The youngest person in the room, shuffled her feet against the floor and raised her hand. "My turn?" she asked, politely. The older folk exchanged charitable grins and nodded.

~ ~ ~

You never think you'll see the end of the universe.

Until you do.

The bright yawn of light stretches, reminding you that your role is infinitesimal, and everyone you've ever loved is dead, long dead, but you watch anyway.

I hadn't eaten in days. It had been longer since I'd seen another person, and I never would again.

But I'm jumping ahead. Or back.

I once lived a normal life in a normal town. My brother Harrison had researched causality for years. We couldn't agree on a single damn thing, and debate spurred us on. He was sure that everything happened independently, and I was sure that coincidence was provable, via synchronicity.

Too romantic, he insisted, while I countered that it hadn't been disproved.

"Time leads to eventuality," I told him.

"No, statistics account for everything," he said.

I flipped my hair, as I did every time I had a bomb answer. "Random events converge into a causal nexus."

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. A lack of expertise did little to quell my dissent.

My journey began after being trapped, and I was lucky to escape alive.

On Fridays, the school department heads met up, all ten of them. Thanks to my meddling, Harrison and I left with hours to spend.

Like the free people we were, we clomped along the sidewalk, in search of the car. We seemed drunk, and I felt it. Although, I knew Harrison was just pissed.

He nudged me. "Crippling diarrhea, eh?"

In fumbling for the car keys, I nearly tripped. What was up with my sense of walking, like, straight?

"Hey, it worked. Those fools can have their damn meetings without you." I paused to think. "I didn't get you in trouble, did I?"

"Not nearly enough, no." He grinned, my flub-up quickly forgiven.

Oh yeah, did I not mention? I was an English tutor, so not exactly physics department material. Still, I'd gleamed surfacey info from my brother and father, enough to counter some of their bullshit. Carl Yung and Arthur Koestler were my favorites, much to their embarrassment.

Even as most of what my brother's job went over my head, I adored him, and he adored me.

"You alright?" He held my arm, steadying me.

I shrugged. "Just not feelin' too hot."

"Then let's get home. I've got a paper to finish anyway."

Our footfalls echoed on the damp pavement. The road was clear, a ribbon of black against the dark sky. One minute, there was no one on the sidewalk with us, and the next, a foot stuck out, and I tripped for reals this time, sprawling on the floor.

I caught myself on my right knee, which was a bad idea. Red-hot pokers slammed my leg, and for a moment, I thought dying might be better than the pain. My breath eeked out slow and steady, mostly 'cause I was trying to hold back tears. Across the street, I noticed a mattress store, Jay's Lays. The butthead responsible was sittin' pretty in dingy clothes, a worn cap, and black boots.

"What the hell?" Harrison helped me upright again, glaring at the slumped figure behind us. "Get off the sauce, man."

The capped stranger remained silent, head lolling to the side.

"Jeez, no kidding," I said, wincing as I limped along. "I hope the dude's okay." Truth be told, I already dismissed his existence. Through the pain, inspiration hit. "Wanna get a drink? Bar's up ahead."

Two buildings down, the lights for Bar None beckoned, all sparkly in green and blue neon. I'd never been, but the day's topsy turvey-ness seemed an appropriate reason to swig a few. Harrison, usually the one that needed convincing, nodded.

Later, I realized, it was the drink that did me in. I hadn't had a drop in weeks, and wouldn't for a long while after.

~*~

I was wrong. My knee is what did it.

No. The meeting. Should've stayed at the meeting. Somewhere during the day, everything had funneled into chaos, and I never saw it coming until I was already bobbing downstream.

No matter. Currently, I was throwing back a drink with Harrison. Liquid cocaine. Ah, I can still remember the tart insanity of my favorite drink, and so aptly named. One glass, and I was wobbling more than before. Harrison watched me march ever so carefully to the bathroom, cheering me on.

"Hark!" He called, surely drawing looks from those around. The word was a joke, one that our father had always used.

I flipped him off and received a wolf whistle for my troubles.

I chuckled while wrestling with my pants in the stall, narrowly avoiding plunking my bare ass into the water. Balance was such an issue for me, and I never understood why until later.

Later.

Now.

The word echoed in my head.

"Now."

I hadn't imagined it that time.

"Hark!"

No one responded to my weirdness. I craned my neck, bending down as casually as you please. A sweeping glance revealed no one in the stalls to the right...and a pair of black boots in the stall to my left.

"Were you talkin' to me, ma'am?" I took a chance with the ma'am, as that tended to piss some people off (haha, piss), but I had to ask.

The stall creaked open, and the boots left, their owner revealing nothing.

Of all the weird things to just happen...

As I positioned myself for an amazing drunken pee, a bright twinkle appeared. I blinked in rapid succession, and the twinkle disappeared. Huh.

I covered the toilet with paper, and when I turned around, the twinkle had returned. I explained it away as fireflies (cause they're partial to bathrooms), but then the twinkle evolved into two, then four, then more. Tinkerbell and friends, had to be. A series of lights swirled in front of me. When I shook my head, the weird shit had cleared away.

