Chaotic Slideshow - Chapter 01 (Patreon)

The nineties were a magical time.

Well, to those used to the fast-paced, influencer-directed, doomscrolling 2020s, anyway.

The internet was still in its infancy, a quiet fad spreading through the world, while personal computers were priced beyond what most normal families could afford. Phones were these giant devices that were rarely used, though as the decade progressed, they became more and more a part of everyday life.

Most people still used payphones that dotted the streets in various states of disrepair. Finding one without dog urine – or worse – was a minor miracle in itself.

Then there were the pagers.

They were everywhere.

Every high-energy businessman, doctor, or important person had at least one clipped to their belt. They would go off with various sounds, usually resulting in either cursing or somebody rushing off.

But all this meant that, for somebody used to the interconnectivity of the 2020s and instant access to anyone anywhere in the world, it took a while to adjust.

You wanted to know something?

Ask somebody near you – maybe a teacher, maybe a trusted adult – or head to the nearby library and hope they had something on the topic.

You wanted to watch a movie? Off to the theater with you. Oh, you missed the showing? Well, buy a ticket for the next one, or if it was the last showing, head to the nearest video rental shop and hope they still had copies.

Music? Buy a CD or cassette, or wait until it came on the radio and record it.

Primitive.

But at the same time, magical.

There was a magic to watching people navigate the world like this. Without applications solving everything for them at the press of a button. Without algorithms deciding what they were doing that day. Before a word from some random influencer could decide the fate of a business – sending it into the dumps or helping it thrive.

Granted, there was a darker side.

Everything people derided in the 2000s, then resurrected afterward, was alive and well. Though I was aware it never really went away. Just like energy, it simply transformed.

Still, it was better than the eighties.

Growing up in the eighties was an experience in itself. Living through the tail end of the Cold War, with all the related paranoia, propaganda, and consequences. Watching people worry themselves sick over a possible attack from a nation I knew was in the middle of collapsing was not a pleasant sight.

And no matter how much I tried to calm people, explaining geopolitics and economics – all I achieved was being called a commie while the principal sat me down and told me to cut it out with the hate-mongering or he would expel me.

Blatant stupidity that I knew would be vindicated in a few years, but I eventually realized it didn’t matter what I knew.

I was shouting into the void.

So I apologized and kept my mouth shut.

At least I tried...

I was born in 1976 in Warrenton, Virginia, on a particularly humid summer day in July, one day after the celebrations. Granted, there was a chance I was actually born on the fourth, but the hospital workers entered my birth date as the fifth because that was when they noticed my half-dead mother lying in an alley next to the hospital, cradling my tiny body.

According to one of the nurses I asked.

I suspected it was more complicated than that, but I had no desire to dig deeper.

Warrenton was a town of five-thousand-ish souls, and while we weren’t all neighbors, people still knew each other. And if somebody died like that and everybody refused to talk about it, there was a reason.

Was it a good reason?

I don’t know.

My skin was as white as fresh printer paper, so it probably wasn’t racism. Though I wouldn’t underestimate Americans’ capacity for racism, in this case, I was pretty sure that wasn’t it. According to the hospital records I managed to get my hands on, there were no drugs or other substances in either my body or my mother’s.

She left me with nothing but a mystery.

No relatives. Nothing else.

I was placed in a group home because it was easier to do things that way in our small town than set up a functioning foster system. Though I was pretty sure the workers were skimming money, I never said anything.

It was better than being on the streets.

There was no internet or social media where I could expose them anonymously. The most I would achieve was alienating myself from the entire town as a troublemaker.

Granted, I was already somewhat of an outsider.

Sorry, but I wasn’t going to suffer through kindergarten again.

I have vague memories from before being born of that hellscape, and I wanted nothing to do with it.

I made sure to tone down my intelligence, but I still managed to ‘figure out’ how to read and count by the time I was three. That was around the age most children started learning, with most figuring out the basics by five or six.

With competent help, they could read basic books at four or five.

I did it at three.

Naturally, everybody was amazed.

Though they refused to move me to elementary school because of my size. Thankfully, while they thought my reading skills were amazing, they still thought I was just a small child, so they talked in front of me all the time, revealing all sorts of information that allowed me to figure out what was going on.

Apparently, the elementary school wasn’t prepared to handle someone with my academic skills and appetite, and instead of paying for better teachers, more equipment, and everything else, they cited my small body and ‘mental development’ as reasons to keep me in kindergarten.

It was a small town, so nobody wanted to rock the boat.

They smiled, nodded, shoved me into a corner with a bunch of books, and told me to amuse myself.

I was in high school when I found out the principal had actually registered me as a student and taken federal grants to upgrade the school to accommodate me.

Then pocketed the money.

How did people become aware of this?

Apparently, he used the money to support a second family.

Boy, was the fallout hilarious.

I just sat near the courthouse where the two families clashed and enjoyed the spectacular fireworks.

