Project Kronos

Agent Reynolds stared out the window of his wood-paneled office, trying to process this new information. His body jerked back towards the two senior agents. “So how come you never went back and killed Hitler?”

“Oh, that one, we always get that one.” Agent Esposito smiled at his partner, Agent Donovan. “It gets kinda complicated. Hitler was our bad. It started with Archduke Ferdinand. He was the big bad guy. Do you know he had a network of spies throughout all the European governments?”

“And America too,” Donovan said, examining the collection of history books on display around the room. Reynolds couldn’t help noting how the big man’s clunky suit matched the ancient 1970s office walls.

Esposito unbuttoned the jacket of his tailored Italian suit and sat on the corner of Reynolds’ desk. “Yeah, his men had gotten close to thirty-two congressmen and the President. It must have been a plan years in the making and then one day, boom. Over two hundred heads of state assassinated. Over half of Western Civilization turned to martial law. Europe turned on itself. There were no Allied and Central powers, no one trusted anyone. It was a drunken bar brawl. The US fell into a form of isolationism, but still became the richest country in the world by selling arms to everyone. The Great War of my ancestor’s 20th Century lasted 60 years. Eventually, there was no one left to fight. Europe was an atomic wasteland, while the US thrived.”

“Until the radiation storms came across the Atlantic,” Donovan added. He pulled a book off the shelf and flipped through it. “What Happened, The Election of the First Female President. You write this?”

Reynolds smiled, “Yes. It was one of my earlier works but I received — ”

“Can we focus?” Esposito interrupted. He took a sharp breath and continued speaking. “Project Kronos’ original mission was to save the world from extinction. So, the Black Hand, that was us. We thought we were fixing stuff. As it turns out, Adolf Hitler, somehow didn’t get into art school because we messed with the timeline. He becomes a dictator and starts World War II.”

Reynolds flinched in his chair.

Donovan raised his eyebrows to Reynolds, “Yeah, total mind fuck.”

Esposito raised his hand. “But originally, he won. Hitler waits to attack Russia until the following spring. Nazi spies assassinate key Russian military personnel. He takes his time and develops the V3 rocket with a longer range, mobile platform and better targeting. They’re hitting targets four-hundred miles away without losing a man.

So, to fix it, and this time we tried a lighter touch, we sent men to sabotage the Nazi army. They stall the V2 rocket research. They never get the V3. One of our men, under cover, convinces Hitler to attack the Soviets before he was ready.”

“You know all that Nazi occult stuff?” Donovan pointed a thumb at his chest. “Us”.

“We were able to use our knowledge of the future and some advanced technologies to turn the Third Reich into superstitious old ladies. But we didn’t realize what would happen to an independent and successful USSR. In the original timeline, Stalin was captured and executed by Hitler.”

Reynolds closed his eyes and massaged his temples. “Wait. If you have a time machine, it’s like having infinite respawns. Can’t you just go back and do it again?”

“We did, we tried.” Esposito said. “But you need to be careful with the timestream. Going back to the same spot over and over is like taking blood from the same vein. Each time you puncture the membrane, you weaken it. Do it too many times, the whole thing collapses on itself.”

Reynolds’ brow furrowed. “It seems like each time you tried to fix something you caused a bigger problem.”

“We’ve had some wins though,” Donovan flopped down in a chair and looked up at Esposito. “Like the JFK assassination.”

“JFK was assassinated.” Agent Reynolds tilted his head and rolled his eyes.

“Yes, by Oswald, not Khrushchev.” Esposito sat on the corner of Reynold’s desk. “You think someone like that just lets the whole Cuban Missile Crisis go? The CMC was the nail in Khrushchev’s coffin. He lost face in a political system where any hint of weakness is an invitation to your enemies. Then Kennedy made that great speech… aahh, what was it?”

“American university,” Donovan said, making a gun with the fingers of his right hand.

“Yeah, but the second Khrushchev-Kennedy summit went sideways. First, the debate on where it would be. There was pressure from within USSR — ”

“Don’t forget Castro,” Donovan said.

“Yeah, Castro too. Khrushchev needed a win,” Esposito spoke as if addressing a child.

