If you have never time traveled before, it's because you weren't born with it. Yes, time travel is a thing, and yes, not everyone can do it. It's the best kept secret of the human race. The 'illuminati' is not an organization for the elite, it's a group of like-minded individuals who have the same ability, who have made a profit out of stealing other peoples work (don't worry, I will explain as I go on).
This book is a non-fiction work of fiction. Take what you want from that.
Rule 1 - If you are asked about time travel, act skeptic.
Rule 2 - If you are caught, fix it.
That's it. These were put into place by the illuminati, and for good reason. About 12 years ago there were a whole lot of time travelers (which we call 'Timers'. There are 'Timers' and 'Timees'. A Timer is one that can manipulate their own timeline, and Timees who can only move in time in one direction; forward.) that vanished from time, and that was because they were leaking information to the press about our ability to manipulate our existence. For whatever reason, the elite came up with these rules... the consequences of breaking these rules wouldn't be that you were never born... that would be too simple. The consequences would be that your whole bloodline would be erased. Everyone in your whole family, for generations... gone.
"But why are you breaking the rules? Why should we believe you?"
These questions are often asked to me. As a whistle blower, who is taking precautions, I feel as though it is my duty to slowly bring the rest of the human race in on our successes... using VPN's and Onion Router technology... Getting these stories out there is the most important thing I can do.
Chapter One: Billy
Bloody hell. 5AM? How the crap am I gonna get back to sleep now?
Waking up at this time of morning is the worst, especially when your alarm is set to go off at 6AM. What am I meant to do? Go back to sleep at the risk of feeling more tired when the alarm goes off in an hour? I'm the kind of person who usually wakes up just before their alarm goes off. It's a talent I have had since I was a kid. Normally I don't have to set an alarm, I can just tell myself I need to be up and awake by a certain time, and I wake 5 to 10 minutes prior. This morning, though, is a bit different. Today is a pretty crap day. I have a funeral to go to. Fucking funerals. I've been to three in my life: My Nan, my Uncle, and the neighbour kid who had cancer (they weren't at the same time... that would be weird). The thing I hate most about funerals isn't the "I'm sorry for your loss" B.S, but the people who were never around during the persons life, who suddenly show up like no time has passed. My Nan had a slow death, she had cancer of the kidneys, which grew into lunge cancer, and then the big one, brain cancer. So you could say that it took some time for her to die. She suffered. If I were to go, I would hope it would be sudden, like my father. I wonder how many people turn up today for his funeral.
I stumble out of bed and into the lounge room where my mother lays passed out on the floor. She's managed to completely avoid the air mattress that I spent the early hours of this morning blowing up for her. I guess that's the life of an alcoholic. I've never really drank before. I mean, I have tasted alcohol, and I have been drunk, but I have never binged. I don't drink. I guess I can let this time slide with her, as she has recently found out that the boy she fell in love with as a teen, just died.
"Mum!" I announce, loud enough so she hears it, but quiet enough that I don't wake my brother and his wife who are sleeping in my spare room just off from the lounge room.
A slight 'grumble' murmurs out of her mouth, like spew.
"I'll take that as a 'Shut the fuck up'?" I bounce back.
As I started reshuffling the lounge room again to make it more habitable, my brother arrives out of the bedroom. He's tall, ruggedly good looking, and also shirtless (seriously, why shirtless?).
"Mums in fine form, I see" he bursts out.
He's not really a morning person, but, the attitude is his normal self. It's like he is in a perpetual state of morning, always shitty.
As he moves towards the hallway to the bathroom, he blurts out a "By the way, Bill, we gotta have that talk this morning".
Since dad died, only a couple days ago, he has mentioned this twice. Once whilst making a sandwich, and the other as he stunk up my bathroom.
"Well can we do this now, I got shit to do today" I reply
"We all have shit to do today, don't be selfish." He pushes as he moves up the hallway.
My brother is older than me by 5 years. When we were growing up, he was always the 'cool' one. I was always the out of place, awkward, loser brother, who had nothing in common with him. He was always hanging out with my dad, learning about cars, and football, whilst I was left alone inside with movies, and books. They had an obvious bond. I never had a problem with it, it was just the way things were. It's now become apparent that I may regret this, now that he is dead.
A little while later, after the lounge room is back to it's normal state, I come to sit next to my brother as he is sitting on the couch. His wife is in the shower, and mum is... somewhere else.
"Gretel started swimming lessons on Sunday" He said, as he is glued to the TV.
Ah, yes, the two perfect children of his, that he made with his perfect wife, in their perfect house. They're not here with us right now, they're staying with the wife's family, whilst all this is going on.
"Oh yeah? That's right, I saw on Facebook..." I reply with awkward ease.
We both sit there for what it seemed like a short lifetime. The sound of his wife's shower bleeding in my left ear. Water. Wasting. But I'm not totally panicking, yet.
"So when was the last time you used it?" he asks, out of nowhere.
My attention is not with this question right now, instead I'm distracted by the counting going on in my head, trying to figure out how long she's been in the shower, and how much gas I have left in the tank out back, which is heating said water.
"Used it?" I realize he is speaking, but I wasn't following what he was saying...
"Time, when was the last time you used it?"
Again, I wasn't following. "All the time?" I say, playing along.
"So why is your life shit?" He asks, as though we are on the same page.
"Wait, my life isn't shit..."
"You're single. You life in a shithole. You're overweight. You are poor"
"Wow, great talk... I was wondering who would take over from being a cunt after dad died... glad you're stepping up there, big brother"
"I can only assume that you either use it for special occasions, or you're someone who is against altering your life for the good. Either way, you're really dicking up your life" he says in a patronizing, yet sinister way.
"Well, we can't all be like you, with your pretty hair, pretty wife, pretty life... I may be overweight and poor, but I am a pretty happy person, if you've ever bothered to understand me at all" I rebut.
"Did dad not mention our heritage?"
I'm a little shocked. I don't understand what he is talking about. Heritage? Is he for real? Like we are some kind of indigenous?
I throw him a blank look.
"Dude..." He exclaims
"I have no idea what you're talking about"
We exchange some odd stares at each other, until he realizes that I don't know what he is talking about.
"How do you think Dad died? How uncle Richard died? How Nan died?" He questions
"Who the fuck is uncle Richard?" I'm so puzzled right now, I run through a list of names, and I cannot figure out who he is talking about. "Do you mean Mum's uncle Ned?"
"No! Uncle Richard... Mate... You've never used it..."
I begin to realize that he is fucking with me. Nothing he is saying makes any sense. As I start to smile, and call him out on this goof, his wife walks into the lounge room.
"Your hot water ran out"
FUCK! THIS DAY SUCKS!
The funeral service went for about 30 minutes. As we walk down the little street paths in this lawn cemetery to where my fathers final resting place will be, I look out over one of the rolling hills to a duck pond. This is sort of like paradise, you know, if you were living. This is the kind of place you'd walk down the little street path thinking to yourself "When I die, I'd want to be buried somewhere like this...", followed by a "Betcha it's expensive", but you're dead... who cares the price. It'll be your last expense. Live it up a bit.
"Your Dad was a good man" said a voice that startled me out of my little day dream.
It was an older lady, probably in her 50's, solid white hair, and a turkey neck.
"Indeed he was" I said, being polite
"No, He was a good man" she said again
I try to figure out what was different with that sentence to the last. Nope. She's crazy.
"It feels like you've grown so much over night"
"I'm sorry, have we met?" I ask
She smiles at me, and walks further on. Behind her was a young man who has severe Autism, slowly falling behind. Then the lady shouts back to him "C'mon Joe Joe". It's as though he is on an invisible chain, he falls to her side after her command.
A lot of the chatter is unrecognizable. It's all the same. No one is saying anything new. Until I had a man standing in front of me. A lot of the funeral party have not made their way to the burial site at this moment, but a small few. The man in front of me, partially smiling, I've seen before, but can't remember if it's my Dad's cousin, or second cousin. I just recognize his hand, which is missing a finger. Dave? Darryl? Something like that.
"Your brother spoke to me. Told me you haven't used it. You gotta be shitting me" He said, quite loud
The lady from before spoke up. She was about 5 meters away, but she chimed in anyway. "Your Dad was either protecting you, or you're adopted, which is it?"
Has everyone gone mad?
"He looks exactly like him... plus, Timers can tell a cheater"
Timers? Why does that sound familiar?
"Bill, do you realize what is in front of you?" My brother creeps up on me from behind, his wife in hand.
Why does it feel like I am the bud of someones messed up joke right now? I am silent. What do I say to this? These people are obviously grieving in some messed up way.
