What does that mean? She realized her mistake, or does she think I’m a complete idiot?
“Look, I don’t have time for this…” As he typed the word ‘time’, he thought he’d better check the time and date of the first email he had been sent. He glanced at the date on the right, and his mouth went dry.
Holy. Shit.The date and time were right, but the year was wrong.2029? That’s three years from now.He cleaned hisglasses, just in case he was reading it wrong. Sometimes 6s look like 9s, right? Sure. If one of them is upside down.
Chad inhaled deeply and checked again. Wearing his newly cleaned glasses, he read 2029, not 6, and let out his breath in a whoosh.
Brianna is right. I’ve been working too hard.But just for the heck of it, he thought he’d email future Bri and ask what year it was. She couldn’t think he was anymorestupid, could she?
“Brianna, do me a favor and check the date of my emails to you. What year does it say?”
After a long pause, she wrote back, “Um… It says 2026. I’ve heard of random emails from the past being spit out by mistake, but… Are you telling me you’re reading this in 2026?”
“I am.”
An even longer pause followed. “Ah, okaaay,” she wrote. “I guess I’ll have to plan this funeral by myself. Don’t stress about who died. If you don’t know yet, well, at some point you will. Have a good few years!”
What do you say to that? Nothing. Not a blessed thing.He rose from his desk, packed his briefcase with the remaining ungraded papers, and walked to his trusty old Ford Focus. At least it seemed trustworthy. Maybe his little sojourn into the future gave him a heads-up about his car needing some maintenance. Yeah, that was it. His takeaway from all this?Don’t ignore the ‘Check engine’ light when it comes on, or you may be driving something called a zippy in the future.
As he drove home, Chad’s mind raced with questions. Who was his mentor? He'd had several professors he admired in college and grad school, but none he'd call a mentor. And why would Brianna be planning the funeral? They were close friends in grad school, sure, but notthatclose.
He pulled into his driveway, still mulling over the bizarre email exchange. The house was dark and quiet as he entered. Heflicked on the lights and headed straight for the liquor cabinet. This day called for a stiff drink.
With a glass of whiskey in hand, he settled onto the couch and pulled out his phone. No new messages from future Brianna. Part of him was relieved, but another part felt strangely disappointed.
Chad sipped his drink, letting the warmth spread through his chest. What if it wasn't a glitch? What if he'd actually communicated with the future? The implications were mind-boggling. If he could somehow maintain this connection, what else could he learn? Could he prevent disasters, make fortunes in the stock market, or change the course of history?
He shook his head, trying to clear these impossible thoughts. It was probably just a prank or a technical glitch. Nothing more.
But as he finished his drink, a nagging feeling persisted. He couldn't shake the authenticity in Brianna's messages. The way she wrote, the nickname she used… It all felt real. Just in case the fabric of the universe had changed, he went and looked in the mirror. Same oval face, same medium brown hair, same blue eyes. Okay, now hereallyfelt foolish. Did he think he was going to see new wrinkles and graying temples?
He poured another drink and booted up his laptop. If there were any truth to this, he needed to do some research. He started searching for seriously ill academics and writers who might be his mentors in the coming years. He laughed at himself, realizing the Internet would have no more idea of who would die in 2029 than he did. Instead, he changed tack. Hours passed as he fell down a rabbit hole of time travel theories. His eyes grew heavy, but Chad couldn't stop.
The next thing he knew, sunlight was streaming through the windows. He'd fallen asleep at his desk. His head throbbed, a combination of too much whiskey and too little sleep.
He stumbled to the kitchen for coffee, trying to piece together the events of the previous night. As the caffeine hit his system, the memories came flooding back. The email. The future. Brianna.
He rushed back to his laptop, praying for another message. Nothing. His inbox was depressingly empty of time-traveling correspondence.
Sighing, Chad closed the laptop and got ready for work. As he drove to the campus, he couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted. The world looked the same, but it felt different. Like he was seeing everything through a lens of possibility and uncertainty.
Chad walked into his office, half-expecting to find it transformed into a futuristic workspace with holographic displays and robotic assistants. But no, it was the same cramped room with stacks of papers and shelves overflowing with books.
He slumped into his chair, feeling oddly disappointed. Part of him had hoped for some sign, some confirmation that yesterday's bizarre events weren't just a product of overwork and an overactive imagination.
As Chad booted up his computer, a thought struck him. What if he tried emailing future Brianna again? It was worth a shot. He composed a quick message:
"Bri, it's Chad from 2026 again. Just checking in. How's the future? Who won the 2027 World Series?"
He hit send, not really expecting a response. To his shock, a reply came almost instantly:
"Nice try, Mad-hatterson, but I'm not falling for it this time.
He stared at the screen, his heart racing. This couldn't be happening again. He quickly typed back:
"Bri, I swear I'm not trying to trick you. I really am messaging from 2026. Please, tell me something about the future. Anything."
The response came faster this time:
