1. The Letter
The lab smelled of ozone and burnt plastic. Ethan Voss stood over the quantum resonance array, his fingers brushing the cold metal of the control panel. The air hummed with energy, a low vibration that felt like the earth itself was breathing. He'd spent three years on this project—three years of late nights, failed experiments, and near-catastrophes. And now, finally, it was ready.
"Ethan," called a voice from the doorway. It was Dr. Elise Carter, his research partner. She held a folder in her hand, her face serious. "We've got a problem."
Ethan turned. "What kind of problem?"
Elise walked over, handing him the folder. "The resonance readings are off. Way off. It's like the array is picking up signals from somewhere… else."
Ethan opened the folder, scanning the data. The numbers were chaotic, spikes of energy that didn't match any known pattern. He frowned. "That's impossible. We calibrated this thing to within a nanometer."
"It gets worse." Elise pointed to a line of text at the bottom of the page. "The computer generated this. It's a message."
Ethan leaned closer. The text was in English, but it looked like it had been written by someone from another era. It read: "To the one who holds the key—come. The Union is dying. The nation is tearing itself apart. We need you. Lincoln."
Ethan laughed, a short, bitter sound. "That's a joke, right? Somebody hacked the system?"
Elise shook her head. "We checked the logs. No external access. No hacks. This message appeared out of nowhere—right when the resonance spikes started."
Ethan's smile faded. He looked at the array, then back at the message. He knew the risks of quantum research—time dilation, parallel universes, all the theoretical nightmares that kept physicists up at night. But he never thought they'd actually encounter something like this.
"Run a diagnostic," he said. "Full system check. I want to know exactly what's happening."
Elise nodded, turning to the computer. Ethan stood there, staring at the message. Lincoln. The Union. The nation tearing itself apart. It sounded like the Civil War. But that was over a hundred and fifty years ago.
Or was it?
The array suddenly let out a high-pitched whine. The lights in the lab flickered, then went out. Only the array's control panel glowed, casting an eerie blue light over the room. The vibration intensified, shaking the floor, the walls, the very air.
"Ethan!" Elise shouted. "The core is overloading!"
Ethan ran to the control panel, his fingers flying over the buttons. He tried to shut it down, but the system was unresponsive. The blue light grew brighter, blinding him. The vibration became so intense that he could barely stand.
Then, in an instant, it stopped.
The lights came back on. The array was silent. The control panel was dark.
Ethan looked around. The lab was the same—same equipment, same walls, same smell of ozone. But something was different. He felt it in his bones.
"Elise," he said. "Check the date."
Elise looked at the computer. Her face paled. "It's… it's 1862. September 15th."
Ethan closed his eyes. He knew what had happened. The array had worked—too well. It had opened a portal, a rift in time. And somehow, he had been pulled through.
But why? And how?
A knock at the door. It was loud, urgent. Ethan and Elise exchanged a look. They weren't expecting anyone.
Ethan walked to the door, opening it slowly. Outside stood two men in Union Army uniforms. They were tall, imposing, with rifles slung over their shoulders.
"Ethan Voss?" asked the first man. His voice was deep, authoritative.
Ethan nodded. "Who are you?"
"I'm Captain John Miller," the man said. "We're here to take you to the White House. The President wants to see you."
Ethan's heart skipped a beat. The message had been real. Lincoln really wanted to see him.
"Why?" he asked.
Captain Miller smiled. "Because, Mr. Voss, you're the one who's going to save the Union."
Ethan looked back at the array, then at Elise. He knew he had a choice. He could try to find a way back to his own time. He could pretend none of this had happened.
Or he could go. He could answer the call. He could try to change history.
He thought about the message. The Union is dying. The nation is tearing itself apart. He thought about the millions of lives lost in the Civil War. He thought about the future he had left behind— a future where America was united, where freedom and equality were more than just words.
He made his decision.
"Let's go," he said.
Captain Miller nodded. "This way, sir."
Ethan followed the two soldiers out of the lab. As he walked, he felt a sense of purpose. A sense of destiny. He didn't know what lay ahead. He didn't know if he could really save the Union. But he knew he had to try.
The White House loomed ahead, a grand building with columns and a dome. It was different from the one he knew—smaller, more modest—but it still had an air of power and authority.
Ethan was led inside, through corridors lined with portraits of past presidents. He was nervous, his hands sweating. He was about to meet Abraham Lincoln—one of the greatest presidents in American history.
He was shown into the Oval Office. Lincoln sat at his desk, a stack of papers in front of him. He was tall, with a long face and a beard. His eyes were kind, but there was a sadness in them— a sadness borne of war and loss.
"Mr. Voss," Lincoln said, standing up. He extended his hand. "Thank you for coming."
Ethan shook his hand. "Mr. President. I'm not sure what I can do, but I'll try."
Lincoln smiled. "That's all I ask. We're losing this war, Mr. Voss. Lee's army is invincible. Our generals are incompetent. Our troops are demoralized. We need a miracle."
Ethan nodded. He knew the history. He knew that the Union was struggling. He knew that Lee was winning battle after battle.
But he also knew something Lincoln didn't. He knew how the war would end. He knew that the Union would eventually win. But he also knew that millions more would die before that happened.
He could change that. He could shorten the war. He could save lives.
"I have a plan," Ethan said. "But it's risky. It's unorthodox. And it will require you to trust me."
Lincoln looked at him. He studied his face. He saw the determination in his eyes. He saw the hope.
"I trust you," Lincoln said. "I have to. What's your plan?"
Ethan took a deep breath. He began to speak. He told Lincoln about the data he had—data from the future. He told him about Lee's strengths and weaknesses. He told him about the importance of supply lines, of terrain, of weather.
He told him about the first step.
"We need to stop Lee at Antietam," Ethan said. "We need to cut off his supply lines. We need to make him fight on our terms."
Lincoln listened. He nodded. He asked questions. He argued. But in the end, he was convinced.
"Do it," Lincoln said. "I'll give you whatever you need. Troops. Supplies. Authority. Just stop Lee."
Ethan nodded. "I will, Mr. President. I promise."
As he left the Oval Office, Ethan felt a weight on his shoulders. He had been given a great responsibility. He had been given the chance to change history.
He also knew that he wasn't alone. He had Elise. He had the soldiers who believed in him. He had Lincoln.
And he had a plan.
The first step was Antietam. The first step was stopping Lee.
The first step was saving the Union.