Jolted back to reality, Sam gasped noticing he fell asleep in the chair in front of his computer. On the monitor was displayed an old article: 'Unidentified object leaves Earth's atmosphere. Are the aliens already among us?' Five years passed since the publication, and the whole ruckus about the incident was heavily commentated by the media at the time, but back then he was too young to pay attention. He had different, boyish things to do, like playing with other kids in the orphanage. Now, five years later, he encountered this information again, descending into a rabbit hole before going to sleep.
„Shit," he muttered all groggy. 'It had to be a dream… But it was so real, and strange,' the thoughts crossed his mind.
The small and only room in his apartment was barely illuminated by the early morning light, making it through the window on his right. Behind him was the bed, which he didn't sleep on that night. By his left, next to the door, was the old wardrobe, where he kept his clothes. Except that, there was no other furniture.
He rubbed his face with his hands, to wake himself up properly, before getting up and marching to the bathroom. He washed, returned, to change the clothes, and then went to the kitchen. A simple space with a fridge on the left, then a sink and cupboard by the wall. In front of him was the window and a table underneath it with only two chairs flanking it. The right was occupied by some kitchen cabinets he never really used.
He made himself some cereal with milk, quickly shoving it into his mouth still thinking about the strange dream he had. As he finished, putting the bowl into the sink, and pouring some water into it, straight from the tap, he headed back to his room to mindlessly pack the books into his backpack, as his thoughts were still back in the labyrinth. He snatched his phone, then went to the corridor to put on the shoes and jacket, before going out.
He locked the door behind himself. Then began slowly descending the staircase, trying to push the irritating thoughts about the strange dream from his head.
'I need to clean the apartment. Mister Kirk will probably come tomorrow to check on me,' he thought sighing deeply. 'I can't disappoint him. He is the closest thing I have to family...'
The idea of the upcoming visitation was finally able to make him focus on something else. Contemplating the chores he needed to do after returning from school distracted him to the point, that he didn't even notice when he reached the ground floor. Pushing open the door of the apartment complex, he emerged outside. The cold, morning air hit him, washing away the residual dullness.
Sam's mouth and eyes went wide as he witnessed something disturbingly strange. He definitely just came out of his old apartment, the street in front of it also seemed very similar, but so many other stores and buildings were different.
He glanced at the shops and services on the other side, still unopened because of the early hour.
„What the fuck is going on?" he asked aloud.
His telephone buzzed, making him reach for the device in his pocket. As he pressed the button on the side, awakening the screen, he saw the notification about a message from an unknown number, but he ignored it, as he noticed something more important as well. The date.
'How the hell is this possible?' he asked himself staring at the numbers. It was not the day that was supposed to be. Nor the month, nor, most importantly, the year. 'Twenty years in the future?' he stared at the number with an open mouth, unable to accept what he was witnessing.
He stole another glance at the street and buildings around. A car passed at the same moment. It looked slick and futuristic. Not too crazy, as he had already seen similar designs of the most cutting-edge vehicles of his times, which now were the past, but it was still something that caught his eye.
The phone was not lying to him. Somehow he found himself in the future. He dived back to the screen, checking the message. It was an address.
'Charles Darwin Street, 69, 8 PM.'
„What the hell is going on?" he voiced his confusion, but there was nobody close enough to answer his questions. He glanced around again, then returned to the phone, finally realizing he got up an hour before he was supposed to.
'I need to figure this out,' he thought.
With this idea, he darted back to the apartment. Running up the stairs, leaping over three steps at a time, he got there very quickly. He had to fight with the keys for a moment, as his hands were shaking before he was able to open the door. He jumped in, throwing his backpack on the floor. He closed the door, tore his jack off, dropped it as well, and then rushed back to the room.
He turned on the computer and sat on the chair, quickly checking the current news. The first few articles that caught his eye were:
'The new Forum PM vowes to implement further restrictions on dangerous technologies;'
'Brutal showdown among teenagers results with serious injuries;'
'Strange kidnappings linked to cult activity,'
'Super-human bank robbery. Fifth this month;'
'United Nations council slams Agora's president for his sluggish implementation of the new research restrictions;'
'Androids discovered working in one of the Forum's ports. The police are investigating the owner;'
'Increase of violence among high school students. Are the cults responsible?'
'Lex Caesar joins the special super-human police unit. Will the justice return to Forum?'
'Surveillance equipment found in the office of the chief of police. Is this incident linked to the mass spy operations across Agora?'
'Clash of crimelords paralyzes two districts. The heroes react;'
'The spread of strange religions continues;'
'Last automated fabric in Forum to be deconstructed.'
What he was reading had a lot of sense, as he remembered similar things starting to happen back in his time, but few of the headlines were straight-up bat-shit crazy! From the articles he now knew that both the country of Agora, just as its capital mega-city of Forum, were overflowing with strange incidents.
He shook his head, leaning back in the chair. Right now the politics were not important, contrary to the craziness of the situation he found himself in.
„I'm in the future. My phone says it, the internet says it, and the world outside says it as well," he whispered as if somebody could overhear him. „What the hell is going on?"
Then a thought hit him. If he was indeed in the future, why did his flat look the same? Was the off-the-books deal he made with Mister Kirk, his guardian from the orphanage, and the director of the orphanage, Mister Dill, still on?
How could that be if twenty years had passed? He was supposed to use the flat, paying for the expenses with the money he won in a lottery, when he was twelve, only during his time in high school, as the best school in the city was too far from the orphanage. He had to work his ass off to get this chance, which almost was lost because of the distance between the two facilities, but then Mister Kirk and Mister Dill agreed to help him, allowing him to live alone in an old apartment Mister Kirk inherited from his grandma.
The guardian was supposed to visit Sam every couple of days, to check on him, which he did for the first two months, and then… Then the dream happened, and now he was somehow twenty years in the future, on the first day of school.
'There is no way in hell I'm going anywhere before I figure out what is going on,' he thought, reaching back to the keyboard, but he froze before his fingers hit the keys to begin the search. Instead, he reached back into his pocket and had another look at the message he received. 'Charles Darwin Street, 69, 8 PM,' it spelled.
'Fine… I'll go out. I'll go check this address, but first… First I need to find out what is happening. Brother internet, please help me,' he thought while hiding the device back in his pocket, and finally started pressing the keys to check what happened when he was not present.
In the midst of it, the idea that the dream was somehow linked to everything popped into his mind, prompting him to go on a hunt for the people he met during the incident.
If they existed, there was no way they wouldn't leave a trance in the World Wide Web. He knew their names, faces, and even a little bit about them, which was a decent start, but hours passed, and he didn't stumble on anything that could possibly prove the existence of those people.
No social media accounts, no photos, no articles. Even about Oliver, who was a politician. If the man ever lived, there was no way Sam wouldn't dig up something proving the fact, but he didn't.
'It was all a lie,' he concluded eventually.