Ben Franklin sighed a dignified, if a little weathered, sigh of relief. At long last, final freedom was within sight. Not a full hour earlier, he and his fellow members of the Continental Congress had just signed and ratified a new declaration, one of independence and not subservience. One that was sure to let Mother England know its puppy had just grown some teeth, and was not as teat-gentle as it once had been! Franklin smiled a smile with all the radiance of ten thousand suns, as he sat in the front doorway of Independence Hall and watched his own sun set, bringing night; bringing calm.

"Of course," said Franklin, to no one at all but himself, "it's only a fool who believes that calm ever comes without a storm to follow." Intoxicated by his own wisdom, Franklin returned to his chambers to sleep, not suspecting for even a moment that this one slumber might be his last.

Hours later, a huge black shadow passed over the moon. Most of the citizens didn't even notice the behemoth monstrosity of twisted metasteel and hydroplast, and the few who did had no idea that in almost 300 years it would be known as a CyberTechSystems HellBurner Galaxy Class Starfighter, but that as of 1776 hadn't even been conceived. And they certainly didn't know that the metal capsule it dropped would one day be known as a hydrogen bomb, which would bring death to thousands of innocent people, just like themselves. But they certainly knew the bright and burning death that suddenly engulfed them all when the huge explosion annihilated the entire city. In a single brilliant flash, the lives of those who should have led a struggling young country onto the path towards freedom and victory against all who opposed it flickered out in the night, like foolish young fuel flies taking their futile flights over the molten lava plains of Firaga IV.

His mission finished, the HellBurner's pilot skillfully guided it back through the rift in space and time from whence it had came.

* * *

In 2045, no one knew anything had changed. For them, entire lives were relived in a way different from the one fate had once had intended. For them, the very destiny that had made their lives possible in the first place was forced to take a back seat to the only element in nature more powerful than itself: relativity. Those who were meant to be weak were now men of great power, and those who had once been unlikely heroes were now just ones among thousands of grains of sand lost in time . . .

* * *

haxx0r mailman awoke with a start. It was morning, still a few hours before his shift began, and he had just had the most peculiar dream. Something about himself, only he wasn't himself at all. He remembered a gun, and a man in a suit laughing maniacally. He struggled to recall further details of the dream, but its memory soon completely faded from his mind.

Oh well, another dream among millions, who's to say they've any reason at all. Certainly not a lowly mailman like I. At any rate, the mail must be delivered on this day like any other, and I've a few hours before that to further hone my skills. So hone them I shall.

haxx0r mailman rose from his bed and spoke a simple phrase, "Begin MailTrainer, level nine," and his room was transformed from a small, sparesly furnished cube to a jungle of mailboxes which extended from secret compartments in the walls, floor, and ceiling. Various scanners and sensors in the mailboxes were all connected to a central address database, which was in turn connected to electric stimulators in haxx0r mailman's cerebral cortex. Letters delivered with an imperfect form would cause a small shock to reverbetrate through haxx0r mailman's brain and rack his body with violent spasms. Letters delivered to the wrong address would send a lethal 100,000 gigavolts tearing through his body, killing him instantly. Of course, for haxx0r mailman, even the slightest imperfection was a complete impossibility, and thus his training for the day began.

At first he moved slowly, almost seeming lazy, taking his time to lean over and carefuly lift his 2x haxx0rmailbag from it's resting place on the floor beside his bed, and sliding the cool martian-leather strap over his shoulder. But once the bag had fallen into place, he leapt into the nearest cluster of mailboxes at speeds almost too fast for the human eye to follow, flinging letters perfectly into their designated receptacles in a blinding flurry the likes of which hadn't been seen since Hermes himself had delivered mail to the God's on Mount Olympus. Then again, even Hermes was no haxx0r mailman. haxx0r mailman quickly emptied his huge sack of letters without missing a beat, and then repeated the exercise, thousands and thousands of time over, until the time finally came to head off to another day of bringing the obedient servants of the British Empire the mail they so eagerly awaited and rightfully deserved.

His day of work went at first like any other, otherwise territorial dogs fled in terror of him, cyber-sprinklers melted down their own internal circuitry, a fate much more acceptable to their cold, mechanical minds than the one offered by gettng wet the mighty haxx0r mailman. Yes, just as it had been with his training, everything went pefectly for haxx0r mailman until he reached the end of his route, when he noticed that a new address had been added.

