1. John Myron

The story is inspired by events in 2000-2001, about a person who claimed to be from the future and shocked the internet.

***

A man sat in front of a computer, staring at the screen as he typed on the keyboard, answering the questions that appeared before him.

Lea_Audrey: How did you find out about these events?

TimeTravel_0: Because for me, it's all in the past.

James31: Who are you?

The man glanced at the hologram screen of the watch on the table that read "T.I.T.O.R."

TimeTravel_0: Titor. John Titor.

Nicole_11: Where are you from?

The man didn't answer right away, taking a moment to think.

TimeTravel_0: The future, from the year 2036 to be precise.

The year 2036? Actually, he's from even further away ....

***

In 3057, at the Department of Science and Technology.

"Sir, a twenty-five-ton meteor will enter the atmosphere at 15 km/s in less than two hours!"

"Damn!" Professor Dwight Tipler slammed his hand on the desk.

Anxiety swept through everyone present. Although they had dealt with meteors raining down on Earth before, this time the tension was unprecedented. The Department of Science and Technology (DST) had been busy dealing with meteors in recent years, but this one was far more terrifying than any before.

"Quick, get me President Hemmingway!" Dwight snapped.

"Yes, Sir!"

The uniformed man swiped the hologram button on the arm of the chair. Soon, a silver-haired man appeared on the large screen, looking irritated.

"It's midnight, Dwight!" snapped President Hemmingway.

"President, this is an emergency!" said Dwight.

President Hemmingway replied, "Ah, you should call the Minister of War—"

"A meteor with forty times the power of a nuclear explosion will soon enter the atmosphere and hit the Atlantic Ocean near Virginia! If that happens, a tsunami will engulf America!" Dwight interrupted.

President Hemmingway gasped. "Don't we have an atmosphere dome?"

Dwight shook his head. "I'm afraid it's not enough."

"What do you mean?" asked President Hemmingway.

"For the past three years, the meteors raining down on Earth have caused cracks in the atmosphere dome. If this meteor strikes, it's certain that the dome won't be able to withstand it. Unless ..."—Dwight paused, digesting his thoughts—"we send someone to 1975."

***

Upbeat music filled a small discotheque in upstate New York as visitors enjoyed drinks and the party atmosphere. Among them was an athletic-looking man who walked up to the bar. He had dark, wavy hair, an oval face with a square, strong jaw, sapphire eyes with a sharp gaze, and a flat, pointed nose. The handsome man took a seat at the bar.

"Hi, John," greeted the bartender and discotheque owner. "The usual drink?"

"Yeah, Phil," replied the man called John.

Phil smiled and then scanned the crowd of female visitors. "No one has caught your eye yet?"

John shook his head. "This place is boring these days."

"Yeah, you're right." Phil chuckled as he placed John's order on the table. "Don't run up a tab again. I could go bankrupt because of you."

John sighed as he took off his watch. "Classic Watch, made in 2023."

Phil took the watch and examined it. "Enough for one bottle."

"Just one? Are you kidding me?" John protested.

"Yup, just one," replied Phil.

"Ah, you bitch ...," John cursed, annoyed.

Phil chuckled. "Hey, there's someone special coming in."

John turned and saw a beautiful woman approaching the bar. The woman was wearing a red dress, with golden hair cascading freely. Her beauty captivated everyone's attention.

"One more bottle, Phil," John ordered.

Phil shook his head. "No, no."

"Just this once, please ...," begged John.

Phil responded, "No, John. I've had enough of you begging. If you're a man, use words, not drinks."

"Drinks make things easier," said John.

Phil smiled as he looked at the woman. "What can I get you, Miss?"

Before she could respond, John interrupted, "I suggest Chivaz."

The woman smiled. "Chivaz? Why?"

"Well, Chivaz was made in 1405. It's a classic, and no other drink compares. Just like you." John began to flirt.

"She's my girlfriend."

A deep voice came from behind, causing John to turn his head. He saw a two-meter tall, well-built man standing there. The man immediately grabbed John by the collar.

"Get lost if you don't want to die." The man banged John's head and then threw him. John nearly crashed into a table, but Phil managed to hold him back.

"This fight has increased your tab," Phil sighed sharply. "Sorry, I didn't know Harold had a new girlfriend."

"Harold?" asked John.

Phil looked at the big man. "Be careful, he's an underground fighter. Everyone in this area knows him."

Instead of being scared, John's excitement rose. "You know me, don't you?"

The incident became the center of attention for the visitors. They gathered around to watch the two while whispering. John briefly glanced at the people.

"Don't worry about the tab. I'll pay it all off soon." John scanned the crowd and then pointed at Harold. "Who's betting that I'll beat him?"

"Yeah, I bet you die in five seconds!" said one visitor, provoking others to laugh.

"Well,"—John ran up to Harold—"you'll get your money, Phil!"

Harold swung his fist, but John easily dodged it and landed a knee in Harold's solar plexus, knocking him to the ground. Without pausing, John continued to beat him relentlessly. Harold couldn't defend himself against John's attacks, looking like a lifeless punching bag.

While John was engrossed in beating up his opponent, he was suddenly interrupted by the sound of his phone. John pulled out his phone from his pocket.

"General Conor Wickham," John muttered, reading the caller's name. John rolled his eyes and swiped at the screen. "Yes, General?"

"Hurry to the DST!" General Conor Wickham's voice came through the loudspeaker.

"I'm still under suspension, right?" asked John, while still beating Harold.

"This is a direct order from President Hemmingway!" exclaimed General Conor.

"Can you explain why?" asked John.

General Conor responded, "Professor Tipler will explain it to you!"

"General, I'm not going to see Tipler," John replied.

"You have an order to see Dwight, not Nina! Don't mix your personal matters with your duties! Understand?" snapped General Conor.

John glanced at the bleeding Harold. "Okay, but at least give me five min—"

"Right now, or we meet at the military trial!" General Conor Wickham hung up.

John sighed as he looked at Harold. "Sorry, our playtime's up, Boy."

John pulled out a gun and pointed it at Harold's temple. The visitors screamed in fear, especially Harold, who started crying.

"Please, don't kill me," Harold begged.