The lights of the Operations Command Center flickered as a holographic display hovered in the air above the long glass table. Around it sat seven figures—officials, scientists, and military minds—every one of them bearing the weight of a mistake no one wanted to admit.
Lieutenant Colonel Mariana De Vera tapped on her tablet, pulling up the profile of Andres Reyes. His face appeared on the hovering screen: calm, young, full of potential—and currently lost in the year 1898.
"Time displacement was never part of the experiment," said Dr. Gavin Ong, lead physicist from the National Institute of Temporal Sciences. "We were testing micro-tear theory, not live subject transfers. But Reyes... something about his proximity to the pulse core when the rift destabilized—"
"Enough science," De Vera cut in. "The reality is, one of our operatives is missing in time. Possibly altering the past."
"He's not a field agent," said Commander Tadeo Ramos. "He's a medic."
"Who's embedded himself in a major revolutionary event," Mariana added. "We have reports—thanks to satellite scry-link intercepts—that Reyes is aiding Patrocinio Gamboa. The flag runner. She was never meant to survive the checkpoint."
Silence fell.
"So," said one of the civilian analysts, "he's already changed something."
Dr. Ong sighed. "Minor divergences... could correct themselves. But if he goes farther? If he interferes with the proclamation at Santa Barbara? If he reveals knowledge he shouldn't?"
The screen blinked red.
"Then history won't just shift," Mariana said quietly. "It could fracture."
---
In the quieter, more sterile lab wing beneath the command center, Dr. Clemente stood before a reinforced glass panel where data pulses streamed across curved screens. Her team moved silently behind—monitoring readings, refining code, isolating variables. Project Reverse had begun.
"They signed off," Mariana said, stepping into the lab.
"I know," Clemente replied. "We've initiated primary stabilization algorithms and begun constructing the pulse anchor. But there's no guarantee."
"Talk me through it again."
"We're not just opening a rift.We're stabilizing a mirror corridor—one that reflects the initial breach but moves in reverse. We match the quantum signature of Reyes' biological imprint and use the residual tether from the breach as a path back."
"And the anchor?"
Clemente pointed to a glowing node rotating within the projection. "It has to be mutual. He has to step into it willingly from his end. If not, we risk pulling half of 1898 with him—or rupturing the corridor altogether."
Mariana frowned. "So it's all up to Reyes."
"Yes," Clemente said, then added, almost to himself, "And to whatever it is that's holding him there."
His eyes drifted to a separate monitor—where an AI had begun mapping known connections to Patrocinio Gamboa. Bloodlines. Geographic overlap. Historical anomalies.
"Do you think he'll come back?" Mariana asked.
"I don't know.But we'll be ready if he does."
She turned to his team. "Begin the pulse test. Power up the arc chamber. We align at zero-six-hundred tomorrow."
The hum of machines rose. Monitors flared. And deep within the lab, time itself began to twist.
-----
Across town, at a small pressroom in Quezon City, journalist Selina Icasiano narrowed her eyes at a leaked satellite image on her screen. She scrolled through flagged files sent anonymously to her encrypted inbox. Coordinates, lab schematics, high-security protocols—all pointing toward a classified facility under the guise of an environmental research center.
"Temporal anomalies? Project Reverse?" she murmured. Her fingers flew across the keyboard.
She called her editor. "There's something happening in the old bunker beneath Fort Aguinaldo. I think it's a black budget operation. Possibly experimental tech. I need clearance to pursue this."
"You're not chasing conspiracy ghosts again, are you?"
"This isn't ghosts," she said. "This is something real. Someone from the military timeline division has gone dark. And the government's scrambling to hide it."
Outside, rain lashed the windows. Selina stared at the pulsing map on her screen—unaware that the story she was unraveling wasn't just about a lost soldier. It was about the past itself unraveling beneath their feet.
-----
Meanwhile, in a nondescript boardroom hidden within a fortified government complex, a shadow council convened in person for the first time in nearly a decade.
"We can't afford leaks," said a man in a gray suit whose name didn't appear on any roster.
"The journalist is already sniffing," another chimed in. "Selina Icasiano. If she connects the dots—"
"She won't," the first man said. "We've deployed misinformation. Redirected her inquiries to a fabricated biotech scandal in Batangas. She's chasing shadows now."
"And if she gets too close?"
There was a pause.
"Then she disappears. Temporarily. Until Project Reverse is completed."
No one spoke for a moment.
Then a final voice, colder and older than the rest, said, "And if Reyes doesn't return?"
The man in gray exhaled. "Then we erase the entire program. We bury the lab. And the past—whatever shape it's become—will be the new history."
No more discussion followed. Only silence.