For her thirtieth birthday John Leibowitz had purchased his wife, Ann, the one thing she had always wanted: a Concentration Camp getaway. This included visits to Misery Pockets #567864,#554326 and #567821: Bloemfontein, Auschwitz and Shark Island. Ann was very fond of 19th-20th century history; she had little interest in more recent tragedies like the Baxter Solar Event – despite the victim count being significantly higher. They lacked individual horror, she said. A billion roasted alive meant little against the prolonged suffering of a single man.

Leibowitz was fortunate to have procured the spaces; these particular Misery Pockets would soon be reclaimed. It was a subject he had explained many times as a Physics teacher.

Time travel was always known to be a ridiculous impossibility but the universe did maintain short-term memory states. Imagine reality being a computational construct and as new states were created the past states would be overwritten. Those parts awaiting replacement still contained data: the past. However, they only seemed to store incidents of universal regret – genocides, disasters, huge losses of life.

They were accessible for 423 years and 45 hours exactly. Then that point in time was replaced.

The Misery Pockets could be visited only by Quantum Teleportation. It was an expensive method of travelling but the only way to see your chosen atrocity. For their honeymoon they visited the Great Chinese Famine, 1959-1961. To this day, Ann still commented on how good the lobster was at their Hotel.

A week after her birthday an excited Mr. and Mrs. Leibowitz found themselves at their last destination in German South West Africa, 1906. In front of them was the Shark Island internment facility. They weren’t worried about being seen. The couple were fluctuating rapidly in their temporary position. They were effectively invisible. Ann removed the lens from her antique camera. A wedding gift.

She took photos of the starving inhabitants. One was being sjamboked by a guard for picking up a piece of pigswill found on the ground. The scene was wonderfully energetic and Ann snapped enthusiastically. John was happy for her.

“It’s all so horrible,” Ann giggled as she knelt to take a photograph of a scraggy female too sick to stand and dragging her dead infant with her.

“I hope you’re getting some good pictures,” John said encouragingly. “The ones you took of that tragic little girl at Bloemfontein came out really well.”

The day went pleasantly. Ann was particularly mesmerised at the women boiling the heads of their dead. She knew why and keenly informed her husband.

John nodded, hiding his boredom of the place and the endless trivia. He tapped his watch.

“We do need to go soon, honey. The guide wants us back before five.”

Ann sighed and activated her recall button. As she did so, the history in the pocket split into three and the couple appeared back at the Hotel. Sadly, her holiday was ending.

Still, she did have some amazing photographs to show to the children in her class.