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"...sadly, miss, in these situations, there is little we can do." The officer said to Angela. "Has he hurt you? Your children? Anything violent? Anything illegal? You said to the dispatcher that he was screaming. You sounded scared, the dispatch said. Are you scared?"

A million thoughts flew through Angela, one of which not wanting to accuse her love, the man with whom she'd been for years.

"No. Like I said," Angela said. "he has not hurt me yet. He promised he would. He swore it. Then," She lowered her voice. "When you showed up, a flip switched, like a lever. One hundred to zero. He's pretending."

Officer Royce believed her. All the worse for his conscience.

"Ma'am, do you have any family you could stay with, just for a few days until this calms down?"

She, of course, did not, having moved across the country for her man.

"No."

"Well, ma'am. Again, the dispatcher sounded concerned. Is there anything else you'd like to add? Anything that he has already done, not just thought about or talked about?"

Angela's gaze found the floor.

"No." She croaked.

Her body was found decaying several weeks later, following a wellness check from her father.

In case mine is confusing: I ignored the time travel conundrum and just did a spin on the moral quandary of if you should wait for a crime or bad thing to happen before taking action.

Well, that was more depressingly realistic than I'd expected...

I can just imagine time cops bullying a kid for stealing a candy bar that set in motion a series of events that led to the USSR taking over

Very real tho. Good piece of writing bring out emotion like thjis

The rules have not been written yet, but still do apply for all time, so the future-temporal police is on the case!

[removed]

I reckon this nails the perfect WP story.

1. ⁠takes the prompt in a creative direction all of its own.

2. ⁠is exceptionally economical and well-written.

3. ⁠resonates for its realness, which realness is so tragic and unexpected that it functions as a kind of inverted twist.

4. ⁠damn.

Thanks a ton <3

It’s not confusing to the kinds of readers your writing likely gels with. Just saw this comment, and something isn’t right. When a good writer feels the need to explain themselves, they probably don’t need to. If some miss the point, which invariably happens, it means that you respect the intelligence of your audience enough to make them think.

Also bare in mind proper feedback on here is rare, and comments tend to come only when the prompt itself takes off.

I went peacefully enough, though I still didn’t understand what was happening, or where they were taking me. “Are you going to explain to me what I’ve done?” I asked. “Mr. Garrett, it will be fully explained in time.” The “officer” said. I put officer in quotes because it doesn’t look like any officer I’ve seen in the past. Their uniforms were sleeker, the badges appeared on holograms when they showed them to me at the lab. Even for the year 2038 hand held holograms were not the most common thing. “Would you like some water, a coffee?” Another officer asked. “I’m good, I just want to get to the bottom of this.” “Give us just a few minutes and we’ll explain everything.” The two officers left me alone with my thoughts in the room. As the analog clock ticked away the seconds, I heard it loud as thunder in my head. Tick, Tock… Tick, Tock… I knew that the research I had been doing was dangerous. I was one of only 6 people in the world who had even remotely unlocked the secrets of time travel. We had shared our findings but had made sure to hold our research from public eyes. They barely understood how climate change worked, and they didn’t acknowledge it. How the hell would they react if they knew they could go backwards, or even forward in time? It was ludicrous. Tick, Tock…. Tick, Tock… It seemed like hours but a third man entered the room. He was carrying what a recognized as a data drop in his hand. He slid it onto the table and then sat opposite of me. “I understand that you have no idea why you’re here.” I couldn’t hide the perplexed look on my face. “If you know that, then care to explain why I’m here.” “Watch this and it will all makes sense.” He pressed play on the Data player and I watched in sheer horror.

On the Data drop I watched a small hologram, though it’s appearance was unmistakable. I was watching myself, I was walking down a small corridor. Once I reached the end of that one, I turned left and continued until I reached a wide open room that appeared to be filled with people, though none of them I recognized. There was a breathless pause, then my hologram pulled a rifle from his jacket. Even in this format I could tell that it was one of the AR-15’s I owned. It was considered an analog weapon now. Civilians and military alike had began upgrading to energy weapons in 2032 after the efficacy bill passed by then President Harlow. I tell you the above because it was around then that new security measures were put in place to protect the public from the new threat of energy weapons. For better or worse that meant that the older weapons could pass through security much easier. There was another pause before the hologram opened fire into the unsuspecting crowd. After the last one fell, it turned and looked at me and I noticed the eyes. They were my eyes, they were pleading for help, they were begging. For what though, I didn’t know…. Not yet at least.

