I well remember a televised event.

Dolly Parton had a Christmas special sometime in the late 1980’s.

In it, she invited her entire family and extended family to share in the marathon. It was something like a four or six hour event.

And through that entire time her relatives sat there looking angry and pissed.

I mean it, they were furious that their holiday was co-opted for this television show. They all sat there looking angry and very, very pissed.

I’ll never forget that.

Now, of course, Dolly was smiling and having the time of her life, but I just cannot ever forget the anger on the faces of her family and extended family members.

It must have really sucked for them.

Really.

I really hope that Dolly made it up to them.

Yah. I fear that she was shunned from about a decade of Christmas events since that date. Don’t you know?

Today…

It’s such a pleasure to know that you adore Chinese people and culture. Why do you admire them so much?

Raymond Wong thank you for what appears to be a kind and sincere question. Many years ago when I had graduated college, a couple of my college friends married one another and moved to China to teach English and enrolled in a Chinese university to learn Mandarin. When they came home for holidays they would talk about a China I had never heard of. A China I hadn’t heard taught about in history or geography classes. A China I certainly hadn’t heard about on the news. But I had been taught, by my grandfather who had raised me, to value truth and integrity.

So I began to search things out for myself. I realized our country had not been honest with us about so many things in the news, and had neglected so much information from teaching curriculums. America does propaganda well, I’ll say that. I began to actively disengage my mind from the “America first,” “America is the greatest country in the world,” “Communist China is bad,” “The reds are under the bed,” ideology.

Slowly I began to learn more and more about China, and along the way kind Chinese people befriended me and from many conversations and questions I learned from them more about the culture and history. And I’m still learning. I love to research things I don’t understand so I read more and more. There’s so much information that I will never possibly be able absorb it all, considering there is a 5,000 year history and culture, but I want to learn as much as I can with what life I have left.

I would say it is more than that though. Because as I learned, I felt a deep admiration growing in me for the people of China. They have endured so much, even in this past century, but they have remained triumphant. How can I not admire people with indomitable spirits? I may be from America, but my heart resides in China.

Colonial Boiled Dinner

Equipment

• Pressure Cooker

Ingredients

• 1 (3 pound) beef brisket
• 1/2 cup teriyaki sauce
• 2 cups water (reserve 1 cup)
• 3 or 4 small red potatoes, unpeeled
• 3 or 4 carrots, peeled and quartered
• 2 cups turnips, peeled and sliced
• 2 large onions, quartered
• 1 pound cabbage, cut into 6 to 8 wedges

Instructions

1. Place beef brisket and teriyaki sauce in a large plastic bag or a glass dish. Refrigerate, turning two or three times, for 1 to 2 days.
2. Place 1 cup water and cooking rack in a 4 or 6 quart Presto pressure cooker. Remove brisket from sauce and put on rack. Discard sauce. Close pressure cooker cover securely. Place pressure regulator on vent pipe. Cook for 40 minutes, at 15 pounds pressure, with regulator rocking slowly. Let pressure drop of its own accord. Remove meat and keep warm.
3. Add reserved 1 cup water to pressure cooker. Put vegetables on rack. Close pressure cooker cover securely. Place pressure regulator on vent pipe. Cook for 3 minutes, at 15 pounds pressure, with regulator rocking slowly. Cool cooker at once.
4. Serve brisket thinly sliced, surrounded by vegetables.

Robbie

 

Jennifer Hodge, a grieving mom, was lying in bed watching TV when she got a notification on her phone saying there was motion detected inside her house.

She checked her phone and saw a photo that made her nearly faint.

Even though the figure wasn’t clear, she immediately recognized it as her son, Robbie, who had passed away not long before.

Robbie had died at the age of 23 on November 29, 2016, after what was thought to be an accidental overdose. Jennifer showed the photo to friends and family, and they all agreed it looked like Robbie.

Terrified, she ran into the kitchen but found no signs of an intruder.

Once she calmed down, she convinced herself that the figure on the camera was really her son, coming to show her that he was okay and at peace.

Which country has a stronger military: Russia and China combined, or the United States alone without any other nations?

An interesting thing.

Apart from people like me who know a bit about the military, many Chinese believe China’s military is quite weak, especially those who don’t care about military matters.

This is largely because the Chinese military’s propaganda department is… I don’t know how to put it, I don’t know why, but they’ve produced a ton of shocking propaganda photos.

(This is the Type 055 destroyer from a military propaganda video, over 10,000 tons, but it looks like a toy ship.)

(This is the Type 055 shot by netizens.)

(These images are of an aircraft carrier from the military propaganda department, an 80,000-ton ship, but you wouldn’t guess it from the photos.)

