Forgive Me - What the heck?

((Hey! 's been a while. I normally post this kinda stuff on MSPAF only but since that place went down for the foreseeable future why the hell not make a forum adventure?))

Begin.

The forest is calming.

This late in the day, the densely packed trees don't let much light through, but it's not like I'm in the mood for a cheery atmosphere right now anyway; in fact, it's rather the opposite.

There's no one around to comfort me today. Not any more. There will be again soon, as soon as I reach the destination of my journey, but for now, I rest, and let the feeling of grief sink in.

My father is dead.

...

I open my hand, and look at the slip of paper. In large, black letters, it says the following:

Forgive me.

It looks hastily penned out. I found it on the front door when I got home from the mall. The door itself was ajar. There wasn't any blood, but seeing a still body, lying on the ground... It does something to you. So I ran.

I tuck the note into my pocket again and start weeping, for the first time since all this happened. It's been hours, but everything only now seems to be getting through to me. A lone bird flies off as my squealing voice reaches it, and I see it make a headlong rush for the blue sky.

I wish I could be free from my emotions like that bird is free from the ground beneath.
Most times I am.
But sooner or later, we must all touch the ground.

Reminisce on the good times, and the bad. Try not to, but find yourself doing so anyway.

> Reminisce on the good times, and the bad. Try not to, but find yourself doing so anyway.

I've spent a lot of time with my friends lately. It never crossed my mind to ask my father to go out to the park together for a picnic, or play some games with him. He always seemed to be there forever, so I never felt like there was any urgency to it.

If I'm honest with myself, it might have been because I'm getting older. At my age, one doesn't always get along with their guardians.

Like, when I was home late this one time, he grounded me. Of course I was upset. But at least he was still there for me then.

All I have now is a piece of paper.

I pick myself up, and start walking again. It's not far any more, but there's one last obstacle in my way. The trees make way and reveal the horizon and clouds bathing in the sunset's blood as I trudge along. The path joins up with the road and leads to a solemn looking concrete building.

As I approach the border checkpoint, a voice rings over the clearing. The soldier it belongs to looks tired. He has a holstered rifle on his side, and leans against the concrete structure of the checkpoint.

"Halt! Who goes there and what business do you have?

"Vince Starvault, of Cilmareen. Here for a funeral, and the, uh, associated legal proceedings."

> Vince Starvault, of Cilmareen.


"I- I'm Vince Starvault. I come from Cilmareen. I'm here for a funeral, and l-legal proceedings."

That went a lot smoother in my head. Telling lies isn't easy at the best of times, and this isn't the best of times.

"Can I see your documents?"

I nod nervously, grasping at my passport. I almost pull out the note that was left behind for me, but when I present the contents of my hand, it's only the little booklet that proves my citizenship.

I hand it over, and wait while he takes a look. His eyes skim over the text, and then pause.

...

He's taking too long. Is something wrong? Does he know about my father? Does he suspect me?

"S-sir?"

"Mmm. You can pass."

He gives me back the passport, and I quietly put it away. Relieved, I let go of my held breath.

"And, my condolences."

"Oh! Yes, thanks."

I shuffle past him, over the border. I'm no longer in Estlyle. I'm in Ninecord, and there is nothing that can stop me from reaching my destination. That said, the long walk has taken its toll. I'm exhausted, physically and mentally.

There it is. The second house on the left.
With the last of my strength, I drag myself up the stairs. My finger reaches for the doorbell.

Then, darkness.

---

My fingers dance a sophisticated pattern on my keyboard.

     «Damn it, Vince! Read your messages once in a while would you?»
     «You haven't been on in six hours.»

I sigh, and get up from my chair. It's no use. He's probably sick or something. I walk toward by drawer, picking up the cardboard box that was delivered to my name. There isn't any sign of a sender's address or initials, sadly.

I haven't yet opened it. I've been waiting in order to know who it's from, but all of my friends have denied sending it. Except Vince, who hasn't answered.

((You can now take control of Vince whenever he's awake.))

It's signed "Francine". You don't know anyone named Francine.

> It's signed "Francine". You don't know anyone named Francine.

The only label on the box reads "Francine Beaumont". If I had known any Francine Beaumont, I'd be tempted to think they were the ones who sent it to me. However, it's pretty clear that the label indicates the recipient, which is of course myself.

I decide to open it. I'm really not in the mood to wait any longer for Vince to answer my message.

