[ WP ] Time travelling tourists from the future are commonplace at significant historical events . You get home and find time travellers watching you for an unknown reason .

It was not Benjamin's day. 
 
 He had come home from work, before nine o'clock. CEO of a vastly influential industrial conglomerate, Ben had learnt that power begets power; he had tame politicians, tame journalists and tame judges - all happily eating out of his generous hand. Normally, he'd be late home from some dinner or function - generally a charitable one. Benjamin was very keen on charities. He had built such a good name for himself. 
 
 But not today. There he was, head in his hands whilst he sat at his desk, sobbing. He had come home early - for no good reason. In that moment, as he walked in the door of our penthouse, I saw his mask slip and the face of madness underneath it. He had yelled at me! He had screamed and shouted about the purposelessness of it all. Why do I work so long hours, and for what?, he had yelled.'Why am I cosying up to those selfish people! What is it all for?! I try and help the poor and they stop me!' 
 
 I never did find out what caused his breakdown. Whenever I asked he looked up at me with wild eyes, and yelled incomprehensibly. I stood in the doorway of his plush office watching him weep and rant, waiting for him to calm down. Then, suddenly, I heard a cough. 
 
 I turned. There was a small man - round glasses and slightly shabby suit. He looked incredibly nervous. In his hands were a piece of paper and a video camera. 
 
'Who are you! How did you... What are-' 
 
'I do n't have much time to explain. You'll not believe me if I told you but... I'm not from your time. I'm a time traveller. Yes, I know it sounds ridiculous, Mrs Bennet, but I need you to sign this piece of paper. It will help millions of people, and the cause of freedom everywhere. This is the moment all our troubles started.' 
 
 I stood there, open mouthed. The man looked around furtively.'Please. Sign, ma'am. Quickly.' Pleading eyes. 
 
'What is it?' 
 
'Formal identification that the recording I have here,' he wiggled the camera,'is genuine and a true representation of the recorded person. It will help the cause of freedom.' He peered round me to the weeping form of my husband who was, oblivious, still moaning and crying. 
 
'Why should I?' 
 
'People need to know his true character, ma'am.' 
 
 I took the paper and examined it. At the top, a strange crest - the letters USE, a fist surrounded by twelve stars, and the motto,'Metu Pacem'. 
 
 My throat caught. I knew my Latin. 
 
'In... the future, is he not well-respected? Is he in trouble? Will this clear his name?' 
 
 He smiled wanly.'Yes, this will help his name. The authorities are ruthless and dictatorial. He will-' His eyes widened. He stumbled, uncomprehending and slumped to the floor. 
 
 Behind him, two men in grey-black military uniform. One held a silenced pistol pointed at the small corpse on my floor. 
 
 Without saying a word, the other stepped up to me and took the paper from my limp hand. He turned and bent down, put his other hand on the body of the man and shimmered grey, white, black and... disappeared. 
 
'Are you here to kill me, too? My husband? What has he done?' 
 
 The other man holstered his pistol, then, bizarrely, saluted. 
 
'No, ma'am. We're here to safeguard the United States.' 
 
'We're not in the United States! This is London!' 
 
'Of Europe, Ma'am. We had an inkling this traitor was attempting subversive activity. We will shortly terminate his family and associates. This will prevent the cancer of reaction from spreading. It will make little sense, now, ma'am. I can not tell you much. Suffice to say that in... well, in some time your husband will rise to... permanent power in the new United States following... well, I ca n't tell you that either. If I may be so bold... you will be First Lady. When the time comes, remember me. I am reference 6736AE, Jones. Please, have no mercy on traitors and reactionaries. And never tell your husband of this.' 
 
 He threw a crisp salute and disappeared in a greywhiteblack shimmer. 
 
 I almost fell. My husband... was a future dictator? Future tyrant? 
 
'What was that, dear?' 
 
 I turned and looked at him. He seemed dazed.'Oh, nothing. Are you feeling better?' He nodded.'That's good. Darling, I've been thinking. You want to help people. You do n't like those slimy politicians - so why not beat them at their own game? Go into politics for proper! You can help more people that way.' 
 
 He looked at me.'Oh, I'm not sure anyone would want to vote for me.' He smiled wanly. 
 
 I smiled. 
 
'BB, when the time comes, I do n't think anyone will need to.'
