Thirty-Three Seconds

"What if I and 'me' were in the zone?"

The nurse ghosted me. The only woman in my 35 years who had seen me naked, Still, she never said a word to me. She must find me repulsive. Stupid flimsy gowns, you can't hide a boner in them. Well, if everything worked out and I landed those two million bucks, maybe she'd look at me in a whole new light.

"What if I screw up?" I wondered aloud, scanning the room for any changes, a habit I picked up few days after I signed for this crazy scientist project seven weeks ago. It looked like a tiny hospital room. The bed was uncomfortable, I thought to myself as I slipped out of it, the leather squeaking against my bare butt, still, better than crashing on the floor.

"What if I died?" I asked again as I stepped onto the scale, curious if that would elicit a response from her. A faint smile appeared on her face as she jotted down my weight. It was the first time I saw any reaction from her—was she pleased by the idea?

"I think you're ready," she said, heading to the door. "Ready?" I asked, but she was already gone.

I pinched the flesh around my middle. I was already skinny when I arrived, but seven weeks of their "diet plan" had turned me into skin and bones. "Ready," I muttered this time, the word bitter on my tongue now that thing were finally getting serious.

My thoughts wander to that evening; a sheet was stuck beside the eviction notice on my door. I grabbed it, noticing "invitation" printed at the top. As I stepped inside and unfolded it, my heart almost skipped a beat as I read:

"SELECTED CANDIDATE FOR CLASSIFIED SCIENTIFIC TRIAL Compensation: $2,000,000 You have been chosen based on specific criteria:

• No immediate family connections
• No social interactions
• Low probability of being missed if complications arise

"Two million bucks?" My eyes widened in disbelief. "Classified? Trial?" My voice grew quieter as memories of past scams resurfaced. I tossed the paper aside, cursing the world.

I couldn't catch a wink that day. I purchased a boat, sailed away, and met the woman of my dreams. I raked in millions, not just 10 or 25, but 50, as I traded crypto coins. I kept dreaming and dreaming until a cockroach crawled up my leg, jolting me awake and sending me into a frenzy trying to squash it.

And now, here I am, in this room, about to try something that could kill me. The money wasn't worth it, but what if I succeeded? What if I could undo what happened to my brother, change the past?

***

The next day I was called to the boss's office, the office screamed money - polished wood and leather chairs worth more than my old apartment. It didn't make me forget the speech I rehearsed all night though, but when the scientist boss walked in, the air chilled. Even his assistance stood straighter beside him.

"I-I'm not doing it," I managed to say. "There has to be another w-way. I won't be your lab r-rat."

He didn't react. Instead, he pulled out my phone from a drawer and placed it on his desk.

"This is yours, correct?" His voice was soft. "For fifty-three days, no one has called. No texts. No voicemails." He leaned forward. "In this life, you are nobody. But we're offering you the chance to be somebody important."

I stared at my phone, trying to ignore the truth in his words.

"Fortune has finally favored you, yet you remain clueless. Take a look around—this multi-billion-dollar project, hundreds involved, but none will be acknowledged or remembered," he went on. "But you? You'll be remembered for eternity. The first person to journey into the past. Saving your brother is just a bonus compared to what's in store for you; you'll be the next Neil Armstrong." He paused, smiling, his voice growing animated. "That's one small step for man..."

He waited, expecting me to finish.

"I don't know," I mumbled, feeling my face heat up.

He approached and gripped my shoulders firmly. "You do, yes you do," he insisted, clenching down before exiting his office.

I found myself grinning at his assistant as she walked out. All that planning, all those rehearsed lines—gone, hidden behind this silly smile. Why? Because I didn't want to seem foolish in front of them.

And now, two days later, I'm climbing into this capsule, still wondering, who on earth is Armstrong?

***

The guidelines were straightforward, even though they had been outlined to me during the first week. The lead scientist, a stern woman in her fifties with steely gray hair, reiterated them as she assisted me in fastening a device that resembled a watch.

"You have exactly thirty-three seconds before we…" she took a few seconds then continued, "lets say, pull you back," she said, adjusting the device on my wrist. "Not thirty-four, not even thirty-three point one. When that timer hits zero, you must be back within the six-by-six feet zone you… lets say, landed on."

"Since your DNA was used to, let's say, tag you, only you can make the trip. thus, your past self shouldn't be in the zone when the timer hit zero, as you both share identical DNA. Now, we will be sending you back twenty-five years, which is the maximum we can handle."

