text: The launch sequence hit zero and the Hindsight accelerated to many times the speed of sound. Once it had reached a certain distance, the computer engaged the spacefold drivers. Other than a brief flash, the moment in which we ceased to be near Earth and beame impossibly far away from it was unremarkable. Before us was a beautiful, terrifying expanse of nothing. We had arrived. Our destination was a desolate stretch of space some 3,000 light years from Earth. Officially, our mission was to scout other planets for signs of alien life. In reality, humans had made contact with intelligent life a decade prior. A carbon-based, lemur-like race called sunids who communicated via an intricate sign language. I’d met a few of them. They were quite polite, if a bit immature. Dizzyingly good at chess, too. In an act of incredible prudence, the International Space Administration decided to keep their existence a secret. Turns out it’s much easier to secure funding when the public thinks their money is aiding “the search for aliens.” We’d ventured all this way to search not for extraterrestrial life; we sought humanity. Through *The Looking Glass*, an ultraprecise telescope mounted on the Hindsight, we would be able to intercept millenia-old light waves sent out from Earth for the first time in human history. It was our mission to travel an incomprehensible distance from Earth at a nigh instantaneous speed, all in order to turn around and stare down the rock that humanity had worked for so many years to leave. On the crew were Rilda Selth, an engineer, Tanya Baldin, an astrophysicist, Dalton Sitry, a historian, and myself, also a historian. We were practically family--we’d had two years to settle any grievances while training for the mission. Despite this, I had routine differences of opinion with Dalton. If our opinions aligned, there would be no purpose in having two historians on the crew. We were scheduled to remain aboard the Hindsight for five years, and every 30 days we were to send back to Earth all the footage captured by TLG, as well as a report co-authored by Dalton and I discussing the facts and implications of what the footage alone couldn’t convey. I’ve had Tanya explain to me exactly how we managed to communicate across 900 parsecs, but her efforts have been futile. By the time I’ve had enough drinks to think asking is a good idea, I’m too far gone to remember the answer. I was beside myself with anticipation. We would unravel the great mysteries of history, uncover secrets lost to time, and determine whether or not Jesus of Nazareth was resurrected. Suffice it to say, the chief reason to hold our mission to secrecy was for fear of panic. Humanity does not enjoy challenges to its beliefs. That was true no matter the era. We would be looking into the past. It was necessary to keep certain truths secret. We had one week to prepare before the first event: the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius, 79 AD. Dalton and I put together our archiving system in time for the observation. We were unable to agree on a method, though argument itself proved to be an effective strategy. Tanya’s job was to confirm our coordinates and set up the telescope, something magnitudes more difficult than it sounds. Calculating the zoom factor alone took her half a day. In the years to come, I would spend many nights lying in bed, listening to Tanya calibrate TLG with surgical precision. Finally, Rilda ran the ship diagnostics and inspected the various life-support systems. The damn thing was practically a five-star hotel. It was equipped with perpetual food and water apparatus, as well as a clothing recycler. The beds were made from siliphene sponge, a material so comfortable it’s been said that spending a single night on it is as rejuvenating as a month on any other mattress. The computer had a catalog of most of the games, movies, shows, and books that had been released in the past few thousand years. After a week of anticipation, the time for the eruption finally arrived. Aside from being a storied disaster, the subject of countless songs and paintings, the destruction of Pompeii had the distinct advantage of being rather bright. The logic behind beginning operations with such a noticeable event was to lower the chances of us missing. An unnecessary precaution; there was no way on Earth I’d allow myself to miss something *that* cool. Tanya operated TLG while Rilda monitored for any malfunctions. Dalton and I sat alert, hands at our keyboards, ready to make history. Each of us unconsciously held their breath. I could hear my own heartbeat. Finally, Tanya spoke. “Eruption confirmed.” The monitors displaying TLG’s feed filled the room with spectacular reds and oranges, dancing across the flat, metal walls and creating a stunning lightshow. I ignored it. Typing furiously, I scrutinized the screen in front of me like those blasted sunids scrutinized my chess playing. We didn’t bear witness to any key events lost to time, but that wasn’t our objective. Pompeii’s destruction was about as well documented as ancient events come, so comparing those records to what we observed was the perfect test to confirm the validity of our method. We spent roughly twelve hours glued to our monitors, reluctant even to blink. After completing my work I considered sleeping, but tossed aside the notion of rest. Instead, I watched the footage again. All twelve hours. The spectacle fascinated and excited me, but left me with an empty sadness. A few thousand years is nothing to the timeless anguish of a life cut short. The silent lava ravaging the noiseless crowd. Had I been able to hear their screams I couldn’t have endured it. When the recording finally ended, I took what seemed my first breath in hours and stumbled to bed. I slept for two days. . . . Even before parting my eyelids I knew something was amiss. I heard typing coming from the archive. The only person aside from myself who would have any reason to use the archive computer was Dalton. The only reason Dalton would have to use the archive computer would be to put together the report on