Chronopunk: A novel (Episode 13)
If you went back in time, what knowledge would you gift the past to save the future?
Chapter 38
Supreme Court (2009)
“Honorable Chief Justice and Associate Justices of the Supreme Court, This case presents a fundamental question: ‘Should property rights extend to future generations?’ We seek an interpretation of the Fifth Amendment that recognizes the rights of minors—both born and unborn. The Fifth Amendment permits the federal government to take private property for public use, provided that just compensation is given. We argue that this protection must also encompass future generations. Moreover, the Amendment requires that appropriated funds be used for legitimate public purposes—such as roads, schools, and other vital infrastructure that serve the common good. Crucially, any investment made with funds taken from private individuals must benefit not only the present generation, but also those yet to come. A road built today will benefit your granddaughter just as surely as a bridge built tomorrow will serve her grandson. Nowhere in our Constitution is there authorization to use private funds to bail out speculators or to provide excessive compensation to those who have caused harm to society. “
Deborah pauses, then turns to the audience in the bleachers.
“This is the core issue in our case before the Honorable Supreme Court: ‘The unlawful appropriation of public funds for wealth transfers.’ We assert that future generations—who will inherit the debt we create today—are neither given a voice in these decisions, nor justly compensated for the burdens we are imposing upon them.”
She takes a sip of water, then turns back to the Supreme Court justices with renewed focus.
“Allow me to take a moment to elaborate on the profound benefits that an extension of the Fifth Amendment would bring to our society. Property rights are the bedrock of our economic and legal systems. Without them, economic freedom—the free movement of goods, services, capital, and ideas—cannot thrive. Nor can the free exchange of ideas.”
She continues, her voice firm yet calm.
"Property rights serve as the legal boundary that defines the individual. On one side stands the state; on the other, you, me, and every fellow citizen. These rights draw the line between what belongs to the public and what remains within the realm of personal autonomy."
Deborah pauses, looks at the judges, and lets the silence linger for a moment before continuing.
“This boundary must be fiercely protected,” she says, her tone steady and resolute, “because it underpins our way of life and the extraordinary economic achievements that have lifted millions out of poverty. Without property rights, individuals cannot accurately assess the value of goods, nor can they determine how much to save, invest, or consume. In essence, property rights make economic planning possible—whether you're setting aside money for your son’s college fund or a corporation is mapping out its next billion-dollar investment.”
Deborah lets the gravity of her argument settle, her gaze lingering on each of the justices before she continues.
“Questions like, ‘How much will it cost to send my child to college?’ or ‘What should my next factory look like?’ cannot be answered meaningfully without a functioning pricing mechanism—a mechanism that is, at its core, rooted in the protection of property rights.”
She takes another breath, her voice firm but calm.
“We are here today to advocate for an extension of the Fifth Amendment. But in truth, our argument reaches deeper. We are calling for a revival of the spirit embodied in the Habeas Corpus Act, first introduced into English law in the 17th century. Habeas Corpus protects individual liberty by ensuring that no person may be arbitrarily detained by the state without due process. In much the same way, property rights safeguard economic liberty—shielding individuals from unjust interference by the state.”
Her words hang in the air for a moment before she presses on.
“What we propose is not merely an extension of constitutional protections to the future—but a reaffirmation of the most sacred principles that uphold individual freedom and dignity, both in body and in property.”
Deborah walks slowly to her desk. She sits, takes a sip of water, then rises again and approaches the judges.
“You may wonder how all of this connects to the Federal Reserve and the rights of future generations,” she says, her voice steady but impassioned.
“The critical connection lies in that same demarcation line between the individual and the state—the line defined by property. When we take funds from future generations, we are, in essence, violating their personhood. It is not unlike theft—or even a form of incarceration. We are stripping away their freedom before they’ve had a chance to exercise it.”
She pauses.
“That is why we must extend the Fifth Amendment to future generations. We must protect their property, their bodies—as the Latin phrase Habeas Corpus demands—and their future opportunities.”
She leans forward slightly, her gaze unwavering.
“If we burden them with trillions of dollars in debt, they will begin life at a profound disadvantage. The Federal Reserve, by facilitating this cycle of debt, is eroding the property rights of future generations—and in doing so, it violates the Constitution of the United States.