When the Data drop ended, the officer leaned forward and pressed forward and pressed the stop button. The room sat quiet for a while, I was the first one to speak. “What was that?” I asked in an almost hushed voice. “That’s an event that hasn’t happened, not yet at least.” I looked at him in confusion. “That was an event from 2044, it occurred at a summit discussing time travel. You see Mr. Garett, your research proves fruitful, very fruitful indeed. In fact, it goes so well that you are able to create lanes to travel, both forward and backwards in time. This development gets made in the year 2040.” He saw my confusion turn to astonishment. “That’s correct,” he continued reading my thoughts. “You manage to break through the secrets just a couple short years from now. However, you’re not the only one. There’s a colleague you work with named Dr. Chang.” I knew the name, I had been in contact with him very briefly over the last six months. He was one of the six that had been working on the project. We had swapped ideas and theories very briefly. “It turns out that you both make the breakthrough around the same time. A paper is published explaining the findings, which the two of you co-author. Though that paper isn’t released to the public. Instead, it’s held in a federal database which then prompts the president to create a patrol. That patrol is designed to stop future crimes from occurring, while not completely screwing up the timeline.” My look went back to one of confusion. “We’ve done research, ran simulations, and determined that if we remove you from the equation, time travel will still be discovered; though it will be just a few more years. Everything we’ve looked into says that this will affect nothing.” “Remove me?” I asked. “Who were those people? That I…” The words trailed off. “That I murdered?” “It was a symposium. It was the date that everyone had finally settled on to allow Time Travel to be exposed to the general public. While there was no audio on that data recording, there is a separate recoding.” The officer leaned forward and pressed a couple of buttons on the Data drop. The frozen hologram of me vanished and was replaced by an audio file that began to play through the room. This is what we were s upposed to do with this information. My voice began. There was a pause before a deeper voice responded. This isn’t what you wanted, but this was always the plan. You can’t hide something like this forever. Audio Me laughed. How do you figure, we hid aliens and UFO’s for 6 decades. Something like this changes everything, for everyone.
It does, but we’re also limiting access. You know better than anyone that this isn’t something the normal Joe on the street could do. There was another long pause before Audio Me spoke again. I know it isn’t that easy. It took us almost two decades of contestant research to design this thing, but think of the repercussions if you let this out. Do you realize the am ount of targets that get printed on us if this goes public? The US Government already has targets painted on it. You know that. The deeper voice said. This is a secret bigger than anything we’ve ever done. It’s been decided by those higher up than us. Who? Director of CIA, The President? I asked. There was a long pause before I spoke again. How can he agree to this, he knows what’s going to happen. He has to. It doesn’t matter what you or I think, or believe. This is going to happen. The president request your presence at the symposium. You can opt out but I wouldn’t recommend it.

The audio recording ended and the officer leaned forward and pressed another button. 

“That recording was taken just a week before the symposium. The events that you saw unfold occurred at said symposium. You snuck in a weapon and killed all of the speakers. You eventually turned a handgun on yourself and pulled the trigger.” My look of confusion persisted. “So let’s say you’re right, and this does happen. Now that I know it’s coming, couldn’t self awareness stop it?” The officer shook his head. “Statistically that won’t happen. There’s a chance, but it’s small. That small chance isn’t worth taking.” I stared at them, now fully at a loss for words. After some time I figured out the question that I needed to ask. “When you say remove me, what exactly do you mean?” “We’re going to arrest you, transfer you to a prison in the future. Since the other you is removed from the timeline, if we arrest you now, it will rewrite the timeline. Everything happens as it should, minus the shooting.” He paused, exchanged a glance with his partner and then continued. “Once you’ve been transported, you’ll be reported as missing. After some time they’ll call off the rescue as they always do. At that point you’ll fade into history and al will be right with this part of the world.” He finished this off and produced a set of new style cuff, almost shackle like. “Give me your hands, you’re under arrest for the murders of 5 colleagues on the date of April 7th, 2044. Under jurisdiction of Line Patrol. We’ll be taking you back with us.” There was another pause as they exchanged glances again. The first officer turned around and removed a small plate from his belt. He tossed it to the floor and a massive portal opened. I felt my mouth drop open. “If you’ll stand and come with us.” I picked me up and carried me through this portal.

