Me, Myself, I

"Good decision. I think a threesome would be great though. Did you decide to go for it?"

Wednesday snorted. Todd knew they had. It was a plan then.

* * *

Todd spent the night and took the first available flight home. He was glad he'd stayed, and that Wednesday had let him. For a time, both were doubtful he should. He'd added 14 extra hours and was looking at God knew how many more in the future. But Indulging in safe sex was addicting. His consolation was jumping back home for 10 solid hours of sleep, where Wednesday, on the other hand, was out of luck. He had less than an hour before the alarm rang at 7:00 AM, signaling yet another glorious day at the office.

Todd considered this. "You know," he said, working out the details. "You could jump ahead to tomorrow morning, sleep while Friday's at work, and then jump back here at 6 o'clock his time, completely refreshed. You'd pick up another 10 hours, maybe, but think how much better you'd feel."

The prospect brightened Wednesday's gloomy outlook. "Why didn't I think of that yesterday morning? Anyway, it's a damned good idea and I'm glad you thought of it, guy." He patted Todd on the shoulder. "Have fun tonight. Say hi to Tuesday for me." He yawned and stretched bone-breakingly.

"You got it," Todd agreed. "See you Saturday night." Wondering if that were true, he directed Siri to take him home.

* * *

Wednesday evening, Todd labored at the stove preparing his and Tuesday's linguini dinner. He planned to dart into the bedroom at 8:10 PM and dump his work clothes into the hamper and don the apron in time for Tuesday's appearance at 8:15. Considering it gave him an erection.

He'd slept alone the night before, exactly what he'd jumped ahead to avoid. Jumping played tricks with your perception and you couldn't necessarily trust your instincts, or your first thought on a matter. Today, for instance, he'd reasoned out that he and Wednesday would never meet again. The instant Todd jumped back, Wednesday had ceased to exist in Todd's timeframe reference. The "Wednesday" he met up with at Saturday's place would be a complete stranger to him, with memories of an encounter with his own Tuesday. That's what he reasoned, at least. Only it defied actual reason, this crazy circular referencing, and made his head hurt trying. The only constant factor in all this was him he decided. All other Todd's were virtual; a day, a week or a month ahead, or behind him, living their own realities. He intruded on theirs, they intruded on his. Yet, none or the other was changed. That he knew by instinct.

At 8:15 PM, Tuesday popped into the kitchen, came up behind Todd and encircled his waist. "That smells wonderful," he enthused. "I'd hoped you'd be waiting naked in the living room; you surprised me like this. I guess you surprised yourself last night, too?"

Todd grinned and turned his head for a kiss, closing his eyes as Tuesday's left hand drifted north, and the other south. He immediately stiffened in Tuesday's grasp and conveyed his enthusiasm via his tongue. Releasing the spatula, he turned into Tuesday's arms the way Wednesday had turned into his the night before. "I love you," he whispered into his self's left ear. Surprised, Tuesday pulled back to look at him.

"Things go really well for us tonight, guy?"

"I don't cook for just anyone," Todd quipped. He pulled Tuesday close kissed him again, rather roughly this time. Todd was achingly hard and ripe to the touch. He sought another kiss, which Tuesday provided happily.

"I want to suck you right now," Tuesday whispered. This dinner bullshit ruined that."

Todd laughed and untied the apron and lifted it over his head and let it drop to the floor. "Take my socks off first," he said. Tuesday obliged, dropping to his knees and removing each sock as Todd raised his foot. Todd then moved them safely away from the stove and leaned against the counter with his hands gripping the edge. Tuesday immediately began to fellate him. He'd put a stop to this soon enough, wanting Tuesday fat and full and complaint as he'd been last night. That would make him happy. That would make dinner exceptionally successful.

* * *

In the morning, he followed Tuesday's suggestion and jumped ahead to 8:00 AM Friday morning, collapsing into bed. He hoped Friday might sneak home at lunch for a helping of leftovers, but no. He'd thoughtfully left out their favorite dildo, however, which Todd took happily to bed, sleeping with a grin on his face and his pajama bottoms flying at half mast. He awoke with it still planted snuggly at 1:15 PM, took a shower, and replaced the dildo when he returned to bed. At 6 o'clock he bid both the bedroom and his dildo adieu and returned to Thursday morning, completely refreshed and 10 hours older. The entire day he spent anticipating a jump forward to Saturday night.