I realize that this is everyone. There are only a small handful of people here, like an exclusive club. There had to be more than 75 people at the wake, but now there are less than a dozen. It's all my Dads family.
After the burial, it all started to hit me. He is gone. I won't ever see him again. The last memory I will have is one of a stiff, cold, corps, with obvious make up on. We head back to the car park, and I walk alone. I take in the riddles of the day, as well as the images of the next funeral that is about to take place. There is a small ethnic family all cuddling each other, crying. Lots of young children dressed in suits and dresses that seem too big for them. Must have been a young father. This must be what the funeral before my Dads saw of us. Minus the crying. A lot of my family have smiles today. They seem to be taking it well.
I get to my car, and turn it on. I sit there for a moment, with my eyes closed. They feel sore. And warm. Like they have done enough crying for one lifetime. I hear a tap at my window.
"You're a Timer. Not a Timee. It's important. The longer you hold out on using the ability, the more you can do with it. This is why we usually tell our children at 18." The lady from before startled me with the young Autistic boy to her side. "You seriously weren't told?"
"This is all new to me" I say, trying to figure out what one would say to an obvious crazy person. Just go with it...
"Tonight. Lay in bed, think of the most happiest memory of your father, and concentrate. When you feel yourself slipping, concentrate harder. You'll understand, after you do this".
The day dragged on, but I thought I'd give it a go. It's finally time to go to bed, considering I have been up since 5AM, I don't know how long I will be awake for. I walk into my lounge room, and see my mum on the floor again, asleep. My brothers wife sitting on the couch, ignoring her. I make sure I am not herd, I walk back up the hallway to turn the light off in the bathroom. I can hear someone walking through the sliding back door. It's my brother. He catches me as I get to my bedroom door.
"Did you speak to Liz?" he asked
"Liz?" I assume it's the lady with the Autistic boy, but I ask in clarification.
"Did she tell you how to do it?"
"Yeah, something about concentrating in bed?"
"Milk. Drink milk... it helps relax you" he suggested "and think of your greatest memory"
I speak to him more about the day, and then do the old "Well, best be off to sleep... it's been a big day".
"Your day isn't over" he added, as he pat my shoulder.
Whatever that means. I close the door. Silence. It's like there was a hum in my ear all day, and now, finally gone. It's automatically relaxing. I put my headphones into my ears, and go to Spotify. I put on my "Relax" playlist I made about a week ago, and get under my doona.
What's the harm. The soft piano in my ear puts me into a deep relaxed mood.
My greatest memory. Well, that's easy. Christmas morning, 1996. My brother got a Gameboy and the game Bill and Ted, and he let me play it for hours. He didn't need to, it was his present, but he let me. What else happened that morning... Dad cooked breakfast, and I remember it was only a week before that he paved the backyard area, so it was nice and clean. I lay there for a bit longer, until I ran out of things I remember about that moment, and realized my light was on. I turned it off. Someone is in my room.
"William?" I hear.
I jump out of bed suddenly, and I am disorientated. Where the fuck am I? Did this actually work? No. Wait. I must have fallen asleep briefly and just woke up during a sleep walk.
My mum is standing at the door, with her hand on the light switch.
"Mum, what's wrong?" I say, rubbing my eyes.
"Are you coming out here? We've been calling you for a while now" She says
Calling me? How deep of a sleep was I? As I become more aware of my surroundings, I am beginning to realize that this is not my room. The familiarity of the room, however, oozes into my mind.
I slowly exit the room, and down a very long hallway. It's so foreign, yet so familiar. It's hot. Did I sleep all night already? I feel tired, like I hadn't slept a single moment. I creep past a photo frame and see that it's a photo of me as a kid. I'm wearing a ski suit, 90's style... and I am about 8 years old. I also catch a glimpse at my reflection and I then turn to quickly walk back up the long hallway. Bathroom is up here... I remember that. How do I remember that? I wake up in a strange place, and I remember where I am. Did this fucking work? Am I IN 1996? Am I 11 years old?
As I get to the bathroom, I walk past my sisters room. Ruby. She and I don't speak any more. The room is pink, with fairy curtains, and a pink doona. There is a rug on her floor, and a stain... I remember that she made the stain by hiding a Chicken she got from school in her wardrobe, and decided she needed to paint the chicken's feathers, but instead of using paint, she used food colouring, and a mixture of blue, red, and yellow got onto her rug. I found her and the chicken right before dad did, and so I told him that I did it. I think he knew it was her, but what are you gonna do? Someone is admitting to the crime.