(Guess the tonnage of this warship? 40,000 tons, but it looks like a small fishing boat in the image.The fisherman in the picture below was photoshopped by a dissatisfied netizen.）

(Please enjoy a screenshot from the Chinese military propaganda department’s video of the strategic airlift force！)

(In fact, this is a large transport aircraft with a takeoff weight of 220 tons and dozens of meters long. Because of these pictures, such a massive transport aircraft is nicknamed “Little Chubby Girl” among Chinese military enthusiasts…）

(This is a relatively advanced Chinese armored vehicle, but the video makes it feel like a children’s toy.)

Overall, everyone is very dissatisfied.

We really like the photos of the Chinese military taken by AFP. For example, this one.

People jokingly say we should fire them all and hire the French to shoot our photos instead!

Over My Dead Body—No More Free Raw Materials from Uganda!

A young Swedish woman, who described herself as having extraordinary beauty and extremely seductive charms

posted an anonymous ad on Craigslist stating that she was looking for a wealthy man to marry with an annual income of over $500,000, plus several conditions.

She received a response from a commenter, as follows:

– My dear beautiful lady…

I read your post with interest, and I think many beautiful girls have questions similar to yours. Allow me to analyze your questions as a professional investor. My total annual income is over $500,000, which perfectly matches your requirements.

From my perspective as a businessman, it would be a bad decision to marry you. Here’s my short answer, and let me explain why:

“Regardless of the details, what you’re doing now is a pure transaction. An exchange of your “beauty” for “my money.”

Person A has the beauty, and Person B will pay money for that beauty. A perfectly fair and straightforward transaction. However, there’s a fatal problem here: your beauty will inevitably diminish over the years, while my money isn’t expected to diminish without a strong reason. The truth is, my income will likely increase from year to year, while you won’t be any more beautiful in a few years.

So, from an economic perspective, I represent an “asset” whose value increases over time, while you represent a “consumer” asset whose value decreases. If your beauty is all you own, things will get worse because you won’t be a normal consumer product, but rather a product with a very high depreciation rate that will completely expire within 10 years.

While Deployed My Fiancée Had Multiple Affairs, So My Dad Came Up With The Most Diabolical Way To…

What is the funniest joke you’ve been told that you still think about to this day?

A pastor is driving back home through the countryside following one of his evening sermons when he is suddenly cut off by a drunk driver and forced to swerve, which causes the pastor to go off the road, rolling his car several times, finally coming to rest in a field.

The drunk sees the wreck in his rearview and manages to do a U-turn, going back to the pastor’s wrecked car. He stumbles out of his car and lumbers over to the wreck; looking in the window, he asks, “Hey, man, are you OK?”

The uninjured pastor, whose seatbelt is still firmly buckled, says, “I’m fine, my son; God is my passenger.”

The drunk, still slurring his words, says, “ Well, maybe you better let him drive, because the way you drive, you’re gonna kill yourself!”

His name was Jonathan?

Written in response to: “Write a story in which someone time-travels 25 years or more into the past.“

