"The News" by Sara Dungavell

When Christina heard the news on the television she grasped immediately what had happened.  Since she was only five no one listened to her, but she understood the significance of the event better than anyone else.

“It’s a new experimental weapon,” Henry whispered confidentially to Rachelle as the two walked down the hall.

“Well obviously!” she exclaimed, exasperated. “You’re a physicist working for the Ministry of Defence.  I didn’t really think you were developing a cure for cancer.  What’s the weapon for?!”

“Shhh, for goodness sake!  No one’s supposed to know!” Henry grabbed Rachelle’s arm and steered her into an empty room.

“Are you going to tell me about it or what?” Rachelle demanded, hands on hips.

‘Um, well, I mean, it’s top secret, really.  I shouldn’t talk-”

“Aw, come on Henry.  You know I won’t tell anyone.  You can trust me,” Rachelle said enticingly, pulling the small physicist closer.

“Well, I suppose, if you won’t tell anyone . . . it’s a, well sort of, a time bomb.  We’re developing it for the Asteroid Defence Plan.  You see,” Henry said lapsing into a lecturer’s pose, “back in time there was a statistical anomaly in the number of asteroids passing through earth’s orbit.  Now we’ve found a way to send asteroids that are threatening the earth into the past, which explains the anomalies.  It’s a bit of a time paradox, I guess.  We’ve already got the prototype built.  We’ll be detonating it next week, sending a piece of rock back to the most recent date we have data on.  The geologists assure us that they can prove. . . .” Henry had become enthusiastic but Rachelle had stopped listening.  She was standing apart, her back turned, arms crossed.

“I don’t care about all that, I want to see it! Are you ever going to show me this thing?” Rachelle was abruptly sullen and impatient. Startled, Henry agreed before realising what he’d done. 

“Good then,” Rachelle said and hauled Henry out of the room.

It wasn’t until the third security check point that Rachelle and Henry were stopped.

“You’re not allowed to bring guests in here Dr. Phif,” the guard said, his lingering gaze suggesting Rachelle was something else entirely.

“I’ll have you know Ms. Renoti is a government employee.” Henry insisted.  Another guard approached.

“You know the rules Phif no guests past this point.  Especially this close to you know what,” the second guard sneered with disgust.  Henry felt deflated as Rachelle let go of his arm, and was about to turn back down the hall when suddenly a gun was bruising the back of his ear.

“All right you two, take your guns out slowly and drop them,”  Rachelle said from close to Henry’s head.  One guard moved faster than Rachelle seemed to like and the two were curtly transformed to blood spattered heaps on the floor.

“Rachelle?” Henry squeaked, terrified as she prodded him with the gun.

“Keep moving.  I want to see this bomb.”  In horror Henry led the way through the bright milk carton halls.

“Who are you?” Henry asked, trembling

“It doesn’t matter.  Keep moving!”

They got to the bomb room.  Hanging there was a small grey metal head with dark wire hair strung out, connecting it to a circular ring of consoles.

“How do you control it?” Rachelle demanded harshly.

“I-I-”

“Hurry up!”  she shouted.  Alarm sirens had begun a deafening blare and the sound of soldier’s feet could be heard pounding down the halls towards them.

“The buttons on the left control time, on the right, magnitude.  Those control the-”

“I don’t care.  How do you set the damn thing off?”

“By-by the red button,” a shaking finger pointed. Rachelle approached the button.

“What are you doing?  The magnitude hasn’t been set yet, and the launch controls haven’t been patched in.  If you detonate it now, you’ll send us all-” Suddenly Henry crumpled, mortally wounded, to the ground.  Freed of that annoyance Rachelle turned back to the controls. Whatever the sacrifice, I must destroy this bomb before it can be used against my country, she vowed.  Developed for Asteroid Defence Plan, ha!  Confidently Rachelle pressed the button.

A wave of distorted space expanded out from the bomb complex into rural Manitoba, spreading further and faster until the concentric circles enveloped all of the prairies.  They consumed Canada and the U. S. next, gradually petering out only as they reached the outer edges of South America and the north pole.  The Atlantic and Pacific Oceans remained intact, but the entire North American Continent had disappeared.  The world media could voice no explanation.

“What the hell just happened?” Canadian Prime Minister Minos demanded of his aide.  His call to the Canadian Embassy in England had suddenly been cut off.

“I’m not sure sir.  I’ll go find out.” The phone on the Prime Minister’s desk lit back up.

“Yes?” the aide asked, answering the phone instead.  “It’s the Minister of Defence, sir.”  The aide handed the Prime Minister his phone.

“Yes?” the Prime Minister asked.

“We’ve had a security breech, sir.”

From there the news spread throughout North America as the time distortion had earlier that day.  One’s own continent being sent thousands of years into the past didn’t go by unnoticed.  But Christina was the only one that understood: North America had just become Atlantis.