Using daily prompt words I'll be writing an ongoing serial, to be compiled into a short story. Join me on my time-travel journey!
I'll update every day. The beginning is at the bottom!
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56
(Obstreperous)
Above the obstreperous cacophony of chaos following the attack I heard my mother and father comforting a terrified young me in Swedish.The words rang out like bells, soothing my dying, racing heart.
Making eye contact with myself I smiled, knowing we three were safe.
55
(Multifarious)
The cold metal smacked my palm, as I flipped the gun, aiming it at my grandfather’s face. I thought maybe he recognized me right before the bullet hit him.
Even as my light was fading I could feel the multifarious strings of time and space reorganizing.
54
(Archeological)
The mind does funny thinking when you know you’re dying. Would the bullet remain, once I disappeared? An archeological treasure for a kid walking to school, perhaps.
It hit me instead of my family, but my work there was not finished. I lunged for the gun.
53
(Finity)
The problem was finity. This’d be my only trip to ‘84 so it had to be a success and I had about 2 minutes left to make it thus. Soon I’d disappear to the future.
In slow motion the assassin pointed the gun at my family. I heard the shot.
I stepped in front of it.
52
(Negative)
Every negative emotion was resting on my heart. My grandfather tried to kill childhood me, and then had to let me live in his house for the next decade: No wonder he was constantly grumpy.
I needed to pull it together quick, and stop the past before it happened.
51
(Metric)
I felt as though I’d been kicked in the gut by a metric ton. My grandfather had orchestrated the murder of my parents. He killed his own daughter.
In slow motion I watched the hitman draw his weapon.
Was I meant to have been one of the targets?
50
(Set)
“Grow a set, and do what you’ve been paid to do!” Grandfather spat.
He was huddled in the shadows with a shadow, who stepped into the light - revealing my parents’ murderer-to-be.
My father exited the diner first, holding the door for Mamma and young me.
49
(Permute)
Before I open my eyes I touch my face, arms, and heart to ensure time travel hasn’t permuted my being. Cold air bites my ears, which pick up my grandfather’s voice.
Grandfather wasn’t there the night my parents were killed.
At least we didn’t know he was.
48
(Transitive)
In the swift breath of transitive movement I see my life running through my head; a flickering, old-timey movie. Things I’d forgotten and some I wish had remained hidden forever. I feel suspended, twisted, empty-full, and then I am there.
11/14/1984.
7:13PM.
47
(Existential)
My entire life has been one giant existential crisis. I’m taking things into my own hands. Literally. I grasp the syringe, flick the tip of the needle, and take a breath.
“Wish me luck,” I plead with my cat.
He just licks his own butt.
1984, here I come.
46
(Quantity)
The vials I stole from the lab taunt me. They know what a delicate balance mixing them will be. The wrong quantity of any of the little glass containers could seal the doom of many.
Schrödinger’s whiskers twitch. He purrs, as I pray I measured correctly.
45
(Triangle)
If I’m going to do this I need to move quickly, before I talk myself out of it. To allow for any unknowns I’m going to arrive a few minutes before my parents’ killer does. I should still have time to stop him. First step: Triangulate the date, time, and place.
44
(Commute)
It’s funny to think that my commute for the business at hand will be both nonexistent and incalculably long. I’ll say goodbye to my cat, do the injection, and arrive 36 years ago within a nanosecond.
I feel my courage wavering.
43
The serum’s formula was built using morphism. The chemicals are always the same, with nearly immeasurable differences to jostle the frame of time and place. I need to be in San Francisco before 7:18pm on November 14, 1984. I only have enough supplies for one trip.
42
(Group)
I just need 24 hours to regroup. I’ll mix the serum, spend time with Schrödinger(he’s been an excellent cat, and might end up with someone else this time around. Who’m I kidding? He’ll end up with someone else), and brush up on my Swedish. Then back to 1984.
41
(One)
One thing is becoming crystal clear to me: I’ve got nothing to lose. If I go back in time, and I fail, at least I won’t spend the rest of my life wondering if I could’ve changed my life’s trajectory.
Wondering is a form of torture I can no longer stand.
40
(Zero)
I question my sanity. What if going back negatively alters something in space-time continuum? Saving two lives could make endless tendrils of change. Should I just sell the serum for an amount with a lot of zeros?
What price do you put on your family’s lives?
39
(Complex)
My plan may sound insane to you. You might be thinking, “Why time travel? Why not just get some therapy?” The answer is this: Inventing something so complex is not nearly as complex as my yearning for a version of the past where my parents survived.
38
(Field)
My mother was a wonderful teacher, my father a scientist — which was originally why I’d chosen the field. As I studied I couldn’t shake the concept of time travel. The idea that my parents could be saved by me, while young me watches is too tempting to resist.
37
(Vector)
My stay in the mid-1980’s will last mere seconds if planned well enough (in truth I’ve allowed it to fill nearly all my brain’s real estate since first conceiving the idea). Once the vector sting of serum enters my blood I’ll quickly be off to the races.