David Cantwell

Here? Where is here? Or the better question, when is here? Once again I find myself trapped in a maze of my own design. A new trap every day. Sometimes I find myself in the oddest of places. Today, I’m standing out in a road nothing around me except the tumbleweeds and cactus strewn across the sand-colored landscape that surrounds me.Ever since my first time, my only time, in that machine, I’ve found myself each day in some place I never planned to go. Place isn’t the right word; time is more correct. I’m the world’s first time traveler; as far as I know at least. And maybe it’s out of egotistical pride that I want to think that’s the case.Frankenstein, out of ambitious need and unrestrained arrogance, created his monster hoping for glory and recognition. In the end, he himself became the monster. Like Frankenstein I too had an ambitious need and a desire to prove my ideas, maybe not for fame, but in the end, with all the money I’ve spent, I could have enjoyed some financial windfall from it. If it all worked as planned maybe that would have been possible.Instead, I’ve created my own monster, a monster I hunt, hoping to find a way to stop it, to end its hold on me. Every day a new adventure awaits me; the constant leaps make it hard to keep track of myself and my place in this unbridled world created by my machine. Although the machine is no longer connected to my journeys it clearly was the cause.I’ve been walking for some time now and the temperature is really starting to creep up to an almost uncomfortable heat. And finally, in the distance, I can see an obvious town in the valley miles ahead. So far, none of this looks familiar. Not everywhere I go has a connection to my life anymore. At least, I’m often unable during my limited time to figure out the linking factor. It used to be my leaps were contained to times in my life, places I’d seen or been. Slowly, jump by jump, point to point, they started losing that common thread. First one jump out of a hundred was unfitting to my experiences, now it seems just the opposite.On this day, all this time is being wasted walking down this dusty road. Not too unusual for the start of my days but tedious none the less. Hopefully, I will have time to work on my problem. With only a day in each place and the lack of equipment to do my work it’s nearly impossible to make any forward progress. All I have is my journal in my backpack where I keep a record of my daily journeys and my work. I’ve started to record the timeframes and locations hoping one day to find a common thread, though with the substantial information so far and the complete lack of connecting tissue that may be a waste of my time.Ahab’s hunt was an easier one than mine, though his was out of revenge over the loss of his leg to the beast. He hunted the massive White Whale across the vast ocean on his familiar boat the Pequod. The ocean was a seemingly endless area for his voyage to take him. Add to that the dimension of time and subtract from it anything familiar and that would more suitably fit my predicament.A rumble behind me has me look back, it’s a car, thank God maybe I can get a ride. Standing to the side of the road I put out my thumb and try to look desperate and pathetic, with the hope of gaining sympathy.Rumbling toward me is a well-kept old red convertible with a shiny chrome bumper, rounded fenders and headlights, and a tall cowl adorned with the outstretched wings of a hood ornament. It slows down as it approaches, the cloud of dust behind it catches up and partially envelopes it.“Good morning,” a man says from the driver’s seat.“Morning,” I reply while admiring his car.“Not a great road to be walking down. It’s gonna be a hot one today. Jump in, let me get you out of the heat.”“Thanks,” I reply while circling around to the other side. “You certainly keep this old—” I almost say old car when I realize he’s wearing clothes from the same timeframe. I’m somehow back in the fifties. That’s nearly seventy-five years from my origin time, the furthest point I’ve ever travelled back.“What’s that?” he asks in my long pause.“Oh, nothing, I thought at first this was an Oldsmobile, now I see it’s a Chevy,” I cover quickly after being inspired by the emblem on the steering wheel.

“Just picked her up today. She’s a joy to drive. A new 1955 Chevrolet Bel Air they call it. Straight out of Detroit. Figured I deserved it after all I’ve done,” he says.

I take a moment and look over his new car as it glides down the road, seemingly on a pillow of air. I’m not sure if I should ask what he’s done, it seems too personal. Looking in the back seat I see a drab green duffle bag stuffed full. “Military?”

“Yes. I got home from Korea almost a year ago. The bag was still in the trunk of the car I traded in. I haven’t really unpacked my bag yet,” he says.

“My grandfather served in K—” again I pause, after all this time I’m still bad at keeping my thoughts of the past I know out of conversations. “My grandfather was in World War I. Thank you for your service,” I say, recovering from my near slip.

“Thank you for my service? Never heard that before. I guess you’re welcome would be in order. World War I, I’m no expert in history by any means, but that would have been a terrible time. He was a lucky man to come out alive,” he says. As I look more closely at him, he seems to be my own age, mid-twenties. And though he’s been home for nearly a year he still has the clean-cut hair, fresh shave, and fairly fit looks of a soldier.

“Yeah, time. It has many gifts in store for us,” I say.

“I’m sure it does. Hey, I never introduced myself. I’m David Woods,” he says, reaching his hand toward me.

David Woods? How can that be? A connection, I’ve found my connection. My father’s father, my grandfather, is sitting next to me. Why here? Why now? “Good to meet you David, I’m John,” I say, using my father’s name. It’s a lie, but it would seem odd to tell him I have the same name as him.

“What brings you to Las Cruces?”

New Mexico, that’s where they lived when they were first married. If I remember correctly, they got married just before he shipped out in 1950. They haven’t even started a family yet; my father wasn’t born until a year after he returned. “Just seemed like a good place to visit at the time.”

“So far, it’s not bad. My wife moved here after I shipped out. Her parents helped her buy a little place so when I returned we would have a home. In all honesty, I thought it was a fat chance that I’d ever return. War isn’t kind or forgiving no matter what awaits you at home, or what dreams you may have on the other side.” He’s young but he talks like an old soul. “Sorry, war will do that to a person. Make you talk and think like that. Even after a year away from it.”

“I can’t imagine,” I say. And I really can’t. I never served; I never even gave it a second thought. My dad did, he followed in his father’s footsteps. The only war I’m involved in is a war to try and regain my life, return to my time, shut this loop that has me—

“And you really don’t want to. I say avoid it if you can, there’s no value in it, especially not for the soldier,” he says. A different view than what he supposedly had as my dad was growing up. Enlisting will do you good… was purportedly one of his mottos.

He pulls the dusty car into a gas station about a mile out of town. Before getting out he asks, “Do you have a place to stay in town?”

“No, not at all.”

