~June 18th, 1982~

~Cycle 143~

Henri had been spending the repeated cycles at the bar. The young 27-year-old man had dark red hair, and despite some of his unhealthy habits he had a good physique.

At first it was fun to act with such reckless abandon. Free and hangover-less drinking was fun for a while. He hooked up with some pretty girls at the bar some nights too. But he'd grown tired of it already. He sat at the bar with several other drinking buddies who'd already gotten themselves drunk. He hadn't taken his first sip yet.

Patrice told him he needed to stop wasting time on things like this. That it was why he had such difficulty holding down a job. Henri was more focused on enjoying himself. But even this grew boring after a while.

Henri eyed the clock; it was nearing noon. He figured that Patrice should've beaten traffic and made it back to his apartment by now. Maybe he could find him.

Henri stood and left the bar. He walked the city streets. Many were like him, just looking for some way to enjoy this perpetual day. Others seemed panicked. He wondered if there were many others like him who didn't know what they should do anymore.

He hoped Patrice could help him find something to do, but it would probably be boring. Even when they were kids, Patrice wanted to do things that worked their minds. When Henri was having fun, he didn't want to have to think.

Henri headed towards Patrice's apartment anyways. He stopped by the parking complex where there was an extra key hidden in his parking spot. But surprisingly, Patrice's car wasn't back. He couldn't still be stuck in traffic, could he?

Henri took the spare key and headed inside the apartment complex. As he did, he noticed little drops of something on the floor. He took a closer look; blood. He'd heard some people had started getting violent. Henri just hoped he didn't run into any of them.

What startled him more was the trail of blood leading directly to Patrice's apartment. He cautiously entered inside.

"Patrice, you home?" Henri called out.

He looked around for a moment before he spotted him. Patrice leaned against the wall in the corner, blood pooling from his stomach and onto the floor around him. There was a phone in one of his hands and his eyes were lifeless.

"Patrice!" Henri quickly hurried to his friend's side, meeting his vacant and empty stare. "Wh-What happened to you?'

He grabbed Patrice under the arms and tried to pick him up, but he was deadweight. Patrice slipped along the wall and fell completely to the floor. Henri placed a hand to his chest, no heartbeat.

Henri was scatter brained trying to figure out what to do. If things were normal, he'd call an ambulance. But no one was working anymore. No one would come.

Henri stumbled out in the apartment halls calling for help. Anyone who would come. When someone finally did come and saw Patrice's lifeless body they of course asked, "What happened to him?"

Henri didn't have an answer. Other apartment tenants came around to see what the ruckus was. But there was a detached response from each of them. They didn't seem intent on helping. If anything, this was the most entertainment they had in a while.

"I mean... I don't think there's anything we can do."

"But..." Henri began.

"It's not like he won't be back tomorrow, right? On the next cycle?"

Henri hadn't thought of that, "...I guess."

"So don't worry about it. Your friend will be back!"

The crowd of tenants flocked away after they had all seen Patrice's body. Many of them continued to lackadaisically chat about it amongst themselves.

Henri felt strange seeing his oldest friends dead like that... He realized there was nothing for him to do. He just wanted that image of Patrice's corpse out of his mind. He took a trip back to the bar, and let alcohol accompany him the rest of the night.

~June 18th, 1982~

~Cycle 144~

Henri woke beneath a bridge underpass on the next cycle. After he was evicted, he'd been staying there each night. Not his ideal way to wake each morning.

But that was the least of his concerns at the moment. Henri hurried across the city to Patrice's apartment. It was empty, he arrived before Patrice. Henri waited for when his friend would show up. He needed to see that he was okay.

Eventually the door opened, and an alive Patrice entered the apartment and set his car keys on a table near the door. He looked and saw Henri waiting on the couch and squinted. He glanced at his watch with a disgruntled look and said, "I thought you'd still be at the bar around now."

Henri ran his hands through his dark red hair and leaned back on the couch, "I'm so glad you're okay."

Patrice raised an eyebrow, "What're you talking about?"

"You were dead yesterday man!" Henri exclaimed.

"... I died? What do you mean?"

"Yesterday... err, last cycle, I found you dead in your apartment. There was blood all over the floor." Henri explained.

Patrice scrunched up his face, "I don't remember that. But I did almost get into an accident today."

"Maybe that's what killed you? A car accident. I guess you would've have had enough energy to make it here."

Patrice picked up a rubber ball for the table beside the door and began bouncing it against the wall. "That's interesting. People who aren't in the city don't remember what happens on the previous cycles. But neither do the dead. Which makes enough sense if it's true..."

"I guess," Henri replied. His friend's analytical mind was already at work.

"We should test it to make sure that's how it works!" Patrice said as he caught the rubber ball in his hand.

"How?"

Patrice thought for a moment before heading into his tiny kitchen. He came out with a knife, and held the handle towards Henri, "Take it.

Henri hesitantly took the knife. He looked at it and then Patrice, "What do you want me to do with this?"

"Stab me! Let's see if I die and remember it next cycle." Patrice said casually.

"I'm not going to stab you dude!"

Patrice looked mildly disappointed, but seemed to have another idea, "Yeah, you're right. You should stab me tomorrow- the next cycle. If you kill me now, I might not remember we had this conversation. Then you'd have to explain that I died twice."

Henri tossed the knife aside, "No! I'm not going to stab you at all!"

Patrice glanced at the knife on the ground and asked, "Should I stab you?"

"No dude!" Henri shouted back at him.

Patrice scrunched up his face before picking the knife from the ground, "You know... technically if I did stab you and you died, you might not remember it on the next cycle. So, for you, it'd be like it never happened."

Henri stood and snatched the knife out of Patrice's hand, "Bro. Stop playing around."

Patrice raised his hands in surrender, "Alright. Alright."

Patrice really knew how to stress Henri out. As they caught up with each other, a knock came at the apartment door. Patrice opened it to find a black-haired young woman, looking to be in her early twenties. She wore dark clothes and big glasses. Henri thought she was cute. But not the sort of girl he'd meet at the bar. She seemed like more of a bookworm.

"Hello," She greeted, "Umm, a lot of us are meeting up at the park by the library. We thought it'd be good for a lot of people in the city to get together. Do you know where that is?"

"Yeah, one of my favorite bars are near the park." Henri answered with a smile.

"Okay great! Hope we see you there!" She responded chipperly. She quickly left them and moved onto the next door in the apartment complex.

Patrice glanced back, "Seems interesting. Want to go?"

Henri peered out of the apartment at the cute girl as she greeted someone else at their door. He quickly said, "Yeah. Seems like it could be interesting."