The Carson Effect

“But what kind of music is most popular?”

I’m not really sure how to answer this, because I don’t really listen to that kind of music in my older age. “I don’t know, pop music?”

“So, we’re listening to the same music that we are now?”

“I mean, I guess.”

“Well, who’s the president?”

“Donald Trump.”

“Seriously? That attention hog that is always in the news with the terrible haircut and ugly gold buildings?”

“Yep, same guy.”

“Wow, we must have lost some serious war to be in such a crappy future.”

It occurs to me that we have not really progressed in the future of the year 2025. These people I’m talking to in 1995 don’t really believe I’m from the future. It doesn’t really help that I can’t exactly prove it. “Not really. We didn’t lose any wars, actually. In fact, we started some wars.”

“So, do cell phones actually get smaller?”

“No, in fact, they get bigger.”

“Bigger? Why?”

“We use phones to watch videos and check our social media.”

“Our what?” I keep forgetting, social media didn’t become a thing until the mid-2000’s.

“We use our phones to open up an application that shows what our friends are doing.” I mean, that’s what they were originally intended for. Now, our social media is only used to spew ignorance and sell advertising space.”

“Wait, people give their real names to other people online? And then you spy on them? Isn’t that dangerous?”

I definitely remember a time when we were told not to give out personal information on the internet. It’s amazing how much of our personal lives we give out to a wide open network.

“These phones, do they still make phone calls?”

“Well, yes. But nobody really uses their phone for that purpose.”

“So, why do you still call them phones?”

The technology was revolutionary. In what was an attempt to open up childhood memories for the purposes of therapy, the company Dygonine actually unlocked the human ability to travel backwards in time. Humans had always had the undiscovered ability to change their timelines, just like the ability to see, hear, feel, smell, and taste.

While developing technology to open up repressed memories, a scientist named Dr. Gilbert Carson working with Dygonine had been doing an MRI on a patient when they discovered a section of our brain that was firing neurons into empty gray matter. In a risky exploratory surgery, this scientist also discovered that this part of the brain had no outlet to the temporal lobe. Without knowing precisely what it would do, Dr. Carson advised the surgeons to connect this small discovery to the temporal lobe. When the patient woke up, he didn’t feel that much different. But he did keep referring to his son’s 4th birthday party, which was a year and a half ago. We initially thought it was memory loss, since the man had brain surgery. Instead, he was recollecting specific memories (like the color of shirt he was wearing, and the color of the wrapping paper on his son’s gifts).

Just as soon as the patient was wheeled into his recovery room, his wife and now 5 1/2 year old son walk into the room to greet him. Everyone is happy, and the recovery looks to be on track.

Dr. Carson is less enthused. I was his protege, and brought me to meet the patient after the surgery was over.

“Matthew, we need to talk about this patient. Something isn’t right.”

This was strange seeing as how the patient was clearly doing well, and he was surrounded by family. “Dr. Carson,” I ask, as we leave the hospital room. “What’s the matter?”

“When the patient checked in, he had no emergency contact. He listed no dependents. He claimed a “widowed” marital status. And now he has a wife and son. I don’t understand this.”

This was puzzling to me as well. Could he have been lying? Could this man have risked his life for a surgery that could have killed him, and leave his wife and son without a husband and father?

Weeks pass, and we’re still no closer to a real answer. The patient has tried to explain what the issue is, but he swears he wrote the paperwork information down correctly. He seems willing to try and helps us and provide answers, but he’s not really sure what happened.

“Dr. Carson, I think I should have the surgery.” I say, mostly bluffing to get a reaction, but also because something happened after the surgery, and I want to know.

“Out of the question, Matthew. You’re one of the brightest young minds I’ve ever known. We’re not risking that brain for a wild experiment.”

“Doctor, something happened to our patient when opening up his Carson’s Area.” Scientists thought it only fair to name the area of the brain we discovered after Dr. Carson. It was the least they could do.

“I know that, but why does it have to be you?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I know what we’re studying, I know what outcome we’re seeking, and if I experience what happens first hand, I will be able to better explain it.”

“But Matthew, if you damage your brain, all of your work will be lost forever.”

“Maybe, but at least you’ll have the answer for the future.”

Surgery has always been nerve-wracking for me. The thought of being under anesthesia and having zero control of my body as its being operated on, the feeling of knowing that when you come out of it, you’ll be groggy and doped up. The fact that some people that have died and been resuscitated say that it’s a lot like going under anesthesia, where you don’t see black, you don’t feel anything, you just don’t exist. Oh, and this time, they’re operating on my brain.