Therefore, we respectfully ask this Honorable Supreme Court to overturn the lower court’s decision to deny our case. Minors and future generations are entitled to the same constitutional protection of their property rights as any other citizen.
Bureaucrats—including those within the Federal Reserve—must be held accountable for policies that infringe upon these rights by enabling unchecked borrowing by the state. This borrowing imposes an unjust burden on future generations, who have neither a say in the legitimacy of such appropriations, nor a voice in how those funds are used.”
Deborah turns back to her desk, her posture rigid as she places her hands on the surface and gazes up at the ceiling. The silence in the Supreme Court is thick—heavy—as though the weight of her words has settled over the packed chamber. You could hear a pin drop. She closes her eyes for a brief moment, holding the silence, then turns back to face the justices.
“Honorable Justices of the Supreme Court,” she begins, her voice steady and resonant, “this case concerns an unprecedented number of individuals. Never before, in the history of this Court—or any court—have judges been faced with a responsibility so profound. Your verdict will not only affect the hundreds of millions of Americans living today, but it will also shape the lives of countless future Americans—citizens who have yet to be born, but who, as we contend, are entitled to a voice, to the protection of their property, and to legal representation. Never in the history of humankind has a legal argument carried greater weight.”
Deborah continues, her tone firm but thoughtful. “Societies evolve along nonlinear trajectories. It’s like shooting an arrow at the moon—any slight deviation at the start can lead to a vastly different outcome upon impact. This is precisely why we must carefully consider the weight of our actions today. Under the leadership of Ben Bernanke, the Federal Reserve redefined the boundaries of what bureaucrats can and cannot do. They unilaterally decided to appropriate public funds to rescue Wall Street banks from collapse. We are not here to debate whether that decision was effective; our argument cuts deeper. We assert that the Federal Reserve does not have the constitutional authority to take such action. And as for the consequences of a favorable ruling in this case, we foresee three main benefits.”
Deborah holds up her right hand and points three fingers at the judges.
“First,” Deborah begins, her voice steady, “we must recognize that future generations must be considered in today’s decision-making processes. By granting them legal representation, we ensure that their property rights are protected just as robustly as those of any current citizen. Including future generations in the broader conversation about which actions should or should not be taken provides invaluable insights into the complex process of planning for the future. Their inclusion helps guide more informed and equitable decisions, ensuring that the impacts of today’s policies are fully considered and balanced for the long-term benefit of all.”
She holds up two fingers.
“Second, future planning will become significantly more efficient. By assigning property rights to future generations, we facilitate more accurate price discovery and enable better decision-making. This clarity allows for more precise forecasting and more effective responses to long-term needs and challenges.”
Then three fingers.
“And third, this approach fosters a society that is perceived as fairer by all its citizens, both current and future. Incorporating property rights for future generations strengthens the social fabric, promoting trust and equity across time.”
Deborah looks around the room, then turns back to her desk. She sits down and closes her argument.
“Thank you, Honorable Justices of the Supreme Court.”
Suddenly, a chill courses down her spine as the gravity of the moment settles in. She realizes that what just occurred is a watershed moment for humanity—one that will shape the trajectory of free societies, markets, and the pursuit of happiness for millions. Her thoughts race, leaving her dizzy and disoriented. As she drinks more water, her arms begin to shake uncontrollably.
Scenes from her past flash before her eyes in rapid succession: her elementary school days in Ljubljana, the painful divorce of her parents, her relocation to Klagenfurt, the tragic murder of her father, and finally, her arrival in Chicago. The music she loves—deeply intertwined with her experiences in the Chicago underground dance scene—echoes through her mind. She recalls her first encounter with Mody, their passionate discussions, intimate moments, heated arguments, and ultimately, her determined journey through the labyrinth of federal law and finance, culminating in this very moment before the Supreme Court.
The convergence of these events seems almost miraculous. Yet, she knows with certainty that this is the moment she has been preparing for her entire life. Every fiber of her being, every neural connection, every drop of sweat shed, has led her here. And she did it.
Deborah raises the glass to her lips once more, takes another sip of water—and then, overwhelmed by the magnitude of it all, she loses consciousness.
Chapter 39
Chicago, 2009
September is the best month in Chicago—the only time the weather feels remotely humane. Mody wanders by the lake, anxiously kicking stones as skateboarders, cyclists, and runners speed past. It's hard to share in the joy and carefree atmosphere that envelops the city during these rare days of cool daytime breezes, warm summer nights, and breathtaking sunsets.
