Double Twenty

Chapter 25 - Ordinary World (Duran - Duran)

"On est vraiment con quand on a vingt ans." - Arthur Rimbaud

3:40 a.m. Finally home. Alone. Unable to sleep. First observation: he is still in 1997. Second observation: his return to the past had started well, but then everything went to hell, as always. But this time, it wasn't really his fault, at least not entirely. By reclaiming his twenty-year-old body, he had naively forgotten that he came from the future, and therefore, his value was higher than that of Mbappé, Messi, and Bolloré combined. One word about September 11 and everything could be turned upside down. He just wants to make some money and carve out a place in the sun, but obviously, not everyone agrees with his plans. Who can he trust? Who should he be wary of?

Matthieu turns on the N64. Playing helps him calm down and think. A small satisfaction: Golden Eye still lives up to its reputation as a reference in the video game genre, even after twenty-five years of evolution in the field. Grabbing the controller, the time traveler takes a brief trip into his own past, savoring the shiver of nostalgia that runs through him. As he's about to stop playing, a sharp pain seizes him. He instinctively places his hand on his forehead and squints, desperately trying to contain the intense migraine overwhelming him. He considers this suffering a symptom of temporal displacement, an unresolved side effect. It's as if his twenty-year-old self, with its impulses and memories, sometimes tries to take over, plunging him into deep mental and emotional confusion.

His Sony 200 CD jukebox operates in shuffle mode before stopping on Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here" album and its title song. The volume is low, but it's enough for him to soak in the melody. The lyrics echo his burning desire to succeed in this new life. Years of frustration, fears, and doubts finally erased from the map? Temporal continuums, space-time, are nonsense for geeks or old fogeys. Despite his reluctance, he recalls sharing a few confidences with Victoria during their evening, not very smart: "Imagine you make a leap in time and suddenly find yourself in the future, at an advanced age. What would you do?" "But Matthieu, I don't understand your question?" "Or the reverse, from 2024 to now?" She had looked at him, a half-smile on her lips and her eyes shining. He had attributed it to the burgeoning love. "What would that change for you?" She had thought for a moment, "It depends, I suppose it would arouse envy." He had fallen silent, convinced she hadn't understood his rambling. With hindsight, her answer takes on a different meaning. You're really dumb when you're twenty.

Another thought he wants to avoid: faced with his recent expenses, his bank account is a disaster and if he has to flee, he will need as many resources as possible. The temptation to blackmail his own father or engage in illicit activities like theft or extortion is becoming more and more pressing. Matthieu, who has never broken the law in his life, finds himself at a crossroads, confronted with unprecedented moral choices. He grabs the Canalsat decoder remote and begins to channel surf, somewhat laboriously. He is nevertheless surprised by his adaptability: living without a smartphone is a challenge. On the only continuous news channel, the images are chaotic, punctuated by flashes, blinking headlines, and voices in a state of alert. The scenes filmed from a moving helicopter show debris and the beginning of a fire. The contrast is striking between the tranquility of his living room and the intensity of the scene on the screen that hits him like a Mike Tyson uppercut. After a few unsuccessful attempts, he switches the hi-fi sound to the television. The announcement falls like a guillotine: "Boeing 747 FKW-450-616 departing from Paris to Lausanne in Switzerland crashed in a mountainous area, making access extremely difficult for rescuers. On board were 72 passengers and crew. According to preliminary information, there are no survivors. The attack has been claimed by a previously unknown group, the Chrono Liberators."

Matthieu, overwhelmed by confusion and shock, drops the remote. Tears flow uncontrollably down his cheeks. The room seems to shrink around him, trapping his body and soul in a vice of pain. This goes beyond what he had imagined; it's not paranoia, they are willing to do anything. "Fuck, it's not possible." He bangs his head against the wall, first softly, then with increasing force. He grabs a cushion, burying his head in it, muffling his panicked sobs. Why did he come back to 1997? Why now, why him? Suddenly, a wild idea crosses his mind. The incantation, returning to his time as quickly as possible. Is it possible without Julien? He refuses to believe this reality, preferring a veil of ignorance, anger, or even destructive fury. Amid this emotional storm, a glimmer of lucidity pierces through, shaped by his experiences, "What if this isn't real?" The timing of the announcement, the overly clear quality of the images, everything suddenly seems orchestrated to generate maximum impact on him. The idea of manipulation strikes him like lightning. He pulls himself together but remains cautious, he might be under surveillance, or cameras might be watching him. They want to intimidate him, to scare him. His resolve becomes increasingly clear: he will not back down. If they want a war, they will get a war. John Rambo.