Time laps

A time laps...

“This day again... As if life is not messy enough. Tonight we lose an hour of sleep. Again with annual spring madness... Why only an hour, huh? If our authorities had any power, they would jump us 100 years forward, just to pass a burden of paying our pensions onto the next generation of people.”

John was not your regular grumpy old man; he was SUPER grumpy. Everyone who knew him would rather not, and he was the definition of a frown. It was almost as if he had a rule, 3NF – as in “no fun, no friends, no family”.

“Actually, if I could move this stupid alarm clock for a hundred years instead of an hour, I'd bloody would myself!”

John also talked -well, grumbled- a lot. The old man kept on mumbling under his nose turning the knobs of an old alarm clock he refused to get rid of, no matter how annoyed it made him.

“I care about this day and age as much as it cares about me– freaking ZERO! Have there been God, devil, ANYTHING at all up above, they would have taken way better care of this stupid world, or at least take me away from it for good...”

It was as if John needed someone to bother, so he bothered himself with bickering and rants. Anything to politics from technology to the stupid dog constantly barking down the street; he hated it all with a burning passion. In about 10 minutes he finally grumbled himself to sleep, to wake up to old alarm clock rattling and another endless boring day...

Morning met him with pouring rain, that brightened John's mood– as now he could call local news studio to complain about their wrong forecast! But the day kept on getting more and more annoying– his cell phone lost connection, and internet too... Land line (yes, John was that old) had no signal as well. Scratching the back of his head, the old man was trying to remember... did he pay Rogers in time or not? Maybe a solar flare effected all communications in the area; we all know that those 'world's most expensive Canadian cell providers' are far from the most reliable ones. Old TV with antenna, that allowed John to angrily comment about the CBC broadcast for the last 30 years, was just as dead as the new one with satellite signal.

“Nothing is the way it used to be,” John roared, glaring as he smacked his knee. “One small flash on the sun and now I have to drive for 2 hours to town to talk to them cell people. Oh, they're so gonna get it from me!”

After some more complaining about eating cold breakfast, John was in his brand new F-350 and driving by the road, which was unpleasantly smooth and showed off bright divider lines. That obviously caused another angry comment from John, growling about wasteful tax money spent on side roads, for idiots driving city cars in a country county, instead of any other reason John could think of. In fact, he was so into choosing more important ways government money could be spent, he only realized something is wrong the moment he entered the town.

The place looked nothing like the town he grew up next to. The subdivision on the side of the city looked... old, even though during his last monthly grocery trip was not even completely sold out! Now the best description for brand new set of houses was: a dump. John threw only a couple looks at those abandoned roofs, ready to collapse. He sneered at the rest of the buildings; one desperately needed a new paint-job, causing John to chuckle at the modern builder's 'quality work'. But where did mature trees in front yards came from? Surely the government wasn't that stupid.

John looked back onto the road, only to slam the breaks and stare in disbelief. What happened to the gas station?! Some weird shop had replaced it, and it was about to experience a rage only John could produce. He parked the car, anger filling him to the brim as he marched up to the doors and swung them open. But once inside, he was suddenly attacked by two punks running towards him from behind a counter.

“Sir, sir, is that a real gas powered vehicle?” The younger one blurted, excitedly trying to peer at the car over John's shoulder.

“Sir, please explain to my idiot brother that it is absolutely impossible! All the gas vehicles were subject to mandatory destruction in the times of Greta Green Revolution.” The older one stated, as if it was old news. “After 30 years of destruction only handful survived, hidden by nostalgic owners or abandoned in remote location. Considering today's average price of them is five million dollars– it must be a high quality replica, with a normal fusion reactor! No one will drive into our dump of a place in a relic car that cost more that this entire ghost town!”

“Listen up you clowns!” I have no clue what kind of stupid game you're playing into, or what you two are on to be that high! I need 40 litres of regular gas, not your stupid jokes! And call me your manager, so I can tell him that his so called employees got high enough on a job to prank-”

John's passionate speech was interrupted by a man with long red hair tied into pigtails in a formal business suit (that somehow looked like it was made out of golden foil) appearing in front of him. It was as if the man had materialized out of thin air.

“Chang's Fusion FR Management Department is ready to listen to your claim, how may we help you today? For service in English, please reply in English. Pour service en Francais, s'il-vous-plait...”

The two brothers froze in shock, looking at hologram of the regional manager. John didn't know, but this man's appearance in a small store like theirs usually led to someone being fired. Or, miracles do happen and someone is promoted, though it is very unlikely (with a ratio of 10 000 to 1). But the appearance of a regional God didn't stop an old grumpy explosion, and John was ready to blow the roof off this place with anger.

“If I wanted to see a clown or cheap magical show I would go to the circus, not my gas station! You two computer pranksters want to piss me off even more, didn't you?! With your idiotic tricks with screens, your mirrors and golden Wendy labradoodle moron?! If I don't get my gasoline in 10 seconds, God help you boys as I am calling the police on you... you useless-”

Well, it was not John's day today- as if he didn't know it already! This time he was stopped by a new intruder. This one looked like Robocop crossbred with a fire hydrant.

