Chrono Chaos: The Accidental Time Traveler

Surviving Ancient Rome 101—How Not to Get Stabbed in the Past

"The first rule of time travel: Don’t get stabbed before you can figure out how to leave."

Dr. Viraj Mehta was having what could only be described as a very bad day.

First, he had accidentally spilled coffee on a top-secret government time stabilization device. Then, he had woken up in 218 BCE, right in the middle of the Second Punic War.

And now?

Now, he was staring down a very sharp sword while a Carthaginian soldier with the personality of a grizzly bear decided whether or not to murder him on the spot.

Rule #1: Try Not to Look Like a Spy (Too Late for That)

Viraj raised his hands very, very slowly.

"Look, I know this seems suspicious," he said, keeping his voice calm. "But I swear, I am not a Roman spy."

The soldier squinted at him. "Then who are you?"

Viraj took a second to consider his options.

Option A: Tell the truth. ("Hey, I’m actually from the future. Time travel accident. Ever heard of quantum mechanics?") Immediate execution.

Option B: Lie, but poorly. ("I, uh, got lost on my way to the market.") Immediate execution.

Option C: Lie convincingly and hope for the best.

Viraj cleared his throat. "I am a healer. A man of medicine. I was traveling with traders when we were attacked. I barely escaped with my life!"

The soldier didn’t lower his sword. "A healer?"

"Yes!" Viraj nodded enthusiastically. "I heal people! It’s kind of my thing. Very skilled, me. Wounds, fevers, battle injuries—you name it!"

(Okay, technically he was a physicist, not a doctor. But how different could ancient medicine and quantum mechanics really be?)

The soldier studied him for a moment, then grunted and grabbed Viraj’s arm.

"Come," he said. "Hannibal will decide your fate."

Viraj paled.

Oh. Cool. He was about to meet one of the greatest military strategists in history.

No pressure. No pressure at all.

Rule #2: When in Doubt, Shut Up and Observe

As the soldier dragged him through the camp, Viraj’s scientist brain kicked into overdrive.

This was incredible.

Tents stretched across the land, filled with thousands of warriors from different parts of the world—Carthaginians, Gauls, Numidians, Iberians. Blacksmiths hammered weapons, cooks stirred massive pots of stew, and war elephants—actual war elephants—stood tethered near the edge of the camp.

He was walking through history itself.

If only he wasn’t also one wrong sentence away from getting executed.

Rule #3: Don’t Accidentally Change History

Viraj had read enough science fiction to know that time travel was dangerous business.

One wrong move, one small accidental change, and he could butterfly-effect his way into rewriting history.

Did he just step into a war that Rome was supposed to win? Would his presence alter the course of civilization itself?

Before he could spiral too hard, his escort stopped in front of the largest tent in the camp.

The soldier turned to him. "Do not speak unless Hannibal allows it."

Viraj nodded quickly, deciding that was excellent advice.

The soldier pushed aside the heavy fabric flap, motioning for him to step inside.

Viraj took a deep breath and entered the tent.

The First Meeting with a Legend

The inside of the tent was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of burning oil and parchment.

At the center sat a man unlike any Viraj had ever seen.

Hannibal Barca.

The famous general was younger than Viraj expected—maybe in his late 30s—but his presence was overwhelming. His eyes were sharp, calculating, as if he was constantly five steps ahead of everyone else in the room.

Viraj barely had time to process this when Hannibal spoke in flawless Latin:

"Who is this man?"

The soldier beside Viraj bowed. "He claims to be a healer, my lord. We found him alone in the desert."

Hannibal’s gaze settled on Viraj.

"A healer?" he repeated, unimpressed. "Dressed like that?"

Viraj glanced down at himself.

Right. He was still wearing his stained lab coat, a T-shirt that said 'Entropy Happens,' and sneakers.

Absolutely nothing about him said ‘qualified ancient battlefield doctor.’

Hannibal gestured to a wounded soldier nearby—a man groaning in pain, a deep gash running down his arm.

"If you are a healer, prove it," Hannibal said.

Viraj’s stomach dropped.

Oh.