The First Domino

The first Domino


He finally found the courage to directly stand before the wormhole. Gigantic pillars
flanking each side of a circular disc of pure vibration, the crackling of energy causing
mild ringing in his ears. His breathing was shallow, his legs rubbery, his palms moist.
His heart pounded unrepentantly in his chest. Keegan Cohen was about to commit
suicide, he was almost sure of it.

“Professor Mezner, are you sure this will take me back to the past and not scramble
me into a million pieces?” he asked nervously, his voice erratic and shaking causing
subtle reverberations around the elders laboratory and home. “You sure this is not one
of those stargates you talk about and not a wormhole?”

The Professor took the pen out of his mouth. “A stargate is a wormhole dear boy,
albeit a controlled one. And yes, I’m sure it will take you back to the past. I’ve made
the appropriate adjustments. Have a little faith. Now are you going to stand there all
night or are you going through? You’ve been talking about this for a long time.”

“I know, but now I’m here I’m feeling….fearful….apprehensive,” Cohen replied.
“You sure picked an awkward time to get in touch with your feminine side
sweetheart!” Mezner drawled sardonically, hoping to make light of the situation.
“Look - don’t think about it, just do it. But remember what I told you.”
“What did you tell me? I can’t remember”

Mezner run his hand through his hair and sighed. “This is a mistake already. If you
had a brain cell it would sue you for negligence! When you get to your desired time
frame do not under any circumstances interfere with anything other than what you’re
there for. No paradoxes, and no major changes in the timeline. Otherwise you’ll be in
for more than you bargained for when you get back. If you get back. You said you
were going back there to administer advice. Nothing more, nothing less. Got that?”

Cohen swallowed hard, “Yes I got it. But what about you Prof? You been through a
million times before, did you ever change anything?”

“I never went back in time, or forward for that matter, not in this reality anyway. I
went to different parts of the universe, different planets, and different planes of
existence.”

“Did you ever make any mistakes?” Cohen asked reluctantly.

“I may have blown up a planet or two - uh! Never mind! What’s done is done. You
want to proceed or not?”

Cohen breathed outward and nodded with his eyes closed. “Yes….I’m going
through.”

“Keegan….this is a serious matter son.” He always called him ‘son‘. “ Whatever
mess you think you’ve made of your life you can undo now. But do what we agreed
and get back. I can only keep the wormhole open for so long.”

“I understand,” Cohen answered.

“You ready?”

Cohen shook his head. “No, I’ll never be ready. That’s all the more reason why I’ve
got to do it now.” Sweat trickled down his brow. “Do the honours.”

Professor Wilfred Mezner, for all his idiosyncrasies, was a caring man. Unwilling to
show he was afraid for the boy - or man of thirty three, but a boy to him nevertheless -
afraid that he was sending his oldest friends offspring through this doorway to another
time, to an uncertain outcome, he slowly pressed the relevant keys and the energy
between the pillars changed to a deep sea blue.

Clenching his teeth slightly, Mezner said “Go…”

Cohen stepped through and disappeared.

There was no swoosh, no special effects, and no drama. Just instant arrival. Cohen
found himself standing on a grass verge on a warm sunny spring day near what seemed
to be the old school he used to attend as a kid. Birds sang in the trees and a mild
breeze swept his hair ever so slightly. The school stood before him, as daunting and
intimidating as a prison.

If Mezner had done his homework then this should be the year 1979. Location:
Clase Valley, New Swansea. Time 14.30

Most of his life Cohen had detested conflict, or altercations of any kind verbal or
otherwise. Leaving school at eighteen he had found himself a very safe sensible office
job with benefits, drove a safe sensible little car, and married a safe sensible wife. He
wasn’t completely devoid of backbone, he did speak up for himself on occasion,
although he wasn’t really an assertive type by nature. Or by conditioning.. He was a
middle of the road regular guy with an abundance of talent, poor self confidence, and a
self image that wasn’t worth imagining.

If only he hadn’t had all those regrets about his past. If only he hadn’t lived in
mental anguish all those years. If only he had taken a few risks and lived a little, then
he wouldn’t have needed to take the greatest risk of all - this risk.

Programmed unfavourably by life’s struggles from a young boy, he had covertly
turned to therapy as an adult, away from the critical eyes of his wife and parents. Hand
ball on a Tuesday wasn’t always Hand ball. Every other it was Dr Nina Polesky for
analysis which never seemed to bring about any change in awareness.