“Everyone please remain calm. What is your emergency? In case of major emergency, our Fast Respond Team Orbital will arrive to you in about 9 and a half minutes! For false call, I will recite necessary financial responsibility requirements for next call.”

Younger salesmen was definitely in a state of shock, and start slowly hiding behind his older brother. Whether is was from the boss, the police cyborg or the crazy person yelling nonsense. Left face to face with all kind of trouble, the older brother tried to explain as calmly as he could.

“This gentlemen is driving a 20 century gas powered vehicle, that my brother mistook for a real one... when Timmy asked the client if it's real, he got very angry and requested gasoline...”

“What made you presume, that this gentlemen vehicle was original 20 century made?” Interrupted the manager hologram.

“It was not hovering, sir! It was actually rolling with wheels by the road surface!” Timmy squeaked from behind his brother shoulder.

“Is there an emergency situation that requires immediate police, fire, medic or armed forces response?” The Robocop figure demanded.

“No emergency, officer. Thank you for service officer. I guess this gentlemen has heard about my passion for old vehicle collecting, and decided to introduce his in an unconventional way. Tim, Bob– would you be so kind to provide this gentlemen with everything he is to ask on the house. I will return in an hour and I want this gentleman to still be here and be in good mood. If you do that, you will be promoted with a transfer to any North American location of your choice. If not, my suborbital flight will be deducted from your paychecks for the next 5 to 10 years. See you in an hour.”

The manager glanced towards the corner of the store where Robocop hologram dissipated into thin air.

“And next time, when a client enters your store without an implanted ID chip response, follow protocol 16BX5 before emergency response gets activated... You two are lucky; we had a lazy person at orbit response duty today, who overlooked it as well.”

John had watched all of this, and as his anger faded away, confusion stepped back to make way for fear. The old man suddenly noticed whole bunch of wrong around him... what he took for a new 3D video game commercial looked like hologram images of flying vehicles on sale. Warm soft light was coming not from light fixtures, but from the entire ceiling and even the walls...

“Where an I?” He asked, sternly but quietly. “What year is it?”

Six months later

John was going back to his house- well, actually not only to the house. He was hoping to actually go back today. It's doubtful that anyone knowing John would recognize him now. Well, before he would start talking. He looked about twenty years younger, but still was the same grumpy old man. Jumping a hundred years forward didn't improve his character or attitude towards the world. If he thought that he didn't fit into 2020, six month in 2120 proved it wasn't actually all that bad! The past months were crazy; he accidentally won a jackpot– his F-350 was sold at the auction proving enough money for DNA rejuvenation therapy. When Trenton, the manager, realized he hadn't been dealing with a replica, but a real 100 year old car in perfect shape, the one that was to be “destroyed on site” by “green warriors”... He honestly said him being a regular North American sales manager didn't have the money to buy it off John. But the offer to organize the auction among old car fans and earn a 10% profit was enough for an agreement.

Periodic sales of “antic”, pre-revolution era objects from his farm provided enough money to live a life of millionaire. John should have been ecstatic; he was living the dream of everyone in 2020. But... everything around him was wrong. Yes, that crazy magic therapy got him interested in girls again, and vice versa! But girls trying to video-call while making love killed it back pretty fast. Travelling around the globe without visas and airport lines- yes, amazing, a dream come true. Finding that no matter where you are in this world the beach looks the same both under water and above... Controlled rain every night, that ends up at 6 am in living areas and 10 am at agricultural.

There was a main problem that topped everything off; there was no one to talk to about anything at all. Two people in same room chatting via network, or whatever the crap that replaced it, but not face to face. The whole world that has nothing in common with him; it sent John back to the position of “I want to get away”...

And that is exactly what he was planning to do today. Maybe, he can even try to warn people about all the unnecessary troubles that await humanity in a next 100 years and make the transition to a new world, less painful and bloody. Viruses, wars... Fighting global warming that never came, destroying machines and everyone protecting them for decades. That lost sense of time the moment fusion reactors were invented...

Surprisingly, one hundred years later and Canada was still switching time back at fall, and today was the day... Same old alarm clock, same glass of bourbon before sleep- well, actually a bottle this time... Move the small arm back. Stupid old jamming crap! Turn more until he gets angry. There we go, everything is already going back to normal. Close your eyes and...

Jump out of bed, punch the clock for it to shut up, run to the car, drive out of the garage... No asphalt on the road? A horse buggy driving out of the neighbour farm? Screw than, drive to the town...

'Damn, and I wasn't happy with the glass smooth roads in 2120,' thought John as he nearly took a bite out of his tongue as his F-350 fusion powered replica jumped at another pothole. If the total absence of the road could even be called that... Ah, there's the familiar turn and... A sign hanging across the road.

“Welcome to 1920, The Fall Fair!”