“ — and China — ”

Esposito turned on his partner, “Ah, I’m talking.” He stood and checked his reflection in a glass display case. “The guy had China on his back, too. China viewed Khrushchev as a blowhard. All talk and no action. Anyway, Khrushchev needed a win. So, he has this grand idea to play hardball with Kennedy. He wants to reopen the Cuba issue.”

“Yeah, Castro is on his back.” Donovan raised his eyebrows.

Esposito’s palm pressed against his forehead. “We already established that. Will you let me finish?” He stared at Donovan then turned back to Reynolds. “With everyone in the God damn world crawling up his ass, he’s working with Kennedy to meet again. He’s got to save face. Then in January of ‘64 another American spy plane crashes in Soviet territory.”

“It’s the Eisenhower stuff all over again.” Donovan shook his head.

Esposito’s mouth tightened for a second before he spoke. “Just four years earlier they had been through all this shit. Thought they put it to bed. The Soviet people are looking to Khrushchev like ‘Come on, man. You’re letting this guy walk all over you.”

“Next time, maybe bang your shoe a little louder, right?” Donovan chimed in.

Esposito sighed and shook his head before continuing. “Kennedy proposes meeting at the UN in New York. Khrushchev says okay, but then the press jumps all over him for letting Kennedy pick the place, and this guy does not have the best record at the UN, you know. He’s getting sick of eating shit, so he proposes East Berlin. Kennedy refuses at first.”

“Kennedy is like, ‘no way man. We already had a deal’,” Donovan said, slapping his hands down on the armrests.

Esposito returned to the edge of the desk. “Khrushchev goes to East Berlin. Kennedy goes to west Berlin. The two are going to meet in the middle, shake hands. Then Khrushchev’s supposed to welcome Kennedy into Eastern Europe and the two go sit in some tea place or something and work out all the world’s problems. That was February of ‘64, only it doesn’t go down like Khrushchev planned. They meet, they shake hands but when Khrushchev turns to go back into East Berlin, Kennedy is like ‘Nah, man. Let’s go this way’. Right there, with the whole world watching, Kennedy gives a big middle finger to the old Ruski. So Krushchev grabs Kennedy’s arm, like, ‘Come on, man, your killing me!’ Secret Service guys jump in now and they are all over it. Now, you got four Secret Service guys man handling the leader the of the Soviet Union so the KGB goons jump in. The leaders of the two most powerful countries in the world in a school yard scuffle.”

“No meeting,” Donovan shook his head.

“Yeah, later that day, Kennedy is pressing the flesh outside a German deli. Gunman comes up and bang, bang.” Esposito made sharp pointing motions with his finger. “The Secret Service takes the guy out but — ”

“Kennedy is fucked up good,” Donovan interjected.

Esposito nodded. “Yeah, three shots center mass. On the fucking hospital gurney, he gives the order. We launch, they launch. Florida’s totally gone.”

“It turns out the Soviets did have missiles down in Cuba,” Donovan said.

“Eastern Europe, blown away. Millions killed before anyone stops to think. Cooler heads eventually prevailed, but the damage was done.” Esposito stopped for a dramatic, deep breath. “And that’s what prompted it all. A hundred years of living after the bombs and the eggheads created the Kronos Project. We needed to save the world. Kennedy had to go a couple months earlier.”

Reynolds chuckled and looked back out the window. “So, it really was a conspiracy the whole time,” he said to himself.

Esposito smiled back. “In a manner of speaking. Oswald and Ruby were ours all along, but things don’t always go the way they’re supposed to. Oswald was not supposed to get caught. We had to send in Ruby to clean things up.”

Reynolds sat forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his desk. “There’s always been rumors, about the CIA, time travel. Agents getting tapped, disappearing. I never believed . . . I mean, if we had the power to go back and change history, why wouldn’t we, but I guess we have been all along.”

“Exactly.” Esposito pointed at Reynolds. “Unless you were part of the mission you would never know.”

“And so now I guess I’m being tapped for a mission?”

“That’s why we’re here.” Donovan tried to smooth his rumpled pants.

“Where, or I guess when, am I going?”

Esposito stood and buttoned his jacket. “We’re looking at Washington D.C., summer 2016.”

Reynolds shrugged. “What happened then?”

Originally written July 30, 2015. The original ending made reference to 9/11. After realizing it was in bad taste, the new ending was added in Nov of 2018

Originally published at petercalifanoblog.wordpress.com on November 12, 2018.