Pay no attention to the anonymous letters. Or the photos taken with a disposable camera and dropped into the mailbox of the one news outlet that wasn’t afraid to publish everything and anything.

It was definitely not me.

No siree.

I was at home studying for the SATs like a good, smart boy.

Thankfully, the language portion was rather easy on account of having already finished university once and actually using English professionally. With a bit of a refresher, I also spoke German, Spanish, and French – all languages I learned before I found myself in the land of freedom and imprecise measurements.

Naturally, I didn’t tell them I also spoke a smattering of Eastern European languages and one and a half Asian languages.

My Korean was a bit rusty, but there was a nice old man in a nearby retirement home who spoke it, and he agreed to practice with me if I played card games with him.

Fun times.

I planned to study a language from the Middle East as well when I got to college, and maybe something from Africa.

That would let me communicate in most countries around the world.

Hopefully.

But most of my attention was on computers.

I knew how powerful they were going to become.

The moment the library got one, I made sure I was sitting there as long as possible, poking around the ancient – to me – system and trying to learn programming languages.

COBOL, for example, was already old, but I knew it was going to remain relevant even far into the future.

Around the time I turned fifteen, I tried my hand at making money.

I ran errands, mowed lawns, sold tests – I did everything just to make enough money.

It wasn’t like I could open my smartphone, pull up a betting site, and use my foreknowledge to bet on teams.

Granted, I was never one to pay attention to sports, but the bigger events stuck in my memory.

Like the ’86 World Cup with Maradona and Argentina winning. Mike Tyson doing his thing. Jordan dunking on people.

Sadly, I knew almost nothing about American football, but at least I knew something about the Olympics.

It allowed me – while traveling to nearby towns to place my bets – to make some money.

Being under eighteen, I couldn’t legally gamble, but there was always somebody willing to humor a cheeky kid and take his money. I kept my bets small to avoid complications, but by the end of the eighties, most local bookies refused my business.

Still, it was enough that, by the time I turned eighteen in 1995, I could move out of Warrenton in all its bland glory and settle on the outskirts of Huntington. I managed to rent a small house and even buy a cheap car.

I earned a scholarship in computer science by publishing several articles discussing future compatibility problems between common software protocols, along with a few on the Y2K issue. Plenty of people called me a fearmonger, but those working with those systems appreciated my perspective.

Add in a dash of sob story about being an orphan, an almost perfect SAT score, and the scholarship was practically handed to me on a silver platter.

George Washington University was only a half-hour drive away, and that was enough for me. I didn’t want to go to some big-name Ivy League school. I knew that a few years down the line, knowledge would matter a lot more than paper credentials.

Plus, I was a “poor” kid from the sticks. I didn’t want to deal with all that elitism.

I mean, this university was elitist too, considering it was in D.C., but at least I could stay invisible without Rich McMoney getting in my face to show off for his posse.

I kept to the background, kept my head down, and slowly built my life.

Thanks to that, my first year in college passed without many issuesI studied, took exams, went to a few parties, got drunk, kissed a few girls – and a guy, because why not. All in all, I was living my life like an extra in the background.

My biggest problem was a question.

Why?

Why was I reborn in the nineties, in the good old U.S. of A.?

There were no magical societies, demons, or aliens.

I checked.

There were no mysterious news articles about strange gas explosions. Nothing that suggested there was anything resembling a hidden world.

I didn’t suddenly gain superpowers. I couldn’t read minds or bench-press a car.

Nothing.

Which was very weird.

Based on everything I had read, there should have been something.

At this point, I would have taken magical girls.

And I hated that genre.

But nothing.

That was why, on a winter day during Christmas break, I was at home in my tiny living room, tinkering with my computer setup.

I had managed to scrounge together a bunch of computers that companies were throwing out and, with help from a few friends from university, hauled them home, cleaned them up, and started assembling what I affectionately called a proto-supercomputer.

Any modern smartphone would run circles around it, but in the nineties, it was a magnificent beast.

I even had a shitty dial-up modem hooked up to it.

I spent long nights surfing the early internet – what some called the future, and others called the doom of humanity.

Personally, I was just happy to visit all those famous early websites while chatting with a bunch of eggheads at universities.

Stretching slightly, I set down the brush I had been using to clean grime from a motherboard and looked around.

December 25th was a lonely time for a guy who never really felt at home in this world. Outside, everything was covered in beautiful snow, while inside it was warm and cozy. I glanced at the TV that came with the house, though I barely used it – unless somebody wanted to play on my SNES – as I had gotten used to avoiding most channels because of the ads that permeated everything in my previous life.

I either watched movies on VHS or nothing at all.

I was about to head to the kitchen, where my roast was nearly done. It was almost time to baste it, and I didn’t want to miss it.

Entering the kitchen, I was greeted by the heavenly smell of turkey roasting alongside rosemary potatoes and carrots in the oven. I spent a few minutes basting the turkey before sliding it back inside and started prepping the rest of dinner. A nice salad, slicing the focaccia I had made, toasting it lightly, and all sorts of things.