"We can't start without you..." said a voice behind me
I turn, and it's my dad. The man I buried today. The man that raised me. The man that is dead.
"Dad" I say, with weakness in my voice
"Oh fuck. When are you from?" He asks
When am I from? This is crazy. I turn into the bathroom, and glance at the mirror that is next to the window. I have memories of this room, my dad brushing my hair, and me crying my eyes out because it hurt. My dad peaks his head in behind me. I'm a kid. I'm a fucking kid!
"I'm a kid!" I say out loud
"I can't have failed... I've either changed my mind, or I'm..." he pauses. We both know what he's thinking.
"Why did you not tell me about this? Why am I only finding out now?" I say, like I am having a conversation with him after he's dead. This isn't him though. This isn't the dad I knew a week ago. This is a younger man, tanned, no wrinkles, no worries. This is a man with three young kids, who is trying to make a go of it.
He turns to close the door, and holds my shoulders to sit me down on the side of the tub. This room is very 90's. The patterns on the tiles on the wall, the marble bench top, and the gold trimming on the shower.
"Tell me why you never told me about this?" I demanded
He looks me in the eyes. It looks like he is trying to find the right way to ask me something.
"When are you?"
That's a simple question. Out of all the questions, that's the first?
"That'll make you 32? 33?"
"33 just a couple of months ago..." I say, slowly
"This is your first time jump?" is his follow up question
"I only found out about this today... are we the only ones that can do it?"
He looks into my eyes as though he is looking for something, it's intense.
"Your brother told you... I told him not to tell you... ever... that little shit"
"Dad! Tell me..."
He let out a sigh, and then let go of my arms. He then backed up against the wall, and slid down to relax.
"Well, do you have any questions?" he stumbles out
Questions? Why the fuck did you ignore me my whole life? Why was I even born? Was I a mistake? Why didn't you teach me anything useful? Why wasn't I invited to your second wedding?
"What am I?" I simply ask
"You're my son." He says, still looking into my eyes. It's as though he can tell I am not an 11 year old boy. It must be strange to see your little boy with the eyes of someone who has lived a life. "You are like a lot of people in this world, you're what we call a 'Timer'. There are fundamentally two kinds of people, 'Timers' and 'Timees'. A Timer can manipulate their memories. Make real change to them. What we are doing right now, is actually happening. Whatever memory you've come back to, however special they are to you, if you do not live them the way you remember, you will change your history. What you and someone else holds special, anything you do when you relive them, will have long lasting effects on the other person." He stands up.
"But then I could just go back to that memory and relive it, right?" I ask, wanting him to confirm what I am saying
"If you can remember your changed memories, maybe. In my will, and I hope that I hadn't changed it, I wrote that you weren't aloud to find out until you were on your deathbed. At that point, you'd have your whole life you could relive, essentially giving you another go at life."
"You have got to be fucking shitting me!" I exclaim
"Oi, I will flog you if you talk like that again... got it?" He quickly changes his attitude to very angry in a blink of an eye, and it's like I am a kid again. "You may be an adult, but you still look my little Billy, so watch what you say"
"Tell me how to use it properly!" I guess this is information I need, why not ask it, right?
"No. Go home. Please don't use these powers, and just forget about them..." He says, whilst trying to rush me back to my bedroom.
As we get down the hall, I see my brother. He's a teen. Much younger than he is right now. I stop, and watch him turn around to me.
"Are you coming to open presents?"
That's right, it's Christmas. This is the memory that I cherish. I want to relive it so bad. I stand there for a moment in quite bliss.
"You won't have the same feelings..." my dad states, in my right ear. His whispered breath breathes down the back of my neck. It's a smell of coffee and cigarettes. "Anything you relive will just be the experience. You won't ever get to relive the feelings you had".
It makes sense. How can I ever go home. Home is a state of mind. This is just a house, with people in it. I walk back into my room, and lay down in my bed. "How do I go home?" I ask
"What was the last thing you remember doing?" He asks
"Putting headphones in to listen to Spotify" As I was spitting out this sentence, my father disappeared in front of my eyes, and the room became dark. Now I am standing in the middle of a dark, quiet, room. I'm back. This has been a long fucking day.