Pompeii. Our *collaborative* report. I was in the archive before I had finished the thought. “Dalton! What the hell are you doing?” “Calm down, Til!” “You bastard! You were trying to finish the Pompeii report while I was out cold!” “C’mon, Til, let’s be reasonable here--” “I *am* being reasonable,” I said as I flipped his chair. “Christ’s sake,” grumbled Dalton, picking himself off the ground and rubbing his bald head as if to summon a genie, “You know as well as I do that Pompeii was in line with the accepted history. If anything, I was doing you a favor by writing the report on my own.” I read over what he had written. Frustratingly, he was right. My stomach grumbled, reflecting my mood, and I left before Dalton could deride me further. On my way to the dining room, I recalled a past victory to numb the pain of my present defeat: the only time I had beaten a sunid at chess. The sunid’s name was Ynol. A departure from most of her kind, Ynol was rude and not very good at chess. I had played against her roughly a year and a half ago, not long after beginning training for my mission. It was a close game, and truthfully I only won because she blundered a bishop early on. She had all but threatened me to a rematch in the six months following her defeat, but I refused each time. I wasn’t going to undo my one victory against those little geniuses. Eventually she moved on. She became interested in TLG, and we spent many meals discussing the details of my mission via text. Despite being unable to speak, sunids are quick learners and many of them became literate after only a year of study. In fact, Ynol was the first to reach fluency. My mind continued to wander through the pleasant memory of victory as I prepared lunch. My day dream was interrupted when Rilda and Tanya entered the room, laughing about something unimportant. I sat down with my tuna fish sandwich. Rilda and Tanya sat next to me, each with a bowl of chicken soup. Rilda broke the silence. “So... what was that crash I heard a few minutes ago? And all the screaming?” “Don’t worry about it,” I said with a laugh. “I’m worried,” she responded. “Dalton was writing the Pompeii report while I was asleep. Had to put a stop to it.” “Ah, of course.” “At least someone gets it.” Then Tanya chimed in, “If you kill him we’re throwing you off the ship.” I looked pleadingly to Rilda. She just shook her head. “Sorry. I guess if you do kill him you’ll just have to hide the body.” Two losses in ten minutes. Utterly embarrassing. . . . It turns out that even siliphene beds have a wrong side, and that I woke up on it. I stumbled to the dining room and fixed myself a pair of eggs and a few strips of bacon. Nearly five years had passed, and I was ready to sleep in my own bed. The others seemed similarly homesick. Before we could make our return, however, we had to witness the resurrection of Jesus. The prospect of seeing that event was the only kernel of enthusiasm I allowed myself to gnaw on that morning. For over 3,000 years humanity had sought the answer to the question “does God exist?” I would be among the first four people in the universe to know the answer. Breakfast failed to improve my mood, and I followed Dalton to the observatory. Tanya and Rilda were already there, making the final preparations and checking TLG one last time. This would be a difficult event to capture. We would have to confirm the day Jesus was crucified, which would require us to pinpoint his location. Then we would have to follow his burial and watch his grave for at least three weeks to confirm that he didn’t rise. If he rose by that time... well, then this would take quite a while. The messiah could be a quack for all we cared; everyone just wanted to go home. We took our places once more, our minds already considering what to look for and how to parse the event. Today would be the culmination of five years of work. Of all the ground-shaking truths we’d learned over the past half-decade, there was no doubt in the room that this would be the most significant. My fingers tensed. Dalton grimaced next to me. Rilda stared at the largest monitor, and Tanya was visibly fighting to keep her hands from shaking. Finally, she threw back her head and announced: “We have eyes on Jesus.” Over the next few weeks that we spent watching Jesus, I came to understand much of the human struggle. When we finally learned the truth of the resurrection, I found that I was not surprised. Somehow, my mind was at ease. It took Dalton and I nearly a month to put together the report; twice as long as usual. When we finally sent it in we were too spiteful to celebrate. We spent the next month preparing for the return home. Tanya spent the time calculating the jump. Rilda performed a full check of the ship’s systems. She would be our only hope if something went wrong. Meanwhile, Dalton and I finalized our records and made a few edits to our reports. We would update them when we returned home. Finally, the day arrived. I let myself sleep in so that I’d have that much less time to wait before the jump. Each minute took an hour, and each hour seemed endless. I nearly cried when Tanya called us to the flight deck. We were going home. I was the last to arrive. Tanya and Rilda were already at the controls, ready to bring us home. Dalton reclined nearby. “Ready?” asked Tanya. “Ready, ” Each of us confirmed. “Terrific. All crewmates brace for jump.” She activated the spacefold drivers. . . . Two dozen mushroom clouds covered the half of Earth that I could see. “...what’s going on? H-hey, Tanya, why are there... explosions? That’s not... what’s going on?” “Yeah. Tanya, why are we seeing the past?” Stammered Dalton. “Aren’t we supposed to be just a light-second away from Earth?” “We are,” whispered Tanya. “That’s the present.” Rilda forced through clenched teeth.