THE CHRONO-NEURAL PROJECT

PART ONE: THE RESEARCH LAB

The research laboratory on Proxima B hummed with the sound of industrial machinery—welding torches, drills cutting through the newest metal alloys, and the constant whir of cooling systems struggling to manage the heat output from the massive temporal capsule under construction. Trams Eno stood before the observation window, his sixteen-year-old face reflected in the reinforced glass, watching the interns and engineers crawl over their metal monstrosity.

"It's never going to work," he muttered.

Behind him came the heavy footsteps of Dr. Evol Egnarts. "What was that, Eno?"

Trams turned to face the head researcher. Dr. Egnarts was a towering figure, both in physical stature and academic reputation—the man who had theorized temporal mechanics back in 2128. His gray beard and imperious manner had intimidated countless students, but Trams had graduated from Proxima Intergalactic University at age thirteen. Intimidation was a concept he'd outgrown years ago.

"I said it's never going to work, Dr. Egnarts. You're approaching time travel from the wrong paradigm entirely."

The doctor's eyes narrowed. "The wrong paradigm? We've been working on this project since 2136—the year you graduated, I might add—and you think three years of intensive research by the galaxy's finest minds is somehow... wrong?"

"Not wrong," Trams corrected. "Incomplete. You're treating time as if it's a physical dimension you can navigate with engines and shields. Time isn't mechanical, Doctor. It's physio-neurological."

Steven Latem, the lead mechanical engineer, looked up from his workstation. "Here we go again," he groaned.

Donald Lenap and Michael Tiucric, the electrical engineering team, exchanged knowing glances. This wasn't the first time Trams had challenged the project's fundamental approach.

"Eno," Dr. Egnarts said with strained patience, "we've been over this. The capsule design is sound. Once we solve the power consumption issue and stabilize the temporal field generators—"

"You'll have built an extraordinarily expensive coffin," Trams interrupted. "Doctor, over the last two weeks, I've run the calculations numerus times. The energy requirements for your capsule exceed the output capacity of Proxima B's entire power grid."

"Enough!" Dr. Egnarts' face flushed purple. "I've tolerated your insubordination because of your intellect, but I will not have you undermining this project. The metal alloy capsule design stays. That's final."

Trams opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. He'd learned something important over the past three years: some minds, no matter how brilliant, became calcified around their pet theories. Dr. Egnarts would never listen. The engineers would never listen. They were too invested in their mechanical solution to consider alternatives.

But Trams knew he was right. And he knew exactly who might believe him.

PART TWO: THE SECRET PROJECT

Lrig Elamef looked up from her neural mapping display as Trams entered the small lab they'd been assigned for "independent study." She was a year older than Trams, with the distinctive amber eyes common to their shared home planet of Kepler-442b. They'd known each other since childhood, before either had left their planet for the prestigious university on Proxima B.

"You've got that look again," she said. "It's that same look you had back home when I was a little girl and you were a little boy planning something mischievous. The same look that means you're about to propose something either brilliant or catastrophically illegal."

"Why not both?" Trams grinned. He pulled up a holographic display, his fingers dancing through the air as he projected his bio-neural schematics. "I need your help. You and Niarb."

As if summoned, Niarb Dlihc emerged from the back room, his crystalline skin—a trait of his people from the planet Tau Ceti E—refracting the lab's light into rainbow patterns. "I heard my name. What are we stealing this time?"

"Who said anything about stealing?" Trams protested.

"You did. About ten seconds from now." Niarb's species had minor precognitive abilities—nothing useful for time travel, but excellent for anticipating Trams' schemes.

Trams laughed. "Fine. We're going to 'appropriate' some materials from the main lab. Neural interface chips, quantum processors, bio-organic compounds from the medical wing, and a few other components Dr. Egnarts won't miss."

Lrig studied the schematics. "You want to build your own time travel device? Trams, even for you, this is insane."

