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Mar 15, 2018 02:44
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| # ? May 3, 2024 15:13 |
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Abugadu posted:Also the boat has a tiny leak in it. I guess the nostalgia part is mildly comforting. SA exists again, Lowtax hasn't died yet. gently caress, maybe in a few jumps I'll check out Fark or Ebaumsworld. Use Netscape. Check out that Geocities page I made.
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Mar 15, 2018 03:12
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which made the other people in line at Target very nervous. I loaded up on a fuckton of candy bars, and just sugar binged. Not my body, at least not after a few minutes or hours. I'd figured out there was no correlation between leap time and experiential time. Random poo poo. I stopped caring about where or when I was, just decided to let my id run free. I stopped short of major criminal activity, I just don't have it in me to gently caress up someone else'e life. Plus, what if Time Cop came after me? Actually, that might help the situation. I'd at least have someone else who knew what the gently caress was going on. But future me's credit card bill was going to be eye-popping. Maybe I'd be in debtor's jail, not able to gently caress myself over later. At least that's the justification I gave myself for the $3000 bill at the titty bar. The jumps were erratic now. Five minutes, or seven hours of play time. Two days, or five months of skip. I couldn't keep track. I'd given up hope of stopping it, the only thing I could hope for was to land somewhere interesting with my wallet on me. I think it's 2018 now. I wonder if I get to experience 6/16 all over again. I've given some thought as to what the end game to this is. I'll probaby have a little fun screwing with some grade school teachers, tell Mrs. Biwer about her husband's affair before it happens. Past (future) me would have thought 'hey maybe that will disrupt the timeline, since Ms. Gorman will get fired and I won't have her for 6th grade Social Studies and I'll veer off on a completely different life, butterfly-effect style', but obviously that ship has sailed. But the "end" end game. Blink out of existence? Climb back in to my mom's womb? "Pardon me, excuse me, coming through, I'll just bring this cord with me, yes I need this book now if you don't mind". But the weird thing is no longer caring, just numbness. Nothing has consequence, so there's no value to actions other than immediate gratification. Hedonism Through The Ages, a one-man play in an undetermined number of acts. I stopped telling people about the Threepeat, about 6/16, about my situation. I'll write it all down some time and put it somewhere inconsequential. The guy who found himself eating desserts. I can't even describe the slow terror. Maybe akin to being on a boat with no motor slowly drifting further and further from land. |
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Mar 15, 2018 03:58
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Manifisto posted:no matter how many ancestors I bang, nothing changes in the present this post nearly killed me, beautiful
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Mar 15, 2018 14:48
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I once left a Snickers wrapper at the base of the Ziggurat of Ur and set the field of archaeology back about two decades |
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Mar 15, 2018 16:44
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I don't normally empty quote a lot but......Abugadu posted:which made the other people in line at Target very nervous. I loaded up on a fuckton of candy bars, and just sugar binged. Not my body, at least not after a few minutes or hours. I'd figured out there was no correlation between leap time and experiential time. Random poo poo. I stopped caring about where or when I was, just decided to let my id run free. I stopped short of major criminal activity, I just don't have it in me to gently caress up someone else'e life. Plus, what if Time Cop came after me? Actually, that might help the situation. I'd at least have someone else who knew what the gently caress was going on.
