Standing with my mask on and covered head-to-toe in thick heavy clothing I stand shivering in the long line, the end of which stretches well out of sight down the street and around the corner of the block. We were all here for the same reason, for one of the many overbooked appointments at Nostalg-Co to discuss undergoing their increasingly popular procedure.
Mid-pandemic, in the grips of an economic downturn and a climate crisis, people wanted to escape. While there was nowhere to escape to, with the help of Nostalg-Co there was hopefully a when.
Everyone in line knew it was a one way trip, though in theory you could merely live out your life back to this point if you went back to just the right time, but for whatever reason for many people this had become the preferred option. Keeping six feet apart we all shiver in the morning chill, fog still clinging to the streets and frost to the windows as we wait for the doors to open.
Suddenly, several individuals emerge from the small brick office we had been lined up at, a mixture of people in lab coats and more casual customer-service attire counting out the crowd head by head. The crowd itself murmurs in an uneasy fashion, many having learned the drill by this point. Those of us who had arrived too late, who were too far back in the line, would be sent home for the day and expected to arrive earlier tomorrow.
The staff race through their count, eventually sending one of the more casual staff members to walk down the line. The color drains from peoples faces as the young woman approaches them, her short blonde bob bouncing with each of her purposeful steps. Many had gotten here well before sunrise, wanting to get their place, and if that wasn't good enough many didn't know what would be.
To my relief I watch as the short young woman waltzes by me, a small metal clicker in her hand counting each person she passes.
The line itself suddenly surges forward, the first lot of customers entering the small single door into the two story office as the rest of use shuffle our way a few steps closer.
Finally the young woman comes to a stop several feet behind me, raising her hand and bellowing in a voice that appeared impossible for her small frame.
"Cut off is here! If you're beyond this point you'll have to come back tomorrow!" she shouts, a mixture of disappointed groans and and irritated yells filling the air as people begin to shuffle off to either head home or begin yet another day at work.
After a few hours out in the frigid cold I eventually find myself at the front of the line, amid a group of other eager individuals who had been shivering along with me and saying their goodbyes. I merely stood shivering in wait of the attendants, having already said my goodbyes weeks ago when I started lining up outside these offices.
I had been laid off months ago, and thanks to the economic downturn it had been impossible to find something new. I knew that, given enough time, the amount of people leaving this time period would boost demand for labor but I simply couldn't bare to wait that long and had decided to head to the 'good ol days' myself.
I'm snapped from my idle thoughts as the doors open once again, a gaggle of employees coming out to usher us inside. Following them in I find myself in a tiny cramped space you could hardly call a waiting room. A front desk sits empty at the far end of a white walled room, the sea foam green carpet showing the buildings overall age. The room itself can barely fit us all in at the same time, requiring us and the attendants to walk through in small groups towards the hallways leading from either side of the front desk.
"Can't have people in the waiting room" mutters a towering dark skinned man in a lab coat. He looks at the few of us who had yet to go inside, obviously aware of the cold as his eyes dart over our winter clothing "not with crowds like today at least." Before long he too leaves, leading the tired looking woman ahead of me though the entrance and quickly out of sight.
After a few seconds I hear a person clearing their throat next to me, a Latina in her late forties grabbing my attention as she walks through the front door.
"This way sir, I promise it won't be much longer" she states, her voice crackling and lacking any real vibrancy as she simply goes through the motions.
Eagerly following her I find myself quickly followed by another man in a lab coat, a younger gentleman taking notes as we briskly walk through the waiting room. His eyes roam between me and the older woman leading the way, each twist and turn leading to more notes being written in a small book with frenzied speed.
Reaching the hallway I'm met with a number of closed doors, beyond which I can faintly hear the sound of subdued and muted talking. At the far end I notice a few doors are still open, heavy florescent light stream out from them in a manner that is almost painful considering the stark white walls.
"Just down to the first door on our left" the Latina mutters, her chubby legs plodding along with a great amount of effort to keep ahead of my far longer stride.
As we reach the room I freeze in the doorway, my jaw dropping as I see the mess beyond the threshold. Wires hang from the ceiling and coat nearly every inch of the carpeted floor, the colorful menagerie bound together with countless zip-ties and strips of tape. In the back corners rest the two main pieces of technology requiring all this set up.
To the right sits a large computer, mostly consisting of components sitting around without any sort of casing. A screens rests atop what I can only assume is a desk, the mess of the room obscuring whatever lay beneath. The screen itself looks black, however on closer inspection a command line can be seen in the top left corner.