At first he laughed, for as such a commited mailman, he recognized it as the address of a large vacant lot, void of any establishment or life, let alone a mailbox. Surely, the address must have just been a mistake. But instantly, he knew that the British Postal Service would never allow such a horrendous fowl-up, especially not on the route of their most trusted courier ever. Realizing that the mail must be delivered, haxx0r mailman decided that he would surely find what he was looking for when he got there. Curious yet cautious, he headed off in search of the mailbox he knew not to be there.

To haxx0r mailman's shock, when he reached the lot that had been completely empty just a day before, he found not only a mailbox, but a mile-high building standing tall and firm behind it.

Impossible! No one could have erected such an enormous structure so quickly, no matter what manner of construction they employed! haxx0r mailman was even more shocked when his own private denial was answered by a strange voice in his own mind.

"Even if zat manner of construction vas relativity itself? Greetinks, haxx0r mailman, zere is much ve must discuss, and time, I'm afraid, is vun commodity zat you unt I haff run out of!" The voice spoke quickly, with a thick accent that haxx0r mailman didn't recognize, yet seemed to him to somehow belong to a close friend that he had somehow never known. "You veel find me on ze top floor of ze tower. Make haste, my oldest friend!"

Having few other ideas for how to respond to the mysterious voice, and seeing no real reason not to, haxx0r mailman made his haste and walked through the front door of the building, which led to a long white hallway, with an elevator waiting open for him at the opposite end. He stepped in, pressed the button for 1337th story and waited patiently as the car shot up the turbo shaft, to the floor where haxx0r mailman knew destiny waited in silence and self-denial.

When the elevator stopped and the door slid back open, haxx0r mailman stepped out into the room and felt the familiar fingers of deja vu gently carress the more sensitive regions of his body. The room was luxuriously furnished and looked as if out of some ancient palace from brighter days. Although it seemed impossible, haxx0r mailman knew he had been in this very room before, only it hadn't been on top of any such building then. No, it had been somewhere else, somewhere far away, in a time and place he was certain he had never been. Somewhere called . . .

Zaire, 1945

What IS this place? It just, just . . .

"Doesn't make any sense, does it, haxx0r mailman?" The voice that had seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once just minutes earlier now came from directly in front of him. Sure enough, standing there was a somewhat queer but friendly looking old man. He had a thick bushy moustache, wild untamed grey hair that seemed to have been blasted out of his head in some firey explosion, and wore old worn trousers and a faded blue sweater. "I take it, from ze befuddled expression upon your face zat you haff no recollection of me?" It was all haxx0r mailman could do to nod blankly.

"Zis is unfortunate, but not unexpected. You must haff many qvestions. I belieff zey can all be answered vis vun vord. Zat vord, is relativity." As he said "relativity," he produced a strange glass object from his pocket. haxx0r mailman started to ask what it was, but the old man silenced him with a firm gesture. "Zis is vat vas vonce known as a 'lightbulb' in a place called ze New United States of America." haxx0r mailman could stay silent no longer.

"Relativity? America? You speak in riddles and lies, old man, where I would seek to see the truth delivered!" At this, a wide smile spread across the old man's face, and he began to chuckle softly.

"Ze truth, eh? I see zat some zings never change. Vell I believe zat vonce you see ze light, you vill find your truth!" Somehow, almost miraculously, the lightbulb in the old man's hand began to glow, brighter and brighter, until it was almost blinding. Yet, haxx0r mailman found he could not look away, no matter how his eyes burned. The old man spoke on.

"I know it sounds ridiculous, but vat if vun vas able to travel back zrough time, and change ze future, change ze very fabric of ze vorld around him. Zen a new vorld vould begin to form, an alternate reality viz different events but ze same people. Ze old vorld, ze real vorld, if you vill, vould fade avay. Of course, relativity tells us zat nozink really fades and nozink really forms, so it vould, zeoretically be possible for vun to travel betveen ze two vorlds, possibly even bringink sum form of lighting device viz him. Ze only zink zat relativity does not tell us is, vould a lightbulb from ze other vorld cast your shadow, or ze shadow of who you might have been?"