36
(Genus)
One thing which must be taken into consideration is the length of your stay in the past. Traveling through time without a planned exit is like spelling Genius without the “i”: It’s still functional, but probably won’t function in the way you’ve intended.
35
(Torus)
Moving from present to past, and back to present is like a theme park water slide, as a torus. Movement happens within a nanosecond, but if slowed down you’d feel the left to right pull. Too many trips in succession might give a killer case of motion-sickness.
34
(Manifold)
If the combination of ingredients are incorrect, the time machine is broken. It’s not like having a cracked manifold, where you’ll still more or less keep up with the car club. This machine goes straight into your veins, and must not be in need of a tune-up.
33
(Topology)
One of my fears is inaccurate survey of vector field topology. When time and space collide, they make an angular shape. Time’s section is roughly 9/12ths the length of space. If inaccurately calculated you may arrive back in time not entirely whole, if at all.
32
(Iff)
I lied. If anyone —the scientist, investors, et al— guessed the truth they wouldn’t have given me a dime, nor the time of day. But I sold it. They bought my time travel spiel; hook, line, and sinker. Here’s the deal: No one will remember it iff my plan’s a success.
31
(Logic)
Many would insist time travel doesn’t make sense. Applying logic to something so historically abstract boggles the logical mind. It’s the stuff of fiction and fancy, and rightfully belongs there, they’d say.
Well, they’re dead wrong.
30
(Epsilon)
A few scientists knew I was on to something big, but bowed to the pressure to behave like I was naught but a quack.
Though I often refer to it as “The Serum”, it has a name. The head of my dept said it had just above no chance. I named it Epsilon.
29
(Calculus)
It’s not as simple as even calculus. It’s its own beast of accounting, born of late nights and more error than trial. I’ll always feel the weight of the test animals they insisted we use. The early trials sent many to the past to not return. They’re still out there.
28
(Number)
You see, it’s really a complicated game of numbers. The ingredients are identical for every trip, but the measurements change the amount of time you’re gone for and where you’ll end up. Too much of one thing might send you minutes, years, or miles off track.
27
(Math)
Although the formula was mostly my invention I required a mathematician’s help on the calculations. I wanted to get the timing as precise, as possible. I didn’t want to expect to land in the 1980’s and find myself in, say, the 1880’s, instead.
26
(Agape)
And yet. My soul has had a mile-wide hole right in the middle of it my entire life. If traveling back to that night affords me the agape love I’ve been missing from my mother and father I don’t really give a lab rat’s a$$ whether I remember it, or not.
25
(Paper)
On paper the it looks simple: Plunge the serum into a subject, who disappears for a programmed amount of time. The truth is it has the potential to be quite a bit more complicated. Upon return, any actions they performed will have rearranged the present.
24
(Hero)
I’m not trying to be a hero. This life has not been an easy one. I just want the chance to have an existence where my parents survived, and I wasn’t raised by my bitter, cold grandfather. Although, if all goes well I’ll never know the difference.
(Iridescent)
Iridescent tears of joy flowed freely, dampening my cheeks. Oh, who am I kidding? It was sweat. I was sweating buckets in anticipation of giving the serum-MY serum-my effing-time-effing-travel-effing-serum another try.
This time using my own veins.
22
(Nostalgia)
Nostalgia has invaded my thoughts.
Schrödie survived the injection, and his trip to and from yesterday. He ate the tuna (it’s the first thing I checked, after his kitty pulse).
I’m thinking of my mother’s perfume, my father’s kind smile, and seeing them alive, again.
21
(Phobia)
My wife had feline phobia, which is one reason I no longer have one. A wife, I mean.
My love for Schrödingpur should tell you how much I believe in the serum. The cat’d been whining for the open can of tuna since yesterday. He was about to go back there for a bite.
20
(Exorcism)
I’ve been obsessed with the concept of time travel, since I was a child. Almost immediately after watching their execution I was possessed by the goal of finding a way to preemptively save my parents. Even an exorcism wouldn’t clear my mind of this demon.
19
(Nectar)
I pulled out of the lot, waving at the attendant in his plexiglass booth; as I had probably a thousand times, when I used to work there.
I’d actually gotten away with it.
On the way home I stopped for my idea of nectar of the gods: a 16-oz cherry Slurpee.
18
(Galaxy)
This is how it would end. I would get caught, AFTER successfully sneaking in AND out of the lab, AND having a run-in with security while in the process of stealing from my ex-coworkers. Because I couldn’t remember where I parked. A galaxy of cars taunted me.
17
(Dinosaur)
Crenshaw’s a dinosaur. God knows how he’s still employed as lab security. Not terribly intelligent, either.
“I’m leaving. Just had to fill out a little paperwork.”
I saluted him and left the building, smuggling my future (and hopefully my past) in my pockets.
