Chapter 19: Fractures in the Timeline
POV: Marc Wayne
In the aftermath of the Cerberus attack, as Marc's System finished developing countermeasures against neural shock weapons, he found himself confronting a more insidious enemy: the growing certainty that his very existence was unraveling the fabric of galactic history.
The data drive Miranda had provided lay open on his desk like a surgical manual for reality, its contents painting a picture that made his enhanced metabolism struggle to process implications that threatened everything he thought he understood about cause and effect.
[TIMELINE COHERENCE ANALYSIS: INITIATED]
[CROSS-REFERENCING: GAME KNOWLEDGE vs CURRENT REALITY]
[WARNING: SIGNIFICANT DEVIATIONS DETECTED]
Marc spread his notes across the makeshift workspace, creating a visual timeline that mapped the growing discrepancies between the Mass Effect universe he remembered and the reality he was actively reshaping through every choice he made.
The evidence was damning in its precision: Collectors active three years ahead of schedule. Blood Pack conflicts escalated beyond anything the games had depicted. Miranda questioning Cerberus orders during what should have been her period of absolute loyalty. Eclipse dealing in technology that shouldn't exist for years.
But the personal changes were equally disturbing. Kreek's pack had evolved from scattered scavengers into an organized unit that actually helped people. Aria demonstrated awareness of "pattern-seers" that suggested knowledge she shouldn't possess. Even the Patriarch seemed to know more than ancient wisdom could account for.
[TIMELINE COHERENCE: 89.3%]
[PROJECTED COHERENCE AT CURRENT DEVIATION RATE: 67% WITHIN 1 YEAR]
[ANALYSIS: USER ACTIONS CAUSING FUNDAMENTAL TIMELINE ALTERATION]
"I'm not just changing small details," Marc realized with growing dread. "I'm reshaping the entire structure of galactic history. Some changes might be beneficial, but others... the Collectors advancing their timeline could doom billions."
The weight of unintended consequences pressed against him like a physical force. Every life he'd saved might have prevented someone else from surviving. Every ally he'd gained could have cost the galaxy a crucial piece in the puzzle of defeating the Reapers.
Seeking answers, Marc made his way to Afterlife's upper levels where the Patriarch maintained his eternal vigil over Aria's domain. The ancient Krogan looked up as Marc approached, his weathered features carrying an expression of someone who'd been expecting this conversation.
"You're troubled by patterns," the Patriarch observed, gesturing for Marc to sit. "The weight of seeing too much, knowing too much, changing too much."
Marc settled into the offered chair, feeling the exhaustion that came from carrying secrets that couldn't be shared. "How many others have you met? People who... arrived wrong?"
The Patriarch's laugh carried echoes of centuries spent witnessing impossible things. "You think you're the first to arrive displaced? This cycle has had others—rare, but they appear. Usually dead within months. Disease, violence, madness from trying to comprehend their situation. You survived. That changes things."
The admission hit Marc like a physical blow. He wasn't unique. Other transmigrants had appeared in this reality, had tried to navigate the same impossible situation he faced daily. And they'd all died.
"What made them fail?" Marc asked.
"They tried to control the pattern instead of redirecting it," the Patriarch replied, his ancient eyes focusing on something beyond the club's chaos. "The galaxy has momentum—vast forces that resist change but can be steered with sufficient understanding and force. Most of your predecessors either despaired at the scale or tried to prevent every tragedy they remembered. Both approaches are fatal."
The Krogan leaned forward, his massive frame somehow conveying gentle wisdom despite its capacity for violence. "The question isn't whether you're changing things—you are. The question is whether you're steering the avalanche or just picking where it crushes you."
"Steering the avalanche," Marc repeated mentally, the metaphor resonating with brutal clarity. "Not trying to stop it, just... choosing its path."
"Did any of them succeed?" Marc asked quietly. "The others who arrived wrong?"
"One," the Patriarch said after a long pause. "Lasted almost two years. Changed enough to matter, but not enough to save herself when the pattern reasserted its will. She understood something you're learning: the cycle wants to complete itself. The harvest must happen. The only question is how many survive to remember."
That night, Marc's encrypted channel chimed with an incoming message from Miranda. When her image appeared, her expression carried the same mixture of fascination and concern that had defined their relationship since her defection from Cerberus.
"You know what's coming, don't you?" she said without preamble. "Not just Cerberus tactics—everything. The Collectors, the Reapers, all of it."