Twenty minutes later, I sat at my small kitchen table, the feast spread before me, enticing smells filling my home as I prepared to finally start eating.

I never really liked celebrating Christmas, but any excuse for a good meal.

There was a slight tremor in my hand as I almost instinctively reached for my phone to take a photo of the table. The instinct came rarely nowadays, but whenever it did, it served as a stark reminder of what I had lost.

However, before I could even lift a finger, I was interrupted.

There was a goddamn blue screen hovering in front of me.

It was transparent enough that I could still see my carefully prepared meal through it, but opaque enough for me to read the text written across it in a language I had no words to describe. Yet at the same time, the symbols rearranged themselves into forms my overwhelmed brain understood perfectly.

[Congratulations! You have successfully connected to the Universal Wheel of Chaos. This connection allows you to draw upon primordial chaos to hopefully enhance yourself.

All you have to do is go out and perform great deeds.

What counts as a great deed?

That is something you will have to discover for yourself.]

I read the screen and couldn’t help but frown. I had always been unlucky with anything based on chance. I didn’t think I had ever won anything substantial in either life. The most I had ever won were chocolate bars.

Playing gacha games had always been torture for me.

And now I was connected to something that apparently thrived on luck and chance.

I frowned as I felt something ephemeral click into place inside me, as if a tether had hooked itself into my soul.

Let me tell you, feeling your soul for the first time is very trippy.

Then feeling a metaphorical hook sink into it was, as some would describe, more painful than being set on fire and then kicked in the balls by a steelworker wearing steel-toed boots.

I would describe it as fucking painful.

I don’t know how long I writhed on the floor, but by the time I came to, I was gasping for air and drenched in sweat.

The chair had been thrown aside and now lay on its side.

Thankfully, none of the food had gone flying.

The screen was still hovering above the table.

Slowly getting up, arms trembling, I picked up the chair, straightened it, and sat back down while trying to steady my breathing.

Then I waved my hand experimentally through the screen, which vanished the text. Before I could wonder what was happening, it was refilled.

Unknown symbols twisted and rearranged into coherent shapes, forming the next message.

[Because connecting to the Universal Wheel of Chaos has such a low probability, you have been granted three opportunities to draw upon it in celebration of your accomplishment.

Furthermore, your accomplishments in your current life have granted you additional chances to draw upon the Wheel of Chaos.

As an added bonus, for your first seven draws, the possibility of receiving a Trash-level reward has been eliminated.]

[Survived in a new world until reaching adulthood! – 1 x Bronze Random Ticket]

[Kissed a girl and a boy! – 1 x Bronze Random Ticket]

[Exposed a corrupt official in a way that couldn’t be swept under the rug! – 1 x Silver Random Ticket]

[Managed to earn a full scholarship to university! – 1 x Silver Random Ticket]

[Welcome package! – 3 x Golden Random Ticket]

Then the screen collapsed inward into a ball of iridescent light, slowly shifted and stretched until it transformed into a stack of paper tickets that dropped directly onto my empty plate.

Two bronze tickets, two silver, and three golden ones were lying there, staring back at me.

I let out a slow sigh. “Well… that doesn’t bode well for this world…”

Still, one part of me couldn’t stop trembling with excitement.

Finally, it was my chance to do something.

Hopefully.

The rules were clear: do impressive stuff, get more stuff in exchange.

I would need to figure out what actually counted as impressive, but for now, I set the tickets aside and reached for the slightly cooled food I had spent most of the day preparing.

Food first.

After all, hunger is the enemy.

Finished with the meal, I answered the phone calls from a few friends who wanted to make sure I was okay spending Christmas alone. Appreciating the concern, I assured them I was happy, full, and fully prepared to snuggle up with a good book.

Soon enough, I was sitting in my living room.

However, it wasn’t a book in my hands, but the tickets I had been given.

Carefully spreading them across my coffee table, I picked up the first Bronze Ticket and, with trepidation and a rapidly beating heart, tore it in half.

In my mind, a wheel of immeasurable size and scope began spinning somewhere beyond my comprehension. It moved at speeds words couldn’t describe. Then, as it stopped, I was greeted by knowledge flowing into my mind.

[Tonguelash (Common Ability): Allows you to reinforce and elongate your tongue to several to dozens of meters, to use as a whip, another limb, or the other obvious use cases.]

I felt the ability settle into a slot somewhere within my soul, fitting there snugly, as though it had always belonged. Instinctively, I knew that the more abilities I collected, the more slots I would eventually gain. Swapping abilities came with a five-minute cooldown, but right now, I just wanted to know if this was real.

There was no mental switch or need to focus. It was as if this ability had been with me since I was born. I wanted my tongue to stretch, and it did. My tongue shot across the table, wrapped around the dusty remote sitting at the far end, and pulled it toward me. The oversized remote – probably filled with dead batteries – dropped into my hand as my tongue slipped back into my mouth.