What I hold in my hands when they leave the cardboard shell is an object utterly foreign to me. It has the shape of a clock, and is filled with all kinds of insane mechanisms. There is no dial and there are no arms.

The brass construct is cold, so I put it down on my desk to examine it further. There's a key on the outside, apparently used to wind up the contraption. There is also a ring around the edge which looks like it can be rotated.

I walk to the window, and look outside before closing the blinds. The sunset has coloured the sky a magnificent amber hue where it sets over the building in the distance. Cilmareen is a beautiful place to live.

I turn my attention back to the gift I received. I don't know what to think of it. I have no idea what it's for, and I don't want to mess anything up, yet I'm tempted to try out what I can do with it.

((You can now also take control of Francine whenever she's awake.))

Wind it up and see what it does at the current setting

> Wind it up and see what it does at the current setting.

I wind up the device. It takes a good few turns to reach its limit, and when it does... nothing happens. I slowly put it down and step away, removing the wind-up key. Still, nothing happens. Whatever it is, I've just primed it and I don't know how to feel.

I jump a little as my computer makes a sudden sound.

I look around. It's a new message. It's not Vince.

I exhale, letting go of the tension. I don't know what's got me so on edge, but I have a gut feeling that this device is something to be careful with.

>Read the message, ask the sender about your new present.

>Read the message, ask the sender about your new present.

I sit down again, looking at the message I've received.

     «Francine?»
     «Are you still there?»
     «Yes.»
     «By the way, I've opened up the package, and there's some kind of weird clockwork device inside.»
     «Any idea what it could be?»
     «Not at all.»
     «I'll speculate later if you want, but right now I have a more urgent situation on my hands.»
     «And I just wanted to let you know about it.»
     «Because guess who just turned up on my doorstep.»
     «I have no idea.»
     «Tell me.»
     «It's Vince.»
     «He's unconscious.»
     «He's not in a bad way, but he has certainly seen better days.»
     «What the hell is Vince doing all the way over there?»
     «What happened?»
     «I don't know.»
     «He seems to have come on foot. I didn't see anyone else or heard any vehicles.»
     «I found him slumped against the door after he rang the doorbell.»
     «He was muttering to himself and didn't hear me.»
     «Mother and I are taking care of him. I hope he wakes up soon.»
     «Damn.»
     «Keep me updated, okay?»
     «Absolutely.»
     «Tell me more about that package once you find out.»
     «Today has been weird.»
     «Call me paranoid, but I can't help but feel like Vince sent the package.»
     «If that's the case, then a lot more may be going on than we know.»
     «So be careful.»

My hands shake. "Today has been weird" seems like somewhat of an understatement.
Behind me, the device on my table shimmers ominously. I turn my face to the monitor again.
It's probably best to wait until Vince wakes up before investigating any more, but at the same time, something tugs on me.
Trying to get me to push on, to find out more...

>Heed the call of curiosity.

Spin the ring

>Heed the call of curiosity.

I stare at my monitor, trying to ignore the device.

I can feel its presence asserting itself. I couldn't hope to do anything else productive while the brass disk is lying behind me. Yet, something is holding me back. A primal emotion stirs within me, trying to keep me away, but it's not working. I find myself holding the object again, enticed by its mysteries.

I slowly twist the dial. The wheelwork inside spins around as I do, and several things happen when I let go. A little plate with unintelligible markings slides from under the edge, while the dial automatically turns back to the original position.

Suddenly, something pops from the edge. It seems like a button, and I must have missed it looking over the object. Curious, I twist the dial some more. Again, a little plate slides out from under the edge to join the first, but no new buttons pop up. I try once more. This time, I turn it a little further. A third plate comes up.

ㄱ П+Г
ㄱ ΛΙИΙ
모 –ШΔ

I press the button. The device starts whirring in my hand. I can't turn my gaze away. Something seems to be happening in my peripherals, but my eyes are tightly locked to the gears as they turn.

I feel dizzy. I close my eyes, but my head keeps spinning. The blackness within my own eyes twirls around me and ensnares me, dragging me off my chair and onto the ground. Still, I keep them shut. The air is stale and I feel like I'm choking. Then, the feeling ebbs away. Slowly, I get up and look about my room. Something is wrong, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

It's almost dark now. I swore I closed the blinds, but somehow they're open. I close them again, feeling tired. Maybe it's time to head to bed.