“Why?” “Tanya, what happened?” I asked “I don’t know,” she said, “I don’t know.” “Maybe it was us,” said Dalton, putting into words the fear that had gripped the room. “Dalton, be reasonable,” I was talking to myself more than him, “We’ve been out in... in space for five years. How could this be our fault?” “The... report,” he replied. “Christ, the report.” Tanya spoke again, “there’s no way of knowing if that was the cause.” Rilda replied, “we can see into the past. I’m sure we can figure out if our report had anything to do with it.” “What if we travel out a light-month?” I suggested. “Tiliar’s right,” said Dalton, “we should be able to see the Earth immediately before we sent the report. “How long will that take to calculate?” Asked Rilda. “One... one week,” Said Tanya. “Hang on,” I said. “What if we go back a light-month and the Earth really is ok? What if we... really did cause that destruction?” No one offered an answer to my question, and eventually we each wandered back to our rooms. We spent what must have been a week alone with our thoughts. We met sporadically during meals, but even then not a word passed between us. I do not know how much time slipped by before we received the message. *Hello, crew of the Hindsight.* *You were supposed to return home four months ago and witness the apocalypse. I’m very disappointed that you’ve not contacted me. Please acknowledge that you have received this message at your earliest convenience.* *Best,* *Ynol* Dalton responded with an explanation of what had happened when we tried to return to Earth. *Oh, I forgive you, then. I’m glad you’re alive! Otherwise, my whole plan would have been pointless.* *All human life on this planet has been eradicated. I was able to avoid the fallout via my ship. Regrettably, I did not let any of the people at the I.S.O. join me. They have all perished.* What happened? *Oh! Right! You see, I leaked the history of Jesus in order to allow humanity to finally resolve its greatest division: religion.* My stomach fell through the floor upon reading those words. We *were* to blame, and Humanity had been destroyed by accident. *Actually, what I just said is a lie. Did you figure that out? Bet not. Well, it is. I leaked the Jesus report as a catalyst for the destruction of humanity. Now let me talk to Tiliar, I have something I have to ask him.* Dalton turned to me. “...Tiliar? Why does the antichrist know who you are?” The others stared. I couldn’t move. “Ynol... is the name of a sunid I played chess against once while we were training. She’s the only one I ever beat, in fact.” Dalton turned around and continued the conversation. Tiliar says you’re a sunid he beat at chess. *Then he didn’t give you the full story. Yes, we played one game of chess, which he won by a fluke. He then refused a rematch to settle the score. I was upset. Frustrated. I wanted revenge. I asked countless times, and each time he refused me. He’s a spineless coward, and he enraged me. I began to plot.* *Eventually, I learned about* The Looking Glass *and your mission. It was perfect. You’d be out in space. Nowhere to run. Through what Tiliar thought were friendly conversations, I slowly learned the specifics of your mission. I learned your itinerary and the method you were using to see the past. In fact,* The Looking Glass *gave me a fantastic idea for a modified--no, it’s not time to stunningly reveal that just yet. The point is that I completely fooled him; he had no idea of my true motive. I saw my opportunity and took it. I intercepted the report on Jesus. It was as easy as fool’s mating an infant. Since the officials didn’t know anyone outside of them and your crew were even aware of the report’s existence, they didn’t even bother testing for tappers. Once in my possession, I simply duplicated and distributed the report. Faced with the truth of Jesus, humanity could not overcome the division sown by religion, and ended up annihilating itself. I personally exterminated any humans who had managed to survive.* *Each and every step I calculated with outrageous precision. You are now the last humans alive. I am the only one who knows where you can land safely. You are my hostages. I reasoned that under these circumstances, Tiliar would agree to a* *friendly rematch.* *I challenge you, Tiliar Kirphen! Defeat means the extinction of humanity. Victory means a chance to rebuild.* *‘A normal game of chess?’ you ask? No, There will be one difference with this game. Another dimension to its strategy.* . . . *You might want to write this down.* *You will position yourself in an orbit two light-weeks away. You will play white, and will transmit your first move as soon as possible. One week after you send out the transmission, I will send you* my *first move. Two weeks after you have sent your first move, you will send your second. One week after you’ve sent your second move, which will be two weeks after my first move, I will send* my *second. Two weeks after you have sent your second move, you will send your third. One week after you’ve sent your third move, which will be two weeks after my second move, I will send* my *third. Two weeks after you have sent your third move, you will send your fourth. One week after you’ve sent your fourth move, which will be two weeks after* my *third move, I will send* my *fourth. Two weeks after you have sent your fourth move, you will send your fifth. One week after you’ve sent your fifth move, which will be two weeks after my fourth move, I will send* my *fifth. We will each continue to transmit a move every two weeks, offset from each other by one week.* *Do you understand? This rematch will serve as our climactic battle, five years in the making. It couldn’t just be any old game of chess.* The entire conversation felt like a bad dream. I had spent the past four months searching for a reason why humanity would destroy itself. What greater story was the final chapter of humanity a part of? What was the meaning of this grand civilization of hairless apes now that it had collapsed? I had written down countless possibilities while half-hysterical, ranging from denial to rage to acceptance and the rest. Now, Ynol had handed me the truth. Forced it upon me. Humanity had gone extinct so that this sunid could concoct the next revolution in chess. Hands shaking, I took over from Dalton at the keyboard. I accept. *Excellent, Tiliar. Your move.