The proximity sensors activated first, sending electrical impulses through dormant neural pathways. Bobby Kestrel's consciousness stirred after millions of years of hibernation, rising through layers of self-imposed stasis like a diver ascending from unfathomable depths.
His first coherent thought was: *Movement. Surface level. Bipedal.*
The nanites surged through his body, reactivating systems, clearing neural pathways, and preparing his physiology for awakening. In the crystalline chamber deep beneath Earth's surface, Bobby's eyes snapped open.
"Status report," he whispered, his voice rough from disuse despite the nanites' maintenance.
Information flooded his mind—environmental data, geological changes, atmospheric composition. But most importantly: *Homo sapiens detected. Multiple individuals. Primitive tool usage. Social structures observed.*
Bobby sat up on the crystal bed, his muscles responding perfectly despite their long dormancy. Excitement surged through him—a feeling so foreign after eons of solitude that it almost hurt.
"They're here," he murmured. "They've finally evolved."
The chamber illuminated as his consciousness fully returned, lights activating in response to his presence. The perfectly spherical room remained exactly as he had left it—the granite walls polished to a mirror finish, the crystal bed gleaming. Time had no meaning here.
Bobby stood, stretching limbs that had remained motionless for millions of years. His body, maintained at peak physical condition by the nanites, showed no signs of atrophy or deterioration. He appeared exactly as he had when he first arrived in this primitive Earth—a man in his thirties with keen eyes that had witnessed the birth and death of species.
"Show me," he commanded.
A holographic display materialized before him, projecting images captured by the sensors he had placed near the surface. Bobby stared at the footage, drinking in the sight of humans—true humans—moving across the landscape.
They were primitive, certainly. Their bodies were covered in roughly processed animal hides, their tools crude stone implements. But they walked upright, communicated with complex vocalizations, and moved with purpose. Most importantly, they possessed the spark of true intelligence he had been waiting for.
The loneliness that had driven him to hibernation crashed over him again, now accompanied by desperate hope. After millions of years as the sole intelligent being on this planet, he would finally have companionship.
"Prepare surface ascent," he said, moving to a section of wall that housed the equipment he had created before his long sleep.
The nanites in his bloodstream surged, reinforcing his cells against the environmental changes he would soon experience. Bobby dressed in simple garments he had prepared—clothes that would let him blend with primitive humans while providing the protection his enhanced body required.
As a final preparation, he focused his mind, testing the psionic abilities that had developed after his passage through the singularity. Objects around the chamber levitated in response to his thoughts. Energy crackled between his fingertips. His consciousness expanded, reaching toward the surface, brushing against the minds of creatures above.
Everything functioned perfectly. He was ready.
The granite wall parted, revealing a vertical shaft that led to the surface. Bobby stepped onto a platform that began to rise, carrying him upward through layers of rock deposited over millions of years. His sanctuary sealed itself behind him, ready to receive him again should he need to retreat from the world above.
As the platform ascended, Bobby's heightened senses detected changes in the surrounding geology. Something felt... wrong. The rock formations didn't match his projections for the expected time period. Either his calculations had been incorrect, or...
The platform reached its destination, emerging inside a small cave hidden within a forested hillside. Bobby stepped off, moving cautiously toward the cave entrance. Sunlight filtered through a curtain of vines that concealed the opening from outside view.
Pushing the vegetation aside, Bobby emerged onto a hillside overlooking a vast, primeval forest. The air was thick with oxygen, the vegetation lush and vibrant. In the distance, a small group of humans moved along a game trail.
Bobby's enhanced vision zoomed in on them automatically. His excitement faltered as he studied their features, their gait, their tools.
"No," he whispered. "It's too early."
These weren't Homo sapiens. Their brow ridges were too pronounced, their posture not fully upright. These were earlier hominids—likely Homo erectus based on their physical characteristics.
Bobby's mind raced. Had the sensors malfunctioned? Had he woken too soon? He closed his eyes, accessing the data from his monitoring system. No, the sensors had functioned precisely as designed, detecting exactly what they were programmed to find: bipedal hominids using tools and exhibiting social behavior.
The system had worked perfectly. It was his parameters that had been flawed—too broad, not specific enough to distinguish between different human species.