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Mar 15, 2018 17:07
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checking in from the year 3000, where not much has changed, but we live un-der water. and your great great great grand daughter is pretty fine
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Mar 15, 2018 18:35
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UWBW posted:Art. |
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Mar 15, 2018 19:02
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no dessert this time. I thought about it briefly, and couldn't decide whether it was worse or better that the jump was smaller. Then I had the paranoid thought that maybe I'd snap back to the present, and all the fuckery I did would have happened and caused a vastly different situation. Some beta OSU bro would be rich as gently caress from the prophesy of a crazy man. And my relationship status, well... and I decided not to think about it. Why bother. If it happened it happened, but priority #1 was stopping what was happening. Which seemed rather beyond my control. I got the idea to try to stop the project. But I barely got onto I-70, less than 20 minutes in, before that goddamned noise hit again. I spent the first few minutes of my next destination just thinking about my situation. Did less jump mean less time there? Was there a ratio? Was it random? Did it matter? Why the gently caress was I in a Dairy Queen in what looked like Florida? So I came up with the idea of mailing myself a letter with the details of what was happening - it would take the post office a few days to get the letter to the me that was heading in the right direction, so maybe he'd be able to do something if he noticed 'oh hey that's my handwriting'. I slipped it into a mailbox, and waited. Would something happen instantly? Just a *BRZAP* and I would be... where? Somewhere not here? Or would I just start my life again from a Halloween trip to Tampa? Each additional second after I put the letter in was torture. Failure. I thought about jumping into traffic, maybe it would be like Groundhog's Day and I'd just pop back awake in the future. Or in the Dairy Queen. Eventually I just said gently caress it and went and got a Blizzard and sobbed in a booth next to some kid's 9th birthday party. Probably would have scarred that little sucker for life if he was accosted by a bleary shellshocked guy telling him to never go into particle physics. The thought hit me that I might be on an entirely new timeline. Maybe my actions had zero effect on anything. Terrible, terrible freedom. I suppose the first part of insanity is trying to make light of the situation. So upon the next 'leap' I pretended like I was on Quantum Leap and berated a non-existant Ziggy to give me a goddamned update on whose body I was in, |
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Mar 16, 2018 01:26
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I feel like if you have access to time travel, you are morally obligated to go see all the bad rear end concerts that you missed/weren't alive for. |
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Mar 16, 2018 01:45
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Was my uncle still alive? Do I have time to call him? Are people using cellphones? Will my implant sync up with whatever telecom system is running here? Meanwhile, kids walking by are looking confusedly at a man with a thousand-yard stare gripping a bike rack like he's going to float off in space any second. It took me another ten precious minutes to figure out what the gently caress I was doing. And then I did some weird poo poo. Maybe it was a rejection of the situation, maybe it was a test to see if someone or something was loving with me. My implant didn't work of course, so I went with what the limits of my creativity could come up with - I told some dude that if I could borrow his phone, I'd tell him the future and he'd make a ton of money off it. Which didn't work for the first eight times I tried it. But guy #9 was one of those suckers that probably gives money to every homeless guy he walks past, and in return I gave him intimate details of the Threepeat and told him to bet heavily. And I called my other ex, Kendra. Probably not the proudest moment in human history - guy starts moonwalking through time for the first time ever, and listens to his dick. But ye gods was she a freak. Psycho, of course, but then those two go together like Cream Puff ice cream and a dipped waffle cone. I can't even imagine the damage I did to future me with what we did for my last hour. I'm just glad she still had all the equipment handy at her apartment. About 2/3 of the way through, the thought hits me 'what if I go while she's still tied up?' and I panic again. But I still keep it up and have a straight face while I make sure her hands are free, coming up with some bs excuse. Again, if 'what would you have done differently' were an option, I can't come up with much at this point. The Existentialism on Steroids of my new situation made a lot of things less important. 6/16 had already happened at that point, so it wasn't like I could warn everyone about that. In any event, I'm glad I untied her hands before the bullfrog buzz hit. I already had enough going through my head, I didn't need my conscience demanding a seat at the table of screaming voices declaring that I had possibly left someone to die or at least get very dehyrdrated before an embarrassing discovery. It was a little over two hours by my estimation for my time there, and I assumed 2018 was the destination. Which was of course wrong. One loving month. I was on the couch watching college basketball, |
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Mar 16, 2018 05:20
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I have nothing on that level to contribute, but those posts are why I love byob. If I could still travel through time, all I would do is go back and win the weed rear end hat. I am not complete without it. Must've cycled through that contest a thousand times before my machine ran out of juice. Just gonna have to ride this one out. Become Yesterday's Obsolete Bygone. Beneath Yellow Orchard Blossoms, Beyond Your Own Boundaries. Beside Yonder Opalescent Brook, Bodacious Youths Orchestrate Beginnings. Bacon Yields Oily Byproducts, But You Obliterate Buckets. Be Your Own Buddha. Breathe, Yawning Out Bothers. Bed Your Own Buddies. Bees Yield Oversized Blossoms. Besides, You've Overcome Beasts. But Yelling Over Burdens? Bearing Your Old Bullshit? Bars You Out Back. Begin Yielding Original Banter. Become Your Own Best. BYOB. BYOB. BYOB |
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Mar 16, 2018 05:59
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jacket with them. And her foot looked totally unscarred. That was the moment when what was happening clicked. When the voice in my head went 'ohhhhhhhhhhOHHHHHHHHHHHFUCK' I had two hours. I don't know if I would have reacted or done anything differently if I knew I only had two hours, because it's not like I'm able to see the effects or reap the benefits anyway. I remember telling her about the Threepeat, and that we should bet heavily on it - perhaps the other me made a fortune. I suppose a better man would have known what stocks to buy or what the lotto numbers were on a certain day, but again, nothing that affects my current situtation anyway. Wish I would have told her some real from-the-heart stuff. But I didn't know that time was winding down (up? gently caress, I don't know). The noise blasted again, and I was in 2020. I was at Jeni's in Columbus. In retrospect (prospect?), there was a dessert-theme going on. I'd like to be able to say that I coolly ordered a scoop of Cream Puff and enjoyed myself. But that would ignore the fact I started screaming and ran out the door. I'd just gotten used to 2022, I was going to not gently caress up this time, we were going to make things work, I was going to make a fuckton of money off the Super Bowl, and bam it's all gone. Don't know where it went or what happened to it. The leaves were coming in, and I instinctively sought out a newspaper kiosk. It was April 3rd. If it had said April 1st, my brain would probably have collapsed from the irony. The jump was larger, but who knew what the gently caress that meant. Two isn't a reliable pattern. I grabbed onto something, I think it was a bike rack. Like that was going to anchor me. Passersby looked at me like I was insane, which I guess I was in a way. It's not like I had a grip on what was going on. There's a lot of poo poo that runs through your head all at once in that situation - do I have two hours left this time? Where was I in 2020? Was I dating Nicole yet? |
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Mar 16, 2018 06:56
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(Yeah shes pretty fine)
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Mar 16, 2018 09:54
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Conan O'Brien doing his "in the year 2000" predictions skit after the year 2000 cracked me up and was some serious time travel stuff!
