The waves of nausea ebb and flow like an acrid tide dragging itself onto a forlorn shore. The throbbing orb of pain behind her left eye strains at the tightness running down her neck through to her shoulders, setting one side of her head on fire. She holds both hands over her face to invite the soothing darkness, but still behind her lids she can see faint fluttering auras of light. Fluttering like little butterflies.
She knows he gave her a butterfly. A shining, glinting, vintage butterfly – the most thoughtful thing she had ever received in her life. From that one clear memory, she can feel other memories just out of reach straining to reform in her mind. But she dare not pull at them too hard, in case too much force will cause them to snap back into splinters in the recesses of lost time.
Cassie is in Titan, locked away inside a dim, but well furnished room. Clearly the room was prepared for someone of great importance and position, yet she still feels like a prisoner inside of it. It is a beautiful room though. A floating chandelier made of dozens of glass orbs arranged in layers, glows with flickering golden flames surrounded by slowly swirling red smoke. It’s not a technology she’s seen before, but it creates a magical, other-worldly atmosphere. There is even a mirrored closet made of polished wood and gold leaf. It is filled with an assortment of comfortable, floor length opulent velveteen gowns, hanging from cream coloured cushioned hangers. The gowns on the right are larger at the waist. Maternity gowns. That’s a clear sign that she’s to be here for a long time.
The bed is the perfect height for getting up with ease. It is thoughtfully decked with plush duvets and cushions of various thicknesses, embroidered in a gold and red ivy motif. The deep pile carpet feels like soft grass on her toes. On the table, is a jug of liquid and a bowl of nuts and dried fruit, but she doesn’t want to touch it. And there is even a shelf with books – history books of the future she had never experienced, by authors she had never heard of. Everything seems at once thoughtful and thoroughly disconcerting. In spite of her curiosity, she’s afraid to touch the books, in case they contain false information designed to indoctrinate her into the cult of the army. She will need to find a way to resist the tedium and boredom of passing time, which will undoubtedly lead her into the pages of those books.
Right now, Cassie feels too sick to do the bodyweight exercises she had learned so well – or the “prison routine”, as the west VII had called it – to keep her body and mind occupied. She reminds herself to re-fashion one of those gowns into an exercise outfit later, when she feels more up to it. She got pretty good at ‘tear and knot’ needleless tailoring, something she learned during the last time she was stuck in the post apocalypse.
For now, Cassie finds her way to the high backed rocking chair. She gives herself permission to rest. After all, she is pregnant, with this child that she may or may not be able to keep safe from itself. She is not afraid of the child, only what they would do to it against her will. She needs to steady herself as she settles into the chair. She reaches out her hand to touch the wall, which appear to be made of stone but feels more like hollow plaster mold. She gives it a tap, and hears the echoes reverberate down through the floors into a deeper hollowness. There’s a window looking out into a barren nothingness. An ocean with floating bits of ice and rock. The air is acrid and thin. Somewhere in the distance, something that looks like the silhouette of the top of a skyscraper juts out of the surface of the murky water. But maybe she’s imagining it – a trick of the brain to fill the void with something familiar.
The terror and revulsion she felt in that hall with all the horrible, babyfaced men chanting ‘mother’ at her, is now replaced with a hopeless, flightless despair. She’s trapped here, and can do nothing, especially when she’s so tired, but await her fate to play out. She hugs her knees to her chest as she allows herself to cry some more. It almost feels good, as she remembers once feeling like all her tears had been used up, around the time when she fell in with the West VII and cocooned into an armored caterpillar. She never thought she’d feel again. She closes her eyes, so she can try to remember what brought that part of her back to life.
It’s the most unsettling feeling, piecing together phantom memories that seem to exist only outside of time. Each time she reclaims a detail of a cherished memory, her heart swells and aches just a little more. She can just barely grab onto the faint threads of the images, as if they were trying to get away. Once she has grabbed onto the thread, she must wait patiently for it to come back into view. There it is. The unmistakable sweet musky scent of James’ warm chest flooded her inner senses – the smell of comfort and belonging. Then her cheek flushed, as she suddenly felt something missing there – it was the way her cheek had molded just right, in that sweet spot below his collarbone and upon his slightly fleshy chest. That delicately balanced feeling of vulnerability and safety. That’s what was missing.