One of his only real friends in the whole world, the only one he could really talk to:
Wilfred Mezner, Professor of Science, genius, and long time family friend. With a
somewhat different approach to dealing with people than the ranting and ravings of
dear old dad. Dear old dad that always told him he could do better, be better, look
better, own more, and be superior to the next average Joe on the street but wasn’t.
Rubbing the scar underneath his right eye, he remembered the thrash of the belt his
father gave him for losing the chess finals and the ridicule he received for even
entering. He was just ten years old. Not that it mattered that he passed most of his
exams with ease and grace, made the soccer trials, or won the swimming trophy, he
always had to try and measure up, try to fit in. In school and at home.

But now he was here to change some of that. To right some wrongs. If everything
went according to plan, and he intercepted his younger self, he might ameliorate the
sour past, his past, and rewrite some of those memories that ate him away. Maybe then
he could find peace. Maybe then he could learn to like himself.

Being victimized at school had set the whole ball in motion to begin with. The first
of the dominos to fall while he had observed everything like a powerless spectator. Up
until that point his father hadn’t been too chastising, too critical, too pugnacious. But
once he saw his son failing to stand his own ground, to stand up and fight, loathing for
the boy had set in place. Time and again Keegan had failed to man up at school or on
the street, and became the target of contempt and sporadic violence at home while his
poor downtrodden mother looked on helplessly, begging for it to stop. The fathers
hatred of his own self, his own failings, being projected outwardly onto his child, his
own flesh and blood.

Making his way to Greys, the old corner store not far from the school, Cohen
couldn’t believe how colourful and fresh and new it looked. Even with the broken
sweet dispenser set outside and the random notches of graffiti on the wall it looked
fresh and welcoming. But he didn’t remember it that way. He remembered it as dull,
gloomy, and disreputable. But keeping in mind what he had come here to do, he knew
his younger counterpart was due to walk past very soon. He remembered that the
bullying and abuse from other students had gone on for some time, and he remembered
that this was the day that had set in concrete his emotional makeup, his idea of himself,
his anxieties and his little self regard. Today he was going to get the beating of his life,
all because he wouldn’t fight back. And because on some level he felt he deserved it.
Beaten and tormented. Beaten and ridiculed. Blood would be pouring from his ear and
pain ringing through his head, while he lay on the ground struggling to look up through
tinted vision at everyone laughing at him. The sheer lack of compassion almost
breaking him. He had been beaten so badly it was the one time his father didn’t rebuke
him for being weak and worthless.

Well today he was going to change how it went. He had promised Prof that he
would only issue a few words of wisdom to his younger self, but he was starting to
think otherwise. He could feel that small bubble of anger welling up inside of him.
Today he was going to write his own history, not leave it to be penned by the scum
that had infested his life and his mind! Today he was going to take his power back.
If….his other self could find the courage.

Picking up a loose rock that was laying on the road side, he put it in his pocket and
waited for himself to show up. He didn’t have to wait long.

Walking around the corner young Keegan Cohen marched promptly as unfaltering
as a locomotive. Lost in his own world, sullen, a frown betraying his concerns. Low
self regard and an acquiescent nature, a vulnerability that made him a target, poured
through the pores of his skin. Looking at his himself now he could see something he
couldn’t see then.

Cohen took the leap. “Hey kid, can I talk to you a second?”

The boy paused, looked towards him although still lost in his own thoughts.

“Kid, is it alright we talk?”

“I don’t know you Mister.” Counterpart replied.

“But I know you Keegan. See that scar under your eye? I know how you got it.

Your father hit you with his belt.” That got the boys attention. He looked like he was
about to cry.

“How do you know about that?” the boy asked, lip slightly quivering.

“Lets just say I was told about it.” Cohen replied feebly. “But I also know you’ve
just been excused from school because of a little trouble. And I also know where
you’re going”

The boy started to move away. “Mister your starting to worry me now. I gotta go.”

“Then before you go let me just say a coupla things to you. Chrissake kid just give
me a second here. Please”

Something in his tone stopped the boy in his tracks. Seeing the genuine look of
desperation on Cohen’s face, he paused before he said “alright”.

“It doesn’t matter how I know things, it doesn’t matter who I am or where I come
from, I’m here to help. I know about what’s going on at school. And what your about
to face” Sooner than he thinks. “You gotta fight back kid.”

The kids eyes defocused, he just stared at nothingness. “You know about that?”

“Yes I know about that”.

“No one can help me. No one wants to help me. Except my mother. And she’s as
scared as I am.”

“Listen to me. There’s something important coming up. You’ve gotta stand up for
yourself kid - look at me -LOOK AT ME!” He held the boy by his shoulders. The boy
glared helplessly into his eyes.

“I’m scared!” the kid said starting to cry.

“I know kid I know!” I remember. God, I remember. Cohen nearly began to weep
himself, but fighting back the tears he said. “You can do it you know. You just gotta
have a little courage. You’ve got to trust me.”

“I’ve never won a fight in my life,” counterpart said.

