Time Warp, Part Twenty

The porridge Nan had made for breakfast was warm and comforting, and I didn’t realize how hungry I was until it was in front of me. I had two bowls before I was finally able to relax and talk, with Sergei and Nan patiently waiting. I started telling them what I saw, and they were very excited to hear about my brief stop at my wedding. Sergei asked when it was, so they could plan a vacation, but I didn’t actually know. But when I got to the part about The Two, they both went silent and listened intently.

“So she put the thread in your eye?” Nan asked. “Is that what the new gold flecks are?”

“Seems so.”

“And it isn’t going away?” Sergei asked.

“I saw the same flecks in the eye of every future version of myself I’ve met.”

“But nothing more,” Nan pressed, “this isn’t becoming a habit, you doing things to your eyes?” I chuckled.

“As far as I can tell, this is it.”

“If things do not change,” Sergei said, wagging his finger.

“I don’t think they can change.”

“Of course they can! Time is not stone, it moves. It changes! It can change.”

“We’re talking about fate, dear,” Nan said, resting a hand on his knee.

“Pft. Fate. Is nice word, but time changes.” She rolled her eyes.

“The Two said they’d seen it all before!”

“And they said they had to keep things same. Which,” he held his hands out and shrugged, “is chance for it to not stay same.”

“I think I’m going to try and stick to the script, if you don’t mind,” I said, setting the bowl down and picking up my drink.

“But you choose that. This is what matters,” he said, turning to Nan, “is that she chooses.”

“Of course, dear.” She patted his knee and then turned her attention back to me. “But you didn’t get the answers you were looking for?”

“I got some,” I said, “and I suspect, over time, I’ll realize that I got more than I know. But I couldn’t have gotten anywhere without your help. Both of you.”

“Well, we’re not done.” Nan walked to the other side of the room, grabbing some papers off a shelf. “Sergei had some more detailed theories for you, but had to write them in Russian. I translated them for you.” I flicked through and found pages detailing various forms Sergei believed Hecate had taken over the years, beginning with…

“Is this Atlantis?” I asked. Sergei nodded enthusiastically, and Nan sighed.

“Yes. It’s a pet idea of his. You can do what you want with the ideas. They’re theories—”

“Correct theories,” Sergei added.

“—that you can take, and decide for yourself how useful they are.”

“Thank you,” I said. “But shouldn’t the store be open by now?”

​“Is time,” Sergei said, waving the question off, “it changes.”

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