When my best friend Zander called me for the third time this month claiming he had unlocked the secrets of universe, I believed him. The teasing and ridicule he received most days were not entirely unfounded, although no less miserable to witness. High schoolers are the spawn of the devil. Particularly wide-eyed, gullible and infinitely more intelligent guys like him. But ever the optimist that he is, he tells me all the misfortunes will be worth it once he makes this discovery.

Zander had been working on this project for the better part of a year. He was attempting to generate a wormhole. One that could transcend space, time, and even parallel universes. All the math had been worked out a while back by yours truly, but putting it into practical use was another matter. Energy was also a problem. Basically, we didn’t have any. Not nearly enough to bring all our science fiction dreams to life anyway.

But Zander was getting close. And while a more sceptical friend may have given up on him by now, I know him better than anyone in the world and when he puts his mind to something, sooner or later it’s going to happen.

I pulled my bike up to his house late one night to see a shimmering blue glow coming from his bedroom window. He did it. He actually did it. I sprinted inside.

I swung the door open to see a small blue orb, about the size of a football, hovering above the hardwood floor. It was sparkling like water under a beaming sun. Zander and I shared a look of pure marvel.

The aim wasn’t to create a portal large enough for any human to step through. Not yet anyway. Who knows what affect destabilizing every cell in your body and rematerializing God knows where or when would have. So we started small.

Zander picked up a notebook detailing our lives and everything we had learned about physics, ready to spark hope in any curious soul out there. He slowly edged toward the wormhole, savouring every last millisecond of this historic moment. The notebook was inches away from crossing the event horizon when suddenly it began vigorously shaking. Vibrating like it was losing stability. The force so powerful it caused the furniture to rumble, taking me back to last year’s earthquake.

We ducked down for cover, but peaked out from behind the desk, not wanting to miss whatever phenomenon this was. A tiny brown fleck appeared in the orb. I couldn’t make out what it was at first but it was getting bigger and bigger. Next thing we knew, the orb spat it out and the tremors stopped. For a second it was back to hovering gently before it completely dematerialized and disappeared literally into thin air.

It did however leave a gift. The thing it spewed out was a journal. The first entry was dated fifty two years from now. Did we just receive something from the future? Upon further inspection, there was something familiar about the syntax, written in such eloquent language. And that’s when I realized…it was my handwriting. I had just received a time capsule from a sixty two year old me. Evidently, we had rendered the whole be careful not to mess with the timeline thing obsolete because the tales did nothing to spare any details of a lifetime of adventures.

In that moment I knew everything was going to be ok.

It’s her fourth night in a row closing the bar and Dani is exhausted. By the time she gets home, she’s lucky to get five hours sleep before starting all over again. And that’s provided her reveller roommate doesn’t make the sound of a small tornado coming home from a night out. Same shit, different day. Between training for her swim team, classes, assignments, and working to pay tuition fees, rent and, last but not least, food, there isn’t much time left for self care.

Which brings us to this very moment. Poor, sleep deprived Dani mentally crawling her way to the end of a day that just won’t seem to end. The bar is more full than she’d like it to be considering they are closing in fifteen minutes. It means it will be harder for her to herd the remaining intoxicated patrons onto the street so she can get the hell outta here. Something tells her she’s going to get some resistance since one particularly obscene man twice her age has been proudly making his feelings towards her quite clear all night with the encouragement of his equally vulgar mates.

She finishes off wiping the bar and goes on to the floor. She makes her way from table to table, clearing empty glasses and wiping sticky residues. She passes the rowdy group playing darts doing her best to ignore them.

“Hey, sweetheart!” The vile man yells. “Why don’t you come over here and be my lucky charm?”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” she mumbles under her breath as she walks away.

The entire notion of online dating makes me want to vomit. People posting what they consider to be their most flattering images, listing hobbies they haven’t done since high school, all under the pretence of finding a significant other. It’s like a database of the world’s narcissists. And I’m one of them.

Alexis, 28 years old (5 years ago) - an adventurous (lazy), outgoing (I hate people) journalist (up until last week. I got fired for not playing by the rules). I’m a big book worm (the only honest thing in this profile) who spends her weekends rock climbing followed by nights out on the town with my girls (I’d rather stick needles under my fingernails).

And here’s my supposed soul mate:

Brian, 30 years old - psychology research assistant at NYU (awesome, he has brains, maybe he can tell me what’s wrong with me), interests include gourmet coffee, 1940s film noir, and bowling.

