Somewhere In Time

“None of my companions understood the greatness they were facing. For them, as for the rest of the world, that was a simple mountain. A tall one, yes; uneven as any other, correct; antique as few, maybe. But still, for regular people, it was just a pile of sediments. They were quiet, never dared to say a thing, but I could notice the judgment, hidden behind those overexcited faces, wild-open eyes, forced smiles; always trying to please, with every single gesture of theirs. Of course; they were all hoping to get some money from the eccentric (to say the least) old-man that had drag them to that unbearably cold weather. Yes, me.
I was the only person in the whole planet who acknowledged what was beneath it, and it was all thanks to you. Yes, Crossville, to you and your sick, profound obsession for science fiction... our shared passion; our insatiable thirst for knowledge.
And yet, you hadn't told me a single thing about your research. Not even a small mention, a minuscule hint. If it hadn’t been for my intuition, old friend, if it hadn’t been for my firmness in the decision of opening up your coffin and searching among your remains, for sure you would have taken the secret to the grave. But I found it, the note in your coat. I have it right here; so cryptic... a faithful imitation of a dry cleaner’s pickup ticket.
I still understood the message, however. You’d say it was my job, knowing you for over forty years. It was a wild crossing, without exactly comprehending what I was looking for. I only acknowledged it was worth it, because whatever it was, it held the answer to one of the most complex questions of all times; it solved the whole equation on the matter of time travelling. Yes, you did a dramatic discovery, like you always dreamed.
I’m paying now my own investigation team for them to examine the mountain, I would do it myself, you know, but I have a more important work here. When I came back from the journey, the most prestigious scientists offered me an office to register everything. It’s been a harsh, hard task, but once I have the key, I’ll go back to warn you about that car, and in time you’ll go back to warn me...”

“Sir...” he muttered next to his boss, moving his worried look from the fake mirror window, “Shouldn’t we take that paper from him and give it back?”

“What would be the point?” the guard dismissed, shaking his head with a look of compassion, watching the mumbling elder with a calm stare. “It’s a drycleaner ticket. Let him live his last days believing he'll go back and press the breaks on time.”

−Sanctum