“Okay… so it works. Yay?” I muttered as I reached for the next ticket.

Again, the incomprehensibly massive wheel began spinning before abruptly coming to a halt. More knowledge flooded my mind.

[Hound Collar (Common Item): A red dog collar that, when worn, grants the user the smelling and olfactory abilities of a Gray Wolf.]

Then I finally felt a mental switch appear in my soul. Without a doubt, I knew that if I wanted, I could summon the collar directly into my hand. I wouldn’t be able to put it back afterward, so for now, I left it where it was.

Done with the Bronze Tickets, I picked up the first Silver Ticket.

One tear later, more information poured into me.

[The Cursed Ticket (Uncommon Item): "Fancy your chances?" A ticket that, when torn, spins the Curse Roulette for the user, and automatically applies the result and the ticket they would have gotten to the recipient.]

Instantly, a pitch-black ticket replaced the torn Silver Ticket in my hand, dark smoke curled from it, oozing darkness, and promising an untold amount of misery. And somehow, I instinctively understood the rules.

If I survived whatever curse it inflicted on me, I would receive a reward. The stronger the curse, the better the reward.

Carefully setting it down on the table, I resolved to only use it if I got something good with the other tickets. Otherwise? I was absolutely not trusting my luck.

Taking the second Silver Ticket, I tore it.

Knowledge once again appeared in my mind within seconds.

[Flintslate (Uncommon Item): Silksong - A slate made of refined Flintgem. Whenever a bladed weapon is sharpened by this slate, it becomes temporarily red-hot without damaging the blade for 5 minutes. It can be used up to 3 times every 24 hours.]

It was somewhat powerful, but since I didn’t have a sword – or any real skill with one – It was basically useless. I left it next to the Hound Collar in the space within my soul.

Slightly disappointed by the expected outcome, I reached for the first Golden Ticket.

Great expectations tempered by experience with luck-based systems, I tore the shining ticket.

[Light Grenade (Uncommon Ability): DBZ - Allows you to conjure and launch a grenade of light energy that explodes. It is rather fast and powerful.]

A powerful ability.

I quickly swapped it in, feeling it slot into place within my soul, and I could immediately feel a new energy flow through my body.

Raising my hand, I let it manifest, and a small ball of light – ki – formed in my palm.

I didn’t fire it, as I was not stupid, instead simply marveled at it.

Closing my fist, I extinguished the light and let out a satisfied breath. Finally, something useful. Granted, I only had basic martial arts experience, but in an emergency, it would probably be enough.

I hoped.

I took the next ticket and tore it.

More knowledge flooded my mind. This one felt stronger than the previous ones.

[Invisible Air (Elite Ability): From Fate - Barrier of the Wind King, the invisible air is a barrier made of several layers of extremely compressed air that the user can control at will, to either release in destructive bursts, cover an object to render them invisible, or to reinforce an existing weapon in incredibly powerful winds.]

Blinking slightly, I grinned and immediately replaced my ability to generate light grenades with the Barrier of the Wind King. I could feel it instantly as the very air around me responded. Stepping in front of a mirror, I wrapped myself in it and vanished. A laugh slipped out of me before I released it again.

Air swirled around my body like a mantle, settling over me and giving me a sense of security I hadn’t felt in a long time.

“That was a good one,” I muttered as I walked back to the sofa and sat down, trying to ignore the pitch-black Cursed Ticket. Instead, I reached for the last Golden Ticket.

The final ticket’s information began to seep into my mind, and I could feel my body shifting slightly as it did.

[Photosynthesis (Rare Trait): Who cares about food or breathing? Natural sunlight is all you need in this life. You regenerate energy faster under sunlight, and when under the sun, you also feel satiated and don’t need to breathe as your body can function off sunlight alone. Water is still needed, though.]

Since it was night, I couldn’t test it, but it still sounded powerful.

Finally, my eyes landed on the cursed ticket.

Should I?

Or should I not?

On one hand, a powerful reward if I survived. On the other hand, my luck was terrible.

I paced back and forth across the living room, weighing the decision. But as I passed the window, I looked up at the night sky, stars barely visible through the light pollution.

I stopped and stared.

Humanity was small. I was very small.

No doubt something was coming, either for me or the world. The more power I had, the better I would or could handle it. Because I would handle things.

I had been granted a new lease on life for some reason.

And I intended to make the most of it.

Finally, I stepped away from the window and returned to the table. The wind curled around me like a gentle coat, resting on my shoulders as if supporting my decision.

I picked up the black ticket, and before I could change my mind, I tore it in half.

This time, I saw a gigantic black-and-red wheel spinning in my mind before it stopped, and I felt the universe hiccup.

[Menacing (Severity 7): Whether you intend to or not, you generally come across as a very intimidating and scary individual, like a thug or a criminal. Most regular people would rather not be close to you, and trained people may be on guard against you at first meeting. Resolve: Acquire Adept level communication or above OR acquire a trait that contradicts your curse.]

I didn’t feel any different.