I hear ya, on paper we seem like two people who wouldn’t even glance at each other. And that was no different in person. He turned up at my door and my first impression was, how do you say, like he had a stick up his ass. The man was wearing a bow tie with tiny images of Freud. At dinner, a mediocre Chinese restaurant of his choosing, his game was to bore me to death with pretentious psychobabble about the cognitive benefits of cycling. Just what every gal wants to hear. I was a hairpin away from crawling out of the bathroom window when he said something that piqued my interest. And that one thing dominoed me to this moment, walking down the aisle to the woman I love. Thank god I left Brian, and his id, ego and superego to his chow me in when I did. I walked out that front door and never looked back.

When the humans realized the severity of the climate crisis, and it was evident that it was becoming irreversible, they began planning for an alternative future. Sea levels rose so high it completely rearranged the map of the world. Water went from covering 70% of Earth to 94%, leaving little land mass for the rising human population. And thus, Tethys City was born.

Tethys City, aptly named after the Earth’s earliest designated ocean, is mankind’s first water-integrated metropolis. Entirely transparent underwater skyscrapers make you feel like you’re living in an aquarium the size of London. They are built to withstand the massive forces of the sea and stick out from the surface of the water like tips of icebergs. These tips contain huge vents that filter and transport oxygen to every room in every building. The city is of course powered by hydroelectricity, of which there is more than enough to go around. The lower levels of the buildings that reach the ocean floor must be pressurized much like a spacecraft. And instead of cars, transportation consists of either walking between buildings using a vast network of tunnel systems or, if you can afford one, an individualized submarine for you and your family.

Other than the fact that sharks are a little too close for comfort, and the diet is dominated by seafood, life is pretty much the same as it has been for centuries. There’s educational institutions, employment, economy, democracy and philosophy. Once again proving the remarkable feat of human ingenuity and adaptability.

PART 1

You know those days when it feels like the universe is against you and nothing you do seems to go smoothly. This trip was the epitome of that.

Not long after the bell dismissed them for the summer, two best friends, Freya and Margo, set off in Freya’s shiny new Toyota Corolla for a weekend in Yellowstone National Park. Neither of these adventurous young teenagers had ever taken such a trip so far from home. Great efforts were taken to convince their parents. They were eager for some life experience and little did they know this trip was prepared to provide just that in the purest of forms.

They survived the unforeseen two hour line up to the gate of the park, albeit impatiently, after underestimating its popularity. The sun was now below the horizon and after a long day on the road, the girls were exhausted and ready for a hot meal and a good night’s rest. Margo drove cautiously through the winding, pothole ridden roads. Making sure to adhere to the speed limit as she took note of the various animal warning signs. Only a handful of meters in front of the car were visible before the road disappeared into a dark abyss.

“There must have been hundreds of cars at the gate. Where the hell did they all go?” Said Margo, clutching the steering wheel.

“It’s a big place. They’re probably staying in different areas of the park.”

“Speaking of, are you sure we weren’t supposed to take one of those turnings back there?”

“Um, I don’t think so, we’re still a while away from the south end,” said Freya, getting her phone out to check.

In the interest of getting an authentic Yellowstone experience, they opted for camping instead of reserving a lodge. The sites were not as obviously marked as some of the larger establishments.

Margo kept her eyes peeled, scanning the road in front. “This place isn’t exactly well sign posted. Bison and bear warnings aside.”

“Uh oh,” said Freya.

“What?”

Freya points her phone at Margo. A blank page with the words ‘no signal’ written across.

“There’s no internet here, I can’t check where we are on the map.”

The beginning stages of panic started to creep up on Margo. A generation that grew up with the comfort of the internet, the ability to look up anything at anytime, lack the basic problem solving skills required in a situation like this.

“Just keep driving south,” said Freya, reaching into the glove compartment. “I think my mum put a map in here.”

She unfolds the map, spanning it across the dashboard.

“Let’s see, we passed the first intersection back there, I should be able to -“

Before Freya was able to finish her sentence, the car began to vigorously shake. Margo clung to the steering wheel, attempting to bring the car to a controlled stop as it rumbled underneath them.

“What is that?” Said Freya. “Pull over!” She pressed the hazard lights as the car came to a stop, perched precariously next to a small ditch in the middle of a bend.