---

The doorbell rings once again. I really don't feel like I want to deal with it, I decide. I stay where I am, beside the couch. My hand softly grips Vince's sweaty palm. He has stopped speaking, and his breathing has quieted. He seems much less tense than a few minutes ago, I conclude, relaxing a little myself.

I can hear my mother opening the door. She speaks with someone. A familiar voice, but I forget whom it belongs to. As I sit, deep in thought, my mother suddenly calls out, speaking my name.

(We have a third person to name!)

>Cheryl

"Cheryl, dear! It's another of your friends. She's come to see how Vince is doing."

I get up, wondering who is at the door. Surely it cannot be Francine this soon, but I have not yet told anyone else about Vince. Deep in thought, I move over to the door.
The figure that stands in the hallway is very familiar. For a moment, my mind is a blank slate, until I realize who it is and how much she has changed since I last saw her.

"Cheryl. Sorry for barging in uninvited."

Francine is dressed in a long overcoat, a hat and a scarf. Her hair is long and uncombed, and her glasses seem damaged. It's not her style, but it is also not what kept me from recognizing her. That award goes to her face. Her eyes seem stern and cold, and she has sunken cheeks. Her mouth is a thin line.

"Francine? I barely recognized you!"

Her expression softens.

"I can't blame you. I hardly recognize myself either."

I step forward, pulling her against me and letting my head sink on her shoulder. It's been months since I last saw her. We stand like that for just a moment before Francine lets go.

"I'm glad you're here."

"I am happy to see you too. I didn't come only to see Vince."

"Vince is still unconscious. I think it's just sleep, though."

"He'll be just fine. He'll wake up again in the morning. Anyway..."

Francine looks at my mother. I can't tell what she's thinking, but her expression has changed once again. She seems more serious, yet her voice remains light-hearted.

"We have so much to talk about, and I don't want to wake him up. Should we go to the back yard? The stars are bright tonight!"

I nod and grab my jacket. It's not very cold yet, but the days have been getting shorter. Together, we step outside. Francine stands beside me, looking up at the sky.
She speaks. I listen. The tone of her voice is very deep. I don't think I've ever heard her speak like this before.

"Cheryl, I'm about to tell you something important. You must hear me out."

"Today, Vince's father was murdered. Vince turning up on your doorstep? Odd, but whatever. This? I don't even know what's going on any more."

"Shit. What? He was killed?"

"I'm afraid so."

Francine pulls a shimmering brass object from her pockets. I look at her, then back at the device and at her again. She nods solemnly.

"The very same."

"What is it?"

"I don't know. I mean, I think it's a time machine, but I'm not exactly sure what it does or how it works, because it's not straightforward in any sense of the word. Just thinking of the implications of what this thing can do is making my brain hurt and...- what was I talking about?"

"What it does?"

"Right. It alters past events, or something. It changes stuff. I don't know more about it."

"Well, shit."

The device in Francine's hand makes a soft clicking sound. She looks at it with a worried expression on her face.

"It didn't do this before. Hold on, I may need to-"

There's a flash of light. Francine is gone. With a quiet thud, the device she held in her hand hits the ground.
After what seems like an hour, I reach forward to pick it up. Nothing but the breeze remains. What in heaven's name just transpired here?

Wake up vince and ask what the heck

> Wake up Vince and ask what the heck

I put the object in my pocket and find my way back inside. I do my best to contain my questions and emotions. My mother is not in the room. A fortunate event; I don't want to deal with her right now. I walk towards Vince and grab him by his clothes, shaking him around.

"Vince!"

He opens his eyes and blinks against the light. I let go. He exhales and closes his eyes again.

"Cheryl..."

"Vince, what the heck?"

"What the heck?"

"What the heck did you send to Francine?"

"What the heck did I send to Francine?"

"Yes!"

"Nothing."

"What. But she... Then who sent her this?"

Vince opens his eyes once more and looks at the device in my hand. He frowns and shakes his head before carefully getting up into a sitting position.

"She gave that to you?"

"No! I mean, she forgot it? Sort of?"

I struggle to find words to describe the concept of simply vanishing into thin air, as relating to object ownership.

"She was here, then."

"She came to see you."

"Wait, how long have I been here?! Days?"

"An hour at most."

"Cheryl, what the heck?"

"What the heck?"

"How the heck did she know?"

"I don't know. She left before she could explain it to me."

"She left again? Why?"

"I don't know. All she told me before leaving was that your father was..."

"What the heck?"

"Indeed. I... My condolences."

