[ There's a chip in his head. He can't keep his hand away from the scar; it keeps retreating there every time his mind wanders.

This is so very not where he's supposed to be. In the first few days, John had acclimatized to the safehouse, to his immediate area, to what people told him about where he was. He's aware of feeling out of place, like he had the last time he went through time. This future's a little more extreme, though not in the way he'd imagined. He has clothes, and some money, all of which he's managed to steal. Old habits die hard; he hasn't lived a genuinely legitimate life since he was twelve years old. His pockets are lined enough.

He doesn't have a gun yet. That's something he needs. He's doing his best to keep his head on straight, to remember his training. He's observing more than acting, learning as he goes.

And then there's this festival. It throws him for a loop. A war with machines, in this world's history. A billion dead. No more machines, now, but not much of an Earth, either. They call it a win, and it is, in theory. ]

Who knew the big bad was climate change, all along, [ he murmurs, even though he had known. Nuclear war; it'll do the trick.

He feels sick. And it's not just because he can't stomach this locust taco. He drops that into the nearest trash, and looks around, before sliding up beside one of a thousand strangers in this square. ]

Are they celebrating, or commemorating? Kind of hard to tell. Not sure I'd make it a party. [ Not like this, anyway. ]

[ Okay, he'd said. I'll try the simulation, he'd said. It's virtual reality; how bad could that be? Much as he hates the fact that it's in him, he wants to see what this neutral network is capable of. So he agrees.

It's a combat sim. Like a cross between a video game and a real life exercise, it makes him a soldier, gives him a gun. Almost immediately, it sets him off. He doesn't want this. Shit like this isn't entertaining when it's been your real life. He tries to pull back from it, but somehow, he's pulled in deeper. He doesn't know, yet, that the sim's being overtaken, that he's being pulled into Judas' alternate version. But all of a sudden, the exercise is a tunnel underground, and there's machines on the approach. Terminators. This is the future he knows. The one he'd thought he was going to. He does what he always does; he runs. ]

Get me out. [ He doesn't know if anyone can hear him. Maybe only others in the sim can hear him. Maybe no one can. Maybe he's not really running, at all. He turns what he believes to be a corner in the tunnel and gets behind it, crouching, aware that he'll never kill them by himself not like this. ] Get me out. Now. Something's wrong. Can you hear me? Get me out!

[ He doesn't know how he got here. He'd been a spectator five minutes ago, and then the wrong person had caught his eye. They wanted his name, and they were heavy-handed about it, and okay, maybe John had broken one of their jaws. He can't be sure, but if he did, they had it coming.

Now he's being pushed forward, and the other guy in here is easily twice his size. His hands tighten on the ropes, and he tries to turn back to the people pushing him on. ]

Okay. Can we talk about this? I didn't come here to -

[ But they're not chatty, and there's a bell ringing, to signal the start of what John's pretty sure is the end of his great and esteemed life. His jaw sets and his neck stretches, his body falling into a loose stance that isn't exactly confident, but at least says he knows what he's doing.

In theory.

Quick eyes scan the crowd for any sign of escape. Then he's ducking the first blow, dodging the second, and he gets in an uppercut of his own before he takes the knee to the chest. Falling back, John grabs the ropes and slides beneath them, while the crowd rounds on him. He needs to get out of here. If he has to fight this whole room to do it, he will. ]

[ Social media wasn't huge in the time John's from, but he'd used it mainly to find out what others were doing. The thought of anyone else using it to scope him out is offputting in the extreme, and he doesn't want to leave himself open to it.

At the same time, this network seems the quickest and most 'secure' way of finding out if anyone he knows is here. How he freaking wishes it played audio.

So, he goes to an older code. If anyone gets it right, that by itself will tell him something. ]

26 April


I'm looking for a history lesson. I'm hearing a lot about this world's history.
Where are you from? Do you think this world is the future of yours, or somewhere else completely?