"Is it? Look." He expanded the hologram, showing a human-shaped outline surrounded by a shimmering field. "The traveler's body becomes the capsule. We coat the subject in a bio-reactive compound that creates an invisible aura—a protective shield that exists in a quantum state between dimensions. The compound responds to neural commands transmitted via this." He held up his design for a small device, roughly the size of an ancient Earth cell phone. "A remote control linked directly to the subject's brain via implanted chips."

"And this would let us..." Lrig's eyes widened as she traced the neural pathways in the schematic.

"Travel forward, backward, or pause in time," Trams finished.

Niarb's crystalline face showed concern. "The ethics board would never approve human trials."

"Good thing we're not human, then," Trams said with a mischievous smile. "We're volunteers, with informed consent. No violations."

Lrig and Niarb exchanged glances. Finally, Lrig nodded. "Okay. I'm in. But if we end up scattered across different centuries, I'm blaming you."

"Noted," Trams said. "Niarb?"

The crystalline youth's skin pulsed with colors indicating deep thought. "My people have a saying: 'The future belongs to those who build it.' Let's build it."

Over the next six months, working in secret during off-hours and weekends, the three students constructed their chrono-neural device. Lrig's expertise in neural mapping proved invaluable for calibrating the brain interface. Niarb's precognitive abilities helped them avoid several design flaws before they became catastrophic. And Trams' genius IQ of 285—almost three times that of humans—brought it all together.

The final device was elegant in its simplicity: a small remote control housing a quantum processor, an array of touch sensors arranged in three rows, three neural implant chips (one for each of them), and a container of bio-organic compound that would coat their bodies and create the temporal shield.

"Ready?" Trams asked, holding up the first implant chip.

"Not even a little bit," Lrig admitted. "Let's do it anyway."

They implanted the chips—a quick procedure that left them with a small mark behind Trams' and Lrig's left ears. Because Niarb didn't have traditional ears, his chip was implanted at the back of his skull at his posterior cranial fossa. Then they coated themselves with the bio-organic compound, which felt cool and tingly as it bonded with their skin, forming an invisible second layer.

Trams held up the remote. It had three rows of buttons, each row containing: Forward, Backward, and Pause, plus numerous calibrating controls. His finger hovered over the three Backward buttons.

"If this works," Niarb said quietly, "we'll be the first beings in the galaxy to actually travel through time."

"And if it doesn't work?" Lrig asked.

"Then we'll be the first beings in the galaxy to die in a really interesting way," Trams said. "Either way, we make history. I'll put it on random. Let's see where it takes us."

He pressed the Backward buttons.

PART THREE: THE ADVENTURES

The sensation of time travel was unlike anything they'd imagined. It felt like falling upward while simultaneously standing still, as if every moment they'd ever experienced and ever would experience existed simultaneously in a single point of consciousness.

Then, abruptly, they were standing on stone pavement under a blazing sun.

Ancient Earth - The Library of Alexandria (48 BCE)

"Did it work?" Lrig whispered.

Trams checked the remote's display. "We've traveled 4,327 years backward. And..." He looked around at the white marble buildings, the people in togas, the smell of sea salt and papyrus. "I think we're on Earth. Ancient Earth."

A massive building loomed before them—a structure of such architectural beauty that it took their breath away.

"The Library of Alexandria," Niarb breathed, his crystalline skin pulsing with excitement. "The greatest repository of human knowledge in this era."

They explored for hours, watching scholars debate philosophy, seeing ancient texts that would be lost to fire, witnessing the pure human hunger for knowledge that would eventually lead humanity to the stars.

"Time to go," Trams said reluctantly. "We can't risk changing anything."

He pressed the Backward button, and they dropped through time again.

The Cretaceous Period - 65 Million Years Ago

They materialized in a humid jungle, the air thick with pollen and the sounds of creatures they didn't recognize.

"There's some kind of calibration error," Trams said, frantically checking the remote. "We overshot by sixty-five million years."

