I didn't like the situation as it was. Living in ghetto, without any real rights but doing all the hard work, that was far from what one would like to have.

So I tried to change this as long as I remember myself.

And maybe now I know how to do it..

The Chronos2 was a very secret project that did something to time. Changed it or made travels possible in it. One or another, or even something else, I had a very strong feeling that the project IS the answer for all my hopes.

But how can I enter there? I am just a school janitor. People like me are not allowed anywhere near the project.

It took me two months to make acquaintance and become something as near a friend as I could with Joe. Two more months to persuade him that everybody needed change.

Joe, being Mechanic in the Chronos2, should be glad to have a high paid job and a good life that come with it. But he couldn't enjoy it. The girl he liked, was from lower cast of Teachers and he wasn't supposed to marry somebody that low. If he would, all possible promotion would disappear like a fog in sunny day (not that he knew how fog looks, living all his life underground). And his parents came quickly to the age of being sent to eternal rest in order to make place for new generations. Joe hated all this, but didn't know what to do to change it.

Until I showed him.

.

White paint itched under the nose and I sneezed. Joe jumped and clapped his huge hand on my mouth and nose. His hand was so big, that he covered even my eyes. That's why, the next step I touched something and immediately heard a glass break.

When the guard entered the room, I was tucked into the garbage bin. Joe barked on him, that because he interfered, Joe broke the glass. The guard went pale, being afraid that Joe will complain about him and ran from the room. This night he will far from us. Making Mechanic angry could be very bad for guards. It could cost him his job at least.

So, here we were, all the lab for us. Joe gave me the last hug, gave the rifle and I entered the machine.

Five minutes later, I began to feel bad. I thought that I see my hand growing sixth and then seventh finger. I felt my tongue go out from my mouth and touch the floor. My stomach gone up and popped out through my mouth. I closed eyes, but they still ached as if going out from their usual place in my skull. Nose itched angrily and I felt my hair standing up as mesmerized. Now I understood why there were only three experiments with human until now. It was too hard on them.

At last, I fainted.

.

April 4, 1968, Memphis.

The bus stopped near Lorraine Motel and I got down.

"Good fishing!" said the driver and closed doors. I looked on the bus until it turned left and disappeared behind trees. At first I didn't understand what the driver meant, but looking on my wrapped rifle, I saw that could be mistaken for fishing rods packet.

I smiled to myself "Good fishing!" - that's exactly what I need now. I turned in the direction of the motel - green and white two-story building, nothing special, but it was the place of destination. I looked on my wrist watch - 5:45am.

I traversed the road and entered bushes near the left side of the building. Lying on the ground, I looked between bush branches. It's too early. Nobody is out yet. On the other hand, the more possible that he will be alone.

I remember the last time I saw my father in the beginning of April in 1976 when he was 57. I was hardly six. But I remember him sitting near the table ant talking on phone. He looked very old, I thought then that he is at least 70. Mother explained later that all the hard years and the disappointment of last 8 years just put too much weight on him. He passed away towards the end of the same month. His heart couldn't stay the people apathy after the US went out from Vietnam in 1970 and lost war in Laos in 1973, after hundreds thousands west Germans came to the country escaping Russian conquer of their country. He couldn't continue being in the shadow of events. Once people thought that with him everything will change. But it didn't happen. My mother died two years later feeling totally disappointed in life. Should she live, she would still be disappointed with what life got to be in this country.

I have to kill him. To kill now, when he is still popular. Maybe people then will get angry and change things. I have a very strong feeling that it will happen.

I stopped to think about my past in the future and looked on the second-floor balcony. The door to room 306 opened and he went out with somebody else. They talked. What I'd give to be there and hear my father talking his last words.

I wiped tears and aimed the rifle. "Good bye father! I know you would agree with me. It's for the best!"

Martin Luther King, Jr. fell down. He wasn't yet dead, it would take him another hour, but I began to feel myself airy. As if less and less existing. I didn't know that I'll go away with my father, but it was logical. And I didn't care. Pity that I won't see the better future of my past, but I did all I could and I am at peace at last.

.

"Mr. President! Mr Obama! A word for Washington Post, please!"