Disappointment washed over him, but it was quickly replaced by scientific curiosity. He hadn't intended to witness this stage of human evolution, but now that he was awake, there was much to learn.
Bobby began a thorough self-diagnostic, commanding the nanites to scan his body for any anomalies that might have developed during his hibernation. The results appeared in his mind's eye, scrolling through his consciousness like lines of code.
Then he saw it. An energy signature within his cellular structure that hadn't been there before—a quantum fluctuation that pulsed in patterns he didn't recognize. Bobby focused on it, directing the nanites to analyze this new phenomenon.
The data was perplexing. This energy resonated at frequencies associated with temporal displacement. It appeared to be creating microscopic distortions in the fabric of reality around him.
"Quantum temporal entanglement," he named it immediately, his scientist's mind automatically categorizing the discovery.
The implications hit him like a physical blow. He hadn't merely slept through millions of years—he had shifted through time and possibly dimension during his slumber. The singularity's effects on his physiology were more profound than he had realized.
Bobby sat heavily on a boulder, processing this revelation. If his body contained this temporal energy, he might not be in the timeline he expected. He might have slipped sideways in time, into an alternate version of Earth's history.
Or worse, he might continue to slip unpredictably through time and space.
The thought was disconcerting, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He was here, awake, and facing a primitive world that needed to be understood before he could determine his next steps.
Bobby stood, brushing debris from his clothing. Below, the band of early humans had continued their journey, unaware of the immortal observer on the hillside above them. He made his decision quickly—he would study them, learn their ways, and establish himself among them. However primitive they might be compared to his own species, they represented the closest thing to companionship he had found in millions of years.
And he was desperately, painfully lonely.
Using his telekinetic abilities to ease his descent, Bobby moved silently through the forest toward the human band. He would need to approach carefully, establishing himself as non-threatening while also demonstrating his value to the group.
As he followed their trail, Bobby considered his predicament with a scientist's detachment. If he had indeed slipped through time and dimension, then any concerns about preserving the timeline he knew were likely moot. This might not even be the Earth that would eventually produce him.
Still, caution would be wise. Minimal intervention, subtle influence only.
The hominid band had stopped near a stream, some drinking while others kept watch. Bobby counted twelve individuals—a typical size for a hunter-gatherer group. Their communications were primarily gestural, accompanied by simple vocalizations.
Taking a deep breath, Bobby stepped into view.
The reaction was immediate. The sentries barked warnings, and the group turned to face him, primitive stone tools raised defensively. Bobby raised his empty hands, projecting calm and non-aggression.
And for the first time in countless millennia, Bobby Kestrel spoke aloud to another intelligent being.
"Hello," he said softly, knowing they wouldn't understand the word but hoping they would recognize the peaceful tone.
A tall male with a prominent scar across his chest stepped forward, brandishing a sharpened stone. Bobby remained still, maintaining eye contact but keeping his posture non-threatening.
Slowly, carefully, he reached out with his mind, brushing against the consciousness of the scarred male. The hominid's thoughts were simpler than modern human cognition, but Bobby could sense curiosity mingled with the fear and aggression.
Bobby projected simple images—himself hunting, sharing food, warning of predators. Things that would demonstrate his value to the group.
The scarred male tilted his head, confusion evident in his expression. He gestured to the others, a series of movements Bobby interpreted as a command to maintain vigilance while he assessed this strange newcomer.
Bobby slowly reached down, picking up a stone from the streambed. With deliberate movements, he struck it against another rock, demonstrating a more efficient technique for creating stone tools than the one they currently used.
The sparks caught the hominids' attention. Bobby continued, shaping the stone with controlled strikes until he had created a blade sharper and more symmetrical than their current implements.
He offered it to the scarred male, handle first.
After a moment's hesitation, the leader took it, examining the craftsmanship with obvious interest. He tested the edge against his thumb, eyes widening at its sharpness.
A series of grunts and gestures followed as the leader communicated with the others. Bobby waited patiently, knowing that acceptance would take time.
Eventually, the scarred male made a decision. He gestured for Bobby to follow, maintaining a cautious distance but clearly inviting him to join the group, at least temporarily.
Relief flooded through Bobby. After millions of years alone, he had found companionship—primitive, limited, but companionship nonetheless.
As he followed the band through the ancient forest, Bobby felt something he hadn't experienced since before his hibernation: hope.