Again, work was a breeze. At the expense of a few corresponding hours, Todd thought he'd never again be late, absent from or suffer through another crushing hangover at work. He'd simply do what he'd done this morning and jump ahead for a refresher course. He'd be free to enjoy himself anally to boot, and this, thrown into the mixture, pleased him immensely. Not so pleasing was the persistently annoying question of why he should waste such an opportunity on sexual deviance. It was a question he'd not be able to ignore much longer. And besides, he was curious about other things.

"Siri?"

"Yes, Todd?"

"This 406 year limit of yours. Have you ever tested it?"

"I haven't. It would be inadvisable to try now."

"Why?" Todd wanted to know.

Siri advised: "Conditions 406 years into the future are unknowable, impossible to predict. You could transport into the foundation of a building or into the middle of a volcanic eruption or a forest fire. Global warming may have long ago flooded the coastal plains and replaced land with water here. This building, or specifically the ground upon which it now stands could be hundreds of feet below the surface. Nuclear war or an industrial accident-"

"OK, OK!" Todd cut her off. "Point taken. What about 40 years into the future? That wouldn't be as unpredictable. This apartment wouldn't be mine anymore, but I wouldn't have to jump from here anyway. I could do it from some location sure to be unchanged, like a national monument or something."

"Inadvisable, Todd. Simply jumping into the future one day is fraught with risks. What if someone was with your later self and witnessed your arrival? Consider a situation where you had inadvertently moved an item of furniture into your arrival spot. That would be disastrous, Todd."

Todd flinched, imagining his shins and ankles materializing into the structure of the coffee table. He looked down, shivering with imagined horror. Simply beaming himself back would do no good at all: the coffee table would jump back with him. And he was smart enough to know that two objects couldn't occupy the same spot simultaneously. What if he blew up? What if the explosion was nuclear? He could take the entire town out with him, the entire county for that matter. He'd read a story once where that happened. The physics had been very convincing. He'd need to be careful in the future to avoid just such an accident.

Tools and hardware and such were in the kitchen pantry, and Todd located a half-used roll of duct tape and carried it into the living room. There he created a 2' square box on the floor, surrounded by a second box a foot bigger in size. For as long as these shenanigans continued, that 2' square LZ would remain sacrosanct, the border around it a buffer zone that nothing could enter. He'd jump forward and back nowhere else in the apartment. That done, he replaced the roll of tape and made note to himself to arrive five minutes earlier than his normal time at Saturday's. 8:15 PM was reserved for Friday.

Wait a minute...

He looked at the floor, where no marked-off square had existed on Fridays living room floor that morning. Another conundrum to worry about, he thought. Retrieving Siri, he relayed his new instructions and made her repeat back his arrival time on Saturday night. Then he asked her about the missing LZ box. Siri offered an explanation.

"Very likely he wanted you to institute the precaution yourself; leaving the tape would trigger an automatic action on your part, and possibly circumvent our earlier conversation concerning the insipient dangers of time-travel. He wanted you to figure it out for yourself."

Todd had to admit that made sense. He bent down and removed the tape, guessing it would be back in attendance Saturday night. And he was right.

* * *

Grinning, Saturday took him by the arm and walked him clear of the duct-tape square. Other than socks, he was naked. Todd eyed the large purple bruise on the side of Saturday's ribcage.

"Slipped and fell against the stair railing this morning." Saturday grimaced, flexing his right arm. "Hurts like a bitch, too. What I get for being half drunk and wanting the bottle of KY out of the car." He tentatively fingered the edges of the dark spot. "Don't forget the bottle of KY Friday night, and you won't have to worry about this."

Todd noted mentally to bring in all his purchases tomorrow night. Or last night, he corrected himself.

"You need to take it easily, old timer."

Saturday grinned wryly. "Let you young bucks hog all the action? I doubt that seriously, dude."

