OoN: out of nowhere

Hourglass in the garden gnomefish

          A garden gnome. A goldfish. And an hourglass.

          They all sat in places they were; places I've remembered them to be in. I'm at the correct date, I'm sure. A few seconds from now, though, and it will all change. 

          Three, 

          two, 

          one.

          The lights went out. And I know, for sure, that when it comes back on, the three will disappear.

          And I'll fail, for yet another time again.

          I need to reset. Go back to the original point in time I was in before I skipped to this point right here. Shit.

          Squeeze.

          There was a certain point in human history when time travel had underwent a lot of laws, restrictions, and fines whenever one is seen, caught and proved breaking these rules, as all laws provide—and of course, rebranding, which people of the courts are so, so serious about. And in which case you'll also doubt their seriousness, because the bills and stuff are nonsensical...

          ...as an understatement.

          The politicians have raised fines to even greater heights, and even raised the bill called The Timewhiz Bill, a law justifying for Timetravel™ to be now called Timewhiz™, for, as the bill suggests, "the word timetravel tires people's mouths", "it is, said by majority, to be an immense struggle to pronounce", 

          and, get this, "for the vocabulary to go with the present society's demands and be a driver for change".

          And, guess what. The bill was passed. And is now an official law.

          Some say that early humans were wise. Some say they were not. But there's one thing I can say. These, the ones in position today, are full of crap and will always be, even until the time that timetravel—I mean, timewhiz—is exploited so much and so destructively that it will eventually play the main role in destroying everything the first ones had built for us. Destroying every bit of human history as you, from the past and as we, from the future, know it. And it might make one wonder how come, in the midst of timetravel's—timewhiz's—existence and publicity, are there no repercussions and errors known to date?

          Well, there actually were a few ones, but they were made confidential. That or the veterans had fixed them so efficiently that not a single trace was detected and will ever be found. Either way, these reps had disappeared from the face of the Earth, and it will remain that way. No anything. That's what the job is.

          Whirr.

          Bamf.

          Ugh, I can't even stand up in one go. My body feels limp. Too heavy to move. Most I can do is make my eyes focus the  blur out and grunt as I try to wake my muscles out of the inevitable, obnoxious idle state my body is in. 

          The room had been white, with light barely lighting up the whole place. I always set it up this way. I'm the only person left operating here, anyway. 

          The room used to be so full of life. The place itself was lifeless in its own, but with them always being the room's noise-fillers, I never got tired of staying for hours, even days. It was the last time it was lively.

          The room's now empty. They'd all be congratulating me every time I got back, even though each time, I fail to complete the travelpoint's supposed scans and manipulates. I long for them all, but the loneliness is what's best for now. 

          I never knew I'd say this, but this is what I needed all along.

          I got up on my feet, eyes blinking hard to assist on the focus, and arms against the chair's metal armrests, shivering a bit as the effort of pushing myself upright was still being a pain. My hands cold and sweating, I still held on until I was walking towards the table on the chair's left. Slowly getting more confidence that I'd make it with every step, I walked, walked, and walked, slowly as I did.

          I was close, I tell you. But my Feet gave up just as then. My body fell to the ground, while my arms barely managed to keep my body attached to the table's surface.

          They could've been here.

          But I shouldn't think about that now. I should... get to the refrigerator to get sugar, or I'll waste time again. 

          I chugged a whole two-liter bottle of  ALTglucose in less than ten, wiped my mouth off, and got back on the machine.

          As I sat, shaking my hands drastic and trying to get my usual amount of energy to come back, I blink intense blinks for a few seconds, breathed deep inhalations and slow exhalations, and stretched my neck for it to crack few cracks for every side I stretched it to—up, down, left, right, then further bend to the right again—until I was comfortable, laying my head on the IBM's clunky chair backrest looking at the ceiling's fluorescent light. After all this development with the times, I still wonder why lights did not change any further.

          And chairs, for that matter. I'd rather go to bed until it's a whole year that's passed rather than sit here for countless hours of jumps and glucose chugging. And memorization and manipulation.

          If it weren't for the need to do this, that is.

          One thing unique now, though, is that to travel—whiz—you squeeze the balloon. You remember when books used to lure you into creating machines that require punching buttons for the machine to work? That's not here now.

          And unlike old ideas, we have timefixers now. We have us.

          Or, just me. They're on a wayyy bigger scale assignment years into the future, so you only have me for now. But it's still weakening though. Just their presence made me encouraged.

          Okay. Ten seconds of the future, again. Hopefully I stop failing. The baby will keep dying until I have everything in place within a ten second frame. Telekinetic abilities and timewhiz really just make you weak, huh.

          Squeeze.