"Any questions?" she asked, finally looking up at me.

"Y-yes," I stuttered. "What if me was with me and you p-pulled me, what would happen?"

"33 seconds, Good luck," she replied, and the capsule door closed with a hiss.

I closed my eyes, focusing on my plan. It had to work. I'd find my ten-year-old self and make him understand. Keep your eyes on our brother, I'd tell him. Don't let Dad near him. Don't leave him alone, not even for a minute. If you lose him, if you let Dad... everything goes to shit. Your life becomes pills, therapists who don't believe you, and nights staring at the ceiling wondering if you could have done something different.

Suddenly, the machine powers up. I close my eyes, feeling reality twist like a wet towel being wrung out. When I open them, I'm standing in my old bedroom. The dinosaur nightlight still works, casting shadows across my Star Wars posters. On the bed, my ten-year-old self reads comics by flashlight.

It worked. Holy shit, it actually worked. The timer on my wrist starts counting down from 33.

My moment of triumph is cut short when young-me in his bed, looks up from his comic book, eyes widening in terror at the sight of a strange man suddenly appearing in his room. The comic book drops from his trembling hands. Before he can scream, I rushed to him, my hands raised in a calming gesture.

"Don't yell," I whisper. "I know this sounds crazy, but I'm you - from the future. Look at my face." I pulled the flashlight from his hand and pointed at my face, the boy's almost passed out though.

"Hey, hey, listen to me," I said, gripping his shoulders. The words spilled out. "Our life - I mean my life - your future life becomes shit. I sleep on the floor, alone. No one, not a single person, cares if I live or die. No family, no friends." My voice cracked. "Look at me. Thirty-five years old and still a v-virgin, all because of him. Because of Dad."

I looked over at the bed where my brother - our brother - was asleep. Seeing him there made my heart ache. "Soon - it could be hours, days, or even weeks from now - you're going to lose him. And everyone will point fingers at you. No one will believe the truth, that it was dad who took him. Mom will start despising you, and dad will convince her that I'm insane. Then they’ll shove pills down your throat, pills that erase all your memories."

My voice broke as I stared at my brother's sleeping form, trying to memorize his face in the dim light. A face I'd long forgotten. "You'll forget his name, his face. All those memories of growing up together... they just fade away until there's nothing left but this... this hole inside you."

Young-me's face pales. "Plea-"

"Watch over your brother," I cut in, glancing back at him. "Never trust Dad. Don't ever leave him with Dad. Got it?

Peep

Ten seconds. My wrist device starts its countdown warning.

"Save him."

Peep

"I need to return now," I said, tears falling as I gazed at him.

Peep

"Dad?"

The voice from behind provoked a shiver along my spine, the cadence of one newly roused.

Peep

"My neck creaked like a door in a horror movie as I turned, my eyes growing wide, then darted my gaze between the two boys."

"SSSHHit," the word hisses through my clenched teeth like air escaping a tire.

"Shit, shit shit shittt,"

Peep

"Who the hell-" The boy I'd been talking to jumped from his bed, shouting. Instinctively, I ran after him, catching him at the door and trying to quiet him as thundering footsteps echoed nearby.

Peep

"Please, you must trust me," I rushed my words.

Peep-peep-peep

The zone, my mind screams, forget the boy. I ran to the zone, facing the other clueless boy, "Tell him everything I said and"

Peep-peep-peep

"Take care of each other," I said, standing in the zone, my blood turning to ice as I finally - clearly - saw the boy on the bed. Then pain exploded across my back, white-hot and sudden,

Peeeeeeeeeeeeep

Reality twisted like a wet towel being wrung out. The capsule door split open with a hiss. I stayed crouched, eyes squeezed shut, arms protecting my head, still expecting another blow from behind. The something glass shattered nearby.

The laboratory was eerily quiet. I dropped my arms and cautiously opened my eyes. The usually silent nurse was motionless, the stern scientist with the steel-gray hair had her hand covering her mouth. Suddenly, the boss stormed into the laboratory, his voice cracking as he demanded, "Who the hell is this?" I checked myself, wondering if something odd had happened to me, then it hit me—they weren't looking at me.

I looked behind, he stood there—the boy. His shaking hands clutched a baseball bat, and tears silently flowed down his cheeks.

"I want my mommy…" he whimpered.