The grass was warm and green under his feet; nearby, a bulldozer was pushing the topsoil aside for a new government laboratory. Gresky blinked, trying to adjust to the sudden sunlight, and instinctively checked his watch. It read 3:47 AM. A rumble to his right reminded Gresky that he needed to move. Making sure no one had seem him, he darted out of the construction and into the nearby brush. Remember his cell phone, he pulled it out and activated the display. For a moment, it read "3:48 AM," as it located the nearby cell tower and synchronized its internal clock. After a short delay, the screen read "3:48 PM." Gresky checked the date, then allowed a grin to crease his face. Twelve months, twelve days, and twelve hours, within a second. Let the scientists argue; he was going to prove what time travel could really do. He pulled the gun from his pocket, his grin returning when he placed his finger on the trigger. Carefully returning the weapon to his pocket, he synchronized his watch with his cell phone, then set off towards town.
An hour later, he was standing across the street from a friendly-looking gas station. He pulled a newspaper clipping from his back pocket. The headline read, "Sleepy Town Rocked By Killings." According the the article, an armed man, wearing a hoodie, had entered the store, pulled a gun, and shot the cashier. A police officer, already on the scene, rushed into the store, but was also wounded. Backup arrived, to find the cashier and two customers dead, the officer dying, and the armed man escaped. He was found later under a bridge; he had bled to death, shot by the police officer. Two other customers had run for their lives, and a third was found huddling in the back of the store.
Gresky waited. At two o'clock, the armed man would arrive, and he would kill him, saving the lives of the two customers, the police officer, and the cashier. Time would be changed; then, he would return to his own time, and see what had changed.
Two o'clock. He checked his gun, then strode into the store. Even as he walked through the door, someone yelled, "Stop him! Stop him!" He raised his gun, ready to shoot the hooded would-have-been-killer, when the door burst open! The police officer, gun already drawn, shouted, "Drop it!" to the armed man, then without waiting for a reply, fired three shots in quick succession. Gresky watched in shock as the bullets hit the two customers behind the man in the hoodie. Another shot was fired, hitting the man in the leg. He screamed, then ran for the back door. Wild eyed, the officer swung his gun towards Gresky; in shock, Gresky squeezed the trigger. The cop staggered back against a rack, then dropped to a sitting position, as Gresky pocketed his own gun and dashed out the back door.
Back in the lab, Gresky pressed his hands against his eyes until the world sparked and flashed, trying to push the images from his head. What had gone wrong? He picked up the newspaper again - not a single word was different. It wasn't the man who has shot the cop or the customers - the cop had shot the customers on accident, and Gresky himself had shot the cop! He stared at the paper, re-reading the words again and again. Suddenly, he jumped up, turned a knob and flipped a few more switches. He would fix this!
Once again, he was standing in the field as the construction went on around him, only now, it was nearing 6 PM. Once again, he raced to the gas station, then sat in wait, out of sight of his previous self. He knew what to do, now; even before his first self went into the store, he would find the officer and tell him that he saw a man with a gun. Yes, that would work - even before the disturbance started, he would have someone on the scene!
As the 2:00 deadline neared, he searched high and low for the cop. Just as panic was beginning to set in, he spotted an officer a block away. Running up to the man, he pointed at the gas station and panted, "There's a man with a gun! I think he wants to rob the place!" The officer took off at a dead run, drawing his gun as he did so. Gresky followed behind, checking his watch - he still had twenty minutes. Suddenly, dread overcame him - he had just seen himself enter the store! the world seemed to grow cold, and darkness crowded his vision as a buzz filled his head. He pointed at the officer, screaming, "Stop him! Stop him!" There was a hail of gunfire as Gresky reached to door. He fired blindly, trying to hit the officer before he could kill anyone, but the bullet instead hit the man in the hoodie. Gresky turned and ran, blindly trying to get away from the horror.
Once again, he reset the time machine; once again, he found himself standing in the construction, this time at 8AM, the day of the killings. He very carefully synchronized his watch to his cell phone, his heart hammering in his ears. At 1:32, he walked into the gas station; he waited until 1:58, when the man in the hoodie entered the store, then drew his gun, pointed it at the man, and pulled the trigger. Click. He pulled the trigger again - click. He stared down at the gun in his hands. Somewhere, far away, there was yelling, then gunfire. It seemed as if he were looking at someone else's arms, someone else's hands. He squeezed the trigger a third time, and the gun bucked in his hand. He raised his eyes, realizing even before he saw that the bullet had hit the cashier. He threw the gun away from him, dropping to the floor as darkness overcame him, huddled at the back of the store.
Later, as he was quizzed by police and reporters alike, he only stared at them vacantly, repeating, "Destiny... destiny... destiny!"