What would life be like if the things we have today, they had in 1878? 

    What would life be like if the games and consoles we had today, we had in 1878?

    What if your iPhone 6 and your Playstation 4 were in 1878,

    and everything was pushed back 3 years?

    If America wasn't indepdent untill the 1400's and such

    What would be different? What would be the same? 

    What would happen? 

'

    "I am indeed in, Sanders," My voice crackled through the walkey-talkey, my eyes scanned the equipment in the room around me. "Whoever owns this place must have little to no funding, that or its been going on under Americas feet for decades."

    "Why? What do you see?" Sanders questions. 

    I jumped down from the rope and onto the metal floor, "Jesus, this equipment must be from the early 1700's, at least." 

    "1700's? Jesus! How can you run a company with tech like that?"

    "I don't have a clue." I inspected the room around me, its walls and floors (as well as the ceiling) were constructed out of tiled metal, the ancient technology was covered in dust, "How much do you think this stuff would sell for?" I asked. 

    "99 cents," Sanders replied, static was a soundtrack to his voice. however, I have gotten used to this sound.

    "Think I could boot up one of these computers? See what the heck there doing?"

    "They're all shut down? Go ahead."

    I began typing hurriedly at the computer, "Auugh, darn it!" I shouted as lines of green text scrolled upon the computer, "Dial-up."

    "Got a phone number?"

    "Besides mine? Nope; even if these computers are ancient, they'd still be able to track my number--therefore they'd likely track my location."

    "Looks like we have to come back later," Sanders said.

    "No!" I replied, "There has to be another way! There has to be!"

    "Siren, get out of there--NOW!"

    "What? Why?" My sentence was cut short by the sound of approaching footsteps, I hid behind a pole in the corner. The footsteps got louder and louder, and eventually--I could hear a voice.

    The words were in another language; one I did not know, nor could I decipher. "Žinoma, gal jei norime mirti! Ar išprotėjai? Jūs turite būti - ne, jūs turite būti!" The man held a Samsung to his ear.  Reluctantly, I pulled out my--overly gigantic--phone. My thumb held its place on the home button and the phone soon clicked open. The footsteps continued to roar like a dinosaur. The voice talked like a race car going down a race track--completing several laps in a minute. Hands shaky, I opened the "voice memos" app, and began recording.

    "Jūs esate atsilikusi, Dumbo! Jūs žinote, ką? - Jūs esate miręs minutę Aš kitą jus pamatyti! Įdėkite man telefonu su p Hitakiroshi, jums palikti!" The man--getting closer--had now accidentally given me a perfect view of his face--it was like the golden hour. I bounded out of the app and was transported into the camera of the iPhone Six-S plus. My finger inched to the camera that would take the picture. Lightly, my finger touched the button that signaled: "Take a photo." The picture had been taken--but my flash had been on.

    Suddenly, another voice rang through the speaker of his cellphone--it was an Asians voice for sure. "Doitsunin? Doitsunin? Anata wa, soko ni doitsunin wa arimasu ka?"

    The mans face became as red as a cherry. "Gauk daugiau čia platus!" He bellowed. I ran for the exit, the rope dangled from the high ceiling. This thing was 323 feet under the street of New York street above me, the exit being a sewer lid--I would have to climb fast! I grabbed onto the rope--and fell with the rope. Light poured dimly through the hole, and two woman dropped down. I scrambled out of the way as they drew pistols.

    "Put your-"

    BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

    Six gunshots to the head--for that is enough to kill a man in a second. Six gunshots to the head with a revolver--for the man is dead.

    "SELDOM!" I shouted, why had she done that? What demon had compelled her?--For she was a newbie. For she knew no better.