text: “Ancient Greece was a civilization belonging to a period of Greek history from the Greek Dark Ages of the 13th-9th centuries BC to the end of antiquity (c. 600 AD). Immediately following this period was the beginning of the Early Middle Ages and the Byzantine era.” Harold aimlessly scrolled down the page, his eyes glazing over. “See you on Monday!” and with that, the weekend had begun. Harold mumbled a response, grabbed his pens, and started to pack his bag. He balled up a crumb covered page of wax paper and threw it in the trash. Before he left he took one final look at the Wikipedia article and turned his computer off. Harold drove east on route 108. Luckily, few cars were on the highway, as Harold drove like he was in a dream, fascinated and frightened by the peculiar item sitting on his dashboard. The device. A blaring horn broke his stupor and he readjusted, narrowly missing a 16 wheeler. “What am I doing?” Harold thought. “The thing probably doesn’t even work. I mean, it couldn’t work. It’s science fiction.” Harold took a right on Highland Avenue, and his mustard yellow house came into view. He sighed a relieved sigh, his thoughts having turned to disposing of the blueberry slurp which now sat in his bladder. From behind the overgrown shrubbery, he could see the lawn come into view, and his driveway, and the red door. He parked, and hesitated before deciding to grab the device. As Harold walked up to his red front door, he instinctively grabbed for his keys. “Shit.” and as he turned around, “Shit!” Harold understood that he had locked his keys inside the car. “Damn it to hell.” He glanced longingly at his red door, wanting desperately to have not done what he had just done. And then it occurred to him. Fifteen minutes passed before he built up the courage to truly entertain the thought which had come into his head. What Harold did not leave in the car, was the device that had sat on his dashboard for the last three weeks. He reached for it in his pocket; and, of course, it was still there. He was almost afraid to take it out, but eventually, he did, holding the metallic rectangle in his hands. It resembled an early iPod, circa 2001. It even had a click wheel. The only perceivable difference was the strange metallic luster, which looked like nothing else Harold had ever seen. He closed his hand around it. “This is crazy,” he thought. He looked at it again, and there it was, gleaming in that way. Harold pressed his finger down on the central button, and it awoke, suddenly displaying a series of black zeroes on a green background. - 00:00:00:00:00 He stared at them like he had a thousand times before. But this time, he slowly placed his thumb on the click wheel and gently brought it around, clockwise. One click, then two clicks. The numbers now read: - + 00:00:00:00:02 He placed his thumb on the click wheel once again, and this time, rotated counter-clockwise. One click, two clicks, then two more: - - 00:00:00:00:02 A mania took him over. The numbers dipped and changed like a slot machine and when the first column ran up to sixty, it reverted to zero and kept on climbing. Soon these first two digits were a blur, and the second two were steadily increasing, repeating at intervals of twenty-four. - - 00:00:03:21:49 Harold frowned. He turned the click wheel clockwise once more and gingerly brought the clicks to a standstill at: - - 00:00:00:00:20 The wind rustled through the trees. Harold recalled the solemn warning, offered to him by XchleiboK'a K'a months ago; "You may use it once, human scum. So use it wisely." Harold stared up at the clouds and let out an anxious whimper, then smiled and shook his head. “No way. It doesn’t even work. I’m just gonna do it, and nothing is going to happen because it’s science fiction.” He looked at the device. “This is so stupid.” For the first time, he pressed the central button. Words popped up on the screen. - Are you sure? He smirked at the warning, and defiantly pressed the button once again. “Yes, I’m sure.” Harold took a right on Highland Avenue, and his mustard yellow house came into view. He sighed a relieved sigh, his thoughts having turned to disposing of the blueberry slurp which now sat in his bladder. From behind the overgrown shrubbery, he could see the lawn come into view, and his driveway, and the red door, and himself. He slammed the breaks, and the car came to a screeching halt, stationing itself at an odd angle in the street. “What in the holy fuck!” he shouted, as he watched himself leap over to the car. “You’re gonna lock your keys in there!” Harold shouted from behind the glass. Harold’s eyes went from his keys to the device on his dashboard. “You used it?! Holy shit, I used it?!” Harold hastily parked the car in their driveway and got out, taking special care to grab his keys along with the device. Then he looked himself in the face. It was an awkward moment. “So...uh... it works, huh?” Harold waited as he used the bathroom, then when he came out, he went in and used the bathroom. “We have to figure out what we’re gonna... Where we’re... When we’re gonna go.” Harold came out of the bathroom. “I don’t think that’s possible. I think you have to use it. I used it approximately,” He looked at his wristwatch. “A minute and thirty seconds from now. You don’t want to... y’know... Cause a space-time thing. There can’t