That was about 8 months ago. The journey through that portal was bizarre feeling but quick. I was told that it took some getting used to, but I’d never need to. As I finished my latest. Journal entry and pressed the stop button on the Data drop, one of the guards came by. “They have you doing that too?” I nodded. “They said that it’s good for the mental health, and it helps them to understand the inmates. I don’t personally care about it either way but I wanted someone to hear that story eventually.” He gave me a weird smirk. “Your story is actually one of the more mild ones I’ve heard since I’ve been he-“ His voice stopped and he started to convulse. I watched as foam formed around the edges of his mouth and he vibrated like he was being shocked. It finally stopped and he dropped to the floor. I stood there frozen. Not sure if it was fear gripping me or something else. The sound of boots riddling the metal walkway jarred me back to the moment. I looked out the bars the best I could and I saw someone in a black jumpsuit with the hood pulled up. They stepped over the guard and stood in front of me before speaking.
“You don’t need to be in there. They came to get you in an illegal seizure. They wanted you removed before you could find the real problem, one that dwells much deeper.” They removed their hood and my mouth fell open. Staring back at me…was a older, slightly bruised version, of myself.

Sorry this was in pieces it wouldn’t let me post in one piece

I only left this disclaimer since a while ago I posted a response I was fairly proud of and was heavily downvoted for not fitting the prompt. I agree with basically all ya said though, and will prolly leave it to people’s brains in the future.

https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/zaanjb/wp_youre_a_renowned_author_whos_still_going_to/iymn9it/?context=8&depth=9

The referenced post.

Well, ignoring parts of the prompt is allowed in the sub rules yes, but that doesn't mean someone who wanted to read a story about time travel isn't going to downvote you just because of that, unfortunately. I'm not sure a disclaimer will do much good against that.

She could’ve used that future check up as her excuse to leave with the help of the time police

I once met a giant baby while I was in time jail

"So wait... why am I being relocated again?"

"We have no idea."

"So you're just following orders blindly?"

The agent shrugged. "No orders, either."

"Excuse me?"

The agent shrugged again. "Mister, all I know is that time travel exists and the multiverse hasn't exploded or collapsed yet. Somebody's doing something right. We do the job and we don't ask questions. There's nobody to ask anyway."

Agent Ford sighed. He was tired of telling the most complicated half-truth in the multiverse over and over again. The bewildered detainee asked more questions, but they were just noise; Ford non-answered them by rote. The detainee didn't put up any kind of a fight; The Agency had its reputation. Ford and his partner put him in the back of the van. Their bit was done.

The man would be nudged out of his life commensurate with the amount of gunk they'd detected on him. It was a low value, all things considered. Investigation wasn't even suggested, let alone ordered. The system - as though it existed as an entity unto itself - was confident that the man could be nudged away from his crime. As far as it was concerned, there were no plans or devices to find; there were no accomplices to track down; there was no underlying ideology or persistent stressor that would make another crime pop up in the averted one's place.

"One more wife-killer off the streets," Ford muttered. Then he chuckled bitterly. "Off one particular street."

Then he caught his partner's eye, and realized she'd heard him. Fuck, he thought to himself.

He busied himself with his smart watch, but he knew she was going to approach him and try to engage. He checked the list, found the coordinates for the next pickup, and prayed the van was almost there.

The ETA was fifteen minutes.

Fuuuuuuuuuck.

"You okay, Ford?" Agent Purdue asked. "I know we've agreed to disagree about the whole 'wife killer' thing, but you don't sound so hot."

"It's just my mental filing system, P," he said. "I know the guy might've done a million other things. It's just my way of simplifying. That's it. It's like that Nietzsche guy, right? You know it's bullshit, but you know you need the bullshit, so you cook it up and eat it."

"And they say humanities degrees are worthless," she joked.

He'd majored in criminology. So had she. They were agents, through and through. Thinkers didn't get their jobs. Unfortunately for everyone involved, the job tended to create them.

"Fifteen?" she asked, trying to pry something out of him. "Coffee, at least? And yeah, hot chocolate for you. I didn't forget."

"Yeah," he said. "Coffee." He knew he couldn't say no. That would be a red flag.

The smartwatch found a place within walking distance with mediocre reviews. It took them five minutes to get there, and another five to get their drinks in hand. Ford shook his head. A few more minutes away. A few more minutes' delay. I cannot catch a break.

Purdue sipped in silence for approximately one minute. That left three minutes before Ford could activate the portal without it seeming like he was being evasive.

