Retrograde Future

Retrograde Future

Rain pelted against the neon-lit windows of Mason's apartment. The constant drizzle of acid rain had become white noise to him after fifteen years in Neo-Shanghai. He stared at the ceiling where water damage bloomed like digital flowers, spreading in perfect hexagonal patterns.

"System check," Mason mumbled, and a holographic display flickered to life above his bed. His neural implant was functioning at 78% efficiency—not great, but he couldn't afford a tune-up. Nobody could these days.

The city was dying. Everyone knew it, but nobody said it aloud. The corporate wars had left the infrastructure crumbling. Clean water was rationed. The air scrubbers worked at half capacity. Mason's job as a data miner for MemoryCorp paid just enough to keep his neural implant operational and his stomach half-full.

Mason dragged himself out of bed and to the window. The apartment complex across from his had partially collapsed last week. No rescue teams came. In the streets below, people shuffled through their daily routines, their faces illuminated by the soft blue glow of ocular implants.

"Breaking news," announced the system in his head. "MemoryCorp announces discovery of ancient archaeological site beneath Sector 7. All citizens advised to avoid the area."

Mason frowned. Sector 7 was where he'd been assigned to work tomorrow. His curiosity piqued, he grabbed his tattered synth-leather jacket and headed out.

The security at Sector 7 was minimal—just a single drone and some holographic police tape. Most security forces had been reallocated to protect the water reservoirs after last month's riots. Mason slipped past easily, descending into the excavation site.

The tunnel led deep underground, illuminated by emergency strips that pulsed with a dull red glow. Mason's implant struggled to map the area, encountering unusual interference patterns. Eventually, the tunnel opened into a cavernous room filled with ancient technology.

"What the hell?" Mason whispered.

The machines were primitive—bulky metal cases with crude displays. He recognized them from history lessons: computers. But something was wrong. Among the relics were familiar logos—MemoryCorp, NeuraTech, Quantum Dynamics—the very corporations that now ruled the world.

Mason approached a dusty terminal and wiped away centuries of grime. To his surprise, it powered on. The screen displayed a date: October 17, 2087.

"That's impossible," Mason muttered. "That's... next year."

His fingers trembled as he navigated through the ancient files. Project documents appeared, detailing experiments with time distortion. Photos showed a world before the neon skylines and neural implants—green lands, blue skies, clear oceans. Project notes mentioned "quantum loop stabilization" and "temporal echoes."

Then, Mason found the video file.

A man in a lab coat stared into the camera, his expression grim. "This is Dr. William Chen, lead scientist for Project Ouroboros. If you're watching this, then our worst fears have been realized. The temporal loop was not broken. The experiment failed."

Mason's implant buzzed painfully as the video continued.

"We created technology capable of sending information backward in time. We thought we could prevent the climate catastrophe of the 2030s. Instead, we created a temporal paradox. The corporations used our technology to send blueprints back through time—neural implants, quantum computing, fusion energy—advancing technology by centuries."

The man in the video looked away, his eyes filling with tears.

"We didn't save the world. We accelerated its destruction. The cybernetic world you know is not humanity's future. It is its past. An echo of a timeline that should never have existed. Your 'modern' world will collapse within a generation, just as ours did. We are trapped in an endless loop of technological advancement and environmental collapse."

Mason stumbled backward, knocking over a shelf of ancient components. His implant screamed with feedback as his mind struggled to process the truth.

The cyberpunk world wasn't the future. It was a temporal echo of a past that destroyed itself.

In the distance, Mason heard security drones approaching. MemoryCorp would never let this information reach the public. He grabbed the data crystal containing the video and ran toward the exit.

Perhaps this time, the loop could be broken.

-S.B.