A roar echoed through the jungle. A very large, very close roar. Through the ferns, massive legs appeared. Then a head the size of a small spacecraft, with teeth like daggers.

"Tyrannosaurus Rex," Niarb said calmly. "Fascinating."

The T-Rex charged directly at them.

"SHIELDS DON'T WORK ON DINOSAURS!" Trams screamed, diving behind a fallen log. "Recalibrating! Just need thirty more seconds..."

"We don't have thirty seconds!" Lrig yelled.

Nairb's precognitive abilities kicked in. "JUMP LEFT! NOW!"

They dove left just as the T-Rex's jaws snapped shut where they'd been standing. Trams hit the Forward button. The jungle dissolved around them. The last thing they saw was the bright flash of an asteroid entering Earth's atmosphere.

"We just witnessed the extinction event. The meteor that killed the dinosaurs. We were there for the last moments of their age." Nairb said as they tumbled through time.

The First Mars Colony - 2297 CE

They arrived in a gleaming corridor of metal and glass. Through the windows, the red landscape of Mars stretched to the horizon.

"Future," Nairb observed. "This is 158 years in our future."

They wandered into a museum and found a display that made them freeze.

"The Chrono-Neural Pioneers," the plaque read. Below it were three holographic statues—Trams Eno, Lrig Elamef, and Nairb Dlihc.

"We're famous in the future," Trams said faintly.

A museum guide approached. "The Pioneers revolutionized everything. Before them, everyone thought time travel required massive machines. They proved that was incorrect." The guide smiled. "There's some speculation about a trip to the Andromeda Galaxy, but that might be apocryphal."

After the guide left, the three of them looked at each other.

"We're going to Andromeda, aren't we?" Niarb said.

"We're definitely going to Andromeda," Trams confirmed.

The Andromeda Galaxy - The Planet Miraxis – Time Unknown

The jump to Andromeda was the longest they'd attempted. They materialized on a planet unlike anything in their galaxy. The sky was a swirl of purple and green auroras, three moons hung overhead, and the architecture was impossibly beautiful.

Beings walked past them—humanoid but clearly not human, with iridescent skin and eyes that emitted knowledge. They paused, looking directly at the three, despite their temporal shields.

"Travelers," one being said in a language they shouldn't have understood but did. "You're far from home."

"You can see us?" Trams asked, surprised.

"We are the Elders of Miraxis. We exist in all times simultaneously. Your shields are clever, but transparent to us." The being smiled. "You are the Pioneers, yes? From the Milky Way?"

"How do you know that?" Nairb asked.

"Because in our future—which is your past—it's a constant continuum. We receive a message from you. A message that helps us avoid a catastrophic war. We have been waiting for you to arrive so we can thank you."

"But we haven't sent any message," Lrig said, confused.

"Not yet, but yet you have," the Elder said. "Time is not linear, young ones. Time is 'always' now."

The Elder handed Trams a small crystal. "When you return to your galaxy, you will wait until the year you call 2141, place this crystal in a subspace beacon and activate it. The beacon will send a message about the meaning of life and the path to universal peace across space and time to reach us and other galaxies. You will save billions of lives."

They all looked at Niarb. His skin was pulsing with colors they'd never seen before—a pattern that indicated absolute certainty.

"The Elder speaks truth," Niarb confirmed. "I can see it. All of it. The war, the message, the lives saved. It's already happened from their perspective. It's destiny from ours."

Trams took the crystal carefully. "We'll send it in 2141, as you ask."

"We know you will," the Elder said gently. "Because you already have."

The Return

The journey back was intentional and slow, making several small jumps. They paused briefly in 2289 to witness the signing of the Intergalactic Peace Accord on Earth. Each stop reinforced what they'd learned: time wasn't just a line to travel along, but a tapestry of moments, all connected.

"2136," Trams said. "The day we graduated."

They materialized on the campus of Proxima Intergalactic University. There they were—their younger selves, sitting on a bench, talking about their dreams.

"We can't interact with ourselves," Lrig warned.