Asking for a beer, Todd waited until Saturday disappeared into the kitchen and then took up position 2' behind the inscribed LZ. In a whisper he instructed Siri to return him to his departure time plus 2 seconds. Once there, he spent an intense hour programming with Siri and then made a return trip, standing in the LZ again, and again arriving at 8:10 PM. He discovered a pristine sided Saturday awaiting him, sans socks this time. As before, he was hustled clear of the LZ.

"Everything OK?" Todd asked.

From his expression, Saturday had no inkling of the earlier LZ arrival. Todd nodded, expecting this turn of events but liking it no better for the fact. It ate at his stomach lining like battery acid.

8:15 came and went. And then 8:20 and then 8:30. Perplexed, becoming alarmed (especially Todd, wondering if his little do-over was a possible culprit), both sighed when Friday slowly materialized in the LZ and grinned widely.

"Thought I'd give it a wide margin of error, guys." He deposited his iPhone alongside Todd's on the end table and then watched in confused interest as Saturday tagged it with a piece of tape bearing the three-letter designation FRI.

"Taking no chances on a mix up," Saturday advised. "Who knows what problems that would cause."

Friday wore the same jean shorts, t-shirt, sneakers and presumably the same crew socks as Todd, who grinned, acknowledging the little gag. He hoped Friday had jumped for clean underwear though. Thinking of him naked beneath the shorts--to say nothing of Saturday being completely nude--made him anxious. As though he wasn't anxious enough.

"No bruise tonight, huh?"

Startled, Todd blinked while Saturday only looked blank. Friday eyed Todd speculatively, then shook his head and shrugged at Todd's innocent demeanor. "If we're wrong about this, there's about a hundred new time-lines out there because of us. Probably insignificant on top if the trillions that came along before, but I'd hate to be the last straw, you know?"

Saturday shrugged. "We're not intentionally messing with anything. It's self-contained, centered around us, and no innocent 3rd party's been involved--not directly anyway, and I ain't seen no temporal cop's banging on the door-"

"Better hope he doesn't," Friday broke in, indicating Saturday's buck nakedness. "You'd embarrass the shit out of us, dude."

"Haw!" Saturday exclaimed. "Rank has its privileges, Number Two." He mimicked the infamous Jean-Luc Piccard maneuver but with no shirt.

"Responsibilities too, don't forget that," Friday cautioned. "Anyway, I stocked up on beer, so you better still have it, dude."

Saturday made an "After you" gesture, inviting Friday into the kitchen. Todd was struck by how their get-together resembled that of three close friends planning a night of poker or marathon gaming, rather than three carbon copies gathering for sex. Each had his own, seemingly unique personality, which Todd had noticed to a lesser degree when he and his younger or older self were together. It was magnified with the three of them and the friction between Friday and Saturday--Friday chafed at being second in charge-only increased Todd's anxiety. Tonight would end badly; he knew that for sure.

"Hey, guys?"

Both older selves turned to look. Before either could stop him, Todd crossed to the end table and retrieved his iPhone.

"What's going on?" Friday asked. His brows were drawn down in a V and he looked alarmed at Todd's action. Beside him, Saturday went, "Uh, oh. Looks like we got us a party-pooper, Todd."

Todd spoke into his phone. "Siri, activate the button now." A green button appeared at the bottom of his screen. He said to the others: "I've been worried about something like this happening. Earlier today, I instructed Siri to program a button that would automatically take me back when pushed. I just activated it. Until the jump back is complete, Siri's instructed to disregard any voice commands. She can't distinguish my voice from either of yours and I don't want any interference."

Friday was perplexed. "I don't understand. I went through with it last night with no problem at all. Why are you worried?"

Todd shook his head. "The fact that you didn't do this, Todd, that's what worries me. Saturday had a big bruise on his side when I got here tonight, and evidently had one last night too, and he doesn't now. You don't remember me being here earlier, do you, Todd?"

Saturday shook his head uncertainly. "Were you?"

"I was. I flipped back to my own time and then had Siri bring me forward again. I did nothing, and yet there you were with no bruise on your ribs, and no memory of it. Which means I jumped forward to someplace else, and you're not the Saturday I first spoke to. This is fucked up guys. I don't like what's going on here. In fact, this shit scares me."