Suddenly the awkward exchange grinds to a halt. I sit down next to Vince as he lets his face sink into his hands and wrap my arm around him.

"T-thank you."

As I sit on the sofa with Vince, I start to feel sleepy. It's been a long day and I'm not entirely sure how well I am taking all of this mentally. Time starts to lose meaning, and my eyelids slowly close. When they do, the darkness takes me away.

Day 2.

I roll out of bed with a headache. It's Sunday so I don't mind, but damn if it hasn't soured my mood. I see that there are a couple of messages waiting for me on the computer, but first I open the blinds. The sunlight is enough to see by, despite coming from the wrong end of the building.

After splashing some water on my face and changing into my normal clothes, I sit down behind my computer. Vince and Cheryl have messaged me.

That reminds me.

I look around. The clockwork device is gone from my room. I don't see it anywhere. Was it stolen? Is that what happened last night? Is that why I have a headache?

I suddenly feel stressed out. I quickly open my messenger and read Cheryl's message.

     «What the heck, Francine?»
     «What the heck what?»
     «How did you know about Vince?»
     «What? You're not making any sense. I don't know anything about Vince.»
     «Don't you remember what transpired last night?»
     «You found Vince on your doorstep?»
     «...»
     «Forget I asked. I don't even know what's going on myself.»
     «Long story short, you showed up, gave me your device, and went off again.»
     «What the heck?»
     «That wasn't me.»
     «But I recognised you.»
     «That wasn't me.»
     «My head hurts.»
     «You're not the only one.»

     «No, I didn't send anything.»
     «Oh. Then I have absolutely no clue how I ended up with it.»
     «Also, I'm glad Cheryl found you. You could have gotten hypothermia out there.»
     «But...»
     «You followed me, right.»
     «Oh god, please ask Cheryl. I already explained to her that I didn't leave the house last night.»

I stand up and pace back to the bathroom to stare myself in the face, just to make sure I'm not crazy. What the heck?

Interesting. Was that future Francine at Cheryl's house? Does this time travel rewrite the past? Does it mess with peoples' memories? This version could be a pain to figure out. Just make sure it is internally consistent.

I take it something is wrong/different about Francine's face?

>Look for evidence to (dis)prove your alibi

>Look for evidence to (dis)prove your alibi

Nothing is wrong with my face. Nothing at all. Everything is normal. Right? I've been here. Mom and Dad have been here. They know I haven't left. Besides, I went to bed--something which I distinctly remember.

I go back to the computer and chat with my friends again.

     «Cheryl. I really didn't leave the house last night. I promise.»
     «I believe you.»
     «It's just... This is all a little hard to take in. I believe time travel may be involved.»
     «What? That's impossible.»
     «I'm not so sure any more, Fra. Some weird stuff happened yesterday.»
     «It might have been you from the future or something?»
     «Do you think the device may have done something?»
     «I remember it displaying some sort of code.»
     «I think it was 7n+t 7aini Qlwa or something along those lines.»
     «I pressed the button afterwards and something happened.»
     «It felt like I was choking, but then it was over, and the device was gone from my room.»
     «I don't know what else happened. I just went to sleep after that.»
     «Hold on. Let me invite Vince.»
     Cheri0955 added xStarvaultX to the conversation
     «Vince, please read what has been said so far today.»
     «Give me a moment.»
     «So... What»
     «Some future version of you showed up at Cheryl's?»
     «I mean, that probably makes as much sense as anything else I can come up with but.»
     «Time travel. What the heck?»
     «I rotated the dial and pressed the button to make it do its thing.»

My computer makes a sound. I've got a friend request.

     CheriAlterné0955 has sent you a friend request.
     Friend request accepted.
     «What?»
     «Add me to the conversation.»

     Francilma added CheriAlterné0955 to the conversation.
     «What»
     «Hey.»
     «CheriAlterné? Seriously?»
     «I didn't know what else to pick, okay.»
     «And I'm not here to fight with myself.»
     «Cheryl, you»
     «This is awkward. Talking to myself is so weird.»
     «Cheryl, don't use the device. I don't think you need to.»
     «I know you were going to.»
     «I used it.»
     «What»
     «Imagine my surprise when I found out I was brought back to yesterday night.»
     «I just woke up in the dark. Checked the time. It was almost exactly 6 hours earlier.»
     «I don't know what to think of this.»
     «Me neither. Apparently I'm some sort of alternate version.»
     «At least, when I turned back around I was still