She heard her stomach grumble. Absent-mindedly, she thought to herself that she can’t quite remember when she last ate. No, wait. Yes, she can. It’s as if she could still taste it on her tongue. The lingering taste and texture of thick fluffy pancakes, topped with winter berries, black speckled vanilla ice cream, roasted pecans and a hint of maple syrup and cinnamon. Cole. He cooked this for their Christmas dinner, after she had burned the turkey. He wasn’t even the slightest bit annoyed that she had ruined their much anticipated Christmas dinner. Instead, he decided to make something with all their favourite things – the sweet tooths that they were – and he had made it with such love. She remembers now how it had made her heart burst to feel so lucky to have this man in her life.
In an urgent realisation, Cassie remembers that that had just happened. Not in some distant time before, but in her personal yesterday. Yesterday, she was home, with a future to look forward to. And today, she’s been torn away to this god forsaken place, once again having to fight for any future at all. In this moment, her love for Cole burned as brightly as her anger and frustration for him. She knows him. Of course she knows he had his reasons. But once again in his misguided attempt to preserve a perfect memory of her for himself, he has accidentally left her out in the cold, unprepared, and unarmed with the information which led him to make his choice.
Where is Cole right now? Could they ever share that precious peace again? What will ‘they’ do to him, when he comes for her here? Because she knows he will. Having to fear for Cole’s safety, and worrying about possibly having to rescue him on top of coming to terms with everything that has happened, is just too much for her right now. She does the only sensible thing she can think of right now, which is to try to get to sleep and to get clear of this headache, so that she can think more clearly later about what she can do to save herself, this child, and the world.
She awoke in a jolt, to the sound of a heavy metal latch unwinding on the other side of the door. Cassie instinctively grabbed hold of the spoon on the table, clutching it to her chest like a weapon. Almost immediately, she realised the futility of this action. At best, she could gouge an eyeball out, or ram the spoon down someone’s throat if she got close enough. However, as she is furiously outnumbered – at least 300 to 1 at best guess – taking such confrontational action at this early stage may merely guarantee that the circumstances of her captivity will be downgraded.
Cassie lowered the spoon quietly and dropped it into the folds of her blanket. A hooded figure emerged through the space of the door, silent but for the dulcet swish of their heavy robe, with their head bowed in reverence. At least it is not the Tall Man. Two young hands held a tray, presenting it with a hint of a tremble, a simple meal of bland burdock and lentil soup, paired with a small loaf of dark bread. Future cuisine is not exactly a delicacy, but at least it manages to be healthy. Cassie quietly accepts the meal, ensuring that her actions and demeanor raise no concern or alarm. The figure stands for a moment, not daring to look up, before shuffling backwards out of the door like a subservient geisha.
Cassie considers the soup, and decides to eat it. She will need her strength. Whatever is in this will certainly not kill or harm her, even if it isn’t pleasing to eat. She is the Mother after all. For what it’s worth, this title affords her some protection as long as the child is still growing inside of her. This child. Cassie hasn’t fully processed the news about her child being the Witness. She shudders as she remembers the terror of having her mind violated at the Emerson Hotel and at the Raritan facility. The Witness was inside her head! And now, it is in her belly. She should be reaching for a coat hanger without a second thought. But she knows now better than anyone else, that time can be undone, but for those outside of time, they can survive and take another path.
Then a thought struck her. The Witness cannot enter her mind whilst the seed of himself is still growing inside of her. Paradox. So long as she is pregnant, she can have thoughts that the Witness cannot see. Whilst she is not entirely sure about this, Cassie is willing to gamble on it. It may be her only chance.
Cassie returns to the window and looks outside again. The vantage is still partially obscured by a nondescript haze, and she looks out again towards the ocean. It is silent. Eerily silent. And it was only the absence of the sound of waves that led Cassie to realise her mistake. It is not an ocean at all, but the skeletal remains of a dried up seabed, etched still with imprints of bygone waves. Frost shimmered on the spines of the earth, creating a mirage effect with each turn of the eye. Boulders of ice, rock and rubble littered the horizon, each one of them radiating a heavy feeling of lost purpose. Whenever this is that Titan splintered to, it is a sad and deathly place.
Cassie is growing more confident in the idea that the Witness is not able to withstand being in her vicinity because of the paradox effect. There has simply been no signs of the Witness keeping a close eye on her. She grew confident enough to test her theory.