To the left of the room sits a large metal chamber, sheets of shiny steel making the exterior and creating a relatively clean uniform aesthetic. A faint glow emanates from the floor of the pod, a dim purple light leaking out in an ominous fashion.
"We just need you to sign some forms first" the older woman explains, walking over the computer and hunching over it.
"Ma'am" pipes up the young man behind me, his voice peppy and extremely anxious. "Shouldn't we do the introduction to..." he asks, glancing between her and his little notebook.
The older woman merely sighs in response, obviously unhappy about being reminded about procedure. "Alright, alright..." she mumbles, turning to face me before smiling with coffee stained teeth. "Welcome to Nostalg-Co, today we'll be preforming a procedure which will result in you being placed back in time" she states, shifting her hands from right to left as if to illustrate her point. "We cannot control who you'll become, where you'll be placed, or when you'll be sent to" she continues, holding up her fingers one by one as she emphasizes her lack of control over the situation.
"Here...here are the release forms" squeaks the young man from behind me, squeezing past to race over towards a pile of papers. My stomach sinks at the sight, worried that I'd be here all day filling those out. However, he quickly snatches only a few sheets before returning to me as she passes me a pen and the dense legal forms.
"Those are just waivers" explains the older woman, folding her arms over her chest. "Basically saying you allow us to perform the procedure, waiving all rights to sue if you survive back to this point and are unhappy with the result, the usual" she continues, clearly having a different definition of usual to myself.
"So...I have no control over..." I begin to ask, spinning to face the wall as I quickly skim the forms and sign on the dotted line.
"None, just like the first time around" she chuckles, the way she deliver the joke making it obvious she had done so many times before. "You're more likely to be sent back close to your relatives, back into the family or maybe as a friend or neighbor. However, that's not guaranteed...as is noted on page four" she states, pointing at my forms with a doughy finger.
I continue to skim the forms, making a few notes of the clauses as I go.
'I absolve Nostalg-Co of liability for all unwanted physical changes I endure'
'I absolve Nostalg-Co of liability for all effects had on my mental faculities'
'I declare that I will not alter the timeline beyond the mundane (see appendix 4.3)'
As I continue to read and sign I feel my stomach sink, my feet growing cold as I read provision after provision protecting the company from acts relating to this incredibly drastic procedure.
"It's not that bad" mutters the older woman, smiling at me with a broad toothy grin. "Trust me, I enjoyed my first time through" she explains, giving me a little knowing nod. "Just watch out for the things listed in 4.3, do not mess with the timeline after being sent backwards in it" she states, her voice growing form and her expression so stern it causes the note taking gentleman to flinch.
"I...uh...yeah I promise?" I mutter, unsure what to say as I sign the last few form. Handing them back to the young man he quickly looks them over before racing over to the older woman. Both of them go through the paperwork, whispering and nodding to one another as they check and double check all my information and the required signatures.
"Alright...Mr. Hughes" chirps the woman, spinning to face the computer. She quickly points to the chamber on the opposite end of the room before waving her hand towards it aggressively. "Quickly now, we don't have all day" she muses, her patience quickly waning as time goes on.
Looking over at the young man his eyes go wide before quickly motioning towards the chamber, his head nodding towards the daunting metal machine.
With not small amount of trepidation I walk towards the chamber, finding the doorway a little too small and requiring me to lean over to get inside. The whole thing buzzes and hums around me, the scent of Ozone filling the air. The purple light appears to stem from several open panels inside of the machine, the ominous light streaming forth as some sort of sci-fi warning.
"Um...are these meant to..." I begin ask, my voice getting cut off as the buzzing violently grows louder by the second. I quickly look over at the older woman, finding her typing away at the simple command line.
Reaching out to get her attention I stare at my hand in a mixture of amazement and horror. It appears to warp and shift like roiling water, the shape indistinct and struggling to find cohesion. I cry out, hoping to get some sort of response, only to find my voice coming out as a whisper made of dozens of distinct and varied voices.
In the time it takes for my heart to skip a beat I watch the room fall away, collapsing around me as if it were made of colored sand. The chamber as well collapses, the humming walls fading away and disappearing to the void surrounding me.
I'm left merely floating in a space of inky blackness, the only shape I can make out being my body so long as I remain perfectly still. Despite having no point of reference I swear I can feel myself drifting backwards, my internal sense of equilibrium screaming at me that I was traveling somewhere. I drift for what feels like a few minutes, though it is truly impossible to tell, before I feel something change. Where I could have sworn I was drifting backwards I suddenly find myself lurching forward.
Unable to see exactly where I was heading I raise my arms to brace myself, watching as the fluid image of my arms shimmer and roil in front of me as I ready myself for what was to come.
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