Now that the mission is complete, he faces the daunting task of preparing for his rendezvous and repatriation—a task not only fraught with technical challenges, but also one that weighs heavily on his mind. He feels torn between two women, separated by nearly fifty years.
There’s Deborah, a fiery DJ-turned-lawyer who became his steadfast ally in the fight against the Fed. She now stands before the Supreme Court, championing a new world order built on intergenerational property rights.
And then there’s Lisa, the woman he fell in love with while preparing for the mission—the one waiting for his return to the time he truly belongs.
But it isn’t just love tugging at his soul—something deeper, more complex, gnaws at him. Mody is uneasy about the mission's outcome. Deborah has indeed brought the case to the Supreme Court, just as Lisa had predicted in her planning scenarios. During his last check-in with the control center, they celebrated what they called a successful operation, congratulating him on a mission well accomplished.
Still, Mody can’t shake his doubts. Can the future of humanity really rest in the hands of just seven judges? What if they uphold the lower court’s decisions and let the Fed get away with its financial sleight of hand?
According to Lisa’s scenario, even a Supreme Court loss would be a mild success. Simply getting the case heard at the highest level would open the door to future discourse. She had reassured him: regardless of the verdict, this case would shine a light on issues like moral hazard, unchecked government spending, and bureaucratic overreach.
But Mody remains unconvinced. What he’s witnessed over the past three years since his arrival disturbs him—a reckless disregard in government finance and growing political interference in the economy. From his vantage point, problems this entrenched can’t be resolved through courtroom arguments alone.
"More must be done," Mody thinks.
"I can do more. I must do more."
His mind races, consumed by the weight of responsibility.
Suddenly, a child kicks a ball against his leg, snapping him back to the present. He picks it up and tosses it back to the child—just as his cellphone rings.
It’s Deborah.
She’s en route to O’Hare from D.C., exhausted but elated. Her performance before the Supreme Court is earning praise across network TV, and Mody had thought she was outstanding too. Still, they both know that applause from pundits isn’t enough.
They need a win to truly call the mission a success.
"Love you."
"Love you, too," Deborah replies—her voice soft but hurried, the flight attendant’s safety briefing echoing faintly in the background. Then she hangs up.
Mody continues his walk along the edge of Lake Michigan, the cool breeze brushing his face, though his mind remains heavy. Ahead lies a choice no one in his corner of the multiverse has ever faced. It’s a decision that could define not only his future, but possibly the fate of billions.
The weight of the unknown presses against him as he stares out at the horizon, aware that whatever path he chooses could reshape everything.
A monumental—yet deceptively simple—question lingers:
‘To stay... or go back’
Staying would likely mean never returning to his original time—resigning himself to live out his days in a society that predates his birth by two decades. He would become a relic out of sync with the present, a man haunted by memories of a future that may never come to pass.
Or he could proceed to the rendezvous as planned, preparing for his departure back to 2064—the time he truly belongs to.
Love of the Eros kind, the God of fiery passion, pulls him in two directions: One toward Deborah, his fierce and brilliant partner in this timeline. The other toward Lisa, waiting for him in his future-present.
But Apollo, god of reason and foresight, demands his attention too.
Mody knows that if he stays, there are things he could do—strategic moves that might increase the odds of his mission’s ultimate success. Actions that could tip the scales toward the future he’s fought so hard to protect.
The question is:
‘Which will weigh heavier on his soul—love, or duty?’
He is acutely aware that any interference beyond the original scope of Lisa and her team’s plan would drastically reduce his chances of returning to his own time. Tampering with time symmetry and time lapse parameters to that extent would make it nearly impossible to bring him back safely—at least, not to the exact fragment of spacetime he calls home.
In essence, any deviation would sever his connection to 2064.
His mind races as he stands at the precipice of a life-altering choice:
"Do I stay and go beyond what was originally planned—to increase the odds of preserving freedom—or do I leave, following the carefully plotted trajectory back to my time?"
The weight of the question bears down on him: A choice between bold action in the face of uncertainty, or trust in the path already laid out—knowing it may be his only way home.
Chapter 40
Colorado, 2064
Lisa is fuming.
She hurls her glass against the wall—
a sharp crash echoes through the room as it shatters.