Day after day, the same young man had come to bring Cassie her spartan meals. Able to recognise that the young man is in awe of her, Cassie used this to gently leverage greater access around Titan. She lied to him to see if she could get away with it. She told him that the Witness is bored of being kept inside the room and is demanding to be taken on regular walks. To her surprise and delight, the young man didn’t dare to question whether a fetus could have thoughts and desires, especially since the Witness seems to have godlike status among his followers. Perhaps it’s because he’s not been seen in Titan lately, so the young man wants to believe he is there, sentient and aware, inside the Mother, and still taking charge.
And this is how Cassie gained access to wander around Titan, to mentally map out all the walkways and the scheduled movements of the acolytes, which ran with clock like regularity. It must have taken her one month to note down all the locations of the different funnels with mysterious portals. She observed quietly, always on tight guard of her expressions so as to give no trace of her thoughts away, as she was always chaperoned.
One cool day, as Cassie turned a corner around the second tower, she heard a thud beside her and a muffled groan. She turned quickly and found herself leveled with another acolyte, holding the slumped body of her chaperone in one arm, and a silent finger to his lip with his second. He quickly stowed the fallen figure into a dark spot and came quickly beside Cassie with his hands raised in front of him to signal for calm. She got the message quite quickly that she needs to act natural so as not to blow this guy’s cover. She chooses trust quickly in spite of her doubts. More than anything, she’s known for some time that if she’s to get out of here, she’ll need help. She’ll take it from anyone. He took her elbow in his hand and shuffled her in a steady pace straight back to her room.
When he was sure that they were alone, he finally lifted his head to let her see his face. Cassie immediately recognised something familiar.
“You’re one of the messengers”, she remarked in a low voice, allowing her now practiced poker face to relax with a show of cautious curiosity.
“Yes ma’am. I’m the other one,with Charlie.”
“But he said you were dead.”
“Not today. But I will go back to the day I die, but not before today.”
“Wait. You know how to leave this place?”
“Yes. We do it all the time, the same way your friend Jennifer left this place that day.”
“Jennifer… that’s right. She was here.”
“And yet now she is not. But that’s not why I’m here. We don’t have much time.”
He shoves a small burlap pouch into her hand and closes her fingers tightly around it. “He will know what to do.”
“Wha… who? The… Wi…?”
“No. Him.” He says, smiling warmly.
Cassie’s heart skips a beat as she realises he meant Cole. The mysterious man nods in confirmation and turns to leave.
“Wait! Why are you helping me?”
“You know already. Not everything the Witness said is true. Some follow every word. Then there are those like us, who believe the path is hidden between the lines.”
“But wouldn’t he have seen this…”
He interrupts her: “Change the beginning to change the end.”
“Wait! Tell me…”
He stops her again with the shake of his head. He points at his temple and holds a finger to his lips to signal that it’s not safe for him to speak anymore. Of course, his mind is not in the Witness’s blind spot. Cassie is the only one who can steer the course now. She is the beginning of the Witness, and right now she’s driving.
He couldn’t stand it. He’s only gone and done it again – getting Cassie stranded by herself in an uncharted future. He’s so mad at himself for not asking Lilian why she said what she said about not going to Titan. To an outsider, it must seem so absurd, that a seasoned time traveller seems never able to find the time to ask questions, let alone the right ones. Cole positively stews in self loathing, digging his nails into his hands under his clenched fists, drawing blood.
Cole wishes that he had some red leaves. He’d go back to the moment when him and Cassie had just splintered back from the 1950s. He’d make sure that Cassie doesn’t go to Titan, even if it means this time telling her everything. But the red storms have retreated, taking their leaves with them. All he has is Jones and her time machine. Those two are going to have to do.
The machine whirred into life, throwing out hectic shards of green light as it attempts to lock onto Titan’s temporal imprint. Jones has never attempted this kind of forward time travel before. Chewing on the end of a pen that has long since run out of ink, she makes some extra calculations to track down the tachyon particle stream left behind by Titan’s splinter, searching for the strongest clusters to latch onto. She’s also looking for a special biochemical signature. That time when Jones said she had an antidote to the red tea immersion to give to Cassie? That wasn’t what it was.