“Huh,” he says, climbing out of the car. He then walks from one side of the car to the other and back again. “I’ll be damned.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Can’t for the life of me find the gas cap. Shoot, the dealer said something about it too.”

I get out of the car; a vague memory returns to me. Dad talked about Grandpa’s old car. I walk to the right taillight and wiggle it, nothing. Then I do the same at the left taillight and it flips open. “Voila,” I say, as if it were magic.

“Well, that settles it. You should come to our house for dinner. After all, without you I’d likely be stranded on the road forever,” he says stretching his arms wide. “We will have to tell my wife that we served together. She wouldn’t be too hip to the idea of a stranger coming for dinner.”

“I’ll accept, though I don’t like the idea of deceiving her. Maybe we can come up with a better idea,” I say, realizing as I do that looking at him is almost like looking into a mirror.

“Agreed. Let me go pay for the fuel,” he says while hanging the hose back up on its receiver.

After getting back into the car, and waiting for him to return, I’m mulling over the uniqueness of this day I’ve been handed. Are more of my trips holding similar connections? Have I missed something?

Suddenly I’m startled with a thud and gasp at the back of the car. I jerk my head back and see David sliding down the hood of the trunk. “David? You okay?” There’s no response.

I jump out of the car to check on him a man, running out from the service station, yells to me, “Is he Okay?”

We both arrive at the rear of the car and find him slumped on the cement.

“He tripped over the curb there, hit his chest on the taillight. Went down in a heap after that,” the attendant tells me.

Quickly I roll him over and place two fingers at his neck, no pulse. “Call 911,” I tell the attendant. He just stares at me with a baffled look on his face. “Call for an ambulance,” and still he looks confused. Asking him to help with CPR is probably a lost cause too. I bring two hands into the center of his chest and start a fast-paced rhythm of compressions.

After a full minute, I decide to give him a couple puffs of air. The attendant has disappeared, hopefully he’s calling for some help. Good thing too I’m pretty sure he would wonder why I’m kissing this man. After two full breaths I recenter my hands on his chest. After only a dozen more compressions Davids eyes pop open.

“Stop—stop. What are you doing?” he asks confused.

“You fell and hit your chest. It stopped your heart,” I state as a matter of fact. “I was trying to start your heart back up.” Not thinking the moniker CPR would mean anything to him.

“That would explain why my chest hurts. But it looks like it worked,” he says propping himself up on an elbow. “Thank you. Well, I guess we have a much better reason to invite you to dinner now. She can’t possibly frown at the idea of eating dinner with the man that just saved my life.”

“Probably not,” I reply.

“Oh my god, he’s alive?” the attendant says arriving back at the pump. “I called the hospital; they said to get him there as soon as possible.”

“Well thank you. I don’t think we need to go that direction now,” David says, rising from the ground and rubbing his chest, “I’m feeling pretty good. This curb here nearly took me out.” He gives the curb a little kick.

Once back in the car it’s only a few more miles until we’re at his home. When the new car rolls up the driveway a very pregnant woman, my grandmother, comes out to see the new vehicle.

“I was starting to worry about you?” she says at first. Then, upon seeing me, she moves directly to her new question. “David? Who’s this?”

“Cynthia, this is John. He was out on the highway this morning and I gave him a ride into town.”

“That’s nice,” she responds still looking like she needs an answer.

“Well, we were at Bills service station, and he saved my life. Thought we could at least offer him dinner tonight.”

“Saved your life? Really?”

After recanting the entire story to his lovely wife, my grandmother, she had no qualms about my presence in their home. In fact, she insists. “I already have a big roast and some vegetables in the oven. More than enough.”

The inside of the house is charming and fitting of the two people I have just met and have always known. “What a wonderful house,” I say, “And the food smells delicious.”

“You know David, if I didn’t know better, I would say John could be your twin brother,” she adds over dinner.

“Huh, I didn’t notice. Now that you mention it though, he could,” my grandfather says. “I mean he is a good-looking man,” he adds with a smile.

They offered me a place to wash up and we sat and made some small talk for the next couple hours. Cynthia even offered me a cold beer and a bite after my constantly rumbling stomach alerted her to my needs.

“Cynthia, when are you due?” I ask near the end of the meal.

“Actually, any day now, and I can’t wait. I’m so excited, I mean we are so excited to welcome a baby into our lives.”

“Is it a boy or girl?” I ask next. And with that they both look at me perplexed. “I mean, are you hoping for a boy or girl?”

“Oh,” Cynthia starts, “I would love a boy. And David wants a girl.”

“I’ll take either, I’m just eager to start that new chapter. Cynthia’s going to be a great Mom,” David adds.

“Have you decided on any names?” I continue with more obvious questions, after all what do you discuss with two people that will one day be your grandparents. You certainly can’t lead with any of that.

