Oddities in The Fabric of Time

"Welcome, welcome, welcome," energetically says a tall old man on the stage of the school auditorium. Here my story starts and I ask you to leave. Human worthlessness in aspect to the space-time continuum - however seemingly subjective - is found to be an arguably basic truth in this sad, sad tale. This story that might as well not exist, which it doesn't, and even if it did it no longer does.

"Welcome, welcome, welcome," energetically says a tall old man on the stage of the school auditorium. Today is December 31, 1999. Its Friday (the Friday before the turn of a millennium). The school of Newham is having an assembly on time. Actually the assembly, a conjecture on the ideas and conempts behind time as we know it, was late by a whole 10 minutes.

The assembly came about as a fun idea provided by the student counsel to celebrate the turn of the millennium - something that they would soon regret, as the lecture ended up being the longest and boringest assembly that they would ever experience. I personally enjoyed the lecture, but then again, I wasn't like any of the other children in our small school. To elaborate on that, I was short and what some would call "nerdy." It was a miracle that I didn't get picked on. It was of pure luck that our school had an odd-for-the-time untold civil rule: if you keep to yourself, I'll keep to mine.

Before I knew it the assembly was over. I now came to the realization that our school would never fund another assembly for a brilliantly-famous and famously-brilliant scientist ever again. I got out of my chair as I grieved. On the flip-side, it was like heaven: standing up after sitting in the low-budget auditorium chair for so long. The auditorium chairs, I remember, were actually brand new, and bought by the school from ebay. Ebay had particularly grown very successful in the past few years, and the school must've wanted to look hip, cheap, or both. Finally, after clearing my mind from any off-topic rants about seating, I came to my senses and headed out the door.

The rest of school that day went on pretty normal. I went to the rest of my classes and then I took the bus home. Being a Friday, school ended at 1:00 instead of the usual 3:30. With most of that time being spent at the assembly, the teachers had next to nothing for us to do as we waited for the school-day to be done and over.

Next I know it, I'm laying on the couch sick. I don't recall where or how I catched it. According to my parents and their valuable abbility to diagnose simple diseases, it is just a common cold. Nontheless I am to stay home which sucks because everyone else is gathered in town square to celebrate the event of a life time - multiple life times even. The weirdest part is that my parents just left me here alone as they went there.

I mean at least it makes sense that they would'nt want me spreading germs in a guaranteed crowded area, but why leave me alone if I'm sick? Shouldn't someone be watching me? Or maybe do they think I'm old enough to take care of myself even when sick?

I slouch on the couch as I ponder these questions. Questions that I would never get an answer to. I switch to the local news channel on the television and on it I saw everyone else gathered in town square to celebrate the event of a life time - multiple life times even. There's the time on the top right of the television screen and under it a timer counting down the seconds until the turn of the millennium. The whole news cast chants. The town hall beckons as the 21 century nears. 10... 9... 8... 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...

It is now the new year 2000. I close my eyes and stretch, tired and feeling accomplished. Looking back on my year and thinking of how much I've changed since the beggening of 1999, since middle school. Oh how the time flies.

As I open my eyes the news shows the transitions to a breaking news report before abruptly showing a reporter near the edge of the town square with the camera facing up towards the sky.

Unlike the usual pitch black you would expect at midnight the sky was a deadly bright orange. The last thing I see before the loudest sound in my 17 year old life and an inevitable knockout: a figure covering my TV screen with the texture of the surface of the moon and the color of molten cheddar cheese. Soon after that I awake in a hospital.