“You never tried.” he said with a steely glare. The child absorbed that look.
Absorbed it more than he let on. Cohen went on, “Kid, you are as good as anyone
else. Your as loveable as anyone else, you’ve just got to know it.”

“No one has ever said that to me before,”

“Kid, listen to me. After today your never going to see me again, but its gotta be
laid out for you. If you don’t fight back……..we are going to regret this for the rest of
our lives!” He said this with such intensity a pang of anxiety infiltrated the boys chest.
What does he mean our lives?

“Win or lose isn’t such an issue kid, it’s the words we don’t speak that haunt us.
The punch we don’t throw that eats us. Its what we don’t do that tears us apart inside.
When the time comes you have to take action!”

“But I go weak! My arms go weak! My legs go like jello!”

Cohen remembered something, remembered the pain of loss. His first real
heartbreak as a child.

“Joe….remember your dog Joe…remember how angry you got when Joe died…?”
he asked desperately.

Another tear run down the child’s face. “How do you know abou‘…”

“I know! Do you remember how angry you got?”

“Yes I remember.”

“About Joe?”

“Yes!”

“Just think of Joe! When you need to get mad, just think of Joe.”

Before he withdrew he took the stone out of his pocket and said “Here kid take this.
Put it in your pocket. Keep it safe. When the time is right…” he sighed to himself
wondering weather his younger self could pull it off, “…when the time is right, place
your fist around this stone and throw a punch. The stone will add a few pounds to your
weight. I read it somewhere. Ok?”

The boy took the stone, put it in his pocket, but didn’t reply.

“You’ll be alright kid.” He felt like he’d been too hard on the boy…on himself. But
desperate circumstances….

“Just remember one thing” Cohen said almost whispering. “The pain of standing
your ground now will be less than the pain you will have to face if you don’t stand
your ground.” He felt a hypocrite saying that but he knew it was necessary to plant the
seed. “Take care kid. I gotta go”

Studying his younger self for any sign of understanding, he backed away . The boy
was about to walk on when he caught a glimpse of the scar underneath Cohan’s right
eye. There was something familiar…..no, it couldn’t be…. without a word he moved
on. Looking back every so often, he hurried on, not knowing what was before him in
the coming minutes.

Trembling from the adrenaline Cohen waited for “himself” to move out of sight
before he started to slowly follow. Prof had told him to get out of there as soon as was
possible, but all he wanted was to check his progress, desperation and vanity getting in
the way. He knew that younger self was going to walk down through The Pass where
Mark Ford and his pathetic band of hanger ons were waiting. Waiting to pound on
little Keegan. All because they could.

Realising that he may have lingered a little too long, Cohen increased his pace to
where younger self was back in sight. As he neared the ridge he moved into a hidden
position behind a large tree where he could view the kid walking straight into what was
inevitably waiting for him. There in the distance he caught sight of the pushing and
shoving, punching and kicking. His younger self being ridiculed and sent to the dirt.
Being taunted like a stray dog. This was it.

Mouthing silent words of desperation Cohen begged for a change in fortune, a
change in events, but knowing all along change was an inside occurrence, an internal
shift. Why didn’t the kid listen to him? He was almost tempted to run to the scene, to
interfere, to dish out punishment from his own point of attention, but self control
barely got the better of him as he watched his other self get pummelled on the ground
with dirt being smeared in his face. A jubilant crowd looking on, adding the occasional
kick, laughing and jeering, destroying what was left of the child’s self worth.
The fight momentarily stopped. The bully dragging Keegan to his feet whilst playing
the crowd like a comedian.

Unsure because of distance, Cohen thought he saw the kid reach in his pocket.
Then it happened. In a split second, out of nowhere. Barely being able to see the
snarl on the kids face, the turning of the tide, the final spark of self reliance being
ignited, he glimpsed the punch that felled Mark Ford like a tree. The stone being
dropped from his hand and the kick that was driven into his tormentors stomach. Even
if the others turned on him, even if the others rushed to their leaders defence, the very
act of standing his ground even once was enough to cause the change in awareness
that could give him back his dignity, alter his life for the better. The boy had set
himself free.

Almost jumping with ecstasy , almost screaming at the sky, his heart filled with joy
as he knew this was the moment that would change things forever. But it was short
lived, as he knew he didn’t have time to celebrate the moment and he knew his time
here was overdue. What needed to happen, happened. He had to return to the
wormhole. He had to go now!