Chapter Two: Out With The Old
After a long night sleep, I feel great. Turned out I slept 11 hours, and now I feel refreshed. As I lay in bed, I feel the suns heat on my face. It's been quite cold lately, the sun feels nice. It's 8AM right now, and I should get up. I was planning to go back to work today, but I don't know if I can. Can? Is it a "can"? I think it's now a want. I don't know if I actually want to. I slowly rise out of bed, and make my way to the lounge room.
Mum isn't on the floor for a change. In fact, the lounge room is clean. Not a thing out of place. Weird. Oh well. I walk towards my spare room where my brother and his wife are and knock on the door. No answer. Hmm, have they left already? I walk towards the lounge room again to peak out the front window. No car? Maybe he has gone? Why didn't he tell me?
I walk towards the bathroom and realize that there's not going to be hot water. Fuck. My feet take me back to my room, and into my bed. This is much easier. I grab my phone, and swipe into it. That's weird... I answer my phone as my brother calls as soon as I swipe open my phone.
"Where the hell did you go?" I greet him with
"WHAT DID YOU DO LAST NIGHT?" He shouts
Wait. What! Did I stuff it up on my very first time? You gotta be shitting me.
"All I did was go back to Christmas 96" I panic
"YOU HAVE CHANGED EVERYTHING, BILL... WHY ARE THERE DINOSAURS IN AUSTRALIA?" He yells
What the fuck have I done! THIS IS NOT HAPPENING! How do I change this? Do I go back again? What did I do? This is like that bloody Butterfly Effect. What did Ashton do to fix it? He went back and killed himself as a baby. Great. I time travel once, and now I have to kill myself as a fetus. Great work, Bill.
"Billiam. I'm joking, mate" he says quietly. "Your silence makes me think you think I'm serious..."
I stay silent. Is he joking? So I didn't... "Mother Fucker!" I yelp.
He is frantically laughing. "Mate, do you really think the first time you'd travel, you'd disrupt earths timeline THAT MUCH?"
"Where did you go?" I calmly ask
"Yeah, you were gone when I woke this morning..."
The phone gave two beeps, and cut out what he was saying. Call waiting. Right. I pull the phone away from my ear and wait for the black screen to light up. 'Call Waiting - Dad'.
I slowly press the phone back to my ear
"Where are you right now?" I slowly ask him
He seems slightly startled. "Where I should be... at work?"
"Where is dad? Right now!"
"Are you alright?" the concern in his voice is loud
The sound cuts out again with the two beeps. I pull the phone away again, and see that he is trying to call again. I hang up on my brother, and answer the call from my dead dad. I put the phone to my ear again, and wait to hear his voice.
"William? Are you there?" I hear
It's him. That's his voice. Is this some kind of sick joke? This man was dead on a table a few days ago, and now I am hearing his voice. What am I saying, last night he was in front of me. What the fuck is going on! "What the fuck is going on!" oh shit. I said that out loud.
"Well then... it's happened, has it?" he says that like we've just had this conversation yesterday. I mean, we did. But to him, it was 21 years ago.
"How are you alive?" It's the only question I can muster
"You changed my life, mate. Your brother never came back and told me I died. You did. I didn't know how I died, but I always had in my mind that 2017 was the year."
"You cheated death, though" I add
"Cheat? Maybe. Wouldn't you? If you could?" That question makes me think.
"Isn't this a paradox now?"
"Depends on how you look at it. If I was meant to die, I will die... how long ago was it for you?"
"Your funeral was yesterday."
"Was it nice?" sarcasm oozes out of that question
"It was alright. You would have hated it, though... your friends were there" I joke
This is probably the most I have spoken to my father in the past 6 years. He would never joke with me. This seems too good to be true.
"I've been thinking about what I said to you that day. I know you weren't 11 years old, but I have always associated our conversation with you being that age. And even though logically I know you weren't, I feel guilty that I was so hard on you that day" this sounds rehearsed... How many times has he been over this in his mind? "I want you to go see a friend of mine, he lives near you. I'll text you his address, just go visit him"
We chat for a little longer. His 'want' verses my 'want' to talk is very different. He has lived the last 21 years, and he has been alive for the past week. I lost him. I lost him a long time ago. And I don't want that feeling again. He's right about the fact you cannot recreate the same feelings. And it works both way, I guess. He has lived a life of bonding with me, I have lived a life of him not caring... We do not share the same experiences anymore.