Jones didn’t know what the immersion did, let alone how to undo it. But she did have an experimental serum which she was working on at the time, to turn small amount of brain cells into a stealth tracking device, precisely to work as a beacon in situations such as temporal displacement. Jones realises that she has always been the bad doctor with questionable ethics, but she gets things done. With any luck, Cole will successfully become a stowaway in Titan’s splinter trail and come out the other end as close as possible to Cassie. Jones will need to get the amount of spatial offset in the calculations just right, otherwise, Cole will splinter out the other end straight into Cassie’s body, killing or seriously maiming both of them instantaneously.
With a loud whoosh and a crack, Cole disappears once again into thin air. Jones fixes her attention on the screen, clutching the chewed up pen more tightly, before putting it down to replace it with a cigarette. It could be several hours yet before she’ll get the readings through, to confirm whether this splinter is successful. It’s a good thing she has at least a full pack’s worth of cigarettes rolled up by the console.
Shortly after the departure of Charlie’s messenger friend, Cassie heard the sound of the faint loopy music strum through the walls, sending a soft vibration over the room. She heard this same music the first time just before her abduction, when she had rushed into Titan with Cole. These days, Cassie’s thinking has been on overdrive, looping over and over the same information to squeeze out any detail she may have missed. Her mind becomes her sanctuary when she focuses on solving problems or mysteries. The more time she spends on thinking of ways to get things done, the less time she has for her mind to wander back to the bitter sweet memories of her 1959 home – which always leaves her feeling contaminated by a wistful pain in her heart, because the truth is, she wanted to live that life more than ever. She also doesn’t want open one of those books to distract herself, because she’s more sure than ever that her mission now is to rewrite that history.
As she sat by that now familiar chair by the window, she couldn’t help but turn over and over in her head again, what little information was disclosed to her by the messenger. There were things that he was not willing to say. He must have given just enough useful information, but crucially also not enough, so that if overheard by the witness, would still keep her next moves a mystery to him. At least that’s what she felt the messengers’ intentions were. This is going to be interesting.
The messenger made it clear that people travel in and out of Titan all the time. Now she knows. Not only is Titan a time travelling city, it also contains within it, a means for individuals to time travel in the more ‘traditional’, discrete way. Maybe this music is a by-product of the activation of that other time travelling mechanism within Titan. After all, not all machines have to beep, creek, clank, whistle, or bang in that annoying way that made people from her era nostalgic for pre industrial times. Maybe she can find her way back out of Titan using this machine.
The other thing that Cassie kept coming back to was what the messenger had said about the truth of the Witness’ purpose being right there in between the lines. The Witness doesn’t always tell the truth. Could the word of the Witness be both truth and clever misdirection to the Army of the 12 Monkeys? The best lies are, after all, at least partly based on the truth, and the finest ones are based on truths that can be ascribed to several versions of reality.
Closing her eyes to help the hazy memories come to the fore, Cassie summons the Word of the Witness into her mind. She can see the tea brown parchment, with the tightly swirling calligraphy, mapping out temporal events along the axis of several cycles. She had a good look at this in Berlin, in that sad laboratory where the child Olivia was made. She saw that her death in her first cycle was recorded. Since Jennifer had also told her about certain events on this chart after rescuing Cassie from the bathtub, there were a few details that she turned her focus more toward… Chaos, Seed, Rebirth… Those mysterious words sound grandly vague yet messianic, as if the Witness was declaring his very special plan for this world; to destroy it, then resurrect it from its ruin. Looking out the window, Cassie does not see a vision of a better world. What if, Cassie wondered, that this doesn’t have to be about rebirthing this world. What if she could give her son a different birth – a rebirth – and thus create a whole new destiny? Change the beginning, to change the end. Chaos. Seed. Rebirth. Two vastly different literal meanings to the same words. Just as Olivia’s hypnotic poem about blood washing away turned out to be descriptions of the day she became Cole’s significant other, and a mother. Maybe this is what she needs to do, to flip the word of the Witness on itself. Subversion through preservation.
A strange feeling interrupted Cassie from her ruminations. Small sparkles and white lines jammed her field of vision, and for a moment, the room she was in faded from view. When she tries to look directly at the space she’s now in, she can’t see it, but from the very edges of her vision she can catch incoherent glimpses of a manic green vortex of light. She doesn’t hear him exactly, but that familiar sweet and almost earthy scent of Cole’s unshaven cheek suddenly envelopes the tight space she is in. What’s happening? Where is Cole?