As he left for his destination he could hear the rage of his younger self being aimed
at someone or something, could hear it echo through the trees. Rage being vented from
a repressed tormented kid who had been punished just because he was alive. He didn’t
like what he heard. There was something in the outcry that was upsetting to him.
Something haunting. Like an animal who’s young have been taken and had nothing left
to lose. But he knew that that was just the release, and he absolutely couldn’t turn
back and interfere with events. It was just the letting go of so much hurt, so much hate.
What was inside needing to come out. He knew he had been right in his instincts to
drive the point home. To emphasise his imposition. Profs caution had been too
conservative. Whatever. He knew the Professor would be waiting. He knew it was
time to go back.

Just like planned the wormhole, although slightly different in colour and vibration, was
waiting there for him to return. He hoped that no one from this time had discovered it
in the short space he had been away. He wondered why his memory of things hadn’t
same. But that was to alter he was sure of that. They had to. He had made the
necessary happen.

Stepping through the wormhole he found himself back in Mezners lab.

Looking around, his eyes scanned the room for the Professor only to find he was
asleep on his bed, tucked into the far corner of the room.

“Prof!” he shouted gladly, “Prof! Wake up” He began to chuckle, “What you doing
sleeping again lazy bones. Don’t you sleep enough.?”

The Professor just snored mildly, muttering in his sleep.

Cohen grinned. “C’mon Einstein I’m back!”

Mezner opened one eye. It swivelled round, but unable to focus.

Then something snapped. Jumping up startled from his bed he yelled “What! What!

Who is that?!!”

“Its me silly! Its Keegan!”

Mezner just stared at him incredulously, his pupils wide.

“It cant be.“

Suddenly he burst into a run towards his drawer and pulled out a hand gun which he
aimed straight at Cohen.

“Prof -”

“Fuck off!”

“Prof its me! It’s Keegan! What’s the matter with you!””

“Stay where you are, boy I mean it!”

“Prof, you don’t even know how to use that thing!”

“Really?”

“Why you acting like this?!”

“Stay back you crazy son of a bitch! And shut up!! Just shut up! I need time to
think. How the hell did you get in here??!”

Cohen was stunned. “I’ve came back through the wormhole. I’ve come back from
the past. Everything went OK Prof. Everything went OK!”

“What are you talking about?!! I haven’t seen you in years!! You supposed to be in
prison where you belong! How did you get out?!”

“Out? Prof I -”

“Don’t move you crazy bastard or I’ll unload this fucker!”

“Prison for what?!!!”

“Are you serious?! You mean you don’t know?! Are you that deranged, that sick in
the head you don’t even know you gunned down fourteen people in a shopping mall!!
Including women and children!!”

Cohen almost vomited. “That’s impossible!”

“Ever since you were a little shit you crashed and bashed your way through life!!
Always retaliating! Always rebelling! Always angry! Always hurting others!!! An
inferiority complex combined with self confidence!! A sure mixture for a fucking
psychopath!!

“Please let me - “

“Don’t come near me! Don’t come near me! You crazy bastard!!” Mezner’s other
hand covered his mouth, holding something back.

Cohen stood in silence. Shock reverberated through his body. It was like someone
had just hit him in the face with iron. Like a bad dream he just wanted to wake up.
What had he done? Had he destroyed his entire life all because he wanted to do
something right?

He just looked into space. “I’ve created a monster.”

“You are a monster!” Mezner breathed ,“You’re inhumane.”

“This wasn't supposed to happen. I must have changed the timeline.” Cohen sat
down in a daze, his legs wobbly. “You helped to send me through there Prof, it was a
joint effort.”

Mezner was exasperated. “ After everything you’ve done don’t blame me for this!!”
“I’m not blaming you. Its my fault. Just mine. You gave me specifics on what I must
and mustn't do. I overstepped the mark. I gave too much encouragement to my
younger self ” Colour drained out of his face. “I thought I knew best. I've ruined
everything.”

“Whatever you did, you just brought out what was there….”

“So can we work something out? Try to fix things?”

“Not quite! Mezner said cocking the gun.

“What are you doing?” Cohen asked panicking.

“I’m going to put a bullet in your head.”

“What will that solve? The psycho me is in prison! In this reality! You said so
yourself! I’m the normal me!”

“I know. But one of those people you shot in cold blood was my brothers daughter!
My poor innocent niece that did nothing wrong! Wouldn’t have hurt a fly! She had one
year to go before she graduated! One year!” Mezner started to tremble all over, the
hate and anger beginning to rise

With his head lowered he started to weep. “I’ve tried to forget her. Tried to pretend
she was never born. My dead brothers only girl…..the only family I had left….”
Cohen got to his feet, tried to make his way towards the Professor. Mezner just
raised his head in cold defiance and fired.

Keegan’s lifeless body hit the ground with a thump. Mezner looked at what he had
done and felt some sort of warped justification. Warped, because as he had planned
only a short time ago, he was going to travel to see this corpse in prison to do the
same thing all over again.
.