be two of us. You have to complete the chain of events.” he emphasized this with a twirl of his arm. “What do you know about space-time?” “For Christ's sake. Take it out of your pocket.” They both walked outside to the front lawn. “I was standing right... here.” Harold grabbed Harold and had him stand where he had stood. “Set it to minus twenty minutes.” - - 00:00:00:00:20 “Okay.” “Okay, well, nice to meet you, I guess.” “Yeah...” Harold pushed the button. A harsh buzz came out of the device and the screen went red. - Expired - Please Recycle :) Harold’s eyes widened. He pushed the button again, and it buzzed, he pushed it several more times. Bzzz, Bzzz, Bz-Bz-Bz . - Expired - Please Recycle :) He looked up at himself, mouth agape. A similar expression faced him. “But... It’s... I...” The gears slowly turned in Harold’s head. Harold, on the other hand, couldn't help but crack a smile, which grew into full-on hysterics. “You’re laughing?” He looked back down at the inert device in his hands. “But, Greece...” There was a blank numbness in his brain, which rose like violins in a horror score, processing the impossible situation before him. “I don’t understand.” “What’s not to understand?” He fell to the ground, unable to contain his apocalyptic laughter. An ice cream truck drove by, playing a familiar tune. In the kitchen, Harold sat at the counter, drinking a cup of coffee, while he also paced across the room, mumbling to himself. He opened the fridge, then closed it, then opened it again. Ketchup. Milk. Bologna slices. Mayonnaise. He closed the fridge. “I didn’t even get to choose...” “You did get to choose. We chose what we chose.” “No, you chose that!” “You, me, us, it’s all the same.” “Don’t sit there and tell me that I made this mistake. I’m not the time traveler here! And now I never get to be...” He paused. “What was it like?” Harold looked down at his coffee with a grim smirk. “Well, I pushed the button, and then... I was standing on the lawn, the device was gone, and so was my car.” “That’s it? That’s the best description you can muster?” “Honestly, it was kind of underwhelming.” Harold stared at himself in contempt, then looked away and rubbed his temples in frustration. “What are we gonna do? Huh?! Mr. H. G. fucking Wells over here. And over here. What am I gonna tell people, I have a long lost fucking twin?” “You really wanna have this conversation?” Harold looked down at the device, and then back up at himself. Harold was sipping his coffee and drumming his fingers on the table. “Why didn’t you call Sandy? Why didn’t you do anything else?” Harold shrugged. “I didn’t think it was going to work. Would you? ” “I was gonna go to Ancient Greece...” The other Harold said, his hand still holding the useless instrument. Harold sighed. “No you weren’t. I mean, come on. You don’t even speak ancient Greek.” A moment passed. Harold suddenly stood up and walked through his kitchen past Harold. Then, with strange portent, he slid the drawer open. Harold grabbed an instrument of many uses, which he then laid on the table. Harold looked up at himself. “Excuse me?” “I’m thinking it, so I know you must be thinking it too.” Harold replied, to which Harold raised his eyebrow. “Actually, I have no idea what you’re thinking.” He said. “Really?” Harold blinked. “Interesting... Maybe that means that I’m the real Harold.” The other Harold glanced nervously at the large knife in front of him. “I think that time traveling screwed with your head.” He cautioned, as he took a step back. “You’ve got wormhole madness. I suggest you take a cold shower.” “Harold...” Harold said. “You know why you always wanted to go to Ancient Greece? Because your life is boring. You are boring. But me? I’m a time traveler.” “You’re an asshole is what you are.” Harold replied. “You want to kill me, don’t you?” “Now you're catching on. You said it yourself! There can’t be two of us! So...” "You said that!" "Did I?" Harold looked down, then he went for the knife. “Wait!” The other Harold held his hands up defensively, then he dug through his pocket. Harold was disappointed. Harold took out a coin. “We do this honorably. Whoever loses has to leave. Find a new identity, I don’t know, whatever. This is the only fair solution.” Harold looked at himself disdainfully, and then sighed. “Fine. I guess that is better than some interdimensional knife fight...” He took the coin and placed it on his thumb, then he flipped it. It came back down and he covered it before looking up at himself. “Call it.” He said. Harold looked down, trying to logically deduce the arbitrary. “Tails.” He chose, finally. The other Harold removed his hand. Heads was facing up. Harold blinked, looking up at himself, then he went for the knife. Harold, surprised, went for the knife as well and they ended up both clutching at it in desperation. Sandy took a right on Highland Avenue, and her mustard yellow house came into view. She was looking forward to a quiet evening after a hectic day at the office. If it wasn’t one thing it was another. Employees squabbling. Cutbacks discussed. She imagined a warm bath and a good book were waiting inside that house. From behind the overgrown shrubbery, she could see the lawn come into view, and her driveway, and the red door, and Harold’s diagonal car. Just once, she thought, it would be nice if he could park straight.