Nor did I see anything in the mirror when I checked.

Still the same light brown messy hair. Pale skin. Tall and thin – thanks to careful calorie tracking and occasional exercise. Before all this, I’d always assumed my mind was my best chance at success, so physical training had mostly been neglected.

Or, as someone else might put it: I was lazy as hell.

Shrugging, I glanced once more at the dark sky and headed for bed.

I was full and sleepy from food, and mentally exhausted from the shock of everything that had just happened.

My life didn’t really change much after acquiring my powers.

I still drove almost an hour to university and back. Still attended classes. Still tried not to cringe at the predictions my teachers were making about technology. Still generally kept my head down while watching for anything that looked important or dangerous.

Thanks to Menacing, I noticed I was left alone a bit more easily, but otherwise, most people didn’t really bother me. When I asked questions, teachers visibly had to steel themselves before answering, but nobody made a huge deal out of it.

Hell, I even got a few dates out of it – women who found the whole thing interesting. They naturally flinched when they first saw me, but once they noticed how others reacted, their curiosity got the better of them, and they approached me anyway.

Toungelash even got some use.

I even got a new ticket.

[Lost your virginity while satisfying your partner! 1 x Bronze Random Ticket]

At least my previous experience was useful. I tore the ticket the moment I got home.

[Healthy (Common Trait): You are very healthy for your body, granting you slightly increased vitality and virility. In addition, any previous natural health complications you had before getting this trait are fixed.]

I felt my mild asthma clear up, and my allergies vanished as if they had never existed.

Totally worth it.

However, to my consternation, that was the only ticket I got for the rest of the school year.

I tried sleeping with a few more women, but no more tickets triggered. I even got into a bar fight when some tough guy decided he didn’t like my face.

Thanks to the Barrier of the Wind King, I didn’t really feel the hits, but as I tried to restrain myself from punching a hole through him with my abilities, it seemed my power didn't considered it an ‘impressive’ enough event.

Neither did I. It was more flailing around than fighting.

A bit embarrassing, really…

Then came the end-of-year exams and tests.

The moment I finished, I was granted another ticket.

[Finish your first year of university without failing any of your classes! – 1 x Bronze Skill Ticket]

[Novice Hand-to-Hand Combat (Common Skill): You are reasonably talented in hand-to-hand combat. You know how to punch and where to punch, and that’s enough for most people. You won’t be winning against professionals, but you can confidently beat up the average person. You will, however, improve much faster than other people if you choose to train yourself.]

Once again, my body changed as the skill coursed through it, altering it minutely, letting the muscle memory settle into both my mind and body.

I threw a few punches and kicks and grinned.

“Yes!”

I spent the rest of May in the forests of Virginia, using my powers and getting used to them. I practiced martial arts, blending it with Invisible Air, coating my fists and legs with wind, and shredding through wood and stone.

I had to relocate a few times when the destruction got noticeable, but otherwise it was uneventful.

Photosynthesis helped a lot with this, as the summer sun shone down on me, accelerating my recovery while I trained.

It was fun, but it also set my teeth on edge.

I was watching every corner, every shadow, every sudden movement – waiting for chaos to erupt, and yet nothing came.

I worked on my proto-supercomputer project to take my mind off it, but the restlessness never really left.

Then, at the end of June, a friend – more of an acquaintance – called me up and told me there was going to be a party on the Fourth of July, and I was invited. We talked a bit, going over what I should bring and the details.

When I hung up, I grinned.

A small party was exactly what the doctor ordered to ease my anxiety. It was being held at someone’s summer house, so a pool was involved too.

Grinning with renewed purpose, I turned back to my project.

On the second day of July – a crisp, sunny Tuesday – I woke up feeling refreshed. Only a few days remained before the party, and I spent the morning preparing for a drive: collecting groceries and picking up whatever I needed for the salads I had promised to bring to the cookout.

I chose to go early so I could beat the crowd and enjoy the weather before the suffocating heat set in.

Sadly, it wasn’t meant to be.

The moment I stepped out the door, locked it behind me, and headed for my old Honda, I froze.

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

The sky was on fire.

Well… not exactly on fire.

The clouds were roiling, as if backlit by some kind of sickly yellow light, pushing closer and closer in unnatural motion.

For a long moment, I just stood there, mouth slightly open, my trip completely forgotten.

Then, befitting of its behemoth size, slowly a massive black shape emerged from the roiling clouds, revealing that the yellowish light was the result of the reentry, revealing what was undoubtedly an alien spacecraft.

My brain stalled.

The ship, indifferent to my existence, continued forward until it came to a stop directly above Washington.

Around me, I noticed other neighbors had come outside as well – some still in work clothes, others in pajamas or robes – staring up in equal disbelief.

I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe.

I knew, intellectually, that gaining my powers meant I would eventually face something. But a fucking alien invasion ship was not what I had been preparing for. I had expected demons. Maybe cult activity. Possibly a haunted house scenario at worst.