16
(Poem)
Time to skedaddle. Reports tucked under my coat, vials in my pockets, I nearly made it when the guard,Crenshaw stepped in my path.
“Got a poem for ya. One-a those whatchucallits? Highkews:
What’re ya doin’
Better leave right now dumba$$
You don’t belong here.”
15
(Schism)
As the schism grew, I felt like I was peddling in place, barely treading water. Any support I had, financial or otherwise, dried up quickly once that coward,Dr. Foley, told everyone I was crazy.
Well, I’m not crazy: Time travel is possible.
Their freaken loss.
14
(Empathy)
I’ve got big plans. My empathic nature fuels my drive. If the serum can take a human being to yesterday, there’s already a possibility that it can take us back two years, to save Dr. Jenkins’ baby from cancer, and even further: to save my parents lives,in 1984.
13
(Ostracize)
I knew my time at MayCorp was short, once ostracization began.Not outright hostile, but obvious, nonetheless.Within weeks I was out.
Now I was back, and more ready than ever to continue my experiments.
First I had to get out of the building without being caught.
12
(Pandemic)
My coworkers found issues with time travel. Some were worried about ethical implications, or scrambling the space-time continuum. It was never my plan to make it available to just anyone.
Imagine what could be prevented: murders, illnesses, even pandemics.
11
(Anathema)
I found lab culture to be anathema: competitive and secretive. I didn’t need to be called “Old Sport” over cigars, but having a conversation without second-guessing the motive would’ve been nice. That’s one part of my new adventure, about which I’ll not complain.
10
(Chronicle)
I kept my head down and acted like I belonged. Oldest trick in the book. “Get in and get out,” I reminded myself.
My plan was to swoop through the lab without pausing, pocketing vials of the serum I designed, and snagging my chronicle of time travel experiments.
9
(Sycophant)
I thought Dr. Jenkins (damn sycophant) saw me, but I guess he didn’t recognize me, as I wasn’t legally supposed to be there. I may have caused some problems when I was dumped from the staff. When I’ve perfected the serum I’ll visit that day to fix my reputation.
8
(Ocean) I am masquerading as one in a swarm of scientist krill; fedora pulled low, deactivated work badge around my neck. This ocean is is full of sharks in white lab coats, but if I focus on stealing the time-travel serum and getting out my life raft is waiting.
7
(Charisma) Once investors were gone, so was my welcome. I was asked to clear my desk the next day, but included some serum in my moving box. A few trips back in time had depleted my supplies so a lab visit was in order. I prayed charisma would get me past the guards.
6
(Xenophobic) I see wild eyes every night when mine close:Those of the addict who killed my parents.
Their English was not terrific, and the panic switched their speech to Swedish, pushing some kind of xenophobic button; sealing Mamma & Pappa’s fate.
5
(Orphan) My new, confused acquaintance went on his way, assuring me that yesterday-him was inebriated enough to not remember assaulting today-him.
5
(Orphan) My new, confused acquaintance went on his way, assuring me that yesterday-him was inebriated enough to not remember assaulting today-him.
The serum worked, as predicted!
A bit more tinkering & I’d be able to travel to my childhood to prevent becoming an orphan.
4
(Pachyderm) “I went to yesterday! How...?” “What happened to you?” A nice day-old shiner sat where one hadn’t been, all blue-grey&wrinkled, like a pachyderm
3
(Aesthetic) I admire my watch’s steampunk aesthetic. 3:12. Almost 2 minutes to go.
4
(Pachyderm) “I went to yesterday! How...?” “What happened to you?” A nice day-old shiner sat where one hadn’t been, all blue-grey&wrinkled, like a pachyderm
3
(Aesthetic) I admire my watch’s steampunk aesthetic. 3:12. Almost 2 minutes to go.
I’d adjusted the serum to 5 minutes: Enough for my test subject to wonder what the hell was happening and hopefully not enough to alter space-time continuum.
5:00
“The f*ck was that?!”
Bingo
2
(Heretic) To such depths I’ve been reduced: Paying a stranger to be my guinea pig.
2
(Heretic) To such depths I’ve been reduced: Paying a stranger to be my guinea pig.
Once I was deemed heretical by the science community all funding ceased, but I KNOW this is possible.
When the guy I stuck with that needle gets back from yesterday I’ll have my proof.
1
(Skeptic)
Found two guys having a smoke behind the diner. “Wanna make an easy 50?” 1squashed his cig and went inside. A skeptic. “What I gotta do?” the other asked. “This.” I held up the needle. He pocketed the cash and rolled up his sleeve. Picking a vein, I gave the injection. He disappeared.
1
(Skeptic)
Found two guys having a smoke behind the diner. “Wanna make an easy 50?” 1squashed his cig and went inside. A skeptic. “What I gotta do?” the other asked. “This.” I held up the needle. He pocketed the cash and rolled up his sleeve. Picking a vein, I gave the injection. He disappeared.