At the thought of such a chilling prospect, haxx0r mailman could not help but finally look away from the light, and gaze instead at his shadow, which was in fact not his at all. It seemed the old man's lies had been true after all, he saw instead the shadow of a man with long flowing hair, some large, menacing gun gripped tightly in his cold hands. The shadow of some forgotten dream. Unable to accept the truth he had sought to deliver for so many long years, haxx0r mailman lost all consciousness, and collapsed in a heap on the floor.
* * *

haxx0r gunman woke up and pushed himself off of the cool wood floor. He gazed around the room he was standing in with respect and understanding, but not wonder. "Interesting, a perfect replica of Prince Congo's palace. Especially interesting, since it had no blueprints ever made, no portraits ever painted, and no photographs ever taken. Not to mention that no one's been there since. . ."

"Zaire, 1945." haxx0r gunman instinctively drew his 2x haxx0rgun from its holster on his back and spun around, fully intending to blast whoever seemed to have such an uncanny insight into his most personal memories. He relaxed his grip on the deadly weapon, however, when he recognized one of his oldest and wisest friends, Albert Einstein.

"Albert, it would be good to see you, if good was not such a relative concept." Einstein grinned broadly at haxx0r gunman.

"haxx0r gunman, it is you. No one else could have such a firm grasp on all zat is relative." haxx0r gunman nodded solemnly.

"As long as death remains relative to life, forever shall relativity be my companion. But such words of wisdom are wasted on the wise. Tell me, old friend, where are we, and why have you brought me here?" Einstein's grin faded as quickly as it had appeared.

"Alzough you may find it hard to belieff, ve are exactly vhere logic tells you ve are."

"Indeed, I do find that hard to believe, for logic, along with the global receptors in my cyber-eyes, tell me that we are standing in New New York, on the 24th of May, 2045. But if my receptors are right, then the landforms and societies, seemingly the very history, of the entire planet have changed drastically in less than half of a day. That, my friend, would make for bad fiction."

"Bad fiction, haxx0r gunman, but even vorse reality. And reality is exactly vhat your receptors haff perceived. Imagine a world without the President. Imagine a world without the New United States. Imagine a world without you." The two friends sat down together and spent the rest of that afternoon and the entire evening discussing all that had happened to change the course of time.

Einstein told him of the HellBurner in 1776, of the eradication of the revolutionaries in England's promising new colonies. Without such heroes as Samuel Adams and George Washington, there had never been an American revolution, and over the course of almost three centuries, the British Empire had steadily gained more power, until it controlled literally the entire planet. It eradicated national and religious borders, and with them, eventually, all prejudice and war. And with all the scientists on Earth working together, technology expanded and improved exponentially. By the time Earth made first contact with the Transgalactic High Council in 2027, few other planets in the entire universe had reached such a peaceful and advanced state of near-utopia. At the "present" time, 2045, Earth seemed to be on its way towards uniting the whole Milky Way galaxy under a single, peaceful regime.

haxx0r gunman had never felt as sick in his entire life. "How could one even call this a world? How could one even call this an existence!?" He spat the words out as if they were poison. "In this world, where all have time for peace and prosperity, none have time for the truth. And, as history has shown time and time again, without the truth, all are damned. Enough 'time' has been wasted, Albert! How can I find this timebender? How can I bring the future to itself once more?"

Einstein's expression became very sad then, and though he looked into haxx0r gunman's eyes, it looked like he was staring at something miles away. "Zere is somezink zat I never told you, haxx0r gunman, somezink vich I fear zat now I must. It is no coincidence, no chance zat I vas blessed vith such a keen knowledge of all zat is relative. For you see, my fahzer, and his fahzer, all ze vay back to ze beginnink of time itself, haff been known as ze Masters of Relativity. Ve are ze last guardians of relativity on Earth, here to make sure zat its power never falls into ze wrong hands, as it has now." haxx0r gunman, wise though he was, still couldn't tell what the old man was getting at.

"Well what help can I be then? It is you who would seem to posess the power to stop this time traveling fiend. My 2x haxx0rbolts have a certain efficiency in dealing with bone and metasteel, but against the fabric of time itself I have found they are quite useless." Einstein sighed and looked away.

"As you know, I haff never had a son of my own, haxx0r gunman, and it is too late for zat now. If I do not find a suitable heir, zen ze legacy of ze Masters of Relativity shall die viz me. I haff found vun, who I zink may be vorzy, but I am not sure if he is ready." All at once, haxx0r gunman understood. He rose from his seat, and then kneeled before Einstein in submission.

"Master, neigh, Father! What must I do?" Einstein grinned that broad, broad grin once more.

