Short Story – Death by a Million Year Old Camera

The first test went flawlessly. When retrieved, the camera held images from eons past in crystal-clear detail, capturing lush forests, ice ages, and even the dinosaurs themselves. The experiment was deemed a monumental success, generating scientific breakthroughs that could rewrite humanity’s understanding of its own world. The Brimworks team prepared a second camera to be sent to another site for a new series of time-lapse observations.

As the project leader, Dr. French Mira, poured over data to select a location, something strange appeared in the geological scans—a metallic object in the precise spot they intended to send the second camera. Dr. Mira and his team excavated the object with growing intrigue, their collective breath hitching as they unearthed… the camera.

It was identical in every detail, including the unique serial number that had been assigned to the camera they were preparing to launch. But they hadn’t sent it back yet. The team was rattled, their excitement tempered with unease. The camera was transferred back to the lab, where they opened it to examine the interior.

Inside, in the same vacuum-sealed casing that preserved the electronics, lay a body. The team’s blood ran cold as they recognized the face—the mummified corpse was Dr. French Mira himself.

Dr. Mira, now alive and well and standing before his own body, could scarcely comprehend the implications. He inspected the preservation with a grim sense of irony; the vacuum-sealed enclosure had indeed worked as planned, shielding the corpse from decay. He noted the position of the hands, the ghastly expression on the face, and the deep scratch marks on the interior metal of the casing. Letters had been crudely etched with what looked like desperate, final attempts at communication.

The name “SANCHEZ” was scratched into the metal, repeated over and over.

Dr. Emilio Sanchez, Mira’s longtime colleague, was brought in for questioning, his face betraying confusion and horror at the situation. “I had nothing to do with this, French,” Sanchez insisted, visibly shaken. “Why would I…?”

Neither man could offer a rational explanation for the nightmarish discovery, but a dreadful idea took root among the team: if the camera was intended to go back next week, it meant that sometime in the future, possibly tomorrow, someone would murder Dr. Mira, lock his body in the camera casing, and send him back millions of years.

The suggestion was floated that perhaps they should dismantle the camera now, or send it earlier than planned to alter the sequence of events. After a tense debate, it was agreed that the camera would be sent back two days ahead of schedule. Dr. Sanchez would be sent home to avoid any accidental trigger of this grim event, while Mira decided to stay on-site to ensure that nothing went awry.

The following morning, everything seemed to be in order—until one of the geological scans showed a new metallic anomaly in the launch area. Another camera was there, despite every precaution. The team, now on edge, retrieved the case and opened it, revealing another body, mummified under vacuum. This time, it was unmistakably Dr. Sanchez.

As Sanchez was alive and safely at home, the discovery defied logic. If Dr. Mira’s death could be explained as some twisted act of revenge or betrayal, Sanchez’s was even more inexplicable. They were caught in a nightmarish loop, each new camera containing a dead scientist whose future seemed locked in an inevitable chain of events.

Dr. Mira and Dr. Sanchez, now face to face with the grim artifacts of their own possible deaths, agreed that dismantling the cameras was their only option. But a senior scientist, Dr. Liza Flores, objected vehemently. Billions of dollars were invested in the project, she argued, and the cameras represented years of research. Destroying them would mean a complete halt to the program and an end to her life’s work.

When Dr. Mira ignored her protests and began taking the cameras apart, security was called, and Mira and Sanchez were escorted out of the facility. Later that evening, they met at a local bar, convinced that the only way to prevent their deaths was to find a way back into the lab and disable the cameras.

Returning under cover of darkness, they bypassed security with ease, entering the lab undetected. They began to dismantle the units, removing the powerful million-year batteries, each one designed to withstand even the harshest conditions over eons. Knowing they couldn’t risk leaving even a trace of the original design, they decided to send all but one back in time without the vacuum-sealing mechanism, ensuring the devices would disintegrate long before reaching the modern era.

As Sanchez pried open one of the cameras, his breath caught. There was another inscription inside: “Mira killed you.” He stared at it in disbelief, then turned to Dr. Mira, his voice low and wary.

“Did you write this?” Sanchez asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Mira shook his head, looking equally confused and horrified. “Emilio, I swear, I have no idea what this means. But we don’t have time to figure it out right now. We need to—”

Before he could finish, a new voice filled the room.

“Going somewhere, gentlemen?”

Dr. Leslie Apple stood in the doorway, her face twisted with a mixture of rage and triumph. In her hand, she held a dart gun, the barrel aimed directly at Mira.

“I didn’t believe it myself at first,” she said, stepping forward, her tone eerily calm. “But as I looked through the cameras, I saw my own handwriting. It came back to me… a dark idea I’d had years ago.” Her voice hardened. “This project used to be mine. And when you two came along, they demoted me, relegated me to the background. But now, now I have the power to reclaim what was mine. And if that means sending you both to the dinosaurs…”

She fired, and both men fell, the tranquilizers sending them into darkness.

When the team arrived the next day to prepare the final camera for its journey, they found another metallic anomaly. Brimworks personnel opened the latest case, but instead of finding Mira or Sanchez’s body, they discovered an empty casing. They saw the original writing of Sanchez, the same as it was when it was first discovered.

They quickly look over the data. It seems the vacuum wasn’t turned on until after it arrived. Who could have done that? They looked at the first photo. The could not believe what they saw.

The camera’s first shot from eons ago—showed Dr. Mira, looking directly at the lens. Behind him, scrawled in the dirt, was a final, desperate message:

“It’s Apple. Stop her.”

Back in the lab Dr. Apples calmly prepared the camera’s next journey, entirely unaware of the ancient image revealing her secrets. As she reviewed the final adjustments, she failed to notice the silent alert pinging at security.