"You having doubts, Ford?" she asked. "Perfectly normal. Let's talk through it."

"Oh my god," he exhaled quietly. "No, P, I'm not having doubts. The gunk is god. The gunk is good. Good numbers are up; bad numbers are down. The probabilities say it's thanks to the gunk, and there's still more gunk on the radar. It's just another day on the job."

There were two minutes left. Purdue took a slow, contemplative sip.

"No big ones recently, though, right?" she said, rather than asked. They both knew the answer. "I think the model's conservative when it comes to that fact. I think it really says something about the work we've been doing."

Ford nodded. "You may be right," he said. "How very convenient that perfectly-reasonable disputes about the model don't count as 'doubts.' Certainly doesn't hurt that you're boosting for the system, does it?"

"Geez, bite my head off," she said.

"I've been reading," he said. It was his trump card to derail the conversation. He'd been holding it for a few weeks.

"Yeah, Nietzsche, I know," she replied. "Heady stuff." She didn't try to hide her disdain.

"No," he said. "Well, yes, but that's just internet crap. I've been reading the documentation."

Purdue froze, narrowly avoiding the sip that would've wound up a spit-take. "Seriously?" she said. "You looking to get promoted? Now? After all this time?"

"Maybe," he said. "Maybe not. Maybe I just want to try to understand... something."

It was the perfect half-truth. Agents were allowed to read the documentation. The higher echelons were always looking for fresh brains to melt. It wasn't necessarily encouraged - mostly due to liability concerns - but it was completely legal and appropriate. Nobody was allowed to cite it in a report unless they had two other red flags to pair it with. Ford knew his dysthymia was a yellow flag at worst. He knew he was safe - at least from the parts of The Agency he was allowed to know about.

"Well, I did not see that coming," Purdue said. "Maybe I'll steal a time machine tonight so I can play this whole convo way cooler the second time around."

Ford shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I'm over here thinking I've somehow done the exact opposite of steal a time machine to make myself seem cool."

Purdue chuckled again. "That's not bad, Ford," she said. "Too wordy, though. Gotta tighten it up for the set."

Ford didn't try to imagine a version of himself that would try standup comedy. Instead, he checked his watch, hit the buttons, and opened the portal. Purdue got in the last word, as she always did.

"Another wife-killer?" she asked.

As olive branches went, Ford decided, it wasn't a bad one. "Not even. Drunk driver."

"Geez," she replied. "Now I'm getting a little insulted. Might just be a hold, not even a relo. Lucky them."

"Maybe," Ford said noncommittally. Purdue raised an eyebrow, so he held off stepping through for one more moment. "Sucks to get plucked, but a lot of these guys seem like they could use a fresh start regardless. You know?"

Purdue chewed on it, then nodded. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I can see it."

They stepped through the portal and found the drunk driver in short order. He wasn't drunk, but he was belligerent. Purdue got to use a toy.

The rest of the day crawled by for Agent Ford. Sometimes it felt to him like it was going in reverse. The job had gotten easier, and duller. The world around him seemed grayer, no matter what the model said.

In a pulpy novel or an old-timey movie, Ford would have been days away from an epiphany - or at least a timely visit from some madman or dissident to point him in a new direction. It never happened. He did his job and lived his life. He never caught a glimpse of the bigger picture, or the truth behind the lie. He never even developed a theory as to what the lie was.

The good numbers crept up. The bad numbers slid down. The world didn't seem to change very much, except for the noticeable dip in crime - well, some crime, at least. It was the kind of crime that would've made the papers - 'if it bleeds, it leads' - and whose absence The Agency made sure did too.

Ford lived his life knowing that he was a dud. There was no other timeline where he'd gotten his visit from a madman. There was no other timeline where he'd learned something that someone powerful hadn't wanted him to know. Nothing important had ever happened to any other version of him. No other version of him had ever dared to take a risk.

That meant he wasn't a murderer, a drunk driver, a tax cheat, or a renegade time traveler either. It didn't make him feel better. He was just another gray man in a gray world - a world where time travel existed, and yet, order had somehow emerged completely victorious.

He often wondered how he'd react if he woke up one morning covered in gunk. He never had to find out. He never even went for the promotion.

I think I was too close to it emotionally cause yeah that makes sense

That was thought provoking, and well written. I like the characters' interactions. I feel like there's things Ford isn't saying, but I feel like I've also felt troubled like him before.