"It is relatively simple, my son. You must only repeat ze phrase 'Another place, another time,' and let your instincts guide you, relatively speaking of course."

Now it was haxx0r gunman's turn to grin; the power of relativity never failed to amaze him. "Well then, there is work to be done. Thank you for all you have done, Father. I will see you in another place, another time. Another place, another time. Another place, another time. Another place, another time . . ."

Another place, another time . . .

* * *

haxx0r gunman stood high atop a cliff deep within the Himalayan mountains. He recognized the place, not to mention the time, instantly. He had been taken back to the village where he had grown up, back to the days when he was still just a boy, with love, with passion, without a cold and desperate desire for a truth he could not find. The cliff was one that he had climbed many times as a youth, from the top one had a perfect view of the village below, just as haxx0r gunman had now. Though his view was perfect, all in the village below was not, for though he could detect all of the Shaolin monks who had raised him through his childhood, there was absolutely no sign of himself, of the young haxx0r gunman who would one day lead an entire universe to its destiny.

Where am I? A seemingly simple question, but one that might hold the key to his very existence itself. But, as with many questions he asked in his journeys, this one was answered quickly and abruptly by a voice from behind.

"He's right here, haxx0r gunman." haxx0r gunman turned to see a man, presumably the HellBurner pilot, standing behind him, suited up in full CyberTechSystems Nanological ExoArmor. In one hand he held a fearsome-looking plasma-blaster, and in the other he held the small child who would grow up to become haxx0r gunman. "I knew you'd find me here. I knew you'd know I wouldn't pass up an opportunity like this. But it seems that you've come just too late, or just in time, I suppose, to see me make history. My history. For you see now I shall exterminate haxx0r gunman, I shall wipe his existence from the pages of life, and with it, any chance of the future being returned to its original state. I'd ask you to say goodbye, but in a few seconds, you never will have been here at all."

The man began to laugh maniacally, and then suddenly, too suddenly for even haxx0r gunman to react, he fired a plasma blast that burned the child in his hand to mere ashes, which blew away in the wind. haxx0r gunman did not cease to exist though. In fact, it was his turn to laugh maniacally, which he did with great pleasure.

"Oh foolish corruptor of fate, you had all the time in the world to prepare for this battle, yet now you stand before me with ignorance as your only shield! For you see where you thought to have struck down my past self you struck down only-" Before haxx0r gunman could finish his grim revelation, his would-be assassin leapt high into the air, backflipping and landing behind the real young haxx0r gunman, who was just poising to strike. In one smooth movement, he extended a hyperblade from his wrist and brought it down, cleanly decapitating the surprised youth before him. He had been ready for haxx0r gunman's greatest trick. Now surely, victory was his.

But to his absolute disbelief, haxx0r gunman stood firm and tall, 2x haxx0rgun ready and willing to reweave the threads of time that had been undone by human insanity. Despite the brilliant design of the ExoArmor, one 2x haxx0rbolt was all it took to shatter the hard metasteel shell and the soft flesh and bone within. And as the remains fell to the earth about him, haxx0r gunman breathed a heavy sigh of relief. His mission was complete. He could feel the future returning to normal. He could feel the truth moving closer with every breath.

It wasn't long before the most agile of the Shaolin monks reached the top of the cliff, anxious to see what all the commotion had been about. Having reached the enlightenment of Buddha, they instantly recognized haxx0r gunman for who and what he was, and he began to inform them all of just what had happened.

When he had finished, the monks had their fair share of questions, namely who this wreckless time traveler had been. haxx0r gunman walked over to where the ExoArmor helmet had landed and picked it up, peering in at the face it hid. "It would seem that this man was once, or rather, will once be, called Tony Blair, Prime Minister of a nation called England. Only one so sadistically British could actually believe that the world could be united for its own betterment."

The older men present nodded their heads knowingly, until one of the less experienced monks, and headstrong young Buddhist named Ake asked what would later come to be known as the most foolish question in history:

"haxx0r gunman, how is it that when this madman took the life of yourself in youth, you were not smitten in your current old age? How is it that the cause had no effect?"

haxx0r gunman laughed maniacally once more, and this time it took several minutes for him to finally stop. "Ake, my naieve young friend, don't you see? Cause and effect are worthy adversaries, yes, but they are no match for fate and destiny, who happened to be my only allies against them."

"I, I do not understand haxx0r gunman!"

"You will, Ake. In another place, another time."

And then he was gone.