Fate's Laughing At You, Not With You

I'd like to start at the beginning. I really would. But this story just doesn't work when I do that. So what are my other options? Start at the end and work my way back? Hmmm. Nope, that's no good either. The trouble with this line of thinking is that it's hard to figure out where this story starts or finishes. I think I'm going to start at a point somewhere in the middle. It's the only part of the story with beginning-like qualities to it. For example, there's this guy waking up from a coma. That's the sort of thing that makes for a good beginning, though it's not very original.

There was a lot of hustle and bustle when John finally woke up. Everyone was eager to ask him questions. You see, even for a coma victim, John had an air of mystery about him. Since the day they found him, everyone had their own theories about him. Basically, he was very odd.

When they found John, he was slipping in and out of consciousness. In their efforts to keep him awake, the ambulance officer tried asking him questions whenever he seemed more alert. His grip on reality seemed to be failing. He couldn't remember his name and when asked the date, the string of numbers he spurted made no sense to anyone. Most of what he said that day made no sense to anyone.

If John had been found earlier, the attending doctors might have been able to keep him awake. As it was, he slipped into a deep sleep for seven years. In all that time they could find no clue as to who he was. And were very disappointed when he awoke with a textbook case of amnesia.

When he was stronger he was asked to explain what the numbers where. Of course he couldn't remember anything he had said before waking, so the nurse had to recite them for him. He nodded his head as he heard these mysterious numbers because he knew that they were right. When the nurse saw his understanding nod, she asked, "So you know what these numbers mean?"

"No. Not a clue. Absolutely correct though."

This was only part of the weirdness that became associated with this patient. During normal conversations he would make references to things that had never occurred. Some time he would even be able to go into great detail. But whenever pushed to explain where and when all of it happened, he was baffled. Needless to say, he was institutionalized for a number of years.

Here we fast-forward some seven years to a conversation between a few of the hospital workers. It seemed the hospital was coming down with a major outbreak of d�j� vu. Things that they had seen or heard lately had an unsettling ring of familiarity to them. And last night on the news there was a story they all swore they had heard before. The conversation had drawn them all into an eerie silence, the sensation someone had dubbed "Some one's walking over my grave".

At this point John, who had been given the option of choosing his own name but couldn't see the point and remained as John Doe, came teetering past spouting his latest inane dribble. All the nurses shook their head, as they were inclined to when John came wandering past. The realization of the connection between John and their conversation would only come to them later that night.

By that time John was long gone. You see from the very start, John knew that the number he had given to officers was correct and had been studying it for the past seven years. It was a rather interesting challenge trying to work an equation in reverse. Earlier that day, John had figured it out. It wasn't a year; they were time/space coordinates. This realization brought back images of a derelict time machine. He even remembered where it was.

Compared to the repairs required on the machine, bypassing the security of the hospital was child's play. Yet he seemed to do it all without the need to think about it. All of this was second nature to him.

John was certain he had the machine in full working order but he still had some spare parts. He was too excited to care.

Because John still didn't know anything more about himself, he didn't know where to go in the future. The only way to fix all of this was to go back and stop his other self from losing his memory in the first place. He knew that this meant he would no longer exist, but he took satisfaction in the thought that this other self would be given the chance to return to whoever it was that loved and missed him.

Thinking ahead, John altered the time/space coordinates slightly so that the two machines wouldn't end up at the same place at the same time. The alteration was only an educated guess, as he didn't fully understand the equation yet. He was relieved when he arrived, as he was obviously a little early. John then hid out of the way and waited for his other self to arrive.

Thirty years later, a scientist named Alex Right was eagerly strapping himself in for the first test flight of his new time machine. He chose the late 20th century for his first run, and put in the coordinates of some out of the way place in a back alley.

"It works" he exclaimed, as he was sent hurtling down the passages of time. It was a quick trip as the scientist had planned. What he hadn't planned for was the homeless guy sheltering in the back alley he had chosen. In the few seconds before the two objects came crashing together, Alex thought the guy's face was rather familiar. But then he was sent hurtling across the alley and the thought was taken from his mind, as were most of his memories. Concrete has that sort of effect on the human head, especially at high speeds. As Alex lay there, slipping in and out consciousness, waiting for the help that was to arrive a few hours from now, his thought processes went something along this line; I think it worked. What worked? If it worked why am I in such pain? Wasn't there some one else here? What's that red smear on the ground? Who am I? That's a pretty fire. What was I doing? Red.

Seven years later a guy woke up from a coma.