Future You, Future Me

As I lay on the sofa, the sound of men arguing somewhere outside was like a song. The sun was not out, but I had found a real bird's nest in the park the day before. It was on the path, and must have fallen out of a tree; fully intact, a perfect circular bowl of moss, twigs and dry mud woven together by one or more natural items... Bird(s).

In the street, three white cars were parked in a row. This meant that the trip to the grocery store would pass without incident but that also something unexpected would happen. For the last two years, I had not left a four block radius. This was just below average in relation to my surrounding neighbours.

My break involved taking a walk to the store two blocks up, once a day, for a treat. The hill was high on the way and many people I met who I would never see again. I had the good luck of having an exterior home in a city. As I was readying myself at the door, applying sandals, lipstick and a purse, I realized that I didn't currently know the name of my city. It really didn't matter - just a thought carried up with the small wave of nausea that usually surfaced before I left the apartment.

The hydrangea at the front entrance of the building made up for it. Their dreamy, dulcet scent carried me over the first hump. A man whizzed by on a bike, jarring me into my body and interrupting an impulse to cross the road. There were two elderly women coming down the hill on the opposite side. So I went on a little further to cross to the other sidewalk which was empty.

The street was a steep incline for one block. At the top lay a right that would take me to the store. My mind was zipped into my purse, and did not rattle around with the lipstick and keys. I’d forgotten to regulate it for the journey. I could do that at the store, I thought. I felt around the neighbourhood and felt safe enough. But half way up the hill, I was now in view of 944 Hayward, which I’d forgotten about.

As if on cue, a window two stories up opened, and Harvey Wood's head leaned out. "Wait," he called down, sticking his hand out for emphasis.

An emergency? I was not sure I knew this man. His head disappeared and reappeared a few moments later through the double glass doors of his redbrick building. In green jacquard slacks, bare feet, a blonde shoulder- length wig and no shirt, he managed to pull of a lofty dignity that surpassed the others. It was not clear if he was attractive.

"How much?" he said, gyrating toward me.

My expression was fixed, but perhaps my eyes communicated confusion. "How much?" he said, reaching out for my hand.

When he took it, we were suddenly upstairs in his apartment, without warning.

The sound of the kettle boiling reoriented me. Something was different. The walls were newly painted a deep red, but I could not tell if I had been there before. Plants hung from macrame harnesses. Copies of ancient Japanese prints lined the walls; mountains, tigers, waterfalls, a cherry blossom wedding. The decor matched the prints, and the scent of jasmine tea completed the oriental, ordered and serene quality of the scene. A lustrous sheen confirmed its artificial production, but that did not detract from its anachronistic charm. Harvey was in the kitchen with his back to me, fiddling with something as though he’d forgotten about me.

"I should get going," I said, moving toward the door.

"Why?" he said, without turning, ensconced in what I couldn't see because of his broad back.

"Tell me about the nest," he said. My hand paused on the door handle.

"You promised you wouldn't spy on me," I sighed, touching my forehead to the door. "You said you'd stop."

"I didn't spy," he said, turning. He was holding nothing.

"I just heard you on the way up the street."

"That must have been someone else," I said, failing to prevent the heat from rising to my cheeks.

Something vibrated in my purse. I almost opened it but then remembered that cell phones didn’t exist here anymore. The third item still had to be regulated but I could not take it out in front of him. All I had to do was remain calm or the police would fine me again for a false emergency.

Watching him approach me slowly, I considered the tricky logistics of my item. The crisis threshold should be time-based with emotional charge and not triggered by a sudden spike of emotional intensity. There should be a two second window so you can take hold of the panic before it spikes in case of a real false emergency so the call wouldn’t have to go out and the man power wouldn’t be lost. But then I’m sure the designers and the authorities had already considered all the angles and settled on the optimal.

It had been set off before around Harvey, so I had no idea what I was doing standing there in his apartment when I should have been standing in front of the cake section. The third item was for shopping and shopping only. It had not been prepped for this. But it should have been. Harvey came out every day. It was stupid to think he wouldn’t.

"Just ten minutes," he said, holding out his hands in a way that reminded me of my father. “Please?"

A mirror hung on the wall next to him from which he obtained a form of reassurance.

Despite living the same day over and over again for time immemorial, I found myself considering his offer. What age was I? He was on the other side of the room lowering the needle to a record. A twirly twinkling composition of bells rang through the room like fairy laughter.

"Sit down," he said, casting himself onto a cerulean chaise and motioning for me to take the spot next to him.

The window was facing west toward the sunset. Already? The day was almost over. He must have done something with the time, or maybe it was something about his place.

"So, how much?" he said, with a nebulous expression.

"You know they aren't always accurate," I said, glancing around the room for any potential surprises.

My attention was drawn to two porcelain dogs sitting on the mantel above his head. Harvey followed my gaze.

"Yeah," he chuckled, "but they're good company."

"No, I mean the readings," I said, tersely.

I hung my purse on the door handle and moved toward the window.

The tea had already been made and two cups floated silently across the room toward us.

"I know,” he said, raising a hand to receive one of the cups. "Light humor, angel."

"Fine," I said, moving over to sit opposite him in a rattan chair. "Five minutes, and then I have to get going."

"That's not very much," he said. "You sure you don't want more?"

"I'm not desperate, thanks," I said, ignoring the fact that I was a little low that week.

Irritation rose and the second cup found its way into my hand. If I worked today, I would have a free week until Monday, when another client would be flying in from out of town.

"Can you afford thirty minutes?" I said, noncommittally, avoiding his gaze. "I'll give you an hour," he said, leaning forward eagerly. "No strings attached."

I snorted into my cup with surprise. When I saw his impassive reaction, I had to convert the mistake into false bravado or else he’d start haggling.

“You always say that," I said.

I leaned back to the sound of wicker snapping in adjustment. Suddenly I grasped the weight of his sincerity. Could this be it? Would he finally ask me?

"Come on," he said, casting a meaningful glance at my bag on the door. “You know I can afford anything I want. Maybe you should stop leaving yourself lying around outside your body. It's not good for you, you know."

I rose to leave.

"What?!" he said, following me.

"Come on," he said, trying to take my hand. "We always get to this point and then you always balk at some irrelevant thing."

"I don't need you or your time, Mr. Wood," I said. His hand gripped my arm. But I was wearing a long sleeve shirt.

"It's not like you to throw so much time away," I said, turning to face him.

Our faces were inches apart. His eyes were bright. The first sparks of panic.

"Thirty years?" I said, forgetting to breathe, risking an attack. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

"You know how it is," he said, suddenly releasing me and slinking back to lean against the frame. "It's not everyday you see people leave their house, and a neighbour no less, and a female, and unmarried.”

That didn’t feel good. I realized I’d hurt him.

"I do it every day," I said, remembering I’d forgotten my purse. "No, you don't," he said.

His hand reached behind him and then my purse was dangling above my head.

“Give that to me,” I said, holding out my hand.

His eyes danced with mischievous delight. Something sultry waltzed into them and we were suddenly closer and too close.

"Not everyone figures time the same way as you," I snapped, and grabbed for the bag.

This made him laugh. My mind raced about what he could do if he figured out how to hack the item. I’d heard terrible stories of it happening. My mind lurched and I thought I would be sick. Faltering, I felt my knees lock and I thought I would slide down the doorframe like slow humiliated thrown jelly. Instead, Harvey pushed me against it with one hand and used the other to hoist my purse onto one of my shoulders. He leaned right in to whisper into my ear.

“So many ways, so many times,” he uttered softly. “I’ve seen us do so much in unending probable futures. If you could see what I see.”

It felt like he was speaking from inside me. However, the authenticity of his intention was questionable. Panic rose in me and I had to fight to prevent the call from going out. There was no way at all I could verify his claims, unless I did what he said and let him inside me to show me, and that would be handing him the real object: me. Not our future, but my future. I slipped out from under him. It was amazing he didn’t stop me when he practically had me right where he wanted me.

“No thanks,” i said, holding my purse tight. “Now, give me back my day or I’ll call the police.”

"Still," he said, amusedly. "Thirty years. You won't get that offer again anytime soon."

"How would you know?"

“Well,” he sighed. "I can see it, or didn't you remember?"

"It's no business of yours."

I caught the sound of neighbours watching us through keyholes.

"They just made it illegal, you know?" I said, lowering my voice. "You just can't share futures anymore."

"Fine," he said, suddenly moving back inside and shutting the door in my face.

I had a sense that he’d never done that to me before. My hands flew up in a flap, and I stormed off, getting lost on the multiple staircases on the way out. When I eventually got outside it was morning again, as if no time at all had passed since I’d been inside.

I argued silently on the way to and fro the store. Even though he could see the future didn't mean he could make it happen. Futures were probable and you had to avoid speaking about them or someone would change yours. That was the current number one cause of suicide in our society. Well... their society. I only spent a very small part of the day here. The rest of the time I was off-planet through the infinity window in my living-room. I was still grateful for my life, for my apartment. At least time didn't exist within the housing in this city, not like in most parts of the rest of the planet. The geig-out in the walls kept the entropy out.

Once home, with a chocolate cake in my purse, I left my body on the bed and went to the Favon system, to a little class-R planet I'd purchased a few months back. No intruders, no interruptions, no noise, just the peace of bubbling streams, tranquil trees and clean air. Having done no real exploring yet, I had yet to see any native wildlife, though I knew there would be nothing problematic. I had asked for only docile herbivores, melodious avians, etc, like the brochures suggested or promised. The estate agent had given me a guidebook when I’d signed the purchase contract but I couldn’t remember where it was. It wasn't time that was keeping me on earth. I just hadn't figured out how to make chocolate cake like the one in the shop yet.