“We were thinking if it’s a girl, Lola after my mother,” Cynthia says. “And if it’s a boy we were planning on David, it’s a good name.”

“It is a good name, but in light of today, after my near-death experience, I think John is a good name as well.”

“Johnathan David Woods, I like it,” Cynthia says.

My dad’s name is actually Jonathan? Huh, I never knew.

It’s my grandmother that invites me to stay the night, “Unless you have some other place to be,” she adds.

I would love nothing more than to stay with these two. To wake up and spend another day with them and the day after too. I would like nothing more than to meet my father after he’s born. However, at nine eleven each morning, the same time as my first trip, I’m moved to somewhere else. “I can stay the night, but I do have to head out early. I hope that doesn’t bother you?” I answer.

“No, not at all, I’ll have breakfast ready at seven. Will that work?” she asks.

“That will be perfect,” I say. And for the first time in years, I’ll be spending it in a house with family. Even though they don’t know it.

I may be a version of Dr. Frankenstein or Captain Ahab but tonight I’ll be with family. Hopefully I have future journeys that bring me back here.

Pictures

Who will bail out the financial system if a financial and economic crisis occurs due to US tariffs?

The US financial system is already under stress due to the tariffs, perhaps more so, the uncertainties from Trump’s erratic behaviour about the tariffs. This reduces pricings and valuations to mere guesswork and speculations, such as speculations of the dishonest kind.

Stock markets are approaching bear territory. Dow fell 7% YTD, S&P 500 -10%, and Nasdaq -16%. TB market is highly volatile, the 10-year benchmark rate jumped from under 4% to over 4.5% in a fortnight. The dollar exchange value is under pressure, the dollar index fell from 110 at the beginning of the year to just over 100 in April. The outlook is more uncertainties to magnify than relief the trend.

The real economy is also looking bad.

Fed chair Jerome Powell infuriated President Trump with his speech that the tariffs raise the threat of recession, cause inflation to rise, and the possibility of stagflation. He sees no signs of a turnaround. This is not a new view. It has been said many times by many people. Only that his voice is the most heard and taken seriously. Trump wants to fire him.

Meanwhile, government finances continue to deteriorate. Fiscal deficit in the first 5 months of 2025 was $1.1 trillion, and the national debt has risen to $36.2 trillion. There is outstanding $9 trillion TBs due to be refinanced in the next 12 months. This is challenging given the volatility in the market. It will also be costly, the average interest rate for the matured bills is below 2.5%, compared with the benchmark rate of over 4.5%.

The government has no fiscal space to fight a recession. The Fed is in the unhappy position of having to choose to maintain employment or price stability. Within this conflict of goals, it has to face the volatile TB market, and the pressure on the dollar exchange rate.

The last time something similar occurred was over 10 years ago during the CDO crisis or the Great Recession. China was then on hand to help. It bought large sums of US-TBs, and injected a huge amount of funds to inflate its economy. These helped maintained assets prices, and restored financial stability.

This time around, China will not be on hand. Indeed, it is difficult to see who would be on hand. Trump’s tariffs have caused upheavals and great economic uncertainties across the globe. There isn’t a cash pile lying around.

We don’t have the answer to who will bail out the financial system if a financial and economic crisis occurs due to US tariffs. It may be that US would have to look at itself, its tariff policy, and government finances.

“China’s economy is in a deflationary collapse.” That’s what they all said.

What are the most interesting facts you know?

1. After the release of the film The Bridge on the River Kwai, tourists came to Thailand to see the fictional bridge. Since there never was a bridge on the Kwai, the Thai renamed a portion of the Mae Klong river containing a bridge to satisfy the tourists.
2. In Japan, they have something called the “Happy Monday System” where they aim to place as many state holidays as possible on Mondays in order to give those with a five-day work week three day weekends.
3. Playboy’s founder Hugh Hefner is buried in the crypt right next to Playboy’s first centrefold, Marilyn Monroe.
4. Jupiter’s gravity will eventually cause Mercury to crash into the Sun or to be ejected from the Solar System.
5. A Timpani concerto created by German-Argentinian Composer Mauricio Kagel, requires the performer to strike the drum with their head and tear it in the finale.
6. Wellington International Airport’s sole runaway is nominally only 1,815m long, and at each end are jagged rocks and then the ocean.
7. If you win the million dollar prize on the McDonald’s monopoly game, they actually pay you $50,000 per year for 20 years.
8. As France was founded on secular principles it is illegal to gather data on a person’s race or religion.
9. Dwayne Johnson was set to star in a movie about Hawaiian warrior king Kamehameha, but was pulled because he’s Samoan, with the producer saying, “It would be a great taboo for the part to go to a nationality that was a fierce enemy of the Hawaiians during that time.”
10. Obesity has created a market for over-sized caskets. Families may be forced to buy two plots to accommodate them.
11. After the Portuguese dictator Salazar went into a coma, he was dismissed as Prime Minister. When he emerged from it and recovered lucidity, no one wanted to tell him he had been removed from power, instead, he was allowed to “rule” in privacy until his death 2 years later.
12. In The Island of Dr. Moreau, Marlon Brando wore a small radio receiver to aid him remembering his lines. Co-Star David Thewlis claimed “He’d be in the middle of a scene and suddenly he’d be picking up police messages and Marlon would repeat, ‘There’s a robbery at Woolworths’.”
13. Instead of the traditional gifts of a watch and pair of long pants, rocket scientist Wernher Von Braun’s mother gave him a telescope for his Lutheran confirmation, sparking his passion for astronomy.
14. The Wright Brothers were perpetual bachelors, and Orville Wright disowned their sister Katherine after she married and had a family of her own, feeling he had been “betrayed”.
15. During his time as the narrator for the US version of the first four seasons of the children’s TV show Thomas the Tank Engine, George Carlin spoke his lines to a teddy bear in the booth because he was nervous about performing without an audience.
16. When the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, due to the inefficient nature of the Little Boy design, of the 64kg of uranium used only seven tenths of a gram – about the mass of a paperclip – was actually converted into energy.
17. Gmail’s announcement on April 1st 2004 was initially thought to be a prank – since Google was mainly a search engine at the time the announcement wasn’t taken seriously by many.
18. Kirkenes, Norway is as far east as Cairo.
19. Computer-game designer Richard Allen Garriott de Cayeux (Owen Garriott’s son) is the only individual to legally own something that is currently on the Moon – in 1993, he purchased the Lunokhod 2 and the Luna 21 lander for $68,500 at an auction.
20. Landlords in Glasgow, Scotland tried to increase rent by 25% for women whose husbands were fighting in World War I. The women organized a rent strike and stopped bailiffs from entering their buildings by throwing flour bombs at them and pulling down their trousers.

A Lifetime of Questions

Written in response to: “Write a story in which someone time-travels 25 years or more into the past.“

Natalie Wills

At the click of a button, Luca found himself in an empty lecture hall at the top of the staircase. He stared at the device in his hand, wondering where exactly it had taken him, and more importantly, when. At least a dozen rows of seats and crescent-shaped tables surrounded him. Each row had fewer seats approaching the stage where a large chalkboard spanned the front wall.

And then he saw her. Off to the side, there she stood behind a podium, rifling through sheets of paper. At least he thought it was her. The distance between them made it hard to tell. He moved closer just to be sure, practically floating down the stairs with his eyes locked on her.

His tread must’ve been incredibly quiet because the moment he entered her field of vision, she lightly jumped.

“Oh!” She looked up at him with a startled expression that quickly neutralised. “I didn’t realise anyone was still here,” she said.

It was her, there was no doubt in his mind. She looked exactly like she did in the photos, prettier even. Behind her thinly framed glasses were piercing dark eyes. Her smooth black hair curled behind her ears and down the collar of her blouse. He could barely believe his eyes.

“Did you have questions about the lesson?”

He suddenly remembered he wasn’t just looking at a picture, but engaging in a real life conversation. He failed to respond, but the raising of her eyebrows made him realise he’d already responded with the look of confusion he’d made.

“Were you not in my class?” she asked as she fixed a binder clip onto the stack of papers in her hand.

He shook his head timidly, closing his mouth realising it had been slightly agape the entire time.

“Oh!” she said again, but in a eureka sort of fashion. “You must be the student assistant Professor Hart spoke about.”

He was milliseconds from shaking his head again, but stopped himself to reevaluate. Luca wondered if he took the honest route and told her who he really was, if she’d be startled and leave. He couldn’t let that happen, let his one chance slip away so easily. He only had a couple of hours here and he wasn’t going to let any time go to waste.

“Yes.”

She grabbed the book bag sitting on the chair next to her and slung it over her shoulder. With her stack of papers in one arm, she made her way around the podium and extended a hand to Luca.

“Emily,” she grinned.

“Luca.” He returned the same smile.

As they shook hands, he caught a glimpse of the top righthand corner of one of the sheets of paper in her arm. January 17, 2000, it read. Realising just how far from home he was, he wished so much that he could pull her into a hug and stay there until he had to leave. He fought that urge as he let go of her hand.

“You’re a bit earlier than I expected,” she glanced at her watch. “I was about to go on my lunch. You can join me if you’d like!”

