, Penny,” the older version said calmly. “You understand?”

Penny, eyes wide, looked at the body on the floor, then back at her future self. “Almost… no, I don’t.”

The older Penny stepped forward and began untying her. “Let’s get you home,”

But Penny refused to leave her chair, the station where she had been imprisoned. “Why bother with me? None of this changes anything for you, for your timeline, 

“I know,” she said quietly, “but it changes something for you.”