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Me Squared
11 October 2007 00:45I remember the first time I came back to warn myself.
My older self leapt out from the alley and grabbed me. I struggled until he spoke into my ear and turned me around. It was me, alright, except a lot older. You have to remember that I was about sixteen back then and this older me wouldn’t invent time travel until his late thirties. I knew, though. There was a bond there that couldn't be faked. I knew him in my very bones.
He told me to take Mr. Johnson’s classes and to sit next to Della Duprey. Then, with a double tapping motion over his heart, he disappeared.
I tried to transfer to Mr. Johnson’s classes the next day but they wouldn’t let me. I waved to Della Duprey in the lunchroom but she didn’t wave back. I gave up. I didn’t have super powers or anything. I was just a sixteen-year-old.
One year later, gloved hands dragged me into an alley. This older self was wearing sunglasses and I could see behind the tinted lenses that one of his eyes didn’t look right. He had scars. He was sweating.
He told me that I had to get in touch with Senator Peter MacDougall and convince him to stop the funding bills for the X-17 estate extension. He looked suddenly to his left and disappeared right in front of me.
I wrote a letter to Senator Peter MacDougall. I have no idea if his office received it. I never got a reply. I scanned the newspapers but I never read about an X-17 estate extension either.
The third time came when I was about to have sex with Beth Cartwright. I was eighteen and her parents were out of town. I was crazy in love with her and this would have been the first time for me. Not for her. There was a horrible pounding on the front door just as I was undoing the buttons on her blouse. She was scared so I answered her door. I carried a fire poker behind my back.
I opened the door and there I was.
This version of me from the future had short hair and looked to be in his late twenties. He had a shock of gray in his hair and his fingernails were silver. He told me that whatever happens, I could not impregnate Beth Johnson. I asked him who Beth Johnson was. He looked over my shoulder at Beth and pointed at her. I told him that her name was Beth Cartwright, not Beth Johnson. The older me looked at me aghast.
“It’s worse than I thought.” He said.
I also told him that this coming back in time to annoy me with trivial details, while fascinating in a science fiction comic-book kind of way, was getting damned annoying.
“There have been others?” the older me asked with horror. He twisted something on his belt and vanished with a pop and a puff of smoke right there on the doorstep.
Beth was sort of creeped out by the whole exchange and didn’t really buy my story about a mysterious older brother playing a trick. She wasn’t in the mood anymore.
I was pretty steamed at my older self when I left Beth's place ten minutes later. I never got close to sleeping with Beth again.
I figured that maybe the version that interrupted Beth and I was just a younger version of the older ones and therefore wouldn’t know about the older ones. That made sense.
That theory changed on New Year’s Eve.
An older version of myself came to me in the bathroom stall during a school dance. Luckily it was early and I was the only one there at that moment.
He had a handlebar moustache and one arm looked prosthetic. I was a little drunk and having another guy appear suddenly in the stall, regardless of the fact that it was an older me, shocked me and really pissed me off.
“Okay, that’s it. This is ridiculous. This has got to stop!” I yelled, grabbing at my pulled-down pants. I was sure that someone would come in soon and see me in the same stall with a guy with a big handlebar moustache and get the wrong idea or maybe even call security.
“It’s okay, calm down,” the older me said, “I’m a version of you but from the future. You have to listen.”
“I know you’re me!” I hollered back. “You’re the oldest one yet! The three other times you came back were just annoying but this is starting to become a habit. Obviously, I’m not changing the things you need me to change. Stop bothering me!”
The blood left the older me’s face. “There have been others?” he asked. I heard what sounded like a gunshot and a shower of sparks came out of his hand. He jumped like he’d been shot. “They’ve found me!” he said.
He disappeared with a blue flash. I sat alone in the stall for half an hour trying to figure out what that meant.
In my research later that year, I figured out that if a person went back in time and met him or herself, it would create a loop that would basically put the universe on repeat, locking us all in a time loop. The universe doesn’t want that to happen so it splits off a ‘branch’ so that both universes can exist and it creates more 'alternate' universes as needed.
These other versions of me were creating branches every time they came back, meaning that they were coming back to me from futures that would never happen in my timeline.
My actions had no consequences when it came to them. I smiled.
There was no need for them to know that.
The next time a Me2 appeared, I had it rehearsed and ready.
I told him that I already did what he asked me to do. He freaked when he heard that there had been other versions just like I knew he would. I lied and told him that the other universe's versions of me had changed the timeline forever by coming back and that it was imperative that I give him something.
I gave him two oranges and a box of peanuts. It was just what I had on me at the time.
I told him that they would be very important in two days and not to ask any questions. He smiled knowingly, saluted me, and disappeared. I never saw him again but picturing him waiting for two days with those oranges and that bag of peanuts never fails to crack me up.
I started carrying a taser. I got the next Me2 good. Right in the nuts.
So far, I've been screwing around with the heads of the polite ones and tasering the ones that grab me. I'm having a ball. There have been seventy-two more incidents since the first three. None of them ever know about each other or what I'm talking about. I keep feeling a little embarassed that I'm obviously smart enough to make a time machine but I'm still super-gullible.
Next week I think I’ll start carrying a gun. Then I can start collecting time machine components from their dead bodies after making sure their bodies won't be recognized. If I can get away with it. Maybe I can reverse engineer and few patents and make some money.