Cassie… I’m sorry… I promise I’ll find you… She hears the small echoes of his voice, as if it’s coming from everywhere and nowhere. Whichever way she turns to search for the origin of his voice, it seems to run away from her. She tries to call to him, but no sound follows her efforts. Her lips form silent circles as she tries again and again to call to Cole. This space doesn’t feel real. It feels like the inbetween, or a space inside her own mind. The only other times she’s been somewhere with the same quality of strangeness was when the red tea had spirited her away to another place.
Just as Cassie started to feel sure that her mind is somewhere different than her body, she feels a sickly feeling that she’s never felt before. A ghastly pressure builds inside her forearms, as if something was trying to occupy the same space. And then a sudden crushing pop bursted out of her forearms, and a nauseous wave of numbing adrenaline, sends her crashing hard into the ground. In that single moment of confusion she knew something very bad has happened to her. She lands hard on her shoulder and her head smacks into the red carpet of her room in Titan. When she tries to prop herself back up she’s horrified to discover that everything from elbow down is a bloodied mangled mess, and the carpet beneath her is turning spongy from the fresh outflow from her wounds. Unable to stymie the blood flow without the use of her hands, her eyes widened involuntarily and her mouth let out a small painful gasp. She going to die from this.
“Cassie…” groans another low painful voice from behind her. Cole. As soon as he says her name he whelps out like a dog in pain. His body thudded heavily to the ground as his arms were also destroyed in Jones’ most recent misfired splinter. Cassie hears him before she is able to twist around to see the carnage, her face growing more pale as her remaining time drains away from her. She feels herself flickering towards unconsciousness, and she is fighting, fighting so hard against it, to hold on just a little longer.
“No… No! No! No!” Cole’s frantic, fearful eyes fixed onto the ragged meaty stumps where Cassie’s arms had been. The searing pain which is burning up what’s left of his own arms and which is shooting hot daggers into his chest, told him that he had inflicted this same cruel torture upon her, all because he rushed into that chair to come to her. Hot tears are now streaming down his cheeks as he pushes against the pain to crawl towards Cassie’s fading form. How is it that she still looks so calm. His voice catches and croaks as he gently calls her name; a name he no longer feels he deserves to speak. He falls to the ground again when he has finally managed to pull up next to her lightly breathing body, and he rests his face next to hers. He takes the pain as if he felt he deserved every bit of it, but the sheer effort has left him breathless. He lightly kisses her cooling cheek and presses his forehead to her face, bidding her tenderly to come back to him. Watching her life drain before his eyes once more, he is caught by surprise by just how much more sad he is this time around. This is not how he had imagined their reunion to be. He can barely even hold her to him, as he places his own mangled bicep uselessly over her now trembling body. She opens her eyes slightly, and manages a weak smile at Cole, though her eyebrows are knotted up in agonising pain. She leans her weight into him, and let’s out a small but contented sigh. Maybe ending it all this way is the right thing for the world after all, she thought, and she won’t have to die alone.
As if he could feel her letting go, he starts to shake her even though it hurts every fibre of his body to move. Unable to hold back the deep sobs escaping out of his mouth, he struggles through his moans to get his words out. “Please don’t die Cassie. This isn’t supposed to happen… you’re my all and more… Cassie…” Cassie kisses him lightly on his lips. “It’s ok Cole. Maybe this is for the best.” He doesn’t understand. What have they done to her for her to want to die like this? “The baby…” whispers Cassie. She trails off. Of course, Cole doesn’t know. He doesn’t know the baby has survived, or who he’s destined to be. Breaking his heart can’t be the last thing she does, so she stops herself from saying any more.
“Our baby… survived!? Please… you can’t die like this, Cassie! I can’t let the both of you die… Tell me what to do! You always know what to do!”
“There’s nothing you can do…” He’ll know what to do. That’s what the Messenger said. Her eyes suddenly flicked open wide, and a second wind of energy lights up her face. “Cole! Tell me, quick. How did you get us out of our home?”
“What?” Cole’s shaking his head, blindsided by her question, not understanding why she’s asking this now. He, too, is now fading from loss of blood. “Trust me, Cole. Tell me.”
“Red leaves. It was the red leaves. It let me go back in time for one chance of a do over.” He searches her eyes for a reaction, something, to help him understand how that’s going to help them now.
“Cole. Listen to me very carefully. Bring me the pouch tied around my necklace.”