"That ungrateful idiot! Imbecile! How dare he?"
“Sergeant,” one of the soldiers says gently, bending to pick up the shards.
He glances up at her, trying to maintain composure.
“We have to stay calm. Mody’s actions are already destructive enough. Please.”
"Calm?" Lisa snaps. "How can I be calm when my lead operative decides to abandon the mission? Do you have any idea what this will do to me? Is there any way to bring him back? Can we force-quit him?"
The soldier shakes his head.
"No, ma'am. It's nearly impossible to pinpoint his exact location across the multiverse and bring him back here. We can try, but with virtually infinite possibilities, brute-forcing it would require an astronomical amount of computing power, time, and resources... almost too much to even contemplate."
He hesitates, then adds, his voice somber,
"If Mody doesn’t share the key coordinates with us, as per mission protocol, we have no way of bringing him back."
"Why is he doing this?"
Lisa’s voice cracks as tears well up in her eyes.
She knows how this will appear in the top-secret military bunker buried deep in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado:
Here she is, the head of one of humanity’s most advanced missions, now overseeing one of its most spectacular failures. And all she can do is cry.
"No," she thinks, "I can’t let that happen."
But it’s not the mission’s failure that cuts the deepest. What overwhelms her is the feeling of rejection. Mody hasn’t just abandoned the mission—he’s abandoned her.
His choice to stay away means he’s chosen not to return to her.
Lisa leaves the room and drifts through the cold, grey corridors of the underground army base, her mind racing.
She needs air—something to cut through the suffocating tension.
Stepping outside, she’s greeted by the strange blend of heat and cool breezes that defines Colorado summers—both refreshing and stifling at once. But she doesn’t care.
Following a trail leading north of the base, she walks and walks, her thoughts a tangled mess of confusion and pain.
After two hours of steady hiking, she reaches the peak of the trail, nearly 10,000 feet above sea level. The air is thinner now, crisp with a bite of cold, yet the sun’s rays feel closer, gently warming her skin.
She finds herself suspended between warmth and chill, a quantum state of sorts—much like her thoughts. Her mind drifts between the hard realities of the mission and the intimate moments she’s shared with Mody, moments that now feel tainted by his absence.
Lisa struggles to clear her mind, but she can’t.
‘Why would he abandon the mission?’ she wonders. ‘Everything went so well. We even made it to the Supreme Court. And though they sided with the establishment, we still made progress. It wasn’t a complete failure.’
She knows they could have relaunched the mission—tried something new. But now, with this disaster, Congress would never approve another attempt.
Mody hasn’t just sabotaged her mission and broken her heart—he’s put the entire intergenerational time travel project at risk.
"Bastard!" she yells into the Colorado sky.
Upon returning to the base, Lisa immediately calls for an emergency meeting.
“What are the facts? Where do we stand, and what are our chances of recovering Mody?”
One of the soldiers responds in a cold, firm tone.
“Honestly? Pretty slim. We’ve missed both scheduled rendezvous points, which makes it almost impossible for him to reach us. Too much time has passed, and as you know, the complexity increases exponentially. Without constant recalibration, both our coordinates and his will drift so far apart that successful repatriation to our exact position in the multiverse is beyond any computational resources we have.”
Lisa stares at the man, her eyes hard.
“So we’ve lost him?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And he’s lost us?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What about brute force? Why can’t we send a team to the last coordinates from the last rendezvous?”
Before the soldier can respond, Jamie, Lisa’s assistant, steps in gently.
“Lisa, you know that’s hopeless. Too much time has passed. Sending people back to some cluster of coordinates we captured three days ago would be like searching for a grain of sand after a twelve-foot wave just smashed the shore. It’s impossible.”
She pauses, then continues, her tone shifting to something more formal.
“We need to issue a statement and schedule a conference with members of Congress. We’ll confirm the mission’s end. Whether Mody returns or not doesn’t matter much—not to them, anyway.”
Lisa pauses.
“But it’s a massive problem for the Pentagon. They’ll shut us down and drag me through hearings until my face turns blue!”
Lisa has been around Washington, D.C., long enough to anticipate the backlash her failed mission will provoke.
She knows all too well that power cares only about control—and she has miserably failed on that front.
She wasn’t able to control her operative, and in the power-drenched culture of Washington, that’s an unforgivable sin.
