The silence weighed heavily in the air as Gadget tried in vain to figuratively pick his jaw up off the floor. Failed. Tried again, failed. Man, he must’ve looked like a monkey with laryngitis trying to cough up a banana peel. So he stopped. Finally, he was able to stammer-out:

  “Wha . . . wha . . . How are — you’re — you’re me. But how? How — ”

  His Other Self smiled, though not unkindly. “Yes, I’m you. But I think the more appropriate question is, ‘when?’ See, I’m the ‘you’ who lives in year 2043, Gadget. Sixteen years into the future.” He sighed. “Or at least . . . in what’s left of the world by then.”

  “What do you mean . . . ‘what’s left of the world?’ asked Gadget he started to get up, but Future-Gadget stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder. He sat down on the edge of the bed next to him, across from Belladonna.

  “Great,” said Misto, rolling his eyes and sighing, “I get to hear this depressing tale again. Oh what fun.”

  “Is he being sarcastic?” asked Trixie. “I can never tell.”

  “Chances are good that the answer is yes,” said Zo?.

  Future-Gadget sighed as well. “Okay. Here goes. You’l have to excuse me, ‘cause I only rehearsed this speech a few dozen times before I left, and practiced it only once on the others before you woke up. And I’m kinda nervous. I always did talk to myself. Ourself. You. Me. Ugh. Anyway. Ahem. Okay, it’s like this. I’m from the year 2043. I came here in a Time Machine that I invented . . . or that you might invent — though I actually hope not, if all goes well — and that’s powered by what remains — or what will remain — of the engine of Trixie’s ship. It’s like this: We lost, okay? We lost. Ravenkroft won. And the aliens won, too.”

  A heavy s ilence fell over the room. All eyes were on the two of them.

  Future-Gadget sighed again. “The invasion began an hour after Dizzy was transformed. Ravenkroft opened the Portal, using her — or what she becomes — as kind of a psionic booster. And he got hold of your — well, our — Helm, after . . . well. We barely escaped the hotel in Trixie’s ship with our hides intact. Well, some of us did. Misto over there gets killed in less than an hour from now. He dies painfully, when one of the Cybermechazoid Samurai skewers him with a sword. Sailor there dies, too. Zo? survives. Mystikite . . . Well, it isn’t easy to kill a Vampire, unless you use fire. And Zo? is the queen of Firebenders now, but even she can make a mistake in the heat of battle. And she does. So it’s a brief and happy reunion when he comes back — and he does find his way back here, and with some new friends, too, and in just a little while, so chin-up — but then . . . well, he buys it during the boss fight with Ravenkroft. After all that happens, and the Eidolon start coming through the Portal, then the Zarcturean arrive. The invasion is swift and brutal, and happens over the course of a week that devastates the planet. The Human race is enslaved. You think you’ve seen dystopias in sci-fi dude? Well ‘I have seen shit that’ll turn you white.’ My mom is dead now. Belladonna’s parents . . . no one knows if they were taken to one of the labor camps or not. Or if they’re dead. Zo? . . . They captured her and Ravenkroft ordered her dissected, to find out how her powers work. Trixie and I spent years in hiding. Years, dude. Years. Building the Time Machine. So we could travel back in time to tonight, to this moment in time, to change history for the better. But she . . .” He began to tear-up, and his voice cracked a little. He took a moment to collect himself, shuddered, then cleared his throat and continued in a soft voice. “She was killed when the discharge from the Repulsivators overloaded on my way through the wormhole. So it’s just me here, now. And I’ll cease to exist once I’m done here, because if history changes — even a tiny bit, and even if it’s not for the better — I’ll disappear once the ripple-effect catches up with me. So I don’t have long. Just long enough to make one single major change, and that’s all. That’s it. One change, and I’m done. But I wanted to talk to you before I left, regardless.”

  “Wh . . .” Gadget breathed. “Shit.”

  “Yeah,” said Future-Gadget. “It’s a lot to take in. Breathe dude, just breathe.”

  “Well, what — what are you going to change?” asked Gadget.

  “I’ve already done it. I’ve given Trixie and Misto a flash drive, containing useful scientific information she didn’t have at the — or rather, at this — time,” said Future-Gadget. “Luckily, the flash drive won’t cease to exist when I do, because it’s a small enough, simple enough construct that it should remain unaffected by temporal paradox — mostly. Like me, it’s been exposed to the energy fields generated by the Con-Fusion Drive in Trixie’s ship. So it can withstand the effects of paradoxes for a while. It can stand them longer because it’s smaller. So it shouldn’t’ disappear for a few days, at least, whereas I’ll fade in . . . well, it should be any time now, since I’ve changed history just by interacting with all of you. I’m ready, though. I’ve led a good life. Well, mostly. Except for the alien invasions, it’s been . . . one hell of an adventure.” He smiled weakly.