“Say the alphabet backwards.” My anesthesiologist had a sense of humor. Jokes on him, I’ve been practicing since I was in second grade.

“Z, Y, X, W, V, U, T, s…. "

Tyler had been asking me for weeks. “When are you getting that tattoo, dude?”

I had always wanted a tattoo of my favorite band, Pink Floyd. The prism from the album Dark Side of the Moon. “I don’t know, I’m kind of afraid of needles. And I don’t do well with pain.”

This, of course, does not sit as well with Tyler, who is covered in tattoos. “Come on, dude, it doesn’t hurt that much.”

“I’m telling you, I’m horrible with pain. I’m really not sure I want to go through with this.”

Tyler was always a sort of negative influence on me. “I swear, you’re afraid to live.”

He was right. I always preferred safety. No tattoos, no piercings, no skydiving. Never did drugs, never drank, I was always the kid that avoided pain as much as possible. Just as I’m about to go home, Tyler grabs my arm. “Just think, a life-long testament to the greatest band ever. Right here, immortalized forever. You’ve always wanted this, why not make it happen?

I’m not sure why, but this is what finally convinces me that I want to live a little. Every thought in my brain is telling me to run away, but just this once, I think I want to override my own brain. “Okay. Let’s make this happen.”

He did it. He got the most stubborn, allergic-to-pain guy he’s ever known to get a tattoo. And boy, they weren’t kidding about the pain. Holy moly, this is probably the most painful thing I’ve ever felt. I regret making this choice. Why didn’t I listen to myself 20 minutes ago.

However, 20 minutes was all it took. A few needle jabs, some unabated torture, and voila. A triangular prism with a rainbow shooting out of it. It’s truly a work of art. Now that it’s all said and done, I’m actually really proud of this, and I can’t wait to show everyone.

“Hi Matthew, you’re doing great. The surgery was a success, you’re in the recovery room right now.”

Whoa, that was strange. I don’t think I’ve ever had a dream while under anesthesia. It takes me a couple of hours to finally feel like I’m awake.

“Glad to see we didn’t completely ruin your brain.” Dr. Carson wasn’t without his charm. It was good to see him while I was waking up. I was ready to get to work, but he insisted that we can wait until I’m at least up and walking again.

“Dr. Carson, how common is it for people under anesthesia to have dreams?”

“I don’t know, Matthew, I’m not that kind of doctor. What dream did you have?”

“Well, I dreamt that I got a tattoo of the Dark Side of the Moon prism. I felt the pain and everything. It’s no wonder I’ve never gotten a tattoo.”

Dr. Carson was immediately perplexed. “What do you mean never gotten a tattoo?”

I was starting to get worried. “You know, how I hate needles and pain?”

Dr. Carson got out his notebook and started writing something down really quickly. “Matthew, raise up your left sleeve for me.”

I didn’t know what this was about, until it revealed itself. A slightly-faded, clearly aged, triangular prism with a rainbow shooting out of the other side.

How is this possible? Did I somehow alter the past? That dream had to mean something. I got a tattoo in that dream, then it appeared. Interestingly enough, I remember having a conversation with my friend Tyler, and specifically not getting one for my fear of pain. Why do I have two separate memories of this event? Well, clearly something changed, because I now have this 10-year-old tattoo on my left arm.

“Dr. Carson, did I alter the past?”

Dr. Carson looks at me like I was speaking a different language.

“Because, I remember the day I got the tattoo two different ways. One where I didn’t get the tattoo, and one where I did. I told myself days after the fact that I should have just gone through with it. Did I just go back to a time where I changed the outcome?”

Dr. Carson continued to scribble in his notes, he was onto something that he wasn’t sharing with me.

“Matthew, try something for me. Think of a time where you made a decision you regret, but don’t tell me. Think about the time in your head. Scream it to yourself with your inner dialogue. I’m going to ask the nurse for some melatonin. I want you to report back with what happens when I see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

This all seems so strange. I’m not really sure where this is really going, but I told Dr. Carson that I was willing to go through this experience to get the answer, so I trust his judgment. Within the hour, I was asleep.

Dr. Carson was sitting in the chair across the room when I wake up precisely at 6:30am. He has clearly been monitoring me for some time.

“How do we feel this morning?” Dr. Carson pulled no punches.

“Fine, I could really use some grape juice.”

“You left your bottle on your table.”

This was an interesting development. Last night before I fell asleep, I asked for some apple juice to take my melatonin. After I drank it, I thought to myself “Man, I really wish I ordered grape juice instead,” and fell asleep. I dreamed that I had laying in my hospital bed and I had asked the nurse for some grape juice. This was not an occurrence that I would have put much thought into, as my dreams are typically mundane. But this time was different. Why did I ask for grape juice in my dream, and it made itself appear when I woke up?