He texts through the address and I leave the house, smelly, and in the same clothes as yesterday. My car feels different. I don't know what it is.
I pull up to the address with the sound of Google in my car speakers "You have arrived at your destination" "Thanks Googs" I reply
This building looks new. Very modern. I get out, and click the lock button on my keys. As I walk towards the building I notice a young lady walk out. I stop. I'm frozen. Who is this? She walks by as I stare directly at her. She sees me staring, so I quickly look away. I automatically become self aware of the situation, and suck in my gut. Oh yeah, like that'll drastically change the way you look. I give myself a slow clap in my mind, as this beautiful girl walks right by me. As she leaves my line of sight, I start to make my way towards the door again, shaking it off.
This place stinks. What is that smell? There is a man, he's tall, standing at the counter. This place looks like an old second hand book store, but the sign out the front tells me that it's a new book store. It has that musky smell of old, damp, books. The man is reading, sitting at a stool. What's he doing? He heard the bell as I walked in. I kid myself for a moment and ask myself 'doesn't he want my business or something?', like I was there to buy something important? I clear my throat.
"Billy?" he says, whilst still ignoring me, reading.
"How did you know that?" I ask
"Your pops called" Something about this guy is either cool, or lame. I can't put my finger on it.
He finally looks up and into my eyes, his glasses hug his nose, and he stares out from above.
"You look like a 'first timer'" he barked
What does that mean? "Who was that, that left just now?" I ask
"That was 'Mind your damn business', how many times have you jumped?"
"Once, last night..." I reply
"I don't help 'Timers' who have jumped less than five times, go away"
What! Are you kidding me? This fat, little man is turning me away? I'm the most inexperienced person on earth right now, but I need help. Wouldn't someone who has jumped once be the best person to help? Wait. What if I jump right now? Is it possible? What if I close my eyes, and find a memory to jump back to now? Fuck it, right? I need the experience.
I close my eyes and think hard. My mind races to different thoughts... when am I going to jump to? Think. What about the time when I hurt my knee? Wait, did that happen? Since I changed things, did I hurt my knee? THIS IS WHAT I NEED HELP WITH! Think! What do I KNOW happened? That girl. Just before. Her beautiful eyes. As they looked at me. At that moment, I had the image clear in my head. I start to hear the bustle of the street again. I did it. I open my eyes, and I am back out on the street from earlier. Why haven't I done this by accident before?
She is walking towards me again. Fuck... she is beautiful. What do I say? SHE LOOKED AT ME AGAIN. I avert my eyes again. And walk right by her. She walks on by. I get to the door, and give an audible "FUCK", I then close my eyes and think back to my car. I open my eyes again when I can hear the quietness of the inside of my car. Okay, do something worth while! I get out of my car and slowly walk away from the car, I hit the lock button on the keys and walk towards the door again. The young lady walks out, and towards me again. I stop. Be cool!
I quickly close my eyes again, and think back to my car. YOU WALK? WHAT THE FUCK!
I am back in my car. I psych myself up to say something meaningful. I get out of the car again, and walk towards the door. The young lady exits the building.
"Bill. My name is Bill" I say.
She smiles, and walks by me. I close my eyes and do it again.
"Hi" I say, looking deep into her beautiful blue eyes.
She's mesmerizing. Hey eyes match her beautiful brown hair, and amazing smile. She stops. SHE FINALLY STOPS. "FUCK YES!" I say... her look of intrigue turns into one of disgust.
One last time... that's all. I walk towards her again, with all the calm and cool I can muster.
"Hi" I say, smiling
"I've got to say, I have never seen someone quite as pretty as you before" I say. Where is this confidence coming from?
"Why, thank you..." she says
I start to walk past her again, towards the door.
"Thank you?" She says
I ignore her, and walk into the building. Fuck yes. I did it!
My entrance is filled with confidence this time, but the musky smell is overpowering again.
"Billy?" The man says again
"What up!" I say 'what up'? who the fuck do I think I am now?
"Your pops called" he repeats
"Yeah he did... Gimme all ya got, sucker"
Okay, I need to check myself. This guy is gonna reach over and slap the shit out of me if I keep this up.
"You look like a first 'timer', why should I help you?!"