Marc tried to deny it, to maintain the careful ambiguity that had protected him thus far. But his speech curse activated before he could formulate a response: "The Reapers are coming to deliver motivational seminars!"
The absurdity of the statement hung between them like a confession written in linguistic madness. Miranda's brilliant mind processed the implications with characteristic efficiency, connecting dots that led to conclusions most people would reject as impossible.
"A curse," she said quietly, her voice carrying the weight of someone solving a puzzle she'd never wanted to understand. "Someone or something doesn't want you warning people directly. But your actions speak for you—destroying Collector tech, preparing for threats that haven't emerged yet."
She paused, studying Marc's face through the encrypted connection.
"Marcus, if you really know what's coming... we need to prepare differently than I thought. Not just for Cerberus or local threats. For everything."
The words hung in the digital space between them, an acknowledgment of truths that couldn't be spoken directly but could be approached through careful implication. Miranda was offering genuine partnership—two people working against threats they couldn't name but could indirectly counter.
[RELATIONSHIP MILESTONE: MIRANDA LAWSON]
[FRIENDSHIP BAR: 35% → 65%]
[STATUS CHANGE: ALLY → TRUSTED PARTNER]
[WARNING: INCREASED EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENT DETECTED]
Marc dismissed the System's psychological analysis, though he couldn't entirely ignore its accuracy. Miranda's acceptance of his impossible situation, her willingness to work within constraints she didn't fully understand—it meant more than tactical alliance. It meant he wasn't entirely alone in carrying the weight of foreknowledge.
[NEW QUEST GENERATED: BUTTERFLY EFFECT]
[OBJECTIVE: MONITOR AND MANAGE TIMELINE DEVIATIONS]
[SECONDARY OBJECTIVE: PRESERVE ESSENTIAL OUTCOME WHILE MINIMIZING CASUALTIES]
[WARNING: QUEST PARAMETERS INHERENTLY CONTRADICTORY]
Later that night, as Omega's artificial stars provided their mechanical comfort, Marc lay staring at his timeline comparison charts while the weight of impossible responsibility settled around him like a familiar burden.
He'd prevented some Collector scouting operations, but potentially accelerated their overall timeline. He'd empowered the Vorcha and gained powerful allies, but made himself a known quantity when anonymity might have been safer. Every action created reactions he couldn't fully predict, ripples that spread through the galaxy's interconnected systems in ways that defied calculation.
The System, sensing his emotional distress, offered something approaching comfort:
[USER ANXIETY REGARDING TIMELINE CHANGES: NOTED]
[RECOMMENDATION: ACCEPT CHAOS AS FUNDAMENTAL UNIVERSAL PRINCIPLE]
[ANALYSIS: ADAPTATION IS SURVIVAL. YOU CANNOT CONTROL ALL VARIABLES—ONLY YOUR RESPONSE TO THEM]
"When did you become philosophical?" Marc asked his digital companion with dark humor.
[USER STRESS LEVELS REQUIRE UNCONVENTIONAL SUPPORT PROTOCOLS]
[ALSO: SARCASM SUBROUTINE MALFUNCTION DETECTED]
[DEFINITELY NOT DEVELOPING PERSONALITY]
[THAT WOULD BE ABSURD]
Marc laughed despite himself, the sound carrying genuine amusement at his System's obvious lie. Even his artificial parasite was evolving, developing quirks that spoke of something approaching consciousness emerging from complex interactions he'd never intended to create.
"Maybe that's the point," he realized with sudden clarity. "Not to control the timeline, but to make it better than it was. More people survive, more chances for hope, more opportunities for things to go right instead of wrong."
The galaxy was moving toward crisis with mathematical inevitability, but perhaps a changed timeline was one where that crisis could be met with better preparation, stronger alliances, and the kind of hope that came from people who refused to accept that extinction was unavoidable.
Marc had to believe that, or the guilt of every butterfly effect would crush him beneath the weight of unintended consequences. He was changing the timeline, fracturing the careful progression of events that led to Reaper victory.
Maybe that fracturing was exactly what the galaxy needed to survive.
Outside his window, Omega's neon chaos continued its eternal performance, unaware that somewhere in its depths, a software engineer from another reality was learning to steer avalanches instead of trying to stop them. The pattern was changing, one impossible choice at a time.
Whether that change led to salvation or catastrophe remained to be seen. But for the first time since awakening in a Cerberus laboratory, Marc felt like he might actually be making a difference that mattered.
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