Liquid cocaine, more like liquid LSD.

The story would amuse Harrison, and I couldn't wait to share it. However, raised voices piqued my interest. I drew my pants up and meandered from the bathroom. Out by the bar, two men argued, one with a raised fist. Ya know when things are so crazy that it's tough for your brain to register what's happening? Well, my brain was overloaded with crazy right then.

I recognized a few truths, the first being the man with the raised fist pointed a gun. The second truth was that the gun was pointed at my brother.

For some horrible reason, the man cocked the weapon, prompting me to cry out,

"Please, stop!"

I was still across the room, helpless to the nightmare unfolding before me. Harrison and I locked eyes. Near imperceptibly, he shook his head, then went back to pleading with his aggressor. I searched his face for a hint of what was happening, but he exuded calm concern and nothing else.

"I have to," the man said.

"Sir, it's gonna--"

But Harrison never finished what he'd meant to say, nor would he be allowed to finish anything, ever again. The gun went off with a sharp pop that was much louder than I'd anticipated. My brother immediately hit the ground, and I took off running, eager to see if he'd made it.

The perpetrator dropped his weapon, and barreled towards me. Nearby patrons reached out in a effort to stall him, but he slipped past. I froze as he veered closer, gun aimed my way. The same sharp pop sounded off. However, a second before that, my lame knee jerked, forcing me to kneel.

The gunman cursed, still headed for me. I couldn't get up, both from shock and pain. Lucky for me (or was it luck?), a large man tackled the attacker, the gun falling and skidding underneath a table.

One punch, and he was out. Panting over him, the good Samaritan said,

"Can someone help me tie this guy up and call the police?"

With the gunman out of commission, I unfroze.

"Harrison?" I called out, hearing nothing in response.

My brother needed me, and was in fact bleeding out a few feet away. A young woman came over and helped me up, then offering her belt to the large man. I rushed to Harrison's side, surprised to find the vagrant from earlier cradling his head in her lap.

I figured out it was a she and not a he. Even hidden under the dirty cap, the features were too soft.

My brother lay, limbs sprawled, jaw slack, eyes open but unblinking.

The pain in my knee forgotten, I dropped to the floor and gathered my brother in my arms.

"He okay?" Tears thickened my voice.

I caressed his face, so cold, and I shook him, but he didn't wake.

The answer was obvious before she spoke.

"He's gone."

She met my tear-blurred gaze, and my stomach immediately recoiled. Stars burst before me, and my mind swirled, lost in a chaos of color and thought.

A hand on my back steadied me.

"You okay?"

The swirling subsided, but not altogether. I was set to lose a battle with my stomach, and I didn't want that to happen. Carefully, I put my brother down and got up.

"I'll be right back," I told the capped woman while struggling to hold back vomit. Not looking at her seemed to do the trick.

With each stride away from her, my head cleared and my nausea abated.

Gods, something's wrong with me.

In the bathroom, I plunked on the toilet without checking, dunking my bum in the water.

At that point, the tears overcame me. I settled into my wet fate, barely aware of anything but Harrison's death. Minutes before, I'd been delightfully drunk, and then, my brother was gone.

Through the misery, I noticed the mystery lights from before had returned.

I reached for them, shouldn't have, and that's the last that I recall. That, and the cold. Instead of hot, the lights were cold. Things didn't pick up until I awoke, 5,000 years into the future.

~*~

My mind wanders more than it should, yet, I'm grateful to remember most things, especially what came next.

I hadn't slept, not really, although I felt groggy. The drinks played some part in it, but the kinked feeling had stolen over the entire day.

Where am I?

I shivered, ass down on the dank floor, surrounded by dark walls and not much else.

Immediately, I rationalized my nude mystery:

1. I'd passed out, pissed myself, and de-robed
Or
2. Some guy plied me with more drinks, we slogged, and the douche left me in a closet
Or
3. I was dead, and in a waiting room in the after-life.

The last thought wrought new goosebumps. I'd pulled some crazy stunts in high school, but this topped it all. Harrison was probably worried sick.

No, Harrison was in trouble, and he needed help.

The image of his slack face washed over me.

I buried it. Had to if I was going to figure out what the hell was going on. Clothes. I needed clothes before anything else. Unfortunately, the room had nothing but four dark walls. I clutched at my collarbone, a weird habit of mine, and stood.

Slowly, I approached the wall, reaching out. Underneath my fingers, I traced patterns onto the clay surface. Wall to wall, I groped for a doorknob, and found none.

My breathing picked up, and despite the cold, I began to sweat. No doorknob. Where the hell was I? I kept pawing at the walls, and suddenly came across a smooth spot. A white panel lit up, I pressed my palm against it, and the wall fell away.

Okay.

