ReWind

I met Katherine in a life different from my own. We both liked each other's dating profiles, both sport themed. I was impressed with her lovely legs, her right leg raised in mid-motion about to kick the football. That was a good photo.

During our first date, the connection was instant, despite her being an Arsenal fan. I wanted her badly at the end of the first night, but she did not feel the same. She only said, "You are a nice guy, but we are too different; I am looking for something more authentic."

On the second date, I ensured I was the one she sought by coming across as quote-unquote, authentic. I still have the notebook, which contained her sayings, what she liked and disliked, her hopes and dreams, and what she was looking for in a man. On the Third date, I ensured I came across as the man she was looking for. It worked.

This was the first time I realized how "helpful" Rewind could be!

What I liked most about that time before we moved in together was our playful fights about food. Katherine was a real foodie and talked about how her native Filipino dish was superior to all others. I am no nationalist, but if there is one nationalist sentiment I could tolerate is both football and food. Her passion for "Pancit Bihon" was infectious. I felt a loving satisfaction when her disapproving gaze came my way when I replied, “Pancit Bihon is overrated."

She never expected me to use Rewind on her.

She had her suspicions. Occasionally, she would say how I could "read her mind" and do what she wanted before she said anything. She said, "You're different," and "that I was the nicest person she had ever met ." Maybe she didn't want to know or didn't care to know. She enjoyed the life we led, even if there was no authenticity. Most relationships are artificial, constructions we make to satisfy each other. I just use time travel to do it.

Rewind, what we in the "Rewind community" call time travel, has been very useful.

A Rewind to scrub out of a one-night stand, A Rewind that saved me from a few embarrassing moments, and A Rewind to get my current job. Nothing serious. Though no rewinding for lottery ticket wins, apparently, that's "against the rules" and grants an "instant suspension" in the fine print of the contract.

Small price to pay for this. It took a while, and I mean a "while," to get the Rewind kit.

It is banned in most countries, except for Sweden. Not surprising being very liberal and all. I had to dig through most of my savings to get it and some back channels semi-illegit.

The Rewind is simple, can fit around your wrist, and looks like a regular watch if you pay little attention to it.

What helped me get it was the special privilege pass, being from an "ethnic minority background ." Some conspiracy stuff I read online was they wanted to use the "ethnic minorities" as guinea pig test subjects. Or so I have heard.

I didn't tell my mother about it; she would have stopped me if she knew.

"There could be side effects if you use it."

She's wrong, of course. The side effects are minimal. Every time I return, everything is as it was when I left. That is what matters.

My mum loves me in her distant way, sending me money when I need it when I think I don't, constantly ringing my phone in my absence. Work is my usual excuse. We had a connection, but She was not on my mind.

No

Pierre was on my mind most days. Pierre, the friend, and rival from the past, came to my present in my social news feed.

Our connection was that we were both athletes and training partners many years ago when we both did the 400 meters.

Pierre was an athletes athlete. He had great genetics, was disciplined, fast, and consistent; in the races I saw him, he showed up when it mattered. He was the best.

I was better than him

Before his rise, the younger me ran faster. The younger me had more talent. Browsing through our race data on the internet during our younger days confirmed it.

We practically looked alike. Same height, same leg length, same body type, and a similar face. Sometimes people mistake us for twins!

One Saturday evening, half drunk, browsing through his Wiki page, I saw his photo, his medals. It is like looking in a broken mirror; the face staring back at you should be you, it looks like you, but it isn’t you.

No, the other you, who is not you, is a National Champion, Junior World Champion, World champion, and Olympian. A 44 runner. The real you is an Administrative Manager, a meaningless job society pretends is useful.

Days and weeks, my mind replaying my youth; I was ahead of him in training, was better than him in every way, and made it look easy. ,

“Damn, your fast!”

He would say. A natural. All these things before I was not. With age, the body changes, but I didn’t change with it.

It was the food, yes, the food. Eating what I was not supposed to be eating. Weight gain turned me into a brick. Coach George scorned it. You need to eat less, focus, and not eat as much. Food was my weakness; it cost me my future and my past.

Yet I know so much now as an adult. What to eat, what not to eat, how to keep the weight low. Now I have access to information I could never dream of when I was younger.

I never Rewind that far back. It was almost 12 years ago. It was risky. The small print on the contract was, “not liable for extreme rewind, pursue at your own risk.”

The morning I left, Katherine suggested we continue our Friday night ritual of finishing a puzzle we had started to work on.