I'm not interested in why it's just me that experiencing this phenomenon or what sort of nightmare future disasters these me2s keep trying to get me to avoid. I can tell you one thing, though:
I am NEVER inventing a time machine.
tags
My older self leapt out from the alley and grabbed me. I struggled until he spoke into my ear and turned me around. It was me, alright, except a lot older. You have to remember that I was about sixteen back then and this older me wouldn’t invent time travel until his late thirties. I knew, though. There was a bond there that couldn't be faked. I knew him in my very bones.
He told me to take Mr. Johnson’s classes and to sit next to Della Duprey. Then, with a double tapping motion over his heart, he disappeared.
I tried to transfer to Mr. Johnson’s classes the next day but they wouldn’t let me. I waved to Della Duprey in the lunchroom but she didn’t wave back. I gave up. I didn’t have super powers or anything. I was just a sixteen-year-old.
One year later, gloved hands dragged me into an alley. This older self was wearing sunglasses and I could see behind the tinted lenses that one of his eyes didn’t look right. He had scars. He was sweating.
He told me that I had to get in touch with Senator Peter MacDougall and convince him to stop the funding bills for the X-17 estate extension. He looked suddenly to his left and disappeared right in front of me.
I wrote a letter to Senator Peter MacDougall. I have no idea if his office received it. I never got a reply. I scanned the newspapers but I never read about an X-17 estate extension either.
The third time came when I was about to have sex with Beth Cartwright. I was eighteen and her parents were out of town. I was crazy in love with her and this would have been the first time for me. Not for her. There was a horrible pounding on the front door just as I was undoing the buttons on her blouse. She was scared so I answered her door. I carried a fire poker behind my back.
I opened the door and there I was.
This version of me from the future had short hair and looked to be in his late twenties. He had a shock of gray in his hair and his fingernails were silver. He told me that whatever happens, I could not impregnate Beth Johnson. I asked him who Beth Johnson was. He looked over my shoulder at Beth and pointed at her. I told him that her name was Beth Cartwright, not Beth Johnson. The older me looked at me aghast.
“It’s worse than I thought.” He said.
I also told him that this coming back in time to annoy me with trivial details, while fascinating in a science fiction comic-book kind of way, was getting damned annoying.
“There have been others?” the older me asked with horror. He twisted something on his belt and vanished with a pop and a puff of smoke right there on the doorstep.
Beth was sort of creeped out by the whole exchange and didn’t really buy my story about a mysterious older brother playing a trick. She wasn’t in the mood anymore.
I was pretty steamed at my older self when I left Beth's place ten minutes later. I never got close to sleeping with Beth again.
I figured that maybe the version that interrupted Beth and I was just a younger version of the older ones and therefore wouldn’t know about the older ones. That made sense.
That theory changed on New Year’s Eve.
An older version of myself came to me in the bathroom stall during a school dance. Luckily it was early and I was the only one there at that moment.
He had a handlebar moustache and one arm looked prosthetic. I was a little drunk and having another guy appear suddenly in the stall, regardless of the fact that it was an older me, shocked me and really pissed me off.
“Okay, that’s it. This is ridiculous. This has got to stop!” I yelled, grabbing at my pulled-down pants. I was sure that someone would come in soon and see me in the same stall with a guy with a big handlebar moustache and get the wrong idea or maybe even call security.
“It’s okay, calm down,” the older me said, “I’m a version of you but from the future. You have to listen.”
“I know you’re me!” I hollered back. “You’re the oldest one yet! The three other times you came back were just annoying but this is starting to become a habit. Obviously, I’m not changing the things you need me to change. Stop bothering me!”
The blood left the older me’s face. “There have been others?” he asked. I heard what sounded like a gunshot and a shower of sparks came out of his hand. He jumped like he’d been shot. “They’ve found me!” he said.
He disappeared with a blue flash. I sat alone in the stall for half an hour trying to figure out what that meant.
In my research later that year, I figured out that if a person went back in time and met him or herself, it would create a loop that would basically put the universe on repeat, locking us all in a time loop. The universe doesn’t want that to happen so it splits off a ‘branch’ so that both universes can exist and it creates more 'alternate' universes as needed.
These other versions of me were creating branches every time they came back, meaning that they were coming back to me from futures that would never happen in my timeline.
My actions had no consequences when it came to them. I smiled.
There was no need for them to know that.
The next time a Me2 appeared, I had it rehearsed and ready.
I told him that I already did what he asked me to do. He freaked when he heard that there had been other versions just like I knew he would. I lied and told him that the other universe's versions of me had changed the timeline forever by coming back and that it was imperative that I give him something.
I gave him two oranges and a box of peanuts. It was just what I had on me at the time.
I told him that they would be very important in two days and not to ask any questions. He smiled knowingly, saluted me, and disappeared. I never saw him again but picturing him waiting for two days with those oranges and that bag of peanuts never fails to crack me up.
I started carrying a taser. I got the next Me2 good. Right in the nuts.
So far, I've been screwing around with the heads of the polite ones and tasering the ones that grab me. I'm having a ball. There have been seventy-two more incidents since the first three. None of them ever know about each other or what I'm talking about. I keep feeling a little embarassed that I'm obviously smart enough to make a time machine but I'm still super-gullible.
Next week I think I’ll start carrying a gun. Then I can start collecting time machine components from their dead bodies after making sure their bodies won't be recognized. If I can get away with it. Maybe I can reverse engineer and few patents and make some money.
I'm not interested in why it's just me that experiencing this phenomenon or what sort of nightmare future disasters these me2s keep trying to get me to avoid. I can tell you one thing, though:
I am NEVER inventing a time machine.
tags