"I know," Trams said. "I just wanted to see it. To remember it."

As he started to press the Forward button, he realized the linear-quantum time was off by thirty-one seconds. He panicked. "We can't go back home thirty-one seconds late. That means we won't exist for thirty-one seconds. I don't know what that would do to the quantum time spectrum."

Trams pushed Pause on Nairb's and Lrig's subjective time to correct the thirty-one second error. He set his time fast-forward to 2160 CE. He knew he shouldn't, but he wanted to see his adult future.

He arrived to see himself some twenty years in the future. Now he knew: he was married to Lrig and they had two children. In his subjective time, it would be another fifteen years before he and Lrig developed what hominids call hormones and their bodies developed the necessary organs to mate. Now he knew, he was married to Lrig and they had two children.

In the future, their friend Nairb was still with them. Niarb was a simultaneous hermaphrodite—his species had both male and female reproductive organs. It would be another five years before Niarb would have his child.

Now that Trams knew the future, he promised himself to never tell his two closest friends.

Trams pushed his Rewind button.

PART FOUR: RECOGNITION

The three materialized in their study lab at 3:34 PM on a Tuesday in 2139 CE, at the exact nano-second they'd first activated their chrono-neural devices. They looked at each other and started laughing—the kind of exhausted, euphoric laughter that comes from surviving impossible things.

"I think we need to sleep for about a week," Trams said.

They didn't get a week. They got four hours before Dr. Egnarts discovered them asleep in the lab, the chrono-neural device sitting on the bench next to the video logs in the holo-spectrum-graph of all their adventures.

The next few weeks were a blur of debriefings, press conferences, and academic panels. Dr. Egnarts championed their invention. Doctors Steven Latem, Donald Lenap, and Michael Tiucric helped them with refinements and published their findings.

The Intergalactic Science Council honored them with the Galileo Prize for Revolutionary Discovery. History books were already being written about the three teenagers who had unlocked time travel using genius and borrowed equipment.

But the moment that mattered most to Trams came quietly, in their old study lab, when Dr. Egnarts pulled him aside.

"I should have listened to you," the older scientist said. "I was so committed to my approach that I couldn't see the truth. You were right."

Trams replied generously, "You taught me everything I needed to see. We all build it."

On the day of the official ceremony, as Trams, Lrig, and Nairb stood on stage before thousands of people from hundreds of worlds, Trams remembered the crystal from Miraxis. Two more years until 2141, until they would send the message that would save billions of lives in another galaxy.

"What are you thinking about?" Lrig whispered as the Prime Minister prepared to present them with medals.

"The future," Trams said, "the past and the present. And how we're the only three people in the galaxy who've actually seen all three at the same time."

"And survived a T-Rex," Nairb added.

"Yes, a T-Rex," Trams added with a grin.

The Prime Minister called their names. They stepped forward to receive their recognition as the inventors and successful time-traveling pioneers.

But Trams knew: they weren't just inventors. They were proof that the youngest voices could be right, that friendship could transcend time, species, and worlds, and that time was just another frontier happening and waiting to be explored, all at the same moment.

As the medals were placed around their necks, Trams caught Lrig's eye and then Nairb's. No words were needed. They all knew the same thing: It was only the beginning.

EPILOGUE - 2141 CE

Two years later, in a small ceremony attended only by Trams, Lrig, Nairb, and Dr. Egnarts, Trams placed the crystal from Miraxis into a subspace beacon. He activated it, and a message began its journey across the cosmos to the Andromeda Galaxy, to a species that would end a war because three teenagers were brave enough to believe in the impossible.

"When do you think they will receive it?" Lrig asked. "Time travel makes verb tenses complicated."

"In the eternal now of quantum mechanics, they're receiving it at this very moment, have always been receiving it, and will always receive it," Niarb said, his crystalline skin pulsing with contentment.

They stood together, watching the beacon send its message across space and time, three young people from different worlds who had proven that the future belonged to those brave enough to build it.

THE END