I was broken out of my frozen state by my power reacting.

[Discovering that alien life exists! 1 x Bronze Random Ticket]

I closed my eyes and tore the ticket the moment it appeared, hoping – against all logic – that I would get something like a massive ‘fuck-you-in-particular’ laser to solve the problem immediately.

The wheel spun, and my mind and soul were expanded.

[Larger than Life (Common Trait): People feel like your presence is larger than it should be. Even if you are a head shorter than them, it will still feel like you are towering over them.]

I exhaled slowly, then I turned and headed for the rarely used television.

It took a few minutes to find batteries and insert them into the remote, but eventually the TV flickered to life in full 90s glory – static crawling across the screen, audio crackling and cutting in and out.

I barely listened to what the newsreader was saying. I got used to ignoring the mouthpieces, so instead I looked at the pictures they were broadcasting.

The same matte black circular ships, all around the world.

All of them stationed above major cities.

Something about that tickled my brain. A memory of something from my past…

Then the screen changed, and a familiar blue curtain and brown podium appeared, the seal of the United States centered behind it.

I listened as the elderly general gave a report, his words barely registering as I watched his face. Then he was switched out for a woman, and then everything clicked.

Giant circular spaceships.

July fourth.

Harvesters.

I closed my eyes.

“I’m in fucking Independence Day…” I whispered in shock.

For a long moment, I just stood there, trying to process it while digging through my memories for anything useful.

The aliens were called Harvesters – world-devourers that moved from planet to planet, stripping resources, hence the name. They had been defeated in the original timeline, but only after devastating most of the world.

And the most important part: this was just a scouting party. A small detachment.

The real force was going to come in twenty-ish years.

If nothing changed.

“Fuck.”

I shook myself and headed for my bedroom, grabbing my bag.

Time to move.

I packed quickly: essential documents, a few changes of clothes, and enough food for several days. Thanks to Photosynthesis, I didn’t strictly need to eat, but it was better to be safe than rely on that alone.

A bulky old laptop - clunky by my modern sensibilities but still useful – went in next, along with its charger and all my stored files. Toiletries followed.

Then I walked through the house one last time, checking for anything I might need.

My eyes lingered briefly on my project, but Area 51 had much better things.

Finally, I pulled out a map.

The most important place in this story was next to the President of the United States.

Then I paused.

“Whitmore… that’s why the name sounded familiar,” I muttered. “Ugh. I’m an idiot.”

Shaking my head, I refocused on the map.

I was in Huntington, near the I-495 corridor, and I needed to reach the White House before the President evacuated. Technically, it was around 10 miles from my house, which would take at max an hour in my car. But I knew that every street and road was going to be filled with cars escaping the city.

Walking by, my calculations were four hours. One and a half with a bicycle.

I went to the garage and pulled out an old bicycle I’d bought for reasons I no longer remembered. At least now it was useful. I checked the tire pressure – thankfully, it was holding. I slung my backpack on, locked up the house, and got on the bike.

It was time to pedal.

I shaped Invisible Air around myself, reducing air resistance, and began moving toward Washington.

I cut through Alexandria, the streets already chaotic – some people fleeing, others celebrating, and more than a few looting storefronts. I followed the Potomac River until I reached the 14th Street Bridge.

The bridge itself was blocked by police and military, mostly focused on stopping cars. With Invisible Air masking my movement, I slipped through and continued toward the Jefferson Memorial.

From there, it was only a short ride to the fence surrounding the White House grounds.

It was barely midday, but the area was already packed with people protesting or clamoring for more information. Police and military were out in full force, pushing back people and trying to calm the masses.

I considered using Invisible Air to enter the premises, but thanks to Menacing, I was fairly sure that in this heightened emotional state, they would shoot first and ask questions never.

Sadly, the best way was to wait for David Levinson to show up and use the information he delivered to join the ragtag team against the aliens.

Technically, I could have told them everything he would say, but he had the credibility with the people inside, and most importantly, the evidence.

I had neither.

Which was a bummer.

So, I had to find a spot to park my bike and wait.

Double bummer.

It was late evening when I spotted them.

An older man accompanied by a younger, much more jittery one.

David Levinson.

He moved like someone who understood the scale of the catastrophe approaching. There was a barely concealed desperation in every step as he tried to call his wife… no, ex-wife.

I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it didn’t really matter.

I had Invisible Air envelop me in its comforting embrace and hurried after them, my bag over my shoulder and my poor bicycle abandoned behind me.

It will be remembered.

Some poor intern came out, spoke briefly with the guards at the gate, and David and his father were waved through.

I followed invisibly behind.

There were metal detectors and Secret Service agents giving everyone intense scrutiny, but they weren’t expecting invisible intruders. I simply walked around the security checkpoints while David tried to steady his nerves, and his father – Julius – cheerfully introduced himself and his son to anyone who would listen.

Soon, I found myself watching from just behind Julius as David and Constance argued inside the building. David was trying to present his evidence before Constance threw up her hands and grabbed him, dragging him deeper into the White House.