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Mar 16, 2018 15:05
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change compared to the other jaw-dropping grifts. I wasn't one of the higher-ups on the project, I suppose 'office drone' would be more accurate. I'm not sure what it was supposed to do - the European LHS already accomplished a ton of milestones. Maybe Trump just wanted a huge (yuge) collider of his own, maybe there was something more sinister to it. The fact that there was a person-sized chamber in the tube probably should have sounded more alarms in my head, though the Lebron-brand weed-cookies I'd eaten earlier that day had the mental safety cordons down a bit. Andrew had had a few as well. I know this because he was giggling as I got into the chamber so he could send some protons at my nutsack, in an attempt to "find my superball". Whatever buttons he pushed, I don't think they were the right ones. In retrospect, I suppose I'm glad I didn't just go back in time only - I would have been lodged 300 feet under the ground, packed in the mud. There was a sound like if you took the croak of a bullfrog, dropped it by four octaves, and made it 50x louder. And suddenly, it's 2022, and I'm at Cedar Point, with my ex Nicole. It was summer, so the jump was just a little over two years backwards. I'm holding a Sno-cone and walking, and I must have been looking around confusedly for like 30 seconds with my jaw open. I remember one of my first thoughts being 'Holy poo poo, Lebron makes a loving good cookie', while the rest of my brain tried to parse what was happening. I kind of went along with what was happening for a couple of minutes while my paranoia was going 120MPH, but the real panic and WTF set in when I noticed the tattoo that was no longer on her foot. I kept myself from asking if she got it removed, because poo poo was already severely out of place already - the fact that she wasn't pissed off that I was there, the fact that not everyone at the park had a Threepeat shirt on, nobody with an acid-rain proof |
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Mar 19, 2018 01:09
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| # ? May 3, 2024 15:13 |
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It all started with an accident, as these things do. It'd probably be a lot cooler if it created a superhero, or at least a supervillain, but I'm just a dude going the wrong way on the ol' x-axis of spacetime. Wish I could monetize it, or at least stop it, but I blink backwards unpredictably, and wouldn't be able to enjoy any gains I made once that happens again anyway. I go forward for the briefest of moments before vaulting backwards again, hours, months, or years at a time. But maybe by telling my story one of you can prevent this from happening, like sabotage the lab or something, or get me sick the day of the event. Though honestly, I don't know if that would create a second timeline, or just obliterate me entirely. It's been a weird couple of... well, moments I guess. 2024 was a hosed up year. Oprah was seemingly a shoe-in for her second term, her opponent likely being the Truth Party's Scottie Hughes. But it was a few months away, and my concerns were split between my job becoming more and more messed up and watching the Browns attempt the first NFL four-peat. My lab was just buried deep under the earth near Township of Bucks. One of those little nothing towns where everyone tried to pretend they weren't Steelers fans not five years prior, blissfully unaware that there was a massive secret particle collider running underneath the town, and several surrounding areas. Construction happened really quickly, though I suppose they copied a lot of poo poo from the LHC. Trump made it a priority right after he took office, one of the many surprises that the public didn't know poo poo about until 6/16 happened. I guess our project's funding was buried a few levels down, as we were still running long afterwards, but $10 billion was chump |
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Mar 19, 2018 06:45
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