I watched the second hand tick away on my watch until the face displayed midnight. A deep sigh escaped my lips as I tried to count down how many hours were left in my shift. Not even half way...

My flashlight swung at my hip as I sauntered around the museum, whistling the last song I had heard on the radio. Interestingly, "Baby Got Back" did not translate well into whistles. I had completed my 168th loop of the museum when something caught my eye as I passed the statue of the faceless woman.

Even though the skylight cut off part of the moon, the light cascaded onto the statue as if it was shining from directly above it. Something else was off about the statue...The hand was normally extended outwards, but somehow it always seemed to point at me no matter where I was. A deep desire within me told me to break the cardinal rule: no touching.

I reached over the velvet rope to touch the marble hand and jumped back in shock when I felt a rumbling erupt beneath my feet. The statue began to move before my eyes and left behind a hatch where it once stood. None of my training prepared me for this, but I felt a night guard duty to investigate.

The hatch revealed a staircase that led into a never-ending darkness. Clicking on my flashlight, I aimed it down the mysterious hole but it didn't do much to help my vision.

I nervously whistled "Baby Got Back" as I descended the stairs into what could be the depths of hell. I climbed for much longer than I anticipated before my feet touched the ground. I swept my flashlight across the vast space and was surprised to find...the museum?

An exact layout of the museum spanned before me, complete with every exhibit. For a second I wondered if I had imagined the hatch, but then I turned around and saw the staircase. What the hell was going on?

As I started a round I immediately noticed issues with every exhibit. Some were even completely different. I stopped in front of a painting that was supposed to depict revolutionaries dumping tea into the Boston Harbor, but instead displayed them dumping beer.

The statue next to the painting was completely unrecognizable. A bronze woman in a pantsuit towered over me. The attached plaque read, "President Sarah Watson, 1941-1945". It looked like alternate histories of America...

"Hey you!" a voice called out, startling me. I turned towards the direction of the voice and was immediately blinded by another flashlight.

The light bobbled up and down as it came closer. Once it came to a stop the light clicked off and we were left in the glow of my flashlight. I slowly raised it to get a look at the man standing before me. Boots, legs, utility belt, beer gut...but when I got to the face I dropped my flashlight. Staring back at me was...

Me.