“Work issues” and “too tired” was the excuse I gave. She obviously, did not believe me but still went to her usual conciliatory tone by not asking too many questions. Guilt panged through as the apartment door swung shut.

Do what you have to do now, I told myself; Rewind for the puzzle later.

12 years back. 2011. Saturday morning. Winter. The ground not yet frozen.

I made my way to the old track. The nostalgia hit me, my spikes scraping the tarmac. The cold air pressed against my exposed face. Pierre, the younger Pierre, all kitted out, already there early and warming up.

“Alright, mate, you are early today.”

His smug face smiled back at me as he ran off the complete his drills. Not much of him had changed from the future. His sharp features were still present without the filters from his professional photos.

Not long after, Coach George arrived, stopwatch in hand, smelling of nicotine. No hello, no formalities, he just said

"5x500 meters go!"

When you Rewind, so does your body. My younger self moved quicker than before, lighter, and more agile. It was amazing! I chose this year for a reason, as this was the year I almost won the nationals. I placed 3rd then, but hopefully, it will be two places better this time.

After the first training that day, I returned to the old apartment where my mother and sister, and I lived at the time. Mum was on the night shift. Sis was already sleeping.

The fridge was empty. Usually, after a hard evening of training, my old younger self would go buy and down a whole pack of chocolate biscuits and a high-calorie pizza, as they were cheap and easy, but my new younger self knew better. So this time, the shopping bag had protein, rice noodles, small thin slices of pork, and carrots. I was gonna make the special overrated “Pancit Bihon" Katherine keeps banging on about. Real cooked dishes I should have been eating. This time I was going to do it right. Yes, every hour, every day, every week, I am going to do this right.

During the winter training season, I was still ahead of Pierre but much further than in my previous past. The times began to drop. The Goal was 44 seconds.

It started with 47 seconds, a month later 46, then 45.

Rewriting my own record books.

By the time the national championship came that late summer, my previous 3rd became 1 on the podium. At this point, I could have gone back to my own time, but world juniors were the following year, and I could not go back... My Rewind subscription fee was enough for me to continue.

10 months turned into 20 months. 45 became 44, World Junior championships in Tokyo ended with me as the champion of the 400m with a new junior record of 43.

Endorsement deals came, the acclaim came; my mother was finally proud. Pierre had moved on to a different group at this point. I had taken his place.

Back at 2023. I reached for the keys to my apartment, but they didn't fit the keyhole. This apartment is not mine. I checked my phone... for Katherine's number. Instead, in the phone book, I saw "girlfriend" I rang, and an unfamiliar voice replied,

"I will pick you up; at least you had the decency to call me this time."

Her car….my car….our car…. drove up beside me. In the driver's seat was, I think, the woman who spoke on the phone earlier. She was beautiful, though. Her kind yet tired eyes looked up at me, expression blank.

"What are you doing all the way in Kent? Actually, I don't want to know. Took me hours to drive up from London to get to you" London? I guess I….we live there now.

"Your mum called. She has been worried sick; you know, you need to call her more often."

I noticed the image on my phone screen was different. Instead of Katherine and me, it was me, someone who looked like me, but with an Olympic medal on my neck, on the podium with two other athletes I did not recognize. No, Katherine. There were seven missed calls from Mum, but I didn't ring back. Instead, I sent her a text,

"Miss you, mum, will talk soon."

………...

We searched for him everywhere. The police knows nothing; instead, they would inform us if we had any leads. His sister keeps calling me every week. Saying she might have new information. At least she is still optimistic. He has been gone for almost three years now. They say suicide. I don't think so. He was fine when I saw him last. He was tired, yet he was in good spirits. I am sure he was. I know him. But did I ever really know him? They say sometimes, the happiest people are the most suicidal.

Sometimes people you know the most intermittently, that you think they will never leave, just disappear. His mother was on the phone with me yesterday; she is a wreck.

“Katherine, did he say anything to you?” She will ask over and over and over again.

As usual, I don’t say anything; I just listen.

I have noticed while researching that many people of his description are also missing. Many vanish for no reason, no motive.

I will have to move out of the apartment tomorrow. The place makes me uneasy like it is haunted. I’m not sure I am ready to move on, but this is a first step. Boxes of his things have been packed, littering the doorway.

The night of the move, I ring his number one last time. Even after three years, it still rings, and every three years, no answer. So instead, I send the same text.

“We are waiting for you.”