After a peek, I ventured out of my little closet, feet slapping on the floor. No one yelled out, no one laughed, no one stopped me. I was alone in a sparse space. I'd never seen a room quite like it before. White lacquered walls, blending to meet the white floor. Every part of the room flowed into the other. There were no angles to speak of, only curves. Further out, a viewing area spanned for about twenty feet, showing off a velvet sky set against an array of stars.

I was in outer space.

"Harrison?" Panic lit my voice.

The unbalance that had plagued me the entire day was gone, replaced by terror. My mind was unhinged and beaming in hallucinations. I shook my head, rubbed my eyes, and pinched my arm. Nothing disarmed the spell. I was trapped here, where ever here was.

"But it's so good you're here."

At the voice, goosebumps prickled my skin yet again. It was humanish, but belonged to a shiny figure, as white as the room. It was very clearly a robot.

"Is Harrison okay?"

The probability that I would see my brother was slipping from me.

"I'm not sure who that is, but without you, the mission would've failed," the bot said.

Brow-knotted, I skipped over much of what it said, instead focused on simple answers. "If my brother's not here, where is he?"

"Your brother," the chilling voice rolled the words around as though fascinated by them, "is not anywhere, because you're not supposed to be here."

The white walls, which had painted the illusion of an endless open cavern, now closed in. I couldn't breathe. Nothing made sense.

"What?" I backed away, closer to the bay window, not seeing any other exit available.

"All the other passengers expired in their dura-chambers, and you're not on the manifest. The only way you could've arrived is through a time anomaly."

I understood half of what was said. My brain jumped on the phrases passengers expired and time anomaly.

Head spinning, I tried to absorb my situation.

Don't pass out. Don't pass out.

I passed out.

~*~

"...Nearly there."

Fragments of a memory. Or a conversation.

"Almost out of time."

The robot's voice twisted my gut, and fleetingly, I thought,

The uncanny valley.

I tossed and turned, a stiff material scratching against my skin. I wore clothes, if that's what the papery concoction could be called.

In the midst of half-sleep, I heard the robot continue:

"We're a few rotations out from the drop point. Only a biological signature can release the flume. I suppose it acts as a safeguard against mechanical failures, which is ironic, isn't it?" The bot didn't sound bitter, merely thoughtful.

By then, I was fully awake, laying on my side, tears coating my face.

What do I---

An echo hit me, like words I'd already spoken. I grated them out:

"What do I need to do?"

"I'll show you," the bot said.

~*~

Within a few hours, I was familiar with the controls. While passing the targeted area, I'd release the flume, ensuring a millennia of knowledge and life would populate the next inhabitable planet.

Even if I was completely bonkers, I was intent on seeing the mission through.

Seeing row after row of ashen faces had made my decision for me. The bot led me by the deceased passengers, floating in the dura-chambers, the result of sabotage.

"A crew member experienced terrible night terrors while slumbering," the bot explained, "and became convinced he had to end the mission prematurely. He flooded all the chambers with a pathogen, and then did this."

Ribbons of crimson trailed out from around a curved corner. We paused the tour, and inside an alcove was the saboteur, knife where his throat used to be. I wondered what sort of dreams had driven him to mass murder. Hunkered down, I examined his body, nothing more than a pile of bones.

He looked nothing like him, but I couldn't help thinking of Harrison. Tears slid down my face, and I didn't care.

There wasn't anything to say, and so I kept quiet.

The ship was special, one of the first of its kind, able to travel across galaxies in a few years. The navigation controls no longer worked, compliments of the crazy man. As the course had been set centuries before, the bot informed me that we neared the outer reaches of space.

"Isn't space infinite?"

"One would think," the bot said.

With my limited knowledge of theory, I was unprepared to argue. Plus, without Harrison, arguing felt wrong.

Soon, I'd be gone, just like the crazy man, and like my brother.

~*~

The day of the mission came and went.

When my hand depressed on the control panel, releasing the flume, nothing felt better. Or worse. The bot assured me I had carried out a great duty, ensuring continuity.

In the next breath(not that it breathed), it reminded me that in one rotation, we'd arrive at the edge. Time and space folded there, the bot told me, and there was no theory to explain what might happen.

I was ready.

Ahead, an expanse of light lit up the dark void. I stared from the viewing area, still disbelieving of what my life had become.

The bot watched with me, lucite hand resting on the clear polycarbon.

"Will it hurt?" I asked.

"Who's to say?"

When our ship merged with the light, I woke up on a tile floor.

I'd wobbled over this floor enough times to know where I was.

Bar None.

~*~

I ran, naked once more, and screaming for Harrison.

Running lights twinkled on the bar counter, but it was dim everywhere else. My brother wasn't around, nor was anyone else.

In the employee lockers, I found some torn pants, a long sleeve shirt, boots, and a dirty baseball cap. For a good while, I stared at it. I knew now when I was, and what else I had to do.

After dressing, I headed outside. Clomping along in a stranger's boots felt funny, but familiar. Finally, I collapsed against the side of a building, smiling slightly at the store name across the street, Jay's Lays.

Then I closed my eyes, and waited.

THE END