~

Cool breezes made their way into the quad, but the heat of the sun kept them warm on the bench that they’d settled on.

“So what year are you?” Emily asked as she pulled a plastic-wrapped sandwich out of her book bag and took a bite.

“Third,” he said without a thought. It was the first thing that came to mind.

“For real?” she said with a hand over her mouth full of food. “I thought for sure you were a freshman.”

What was he thinking? Third year? He was barely a legal adult and looked it too.

“I look young for my age,” he replied in a poor attempt to maintain his cover.

She stared at him a bit longer, chewing her food, as though to guess his age, or to wait for him to say. But once she swallowed her chewed bits, she gave up and returned to her sandwich.

“What’s your major?” she asked as she took another bite.

“Quantum mechanics.” Easy answer. That was her major. He assumed the student she was supposed to meet would be working in her field.

“I thought you couldn’t specialize that early.”

Shit. 

“No… what I meant is that I want to study quantum mechanics… later on.”

“So you’re in physics then.”

“…Yeah.”

He fiddled with the device in his jacket pocket, nervously running his fingers around the buttons and grooves hoping she wouldn’t catch onto him. No more questions about me, he thought. He came here to ask her questions after all. He only had about an hour left at most. He wished he could jump right into it, ask her about life, love, purpose and everything in between. But he knew he couldn’t, so he started off small.

“What kind of sandwich is that?”

“Chicken and cream cheese. With jalapeños.”

He lit up. “My dad used to make me those for lunch as a kid.”

“No way! It’s not a very popular sandwich combo,” she said. “My lab friend teases me every time I bring it.”

“My friends too.”

“Do you want one?” She pulled a second chicken and cream cheese plastic-wrapped sandwich out of her book bag. “I have two.”

Everyone told Luca she was generous. He finally got to see it firsthand.

“Sure,” he said as she handed him the sandwich. It tasted exactly how his dad used to make it. It was a staple in their family, but somewhere through the years, they’d forgotten.

“Do you always carry around two lunches?” he asked midway through his lunch.

“The second was for my boyfriend.” She looked out into the distance. “He was supposed to meet for lunch. He emailed me last minute to cancel.”

“Did something come up?”

“Doubt it.”

Her tone was harsh. Like there was more to be said.

“Oh.” Luca sensed he’d maybe crossed a boundary, asked too much. He was a stranger to her after all. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” she replied. “We had a fight about it the other day and things have been kinda rough.”

“What about?” he asked, realising he might’ve sounded too forthright, “…if you don’t mind me asking.”

She was silent for a moment but then all at once, her words left her mouth like they’d itching to escape.

“He wants to get married and settle down and I’m not ready for that. I mean I want to get my PhD and that’s gonna take another couple of years. And I wanna work in my field or teach or I don’t know. I haven’t figured it out yet. I just don’t wanna—“

She caught her breath while he took it all in. He wondered about the boyfriend, if he was who he thought he was.

“Ugh TMI, am I right?” she laughed at herself as she stood up with her book bag.

“I don’t mind,” he said. And he didn’t. He liked hearing her rant and letting her confide in him. She could never say too much.

“Do you have a lab coat?” she asked suddenly. .

“No.”

“Hmm,” she muttered. “That’s fine, I can show you around the lab without one.”

It wasn’t far from where they’d sat. She unlocked the door to reveal a room no different from the labs he’d seen at his high school. Lab benches surrounded the room in a familiar fashion, the only difference being the high tech machines at every corner. She walked him over to the bench with an incredible amount of clutter.

“This is my area,” she said. “Don’t mind the mess.”

Parts and wires and papers were scattered across the space. He recalled all the times his grandmother had complained about his messy room. She’d say he was just like her.

“Maggots must love you,” he joked in his grandmother’s voice.

“What?” she asked, although Luca had trouble figuring out if she hadn’t heard him or if she didn’t like what she heard. He was starting to think the latter, but repeated it anyway. He nervously fiddled with the device in his pocket again as he heard the hesitance in her forced laugh.

“So this is our section,” she waved her hands around to direct his attention to half of the room. “The other side belongs to another physics research group.”

“So what’s our research on?”

She glanced at him sideways. “Time travel.”

Luca knew that, but only after he said it did he realise his alias would’ve probably known that too.

“What’s the theory?”

“Hart didn’t tell you much, did he?”

He shook his head, nervously.

“Our working theory is that our timeline is fixed. This means no amount of backwards time travel can change the future. If someone were to go back in time and return, their presence in the past would have already been accounted for. Make sense?”

He nodded. He’d already understood that to a degree. His dad had relayed a bunch of it to him, as much as he could anyway. He mainly liked hearing her talk. Especially about her passions. Her eyes lit up the more she spoke. She continued about the theory and its details, some of which he had no idea. She showed him her prototype travel device. It was chunky and heavy, about the size of an old television set, though with less screen and more buttons. Her and her team had already figured out a way to go back seconds in time, but hoped to go much further one day.

Then suddenly at the end of her spiel, she glared intensely into his eyes, almost to look for a specific reaction. He responded only with a blank and clueless stare, but grew increasingly uneasy, fiddling with the device some more. Her gaze was piercing, wearing him down with each second. It was as though she could read his thoughts, asking her what was wrong.

“You’re not a student here, are you?”

“Wha—? Why would you say that?”

“You seem to know very little about physics. You answer every question I ask incorrectly. You walk like you’ve never seen this campus before. And not to mention, you’re a third year physics student with no lab coat.”

He didn’t know what to say. Or maybe he did, but didn’t know how to say it.

“What have you been fiddling with in your jacket pocket all afternoon?”

“Nothing.”

She held her hand out like a disappointed parent.

He took it out of his pocket, reading 15 minutes on the countdown before handing it over.

“What is this?” she asked as she examined it. It was just about the size and shape of a calculator but with fewer buttons.

Before he could think to answer, her eyes widened. First at the device, but then at Luca.

“You’re not from here.”

She paused not for an answer, but to connect dots.

“You know me somehow. Your father makes you my chicken and cream cheese. I’ve never heard anyone say the ‘maggot’ phrase, except for my own mother. Who are you?”

With less than fifteen minutes left, he figured there was no use in lying anymore. And her accusations left him with no other choice.

“I’m your son.”

The anger and confusion that had painted her face washed away in an instant, and was replaced with shock. Her eyes left him and danced around the room. He tried to imagine what thoughts were racing through her mind. Maybe every interaction between them was like a puzzle piece in her mind, making up the picture that was this moment. Had she some idea of the truth the whole time? What if the truth wasn’t to her liking?

She then returned her focus to Luca, but with a calm demeanour.

“How many years from now?” she asked.

“25.”

“Incredible.” she said, eyes as bright as the sun. “Who made this?” She held up the device.

“You did.”

“Hmm,” she muttered, as though impressed with herself. “Do you know how?”

“No. By the time I learned how to speak, you weren’t there for me to ask.”

“Oh.”

She sat with the idea of her imminent death. An inescapable fate that was suddenly closer than she’d previously thought. Knowing her, she was probably making calculations in her head, figuring out how many years were left for her.

“My dad said you left it for me,” he tried to change the subject. “Waited till my sixteenth birthday to give it to me so I could come see you.”

The smile she returned was bittersweet, but hopeful.

“What can it do?” she asked.

“It can only be used once to make one round trip,” he said. “There’s a time limit, though. I have a few minutes left before it sends me back.”

She sat down on a stool by her lab bench, and he dragged one over from another bench to join her.

“There’s so much I wanna ask you,” she said. “A lifetime of questions and no time to ask them.”

“I shouldn’t have lied about who I was. Maybe you could have asked me all your questions and I could have asked you mine. But I was worried about scaring you away.”

“You probably would have, with the pressure of having to choose between settling down and realising my passions ,” she chuckled. “It’s nice to know I eventually did both. In my own time.”

“Em!” a young man suddenly came through the doorway. A bright smile grew on Emily’s face as she headed towards him. Luca could feel the heat radiating off of them as they spoke to one another. There was something familiar about them together, about him. The more he stared at him, the more he realised who the man was.

“Who’s this?” the man said in his direction.

“This is Luca,” she replied to him, before turning to speak to Luca. “This is the lab friend I spoke about.”

“No way!” the man said. “My abuelito’s name was Luca.”

His father shook his hand before directing his attention back to Emily.

“You spoke about me?” he asked her.

“Don’t flatter yourself…”

Getting just a glimpse of his parents falling in love was worth the trip alone. He gave them space, retreating back to the stools, but very soon, him and Emily were alone again. He assumed she’d sent him away.

“One minute!” she said, holding up his device.

They sat together, eyes locked on one another. A lifetime of questions ran through his mind, none being able to escape his mouth. He wished time would stand still so he could say everything that ever came or would ever come to mind. He looked his beautiful mother in the eyes wishing he could bring her back with him. No photo could replicate the beam of radiance sitting in front of him. He dreaded the coming days, knowing he’d miss her more than he ever had before.

And then without warning, she reached her arms out and wrapped them around him. He’d never hugged her before, and yet it felt so familiar. Like a repressed memory of the first couple years of his life. Suddenly, he was a baby again, being soothed by the hold of his mother. His mind was at ease, hushed to a silence. Nothing else mattered except this. And they stayed in that hug until he had to leave.