I grinned and followed them.

After that, everything unfolded exactly like in the movie.

They moved through corridors filled with rushing personnel, dodging military officers and officials, while Julius whispered excitedly to David.

“This is something I would never believe in my lifetime. That I would be in the White House! Look at this! If I had known I was going to meet the President, I’d have worn a tie.” He fiddled with his shirt collar. “Look at me, I look like a schlemiel.”

“You look fine, pops,” David said distractedly, still scanning the hall.

Constance led them into the Oval Office, currently empty, as everyone was in the other room watching the attempt to communicate with the alien ships.

I always found that helicopter part weird…

Julius looked around, turning slowly in place, taking everything in.

“Oi, my god!”

Constance turned to David, hands slightly raised. “David, I don’t know how happy he’s gonna be to see you.”

“Yeah, that’s right, that’s right, we’re wasting time, he’s not going to listen to me, we should go,” David retorted.

Julius turned to him. “Why wouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t he listen?”

“Because the last time I saw him, we, er, we got into a fight,” David replied awkwardly, scratching his ear.

Constance was not impressed. “You walked into the room and punched him in the head.”

Julius snapped his head toward her, then back to David, aghast. “You punched the President?”

“He wasn’t the President then. I punched him, he fought back, we wrestled around, it was a fight,” David said defensively.

It took all my willpower not to snort.

Constance folded her arms, irritated. “A fight that you started!” she exclaimed, turning to Julius. “Because David thought that I was having an affair.”

“With the President?” Julius asked.

“Which, of course, I wasn’t,” she declared vehemently.

David glanced at his watch. “Hey, hey, you can either go get him, or we should head back to the car.”

Constance studied him for a moment, then nodded. “All right, I’ll get him. You wait here. And don’t touch anything!”

As she left, Julius turned to David again.

“You punched the President?” When David didn’t deny, he looked shocked. “Oh my god!”

I watched as David began setting up his computer, leaning against the wall nearby. Gotta maintain the mysterious stranger pose if I wanted to stay unnoticed.

While they waited, I listened to the father-son exchange. David stood by the President’s desk typing, while Julius wandered around, touching everything.

“This I like. Look at this. You know what famous people have been here? Huh? Huh?”

“Yes, Dad,” David replied, obviously not listening to his father prattle around.

“Politicians, actors, baseball players, singers...and now me,” Julius declared grandly.

David looked up from his laptop and grinned briefly.

“Imagine that. Look, a poor immigrant like me, it’s a dream!”

Julius shushed him immediately. “David! Please don’t…”

I struggled not to laugh.

A few moments later, after finishing inspecting the room, Julius walked back to David, who was still typing.

“Hey, see if they have those pens that they give away.”

David clearly didn’t expect that. “Dad…what?”

That was when the side door opened, and President Whitmore entered, Constance following closely behind.

I straightened up. This was the deciding moment.

If I did nothing, humanity would still win and survive to fight another day.

If I interfere, there could be dire consequences.

Or I could make things better…

The decision weighed heavily on me.

Still, I owed these people to at least try.

“I don’t have time for this...” Whitmore said, spotting David behind the desk, visibly irritated.

“Two minutes, Tom.”

“Connie…”

“Two minutes!”

“Connie…”

That was when Julius stepped forward, trying to break the tension.

“Mr. President, Mr. President, Julius Levinson.” He offered his hand. “Uh, David is my son.”

Meanwhile, Connie and David were arguing.

“I told you he wouldn’t listen.”

“No. You have to tell him now,” she responded, standing closer to him. “Just tell him.”

“Connie…”

As the voices overlapped, the woman clearly had had enough. “DAVID! Tell him!”

Instantly, silence fell over the room.

Whitmore looked at David and reluctantly nodded.

“Uh, I know why we have satellite disruption.”

Whitemore blinked. “All right, go ahead.”

David stepped forward, picked up a sheet of paper, and began drawing. He held it up: a circle with a capital E in the center and three smaller dots around it.

“OK, uh, let’s say that you want to coordinate with spaceships on different sides of the Earth. You couldn’t send a direct signal, right?”

“You’re talking about line of sight?” Whitmore asked, as everyone, including me, watched the exchange.

David nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, that’s right, exactly. The curve of the Earth prevents it. You’d need satellites to relay that signal in order to reach each ship.”

He began expanding the drawing as Whitmore walked closer.

Then David looked up.

“Well, I found a signal hidden inside our own satellite system.”

It was very dramatic.

I wanted to clap, but held myself back.

The side door opened, and an aide leaned in. “Excuse me, Mr. President. They’re starting.”

With the message delivered, the door closed, leaving the four people to stare at each other.

It was David who broke the silence. “They’re using our own satellites against us. And the clock is ticking.”

The laptop he had been typing on was turned around, showing the president the countdown.

Following that declaration, events accelerated.

