Flyover City! A Novel (with Superheroes)

23. Note to Self

So Gwen kept me on the ropes there for a while, left me wondering what, exactly, the other night amounted to. Sometimes, she'd smile and say hi when she walked past my desk. But other times, when she'd be chatting with her friends in the break room, no doubt engaging in one of those girly-girl conversations about who they're interested in, or breaking up with, or sleeping with on the side - the sort of times you'd really like a little encouragement - she'd barely acknowledge me at all.

Then, the other night, we had a dinner date to "talk some things over". It was mostly me, speaking over a plate of untouched linguine, listing off everything I've done wrong. Enough detail to show how seriously I was taking it, but not so much as to yank the scab from the wound altogether. She'd sort of help me along if she thought I was glossing over anything. It was annoying, but I suppose I owed her at least that.

When she mentioned Nora by name, I took it as my opportunity to bring up Mike. Which of course pissed her off, because we weren't together when she hooked up with him. Which meant more apologies from me. It was a risky move for someone in my position, but at least I got an answer to those lingering questions, i.e., did "The Deed", but no orgasm, and I didn't get the impression that they got around to anything too crazy. I figured on pressing for more details once we got back to the regularly scheduled arguing stage.

An hour or so, and we wound up back at my place... and That. Was. That.

And it's incredible, right? I mean, all of it. Secure, and solid, and sweet, just like you want a long-term relationship to feel; but also exciting, and new. Not like a brand-new relationship, but closer than I'd ever have gotten again, if we never broke up. We can't wait to see each other every day, and we don't care who knows. Which, of course, is everyone: Gwen's mom, my parents, even Team-Leader-Tim knows (and I swear if he doesn't stop with the "thumbs-up" crap every time I see him, I'm going to punch him in the fucking throat.)

72 hours of happily ever after. Right up until work this morning...

_____________________________

The call volume has tapered off a little lately. Gwen's "Corporate Communications" would have you believe that our techs are getting a handle on the anomalies, but I sort of suspect our customers have given up trying.

I'm on a call with an angry cell phone customer, stranded out on 36. Her phone's been shut off for past due bills, so she can only dial 911, and us.

"...well, ma'am, I suppose if you really feel like it's an emergency, you could give them a call..."

That upset her: she's halfway through her diatribe when the sound of her voice starts to stretch into the telltale "warp" mode. I'm thinking, awesome; all these dropped calls have been a real boon for my "calls-per-hour" average.

Then it happens - before she even falls off altogether, the signal gets all choppy. Suddenly, the tube lighting above my workstation flickers. Stranger still, my computer screen goes all... wonky.

"...hear me now? Is this better? Who is this?" A male voice. Familiar.

"Uh, thank you for calling Vaig Communications, how may I help you?"

"Jesus, that's depressing. I'm trying a visual hack... are you getting it?"

I am; my desktop freezes, about a sixth of my screen is hijacked by a slow moving, streaming video image on some platform I've never seen before.

"Uh... what the hell's going on?" I try to pull my eyes away, to look around my desk for the camera that's capturing... me - displaying my face on the monitor.

"All right, Joel. Just listen to me." The voice is out-of-sync with his lips. My lips. "I don't have much time. I could get in big trouble for this. Unless you listen to me. I'm you..."

...Ten years in the future. He didn't even have to say it; somehow, I just knew.

I've always dreamt of this: a future me, traveling back in time to give myself advice, to help me avoid all those stupid mistakes I've made up to now. Like, preemptive retrospection. I hoped to keep off those last 10 pounds, figured maybe I'd have an eye patch... but, whatever.

"Why are you doing this?" I say, hovering close enough to the screen to block the image from anyone who happens by.

"Tell me now... are you back together with Gwen, or not?"

I tell him I am. "Damn it! Are you serious? She was right about the date." Then, with a grim smile, "She's always right."

"Wait... what is it? What's the problem?"

"Alright, just listen to me. You gotta get out of it. You can't be with Gwen."

I look up from my desk, to see if she's anywhere around. I laugh nervously, just because... what else can I do? "What are you taking about? Everything is great. Are you gonna tell me she's like, a hero-villain or something?"

"Yeah, you wish." My 38 year-old eyes roll - am I really like this? "It's worse than that. The fights, man, about money, and sex, and everything. It sucks, sitting there in that chair, dealing with the constant calls, doesn't it? Well you can either heed my advice," he presses his face in close to the monitor, and I flinch back from mine, even though I doubt he can see me, "or you can get used to it. Just get up, tell Tim to fuck off - please - and move on."

He looks away. "Shit. She's coming. Just... trust me, okay?"

The image starts to "tile" as he calls off screen, "Yeah, almost done. Just hold on, alright?" One last plea, and the image starts to tile, finally disappearing altogether. Just as suddenly, Gwen is over my computer, outside of my cubicle.

"Hey, babe, you coming or what?"

"Yeah, almost done. Just hold..." I cringe.

***

Even now, his last words before the call broke up ring in my ears. A prophecy. A curse.

"Hindsight is 20/20."

Yeah, and foresight is a bitch.