Now, she’s facing consequences far beyond losing her job.
It will most likely cost her reputation—and, as her lawyer warns, she’s staring down even more serious repercussions.
“You’ve been openly involved with Mody. This is a bad look. You know how D.C. feels about affairs.”
“I don’t care. Fuck them!” Lisa shouts back at her lawyer.
“Lisa, I’m on your side. Calm down. They’ll suspect collusion—maybe even treason. They don’t like men fucking female operatives. Now, imagine when this picture gets flipped. You’ll be all over the tabloids, in print, on social, and in Gen AI. ‘Lisa Chu, the Oppenheimer of our time, gets screwed by the men she screwed.’ How does that sound?”
Lisa lets this sink in.
“Can I kill him? How can he do this to me?”
“He probably didn’t know what the repercussions would be. As you trained him to stay focused on the mission and kept him away from the D.C. hupala, he probably had no idea of the political toxicity this mission had already brought to bear. And now, with him going AWOL, it’s only going to get worse. But he doesn’t know that.”
Lisa stares out the window of her office, lost in thought.
Her lawyer watches her carefully.
“We must create a plausible narrative...”
“Narrative!” Lisa explodes.
“What narrative do you want me to come up with? I recruited this amazing guy, trained him, sent him on a mission that’s exponentially more spectacular than the moon landing and might, just might, save our society. And what does Mr. Perfect do? He goes AWOL. How do you intend to spin this in any other way than the one everybody will immediately conclude?”
‘She’s an idiot.’
Her lawyer hesitates for a moment, then responds calmly,
“Well, we could lie and say something went wrong.”
“Can’t do that. My engineers will not take the beating for Mody’s shenanigans. Plus, there are too many people involved. I can’t ask them all to lie for me.”
Her lawyer pauses, then suggests,
“Okay, what if we change the narrative of the mission? We say he stayed there because we wanted him to do more—get involved in too many projects. By doing so, he altered the time symmetry parameters so much that a successful repatriation was no longer possible?”
Lisa thinks for a moment, weighing the options.
"It’s more or less what happened. I’m not sure what he did, but his decision to stay altered the parameters so drastically that we couldn’t retrieve him. In fact, that’s exactly it."
A faint smile flickered across Lisa’s face.
“Let’s just skip the part about him abandoning us. Honestly, I’m not even convinced he did. Maybe he tried and couldn’t make it back. Maybe he had an accident. Who knows? Jamie, you’re a saint.”
Lisa stepped out of her office, grabbed her coat, and left the building.
At home she picks up Cy from the nanny.
“He was quiet today, like he sensed something,” the nanny said. Lisa glances at her, kisses Cy, and waves goodbye. Her son turned two last month. She and Mody had planned to start a family during his training. Given her age, Lisa felt it wise not to wait longer. Now, she’s a single mother, widowed—or something like that.
“Mody would’ve loved to kiss you, Cy, but he can’t—he’s not coming back.”
Lisa kisses Cy, tucks him into bed, and heads to the kitchen. She pours a glass of white wine, tosses a few logs into the fireplace, and settles by the window. Outside, the Front Range looms—snow-dusted peaks and sprawling pine valleys bathed in moonlight. She’s pensive, teetering on melancholy.
Lisa raises her glass to the empty room. ‘To you, my love’, she whispers, toasting the void. In the background, Cy’s soft cries pierce the silence. She walks to his room, feeds him gently, and lulls him back to sleep. Standing over his crib, she gazes at her son.
‘Giving birth to you was the most overwhelming joy I’ve ever felt,’ she murmurs. ‘And every time I see you, that same spark ignites. Your father won’t come back, and that breaks my heart. But he had to follow his path. I hope one day you’ll understand and maybe even follow in his footsteps. What Mody did went beyond serving his country—he served humanity. He brought hope, joy, and prosperity to billions by securing what we all cherish: freedom. Your father sacrificed his love for us to achieve something no one else could. You can proud of him,’
Tears well in Lisa’s eyes. She leans down and kisses Cy again. His eyes, wide and bright, meet hers, and he flashes a tiny smile. Her tears fall freely now. Cy’s face crumples, and he begins to cry. A bittersweet smile crosses Lisa’s lips. Soon, they’re both crying, wrapped in the quiet ache of love and loss.
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