He shifts his body a little and sees a leather thong tied around her neck, which is attached to a tiny drawstring burlap pouch. Peeking out of the small opening, he sees a crumpled looking red tip. Red leaves. His eyes widen. He’s suddenly jolted by an infusion of hope.
“Cassie! I can get us back!” He ducks down in a frenzy and snatches the tough pouch between his teeth. He’s biting hard into the pouch and widening the opening with his tongue, to excavate every last precious crumble of leaf into his mouth, when Cassie stops him. “No! Cole! It has to be me this time. You have to trust me. Please.”
He doesn’t even know if it’ll work for Cassie, but if it’s the last thing he’ll do, he’ll listen to her one hundred percent for once. He already has the leaves in his mouth and he has to be so careful not to swallow it. Carefully, he brings his mouth to Cassie’s. She kisses him deeply for one last time, taking with it every last bit of leaf, before withdrawing back to finish the job. Cole watches her closely as she uses the last of her strength to chew and swallow the hard, bitter leaves. He feels his heart break for one last time as her body falls slack against his. At this point, the last of his own strength leaves his body, and he sighs his last breath slowly into her hair.
The acolytes find their bodies slumped over each other in a pool of blood. In Titan, there is panic, and a frenzy of activity to rush the Mother to the resurrection machine before it’s too late.
After what felt like hours, the display on the console started to kick into life. But it’s not what Jones was looking for. The vital signs for Cole started to fluctuate dangerously. “James…. No!” Jones realises that her worst fears have happened again. Just like all those times before Cole, when the other subjects were mangled in the process of perfecting retrospective time travel, her experiment in biologically tethered time travel has too claimed its victims. As Cole’s vitals flatlined on her screen, she knew that she had killed Cole and Cassie. Jones just stared blankly at the screen, barely breathing, in shock. Her cigarette burned down to the end between her trembling fingers, and she wiped away the tear that rolled down her cheek with her other hand. The sadness crept up so strongly, she had to sit down, because she felt her knees might give way beneath her. In that moment, she realised she loved the both of them like her own children, and it was impossible to treat their loss with her usual scientific detachment. This was more than she had bargained for. She was completely unprepared for these deep feelings of regret and mourning. Even the “little shit” knew something was very wrong and saddled up next to Jones with her puppy dog eyes and started to lick her hand between soft, sad whinnies.
As Jones curls up into the chair of the time machine, she buries her head into her hands, and the dog cuddles up around her feet protectively. “James… Cassie… what have I done…” In her state of heightened emotion, she felt her head go dizzy, and she fainted into unconsciousness.
When Jones came to again in the splinter chamber, the machine has already started to buzz into life. She leaps off the time machine before getting caught in the crossfire of whomever is about to come through. “What’s the meaning of this?” She mutters crossly to herself, as she reaches for a crumpled cigarette from her breast pocket and lights it up. She turns her attention back to the chair.
The familiar form of Cole materialises into the chair. He stumbles off the chair in an uncoordinated mess. He stares at his hands with a strange look on his face, before clutching his chest and falling back towards the ground. Jones tried to reach out to catch him but she was too late, and succeeded only in ashing into his hair. Cole beats it out of his hair and removes the singed off end of a tuft of his fringe. Jones is gawping at him, as if trying to wrestle with the paradox of his reappearance. Then the machine whirled into life one more time, bringing back a glamorous looking Cassie, seemingly straight from stopping the 1957 paradox. As she climbed down from the machine a bit more gracefully than Cole managed, her hand traveled instinctively to her belly. Cole’s eyes fixed on her hand, and his breathing quickened.
Cassie came to Cole. He’s still on the ground when he looks up to her and sees her smile beaming down at him as she reaches down for him. “Cassie… I remember.” He clutches hard at her legs and buries his face into her thighs.
Having a distinct feeling of deja vu, Jones rushes to her console to check the date. She had to check again to make sure she saw correctly. There’s no mistaking it. They’ve been here before, and she’s got to go to Titan to save her daughter again. This time round though, Cassie can’t come.
Meanwhile in Titan, the Tall Man is furious and afraid. He had built Titan to be a fail safe, a resurrection machine, in case the Mother dies before he is born. Angrily, he takes out the sharp blade which he keeps in his belt, and slashes the throat of the newly resurrected Cassie. The child is gone. Along with the cycle of chaos to which he was at the helm of. Even when he drinks of the red tea now, the Witness is closed off to him. This is what happened to Olivia.