My last jump

To be a time traveler is to occupy time like it is space.

I lay there naked, leaning lazily on the headboard. The twenty-first century man beside me lay facing down and away from me, hugging his pillow, sleeping quietly with mellow breaths. This was my first opportunity to really take in the room. A fake aquarium was positioned opposite the bed, illuminating the room in a dark blue light. Not good for sleep.
The door I came through an hour before, passionately kissing this man, was slightly ajar. I could see the small living room dining area of this compact apartment through the crack.
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. The number “1” was clear in my vision, as if it was actually there. My last fertile egg. The number flashed slowly, in a muted red color, indicating it was not inseminated.

Don’t think about it. It takes time.

I picked up my clothes, hastily discarded in lust. Time to go.
The nights of the twenty-first century were simultaneously some of the loudest, and quietest I’ve experienced. The roars of crowds as they gathered outside bars and clubs were unique to these times. A never ending party, when in the right city. I actually forgot what city I was in. It didn’t really matter.
It will matter soon.

I could take a cab. No, I’d rather walk. Lots of people in line to some club. If only they knew how little time they have left. It doesn’t matter, I can’t save everyone. I can’t even save a few.

I found myself closing my eyes, looking at the foreboding “1” like opening an empty fridge expecting the contents to change. It takes three to seven days. Think of something else. I better find a place to stay.

I used my previous jump to visit the Jurassic era. We’re not allowed to go back that far, butterfly effect and all that, but so many women went anyway. It is important to not stay too long, and stay away from places where you might affect the ecosystem near large human settlements, but really, it’s rather safe.
There isn’t a time police, like they thought there would be. Instead, the fact that only females could time travel somehow prevented time travel from being used poorly. I smiled.

Somehow.

The Jurassic era is a thing to behold. Seeing a hundred-ton monstrosity is like nothing else you could experience. The sheer magnitude of potential energy those things held is awe inspiring.
A tear. I had to visit the Jurassic era one more time. I had to. And now I’m in the twenty-first century, the last point in time where men are still fertile, on the cusp of menopause.

I woke up startled. Bad dream.
My hotel room on the thirty-ninth floor was a luxury that could not be afforded in the future, so I took extra care to enjoy it. I drew a hot bath, facing the window, seeing all that humanity could have been, had they not destroyed it. Had they kept it safe.

I lowered myself into the hot water, relaxed, and closed my eyes. The number “1” still red. It’s been a week. My heartbeat hastened. What if I lost this egg? I’d be stuck here. No time travel, no child.
I don’t know what I’ll choose, if it takes. It will take. It has to. Raise a child in the twenty-first century, or feed the egg to the time machine and live the rest of my life in the future.

Why did I go to the prehistoric era? Why did I have to waste my twins? No. Not waste. It was an experience that will stay with me forever. I close my eyes, and the “1” changes to blue. It is inseminated.

“Goodbye” Child that might have been. My body vanished into the future.

This is a short story set in a larger world I'm building. I'm planning on writing a lot more in this world. The purpose of the story was to raise questions and find answer. Practice my writing and finding my style.
Some questions that have been raised were left unanswered. Those unanswered questions don't harm this short story, so here you have it.

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I'd like to thank everyone at @isleofwrite that helped me make this short story what it is.