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Wednesday - Tim & Chad On Time Travel - Brandon

        “I bet there are millions of time travelers all around us,” says Tim.
        “There’s no such thing as time travel,” replies Chad.
        Tim and Chad are walking along Lincoln Ave in Santa Monica. They’re twenty-seven year old dudes. They’re best friends and go everywhere together. Tim is tall and lanky; his arms sway when he walks. Chad is shorter and shaped like a box. His arms don’t sway that much.
        They pass a Blockbuster Video and reach the intersection of Ocean Park Blvd, when Tim points across the street at a homeless man covered in rags.
        Tim says, “He’s probably a time traveler.”
        Chad shakes his head and sighs, “There will never be any time travel, guy.”
        “There will so,” Tim argues.
        “There won’t and I’ll prove it.”
        Chad raises his finger to signal he’ll be right back. He backtracks towards the Blockbuster and disappears inside. Tim watches the homeless man across the street. The homeless man talks to himself. Tim decides the man is actually communicating with people in the future. It’s an excellent cover – pretend to be homeless and crazy. Nobody will pay attention to you and you can speak freely with Time Travel Mission Control. Tim smirks to himself, quite proud of his new discovery, when Chad exits the video store and joins him on the corner.
        Chad has a piece of paper with writing on it and an envelope. He holds it up in front of his face and reads out loud:
        “To my descendent, when time travel does finally exist, please come and visit me on the corner of Ocean Park Blvd and Lincoln Ave, in Santa Monica CA, at the hour of One and ten minutes in the afternoon, on May twenty-seventh two thousand and eight. With love, your ancestor, Chad.”
        Chad looks at Tim, nods, folds the letter and stuffs it in the envelope. He seals it with a lick and presses down firmly. Tim and Chad look at each other. A moment passes. Chad holds the envelope up high and loudly proclaims, “I vow to pass this heirloom from generation to generation. This letter will be protected and cherished in my family until it fulfills is destiny. I make this vow!”
        Chad looks at Tim, waits a heavy moment, and nods. He lowers the envelope and checks his watch. He continues at a normal volume, “It’s 1:09, they have one minute.”
        Tim presses the crosswalk button. “That’s not how it works,” he states.
        Chad shrugs and studies his watch. Tim shakes his head dismissing the entire charade. Chad raises his eyebrows at Tim – You never know, it could happen. Tim considers this and turns his attention to the people around the intersection. A man on a bicycle is headed their way. A woman pushes a stroller across the street in their direction. The homeless man sits on a bus bench. A bus pulls up and releases a plethora of passengers. Any of these people could be Chad’s Great, Great, Great. Great, Great, Great, Grandson or Granddaughter. A traveler from a distant time.
        “Ten, Nine, Eight,” Chad counts down the seconds, “Seven, Six, Five…”
        The bus passengers move on to their own destinations. The man on the bicycle zooms passed. The woman with the stroller moves through the crosswalk and approaches their corner. Tim keeps his eyes on her.
        Chad continues the countdown, “…Four, Three…”
        Tim’s eyes are on the woman as she comes to the end of the crosswalk. She gives the stroller and extra push, so that it clears the curb, and instead of continuing on her path, she stops. She stops a few feet away from the boys as Chad finishes the countdown.
        “…Two, One!”
        He flicks the face of his watch and looks up to see Tim in a trance. He follows Tim’s gaze to the woman. She isn’t looking at Tim, or Chad. She squats down and rummages through the bag on her stroller. She’s pretty and young. Tim works her facial features out in his mind. She has Chad’s nose. Maybe even his cheekbones. He’s sure of it.
        Chad watches the woman search through her bag. She finds what she’s looking for and pulls it out - An Envelope.  Their mouths drop open and their stomachs sink. Tim takes a step toward the Woman, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She follows suit and moves in Tim’s direction. She takes two steps, so that they’re a foot away from each other.
        “Excuse me,” she says.
        Tim’s speechless. Chad can’t move.
        “Pardon me,” she adds.
        She smiles and points to the big blue postal box next to them. Tim takes a step back.
        “Thank you,” she says and drops her envelope into the mailbox. She turns on her heels, goes right back to the stroller, and gives her kid a kiss. Without missing a beat, she continues on her way.
        Chad smiles and says, “See? There isn’t any time travel.”
        Tim snatches the envelope from Chad’s hands. They cross the street and continue up Lincoln.
        Tim looks at the envelope and says, “How do you know this letter doesn’t get lost, or burned, or tore up in some future world war?”
        “That’s bullshit, my family members of the future would never let anything happen to this,” Chad replies and grabs the letter.
        “You don’t have the slightest idea what could happen. This doesn’t prove anything.”
        They walk for a few more blocks and Chad tosses the letter in the gutter. Tim stops in his tracks.
        “What’s that?”
        “What’s what?”
        “You’re throwing out the letter?”
        “Yeah, I mean, it didn’t work.”
        “Maybe that’s why it didn’t work,” Tim says through a sigh.
        Chad thinks about it and says, “Maybe that’s why you don’t work.”
        “I have no response to that,” says Tim. They shrug and continue on their way.
   
        A few blocks back, at the intersection of Ocean Park Blvd and Lincoln Ave, the homeless man stands from the bus stop bench. He gathers the layers of rags that hang off his body and shuffles to the alley behind the Albertson’s Grocery Store. He moves behind a dumpster. He waits and talks to himself. He mumbles words, something about coordinates, and when Time Travel Mission Control is confident that nobody is looking, the rags fall to the ground, and the homeless man disappears.

-written for 7days7authors.com
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