“Don’t you see?” Dr. Carson asked. “You did change your timeline! When you dreamed that you asked for grape juice, you went back in time to change that part of your future!”

This was bonkers. Not only did I change my timeline, but in true Matthew fashion, instead of fixing war or American history, I chose to drink a different juice. My priorities are pretty clear cut, it would seem.

“So, as long as I think about what parts of my timeline I want to change, I can travel there?”

“It seems like you’re able to change parts of your life that you have lived. We’ll need to keep studying this on you, and anyone else that will volunteer for this. This is big, Matthew. We’ve just figured out how to change reality.”

Of course, microscopic brain surgery is not without its risks. Most people that volunteered to the experimental surgery came out of it with some side effects. Some as simple as dry eyes and headaches to heart attacks and strokes. Some would travel back in time, and never return. Some would travel to a place in time that didn’t have the same medical breakthroughs we have now. Some would travel forward in time, and time can only tell what happened to those people.

I became the institute’s training and development coordinator. Teaching someone how to unlock their natural human ability to change their timelines and create a better world for themselves has been the most amazing experience. We’re learning how to create a life without war, a world without hate, and a human experience worth living.

Of course, this experience is not without its drawbacks. Again, this is still an experimental procedure with tons of negative side effects. My best friend was working with me at Dygonine when he decided he wanted the surgery. He wanted to go back to play the stock market and buy up a lot of the high-valued stock at a dirt cheap price to become the world’s “most bad ass billionaire,” in his own words. He wanted to also patent the word “thrillionaire” as his official title. Unfortunately, he forgot to tell the doctors of his family history of brain hemorrhages, and he died on the operating table.

There was another friend of mine that wanted to go back to the time of Jesus to prove once and for all that it happened exactly like it did in the bible. Spoilers: It doesn’t. He never came back from that time, and I later found out he committed suicide in Jerusalem.

There were also a lot of unintended consequences for allowing humans to go back in time. Some tried to stop World War II, only to find that other countries were all plotting similar types of awful things. Some worse, some not as bad, but every one of them was stopped because of what happened in WWII. Others tried to take technology with them to show how advanced our society has become, but by showing off that technology, we unknowingly made people afraid of it, and all funding towards technology like computers, televisions, automobiles, and space travel came to a grinding halt. One volunteer even scared society into thinking the future is evil, and anybody who goes far enough back is killed on sight.

This leads me to my trip to 1995. This point in society has been researched and chosen as the most neutral society towards time-travel that we can find. They finally started to allow technology to grow again, and started to make mass communication more accessible. It was my job to try again to convince that society that time-travel is safe, affordable, and all it takes is microscopic brain surgery. I might not want to lead with that last one.

“So, you say the stock market is at an all-time high. Does that mean everyone is rich?”

I wasn’t prepared for how unimpressed people would be about 30 years into the future. “Actually, no. Unemployment is at an all-time high, and minimum wage barely puts food on the table.”

“This doesn’t sound like a great future.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here.” I’ll literally say anything at this point to save face. “What I want to try and do is change the timeline so that we can convince society to focus on what really matters. Like building homes for everyone, free healthcare for our citizens, emphasis on education.”

“Wait, those aren’t priorities in the future either?”

Again, it occurs to me that we really haven’t progressed in 30 years. “I mean, I guess not.”

“I’m still not convinced this guy is from the future. He’s just saying things that are happening now, and trying to convince us that nothing will change. And the way to change things is to have microscopic brain surgery. Sorry, future dude. But I’m out.”

“Yeah, I have to agree with my colleague here. This isn’t going to work out. I’m sorry.”

As I leave the startup Dygonine office, I’ve now got to get back to my hotel and fall asleep. The only way to travel back and forth is through sleep, and I haven’t been able to sleep the last three days. This was my chance to convince the founders of Dygonine to try the experimental surgery themselves, so that they realize how much of threat it poses to humanity, and they shut it down long

before it starts.

My hotel room is dirty, dilapidated, and my home for the foreseeable future. I can’t think too hard about Dygonine meeting today, because if I fall asleep, I’ll return right back there to that same meeting, where I fail in trying to convince the founders that discovering the Carson’s area and connecting humans to their ability to time-travel will cause unspeakable atrocities as humans change and alter history to the point where any thought of the future brings the worst heartache imaginable.

This is my punishment. My torture. What I’m forced to live with by being the first human to discover time-travel. If only I could go back in time and take that ability away from myself.