Because he had invested everything he had and several hundred thousand dollars besides in what had been all but proven impossible, Lowell was getting desperate. He hadn’t even proven the theory, and in a month, he was supposed to have a working prototype of what was basically a science fiction premise.
“I guess you’re pretty upset right now,” he heard himself say. “Don’t worry, I’m here to help you.”
Seeing himself standing there was an immediate relief, proof that he would succeed in his research.
“Go get a pen and a video camera,” his future self dictated. “And remember everything I’ve said so far. Don’t take your eyes off me. Remember everything I do.”
Lowell understood. In order to preserve the fabric of the universe, he would have to act exactly as his future self acted when in the future that was him. One word out of place, one extra breath, and reality could fall apart. His future self was being careful, not making any sudden movements. Lowell would have to be that still, too.
“Try to relax,” his future self said, though he sounded like he was just saying the words. Once Lowell had the camera set up, he sat in his most plush office chair. He noticed, his future self looked more nervous and uncomfortable than he did.
“I’m going to help you relax,” he heard himself say, gritting his teeth. He watched himself get to his knees. He rubbed Lowell’s thigh and unbuttoned his pants. “I’ve never done this before, but I have to.” He took Lowell’s still flaccid penis into his mouth and rubbed it with his tongue. Lowell didn’t try to stop him. The universe depended on it.
“Pay attention,” his future self said. Lowell closed his eyes. He would figure it out.
Post Modern Existential Horror 