"Because I need it. I have no idea what I am doing, and YES, I may have only jumped a few times, but I am clearly in need of help here, so either help me, or tell me to fuck off" damn... where did that come from.
"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY STORE"
I close my eyes, and remember when I walked in.
"You look like a first 'timer', why should I help you?!" I hear once again
"Because I am desperate... please"
He looks at me, and ushers me behind the counter. We head to a room in the back where a young lady is.
"Lesley, go out front for me, please?" he asks the girl. She silently obeys him, and quickly exits the back are. He points to a bean bag for me to sit. I plonk myself down, and watch him move about, collecting things, and moving things around.
"1901, Sir Phillip Grande was the first to write down the rules. Those writings were adapted to what we now call 'The Rules'. The rules are to be followed to the LETTER. These rules are: Rule one, if you are asked about time travel, act skeptic. Rule two, if you are caught, fix it. Do you understand these rules?"
"Yes, sir" I say, as though we are in a military drill
"1981, the Illuminati are established, with the sole reason to keep the secret of the 'Timer'." He pauses, as though I am going to have a reaction to this. All I have is questions. "They establish the 'Order of the Timer', which then goes onto form the New World Order. Before this, there was chaos. The world was plagued with Timers who wanted to reign supreme. The current timeline was forever changing. Now, the 'Order of the 'Timer'' monitor all time jumps, thus keeping an eye on the future of man-kind."
"What are they monitoring?" I ask. I've got to ask something, right?
"They're monitoring how we shape the future."
"And what if we do something that disrupts the future?"
"I've heard stories..." He says, with an audible 'GULP' "about entire bloodlines getting wiped out..."
"Wait, how? I thought we can only go back into our one memories!"
"1901... these rules came out so long ago that one family member can visit another to visit another... it's a brutal punishment. You've got to have it coming to you, for that to happen. The future needs to be played out in order to know who to wipe out." he explains
"But for the average Joe, we should be fine, right?"
"Look, as long as you use these abilities as directed, and within the rules... the world is your oyster."
This is wild. This is like having the entire spell book of Hogwarts. In fact, I could go back enough to claim I wrote Harry Potter.
"Wait, could I go back and claim I wrote Harry Potter?"
"You'd need the manuscript, word for word, if you want the same success... Think smaller. Some Timers go back with songs... they're easier to recite. Some have gone back with partial plays, and movies... but they usually flop."
"So that's self-gain sorted... how do I... be happy?" A bit of truth seeps out of my mouth
He sighs and looks down. He collects his thoughts, and breathes.
"My life is empty. Can I use this ability to manipulate others?" I add
"It depends on how much you can live with. Are you using this to manipulate? or are you using it to make the best impression?"
"What do most people do? The average person?" My questions must seem odd, will it change what I am doing, to know what others are doing?
"Well, most people find out about this ability early on, and use up all their memories. Then the only thing they can generally change is day to day things, like, what they say to someone, or how they react to things. Some people don't use it for a year, and go back and live the year again, some do it month to month, or week to week. It all depends on your goal."
"So because I am new at this, I potentially can go back and change my entire life, drastically?" I lean forward on the beanbag
"Mate, the next time you walk back in here, you better be rich and or famous..."
This is incredible. Do you know how overwhelming it is to have the world at your fingertips? It's like... well, it's like a child being told they can be anything they want when they grow up.
"I was originally told that I need to be in bed to do this. But, I have done it by just closing my eyes..."
"Interesting. Most people do it at night, in order to transition seamlessly. If you're able to do it just by closing your eyes, you must have a vivid imagination." He looks worried for a moment "Maybe don't tell anyone else you can do that, yeah?" He looks reluctant to go on. "There are some Timers who can..." he stops, and brings a chair close to me. he is sitting in front of me, almost eye to eye. "There are SOME Timers who have other abilities. They're rare. And they're monitored... Some have the ability to teleport, pause time, and even go out of their own timeline, backwards AND forwards... they're generally not bound by the normal rules of Timers." He looks at me again, up and down, and smiles "...but those are just stories. Probably not based on any kind of reality."
He hands me a book, and we finish up, a quick exchange of goodbyes occur, and before i realize, we are back to the front area. There's a young woman browsing through the store. It's the girl from earlier. The man pats me on the back, and picks the phone up and walks back behind the counter and out the back.