Not awaiting a reply, Todd thumbed the green button and watched the room molt and then reform around him. He wondered-and this new question frightened him even more than the one about alternate futures-if he had even returned to his own timeframe, or someplace else. The locations were so near-identical that it was impossible to tell. He stood within the double gray box, but whose hands had put it there? Trembling violently, he stumbled into the kitchen and opened a beer.

* * *

The LZ was gone. Todd looked at the space it had occupied last night and understood why it was missing yesterday morning, when he had jumped forward to grab some sleep; his future self had yanked it up in anger the same as he'd done last night. It was perfectly clear now in the light of day; though Todd hadn't even considered the action last night. It was never an effort to make his younger self reason things out; only plain old anger. Sighing, Todd rubbed his forehead and considered what to do now.

He'd not slept well. Dreams had dogged him all night, some terrifyingly vivid; others inexplicably mundane and senseless. He'd woken up seven or eight times in a sweaty panic. Once he'd awoken inexplicably laughing, nearly falling out of bed on the wrong side. Once-but this might have been part of a bad dream-someone had called out to him from the living room. That chilled his blood to sub-zero. He'd been afraid to investigate, burrowing deep into the covers instead.

The issue was: What scared him so much? He'd admitted the possibility, almost from the very first night, that time-travel was not a complete-in-itself explanation for what Siri did. Time travel was no doubt involved, but Todd was pretty sure he was jumping inter-dimensionally as well. No other explanation fit. Too great a variance between his actions, and those of his older and former selves. And Saturday sporting that appalling bruise last night--and then not having it 10 seconds later. Not once, from his first jump forward, to last night's aborted fiasco, had Todd ever been with the same person twice: a game of musical chairs.

Paying it forward, Todd left the dildo in plain sight on the nightstand along with the bottle of KY lubricant, and went to work. He came home to a note of appreciation worded slightly different than his own note yesterday afternoon. He wondered if Thursday would come to the same conclusion as he the night before, or hang in there the way Friday had on his first visit. He wondered what Friday and Saturday had done last night after he left. Wasn't really sure he wanted to know. What he did know was that he was lonely. And that he wasn't going anywhere tonight.

Did that create an open chair, he wondered? Or remove one. Either consideration chilled him.

Todd placed the iPhone on the carpet and raised his foot. He'd just begun to bring it down for a smashing blow to the display when a movement caught peripherally made him loose balance. He pitched forward, catching himself on the edge of the coffee table and stared open-mouthed at the shimmering apparition. The phone, which he'd caught with the edge of his shoe, flipped into the air and he fumbled at it automatically, bumbling the shape back and forth until finally snagging it from the air with his left hand. He stared as Thursday-he assumed it was Thursday-solidified and smiled at him tentatively.

"I guess, since you're here and not at Saturday's place-" he looked at his watch; Todd glanced at his own reflexively. "-that you've figured it out too."

The fear and uncertainty and hope on Thursday's face squelched Todd's flash of anger and stab of suspicion. He looked down at his hand; he knew, just as surely as he knew the sun would peek into his window tomorrow morning, that he'd soon regret not bringing his foot down to smash the damned thing.

And so it continued.

EPILOGUE

In the months that followed, Todd jumped forward 36 hours every other morning. Leaving at 7:00 AM, he'd arrive in the LZ the next evening at 7:00 PM. They'd spend the evening together, jointly preparing dinner or ordering in pizza, subs, Mexican or Chinese (or one of them running out to McDonald's or Burger King for a value meal), watching TV, playing video games, strip poker maybe, or doing long-overdue chores around the apartment. They'd make love before bed (or not) and sleep restfully afterward, sometimes nude, sometimes in pajamas, sometimes in only their socks. In the morning, both would rise and shower together, often making love again, and by 7:00 AM, Todd was gone, back to his place fully rested and ready for another day's hard work.

It shouldn't work. Graphically, they proved it wouldn't work, but it did. Todd reasoned this was another aspect of inter-dimensional time-travel at work. And though each jump subtracted invaluable hours from his timeframe, and paired him with a different Todd every night, every Todd was in essence himself, just different enough to ensure an everlasting freshness to the relationship. And most importantly, Todd never slept alone again.

THE END