The President ordered the evacuation, retrieved her daughter Patricia, and everyone moved quickly toward the waiting helicopter. I followed closely behind.

The fit inside was cramped, but I made it work.

Soon we landed at Andrews Air Force Base, and I trailed the President and her entourage as they boarded Air Force One. The engines were already spinning up, preparing for takeoff.

I glanced back at the distant city, the edge of the gigantic alien ship still visible.

I knew a lot of people were going to die.

I understood it, intellectually – but it still felt like I had failed somehow.

Maybe I should have gone out searching for more opportunities for tickets.

A lot of maybes…

I shook my head and stepped onto the aircraft. I had never understood the saying “hindsight is twenty-twenty” more clearly than I did now.

I took an empty seat and waited as the plane began to taxi. The fuselage trembled as we lifted off, escaping the explosion tearing through the city by mere yards.

I waited until we leveled out, then unbuckled my seatbelt and stood, then walked toward the section where the President was seated.

It was time to change history.

Boy, was I not looking forward to this…

They sat in a small alcove: Nimziki in all his spook-glory, General Grey looking like he ate gravel for breakfast without milk, and Whitmore looking devastated as he stared at his sleeping daughter.

This was where they would decide on attempting a counterstrike that would ultimately go disastrously wrong.

In the middle of the discussion, President Whitmore let out a frustrated sound. “But what the hell do they want? Couldn’t they just have asked?”

The aides around him glanced at one another, clearly recognizing a rhetorical question.

That was when I chose to reveal myself.

“They’re called Harvesters,” I said as Invisible Air slowly unraveled around me.

Instantly, everyone was on their feet.

The President was pulled back by his security detail, guns were raised, and the room erupted into overlapping shouts. It was all incoherent, but I just stood there, trusting the Barrier of the Wind King to protect me from mere projectile weapons.

Menacing was doing its best with my first impression.

I just raised an eyebrow and waited.

Didn’t have to wait too long.

“SILENCE!” Whitmore roared, shaking off the aide trying to pull him away. He stepped forward, eyes locked on me. “What did you say?”

“They’re called Harvesters.”

He studied me carefully, clearly trying to figure out where I had come from.

General Grey was doing the same, while several Secret Service agents kept their weapons trained on me. In the back of the room, I could see David and Julius among the crowd.

“And you know this, how?” The President asked.

I shrugged.

I had to play this oddly, as I didn’t actually have much evidence for what I’m saying.

“I get around…” I finally said.

“You… get around?” he repeated.

“I’m a… traveler, you could say.”

“A traveler.”

“Sort of, yes.”

“And I assume you’ve met these… Harvesters before?”

I shook my head. “Met? Dear me. No way. I heard about them.”

A few people scoffed. They clearly thought I was just some kind of intruder who had snuck onto the plane.

I smiled faintly at the President. “Want to know why they’re called Harvesters?”

“Dazzle us,” he said dryly.

I nodded. “They’re basically a species of galactic locusts. They move from planet to planet, strip all resources, and move on to the next.”

A lot of people blinked in surprise, but I noticed Nimziki stiffen.

“And you know the best part?” I continued. “That big-ass ship parked near the moon… that’s just a single ship from their armada.”

Whitmore visibly swallowed. “And I assume you can prove these statements?”

I just smiled and pointed at Nimziki. “He can.”

Nimziki began to protest immediately, but I raised my voice slightly, pretending to be trying to remember. “What was it called… Area forty-two? No… sixty-nine…” I tapped my fist into my palm. “Ah. Right. Area Fifty-One.”

The room went still.

Everyone stared at me like I was insane.

I just kept smiling at Nimziki.

He knew that I knew. And he also knew I knew he knew I knew.

Now the ball was in his court.

Julius chose that moment to jump in. “New Mexico! Roswell, New Mexico! I heard about it! Some kind of alien spaceship cash landed! Yes!”

I just watched, hoping my plan would work.

“Then the government covered it up! They collected that ship and have been studying it ever since!”

David tried to pull his father back, while the President simply shook his head with a faint, tired smile.

“Thank you for the information,” Whitmore said calmly. He was clearly trying to placate him and others like Julius. “But no matter what you or anyone else has heard, there have never been any spacecraft recovered by our government.”

He glanced at Julius again, trying to soften the delivery.

“Take my word for it. There is no Area 51. There are no recovered spacecraft.”

I just smiled and continued to stare at Nimziki.

It was enough for the President to realize that something was going on, so he also turned to stare at the tall man. Nimziki looked supremely uncomfortable.

Finally, he shot me a glare that promised consequences, then turned to the President.

“That is… not entirely accurate.”

Everybody froze, turning toward him.

Even the Secret Service agents who had been aiming at me lowered their weapons at that admission.

“What? Which part?” David asked.

A/N: New story, who dis? Anyway, I wanted to scratch my Chaos Gatcha itch, so here it is. Dunno how long this is, probably depends on the response. I will let it rest here for a bit, then post it somewhere else. Have fun reading!