  “Dude,” said Gadget. His head was spinning. “This is . . . this is . . . Hey. What did you want to talk to me about, anyway?”

  “Oh, that,” said Future-Gadget. “Yeah. Come with me. We need privacy for this.” He got up and walked over and through the door into the unoccupied half of the hotel suite. Gadget got up and followed him, and closed the door behind them. He could feel all the gazes of the others weighing on them as he went.

  “Okay, what?” he said, once they were alone.

  Future-Gadget put a hand on his shoulder. “Okay, look, dude. Here’s the deal. If you manage to save Dizzy — and God, I hope you do — we need to talk about . . . your approach to women. And relationships. And everything.”

  Gadget blinked, taken aback. “Um, okay . . . Isn’t that a rather minor thing to be concerned with just now, with the fate of the world hanging in the balance?”

  “No,” said Future-Gadget, “it isn’t. It’s you. It’s me. It’s . . . your psychological health, dude. What you’re doing to yourself — and to the women you chase after — it’s . . . not healthy. It just isn’t.”

  “What — what do you mean?”

  “Well, okay, for one thing . . . Please quit falling in love with every woman you see. It’s embarrassing. I mean, it puts you at an immediate disadvantage, and can make the other person feel extremely uncomfortable. And it’s ridiculous, besides that. You’re not twelve anymore. You’re thirty. Plus, you fall in love way too easily, and too superficially. Now, with some people — people who are . . . well . . . nice — that can be okay. Some people are hopeless romantics, like we are. But with some people — like Dizzy, for instance — it’s . . . not a good idea to wear your heart on your sleeve. Because people like Dizzy are, number one, dangerous, emotionally-speaking, especially for people like us. If you haven’t noticed, Dizzy isn’t exactly the most ‘concerned’ person in the world when it comes to other peoples’ feelings.”

  Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

  “Well, yeah,” said Gadget. He had to admit, he had noticed that.

  “Plus, dude, look,” said his Future Self. “I know you like to consider yourself really ‘progressive’ and ‘liberal,’ but realize that with that, there comes the necessary embrace of distinctly feminist values. And, the simple core truth of feminism is that women are people too. Right?”

  “Uh, yeah, right . . .” said Gadget. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

  “And other people have feelings, and a right to them, and boundaries, and a right to those, too, just like you do. Right?”

  “Um . . . yeah . . .’

  “Well, generally speaking — and contrary to everything you see in the media and everything you hear in the male-dominated cultural echo-chamber — most women don’t like to be idolized and worshipped and put on pedestals.”

  Gadget blinked. “They don’t?”

  “Of couse they don’t, you moron,” said Future-Gadget. “Well, some do, I guess. Kimmy Kazarkian, maybe. But most don’t. It makes them feel uncomfortable, frightened, and leery of the person doing it. And those feelings are real, and valid. Just like yours.”

  “Oh,” said Gadget. He looked down at his shoes.

  “And when you pursue these intense feelings you spontaneously develop for someone — and you pursue them relentlessly, dude — regardless of what she wants, which might just be friendship — that makes her uncomfortable and compromises her rights, her feelings, her boundaries. And thus makes you into nothing more than yet another creep, even a stalker. Do you want to be a creep, and a stalker?”

  “Well, no.” He looked up sharply. “No, I don’t.”

  “Of course you don’t. Because in the end, that hurts you too, dude. And only serves to drive you further into social isolation. Okay. There. Lecture over.”