Margo jumps out of the car to examine it.

“Is it a flat?” Asked Freya, sticking her head out the window.

“More like a complete massacre,” replied Margo.

Freya got out to see. “Jesus.”

The front left tire was shredded. Entire chunks left scattered on the road.

“Yep, that’s a burst tire if I’ve ever seen one,” said Freya.

“So you’ve dealt with this before?”

“Nope.”

“Wonderful.” Margo checks her phone. “No cell service either. We can’t even call for help. Any chance you know how to change a tire?”

“I’ve seen my dad do it once. How hard can it be?”

For the next hour, under the watch of the moon and sparkling stars, Freya and Margo tried everything they could to get the busted wheel off, but it was screwed so tight they didn’t have the strength or equipment to get the damn thing off. It was now nearing midnight and not a soul had driven past them. Eventually, they gave in.

PART 2

They sat on the asphalt, backs leant against the side of the car, legs hanging over the ditch, looking out at the caldera.

“Well, we came here for an adventure, right?” Said Freya.

Margo laughed at her optimism. “Certainly not likely to forget this.”

“I’ve always wanted to rough it in my car.”

“Looks like your dream is about to come true,” replied Margo.

They sat in silence for a moment, watching a hoard of bison in the distance.

“Bear,” said Margo.

“What?”

“Bear!”

Margo dragged Freya up by her arm and they scrambled into the car. A young looking black bear sauntered out from the bush and, a mere few feet from the car, started playing with the spare tire, rolling it with his paw. The girls watched in admiration. After a moment, the bear casually crossed the road, barely paying them any attention. They both exhaled a sigh of relief that turned into hysterical laughter.

PART 3

After spending what remained of the night in the car wrapped in their sleeping bags and munching on power bars, the early hours of dawn brought hope when a park ranger drove by and with his sat phone called one of the park’s auto repair shop. The universe wasn’t quite done with them yet when they had to drive on said spare tire across the park to another auto shop that could fit them with a permanent one.

There were a couple lessons in this experience: one - the best memories are often spawned from mishaps, two - learn to change a tire.

Dawn was still a ways out as I unceremoniously tumbled my suitcase down the staircase of my childhood home. Ralph, our jet black labrador, tangling under my feet for the very last time. My mum handed me a coffee to go and my dad dragged my luggage to the car, making his mandatory snarky comment about how much it weighed along the way.

Not a single word was spoken as we meandered the sleeping roads, watching the sun rise over the rolling hills of the South Downs. Passing trails containing the memories of countless bike rides with my family, and woods of camping trips with my friends. My heart already ached at the thought of leaving it all behind. There’s comfort in familiarity, but something in my DNA has always longed for more.

I know my parents are proud of me, albeit apprehensive about my decision to go so far so fast. I reminded them that human behaviour dictates I will eventually retreat back to my roots. But for now, there’s a world of infinite experiences tailor made for me and that is a calling I cannot ignore.

To be young and free is nirvana. Like the exhilaration of summiting a mountain, or the nostalgia that flows through you when listening to Coltrane. A moment isolated from space and time in which the only thing in existence is that one singular feeling. That’s how I felt the day I married you.

‘Reckless’ and ‘mistake’ were words frequently spoken later by those who didn’t understand, but not once did they enter my mind as we raced our rental Vespa to the nearest wedding chapel. Just you and me under the Mediterranean sun. I never desired the formality of a traditional wedding. Walking down an aisle with dozens of eyes bursting through our little universe. A moment meant just for us shared with everyone and their dog. It just didn’t sit right with me.

I cannot bring myself to regret a night that will remain forever ours and no one else’s. But little did I know it would become a source of disappointment for those in my orbit. That elation for me brought sadness to another because they couldn’t be a part it. After all, what is life if you don’t have people to share it with. Nonetheless, I wouldn’t change it for anything.

I know you hate me, but I am here to protect you. Thousands of years of evolution has yet to render me obsolete. You may not be being chased by a tiger or struggling to find food, but like it or not my existence has a purpose. And yes, it is all about you. And whilst it may not be life or death, right now I am here to save you from a classroom of judgemental vultures. They’re obviously all going to think yours is the worst idea in all of history. Dozens of eyes will stare you down. You will slowly start to flush and stutter, and it will be the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to anyone like…ever. Why are you putting yourself through this? You should probably just fake an illness.