The beige-colored room was no larger than 3 by 5 meters. There was a bed at one end, underneath a very large window that took up most of the southern wall, and a low table right next to it. Clothes were strewn over a couple of chairs which were right next to a desk, which was occupied by a monitor and computer.
Raphael Simon, found dead of a heart attack on November the 5th, 2063, was sitting in his bed. Alive and well, he was glaring into his phone's screen. His breathing, which had been rugged up until now, was finally normal, his vision clearing up as the adrenaline pumping through his body subsided.
'This can't be real, right? I don't own a TARDIS, and there's no funny-looking bowtie guy talking nonsensically, so I can't have time travelled…, right?' Raphael calmed himself down and even chuckled at the absurdity of the idea.
Looking at the phone in his hands, Raphael decided to click the power button twice. A small line of text and a numpad appeared on the screen.
"If found, delete porn." he read out loud and snickered. He had been using that as his lock screen message since he had been a teenager. After inputting four digits on the numpad, the phone unlocked itself.
7:15AM
09.09.2052
High chance of rain.
Raphael looked at the numbers for a while, seemingly still a bit shocked. When he finally came to, it was 7:20AM. He clicked on a small icon on the screen's lower-right edge and the phone turned on its camera application. The screen was now showing a number of fancy settings and abbreviations and, of course, Raphael's feet as well as the faux-wood floor underneath them.
With another flick of the finger, the camera switched over and the screen now showed the face of a young man, barely out of high school. Raphael looked visibly younger. His hair had yet to start graying, and the stress lines that had plagued his forehead were nowhere to be seen.
"Either this is the most elaborate dream I've ever had…"
Not feeling convinced, he stood up and rushed to the bathroom. It was small, only a toilet and a shower, no space whatsoever. A tiny mirror was hung on the wall right next to the bathroom's door, a dripping faucet and sink underneath. Looking at himself in the tiny circular mirror, Raphael could clearly see himself from over a decade ago. His body was lithe and slim and his posture had yet to go bad.
Raising his right hand, he traced the edges of his jawline as he looked on.
"Wow, so that's what it felt like to have a chin, I'd almost forgotten!" he said, a fleeting grin flashing over his face.
He had now accepted the facts. Either he had gone completely crazy, or he had been woken up in his own past.
'No! Present, not past, this is now my present!' Raphael corrected himself, a look of determination blazing in his eyes as memories started drifting up.
Raphael Simon was born in 2031 and his life up until this moment had been very good.
He had grown up in a small village on the outskirts of London, his doting parents having decided to raise him in a calmer atmosphere, instead of the megapolis' hubbub. His grandparents often visited, and he had grown up playing in the woods and on playgrounds, teaching his friends random French words for the fun of it.
His life had been untroubled, and as an only child he seldom lacked anything, although he never got everything he wanted. Ever since the day he got his first allowance, his parents had taught him to be frugal and save his own money. They had been very strict about this, as a lot of their friends and family had gone through bouts of financial problems.
This proved to be a good decision, one which Raphael himself kept close to heart, as when he was twelve he had bought himself his first computer. He could still remember the clunky little laptop he had bought from a neighbor. It was so old that he had had to rummage for spare parts years later, as most of them were obsolete and the brand that had made the laptop itself had gone under decades ago.
It was through this laptop, aptly named Tiny, that Raphael had found the two loves of his life. Video games and cooking.
Through no fault of his parents, the then-short Raphael had stumbled across a website for cooking recipes and from that day on he would spend his free time in the kitchen. His online friends would often make fun of him for this, as he would often disappear for a few minutes in the middle of a game, because he had forgotten to take something off or out of the stove.
With a faint smile on his face, Raphael walked back to his room and sat down on the chair in front of his desk, turning on his computer. Tiny had long since passed away, but parts of it still lived on in its nameless bigger brother. Another password field showed up and with a few keystrokes and clicks, Raphael opened his email and found one of the best things about waking up in 2052.
Curiously, after almost seven years of cooking and experimenting in-between video games, younger Raphael had decided to sit down and write down all of the recipes he had created over the years and share them with other gamers. It took him nearly a year and a half to arrange everything perfectly, as he had started culinary school soon afterwards, but he had managed. It had been a monumental achievement, as he had poured all of his knowledge into the little booklet, hoping that it would do some good for his fellow gamers. The recipes were divided in such a way, that it would be easy to decide what to make based on cooking experience, required time to cook and nutritional value. The booklet even included information on what to eat based on how active one was in real life.
Unbeknownst to him, after he successfully finished the final edit of his book, '1337 Cooking Recipes', and shared it with his friends and family, his parents had swiftly sent it off to numerous publishers. None the wiser, Raphael continued studying and soon after successfully graduated as a licensed cook. But because of the decision his parents had made six months ago, he could now proudly open his email to the news of having, for the first time ever, earned money by doing something that he loves.
✉ Offshoot Publishing: Final Contract (New)
Sadly, there was one major downside about coming back to 2052.
As if in expectation, Raphael's body visibly tensed up. Suddenly, a melody started playing out of his phone. A faint voice kept repeating the same thing over and over, with an upbeat tune in the background.
♫♪♫ Sha, sha-ba-da, sha-ba-da, feel good…– ♫♪♫
Burying his hand in his pocket, Raphael took out the hiPhone XXS and unlocked it, ending the melody's perpetual loop.
A to-do list application had opened itself, which had a single entry, for 3PM.
☐ Go to funeral