The Egg Said Nothing - Caris O'Malley [15]
“I’m going to go,” she said, smashing my heart with a giant cartoon anvil.
“When am I going to see you again?” I asked.
“Later on tonight. You’ll be up?” she teased.
“I’ll set my alarm.”
She walked over to me. “Turn your head,” she commanded. I obeyed, grateful for the opportunity. She kissed me so softly on the cheek I wasn’t sure it had actually happened. “I will see you later.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” I listened as she walked away from my bed and towards the front door. I rushed out after her, locked all the locks and went back to the bedroom.
My egg was smashed all over the floor, its shell broken. Amid the destruction, there was a disc, nestled safely in a protective plastic case.
“Motherfucker.”
~Chapter 8~
In which the narrator learns the true meaning of the egg.
I knelt down and picked up the disc. Turning it over in my hand, I looked for some identifying mark. What the hell was it? I stood up and walked over to the bed to sit down.
What did all this mean? How in the world did the egg break? It was so safe in its nest. Looking at the eggshell fragments hurt physically; this was something I cared for. I nurtured it and looked after it. I kept the fucking thing warm.
Standing, I gripped the disc tightly in my hand and walked over to the computer. I put the disc in the drive and gave it time to load. After a few seconds, a window appeared, asking me if I wanted to play the content on the disc. I confirmed that I did and waited. My media player popped up and began loading an image. It was sort of grainy, but I could make out my front door, the back of my couch, the television. This video was filmed right where I was sitting. On my webcam.
I looked at the small camera accusingly. It came with the machine, but wasn’t the sort of technology for which I’d found any use. Apparently someone had. I waited a few seconds and watched as a figure sat down in my chair.
It was me.
“Holy shit,” I whispered. I didn’t do this. I hadn’t made this.
Had I?
“I know what’s going through your head right now, but do your best to stop thinking,” my likeness said.
Let’s see what I’ve been doing in my sleep, I thought.
“What I’m about to tell you is really, really fucking hard to believe.”
Oh, you’re kidding. This seems pretty straightforward. I’m fucking nuts.
“The timeline for all this shit is going to get confusing, but I’m going to go really slow. I made this video at 7 p.m. tonight. If you’re wondering, it is about 6 p.m. where you’re sitting at the moment. Look at the time on the computer.”
I looked. 5:43 p.m.
“Yes, seven o’clock tonight is about an hour and change in the future. Take a moment to accept this as a fact.”
An hour from now? How could that be? I looked out the window; sunlight still seeped through. I turned around to see how it draped across the couch like a glowing stain. I faced the computer screen again. The couch was dark. It was nighttime whenever the video was made. Either that, or the window was covered. But why would I lie to myself? Forget everything I know, that’s what I’d said. Fucking listen.
“Okay, good reasoning,” my mirror said as soon as I had made a decision. “I am making this video slightly in the future. I, myself, am from a good deal farther into the future. About twenty years, in fact. I look exactly like you do now because, when I came back, I had to make my appearance in a pre-existing form. What this means is that, in about an hour, you will make this video.”
That’s easily verifiable. I just needed to wait an hour.
“Now, I need you to go into the kitchen. I’ve written you a letter explaining everything. It’s in the refrigerator.