  Gadget again lowered his eyes to his socks. Damn. Did he really do that? Did the Other Him actually have a point here? He wasn’t sure. It sure as hell felt right, though. And who else knew him better than he knew himself? Not even his therapist knew him that well. Shit. Now it was his turn to heave a heavy sigh. Yeah, his Other Self had him dead to rights. He did fall in love too easily. And he did make women uncomfortable. He knew it. That was why he could never get a date. It wasn’t because he was “unattractive” or “awkward” — it was because of the way he behaved. His doubts, his fears, his —

  You know he’s just trying to ruin your chances with her, said the Beast. There’s nothing wrong with expressing how you feel about someone. Nothing wrong at all. Of course, it’s you, so how you feel is probably just too much for some people to handle. Hell, it’s too much for you to handle, it’s —

  Gadget closed his eyes and concentrated. “SHUT UP!” he commanded, with the same force of will he had used on the Biomechanoids on the rooftop, the same force of will he had used on the bullies picking on Sailor earlier, and the same force of will he used to block out the voices behind the Wall. He briefly felt something “pop” inside his mind . . . a kind of singular sensation of “release,” and then a rush of sudden relief. It had been so many years since the Beast had appeared in his head that for a moment, he didn’t know what to make of its absence, except for a curious feeling of emptiness.

  Wow. So this was what it was like to not be crushed by anxiety every single second. Holy shit. He tried to breathe normally for a moment or two, and worked his eyes back and forth, as he mentally scanned for signs of the Beast.

  Where are you? he psychically probed. Where?

  No answer.

  C’mon. Where are you hiding. Taunt me.

  No answer.

  C’mon! Where’s the niggling self-doubt! The shame! The asshole snark?

  No answer.

  Dead silence for a moment in the room, and in his head.

  “Huh,” he said aloud. He whispered to himself, “holy crap . . . he’s . . . gone.”

  “The Beast again,” said his Other Self. “Right?”

  Gadget opened his eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and then let it out. He nodded.

  “Yeah that asshole always did suck,” said Future-Gadget. “I’m sorry. My memories are starting to change. So I remember this moment between us and . . . No, the Beast, he’s . . . not gone . . . Just hiding . . . and . . . Transforming. Be watchful for Schyzarchon, Gadget.”

  “Who? You mean the Dragon, in Fantazmagoria?”

  “Yes,” said Future-Gadget. “She’s dangerous. She is the Beast. Or a part of it. But anyway. Please. Listen to what I’m saying, dude. For real. It will help you out. Okay? Also, never use the word ‘Friendzone’ again. It’s stupid. And outdated.” He sucked in a breath, coughed, and then appeared to shiver all over. Gadget hadn’t noticed until now, but his Other Self’s hands had been trembling, and he could see the veins through his skin. And he was sweating. A lot. What was wrong with him? Oh, God, no — the ripple effect. The changes in the spacetime continuum were catching up to him. He would cease to exist at any moment. Gadget’s heart leapt into his throat and began beating wildly. What could he do? Nothing. Not a damned thing but watch his Other Self come unraveled at the subatomic level . . . Oh Jesus, this was bad . . . He had thought watching Mystikite almost die was horrific, but this . . . watching himself fade away . . .

  And even as he looked at Future-Gadget, he could see that very thing happening . . . his skin was becoming translucent, literally fading from view.

  “Good luck,” said his Other Self, and grinned, then coughed again. “Remember: ‘The Force will be with you. Always.’” Cough, cough. “And also remember: ‘No matter where you go, there” — cough — “you are.’” Cough. “We’re gonna win this time, dude. I just” — cough — “know it. And why are we gonna” — cough — “win? Because ‘we’ve done” — cough — “the impossible before and we can do it again. And that makes us mighty indeed.’ Goodbye . . . old friend.”

  And with that, he was gone.

  Just gone.

  Gadget stood there, alone in the other half of the hotel suite for a moment, his heart banging against his ribcage, his hands trembling at his sides, his eyes wide. Had all that really just happened? Or had it just been another dream in Fantazmagoria? Damn. Double damn. Words couldn’t express the sadness in his heart. He had only known his Future Self for a few minutes but the poor bastard had felt — indeed — like an old friend. Well, dammit, he would do his best to honor him. Do what he said. Follow his advice — to the letter — even if it made his very soul ache to do so, even if it took more self-control than he’d ever been capable of in his thus-far pitiable existence. Well, let it be pitiable no more, dammit. The Beast was going to have to be put under house arrest, starting now, goddammit. At his feet, Puumba howled like a lost hound.

  After a few minutes of standing there, he swallowed hard. He put his hand on the door handle to go back into the other room, when suddenly there was a knock on the hotel room door.

  Apprehension swallowed his mind. Who else knew they were here? Ravenkroft. It had to be —

  Wait. Ravenkroft wouldn’t knock, would he?

  Hell no, of course he wouldn’t. Gadget went to the door — with some trepidation — and looked through the keyhole. And then a wild sensation of joy exploded in his heart and flooded through his veins, and he grinned from ear to ear.