Tuesday, 15 September 2015


We've all done it. That moment when we are staring into the middle distance and we think "I'm gonna remember the date and time, and if they ever invent time travel, I'm coming back to this moment." This is often followed by a pause to await potential chronal arrivals. As far as I know, this has never borne fruit. I certainly would have laughed at any who claimed it. At least up until about half an hour ago.

I was watching a movie in my lounge when I just zoned out and started playing with my phone. A glance at the date and time triggered the familiar thought process. I chuckled and continued watching the movie. Suddenly, my phones tones rang out. With everything I had been thinking a couple of seconds earlier, this succeeded in momentarily scaring the shit out of me.

It was a number I didn't recognize, more digits than I expected, and one of them was...off. I don't know,  I think it was an 8 but it made my brain itch.  Curiosity at this point would have killed me if I hadn't answered the phone. I heard breath on the line, but nothing was coming for a couple of seconds.

Me: Hello?

?: Matt, is that you? 

Me: This is Matt, who is this?

?: Fuck me, it worked. Look I'm not gonna get much time. I'm you.

Me: ...what?

?: Look, in the very near future some really bright sparks are gonna work out how to send signals back. Look, we need to speed this up. You ask me to prove it, I recite the name of every stuffed toy you've ever kept, you say that's not enough, I then list every girlfriend you've ever had, including Anita Wright, the one you didn't tell anyone about. You freak out for a couple of seconds, but we need to get to the part where you start listening to me.

I went cold. I hadn't told anyone about Anita. There was not other explanation. He sounded like me. Talking to him was confusing and comfortable at the same time. In the background I started to hear shouting and a what sounded like something heavy hitting wood.

?:I didn't want to make this call, because of everything it triggers, but I realise that I don't have a choice. You have to get out. Get out of the city, away from civilization, away from other people. It's all about to go to shit, and -

The hammering in the background rose to a crescendo and the voices became clear rapidly approaching our conversation.

?:Get the fuck away from me, you psychos. You killed millions. We can fix it with this, just give me a chance-

He was cut-off mid-sentence. I could hear choking, gurgling noises and I realised he was being strangled. It can take a long time for some to die from strangulation. At least it felt long. He (I?) finally succumbed and there was silence. I heard the receiver get picked up. A clipped British accent resonated down the line.

?:Are you still there?

Me:...yeah, what the fuck is going on?

?: Pay no mind to this. Forget this call. Move on. 

Me:You expect me to just forget this?

?: Well, if you can't I guess I'll be seeing you soon. Good Luck.

The line went dead. I sat in a state of shock for a couple of minutes, trying to process what I had just experienced. On a whim, I tried to dial back the number. All I got was the front-desk of some university. It was answered by a bubbly receptionist. She seemed nice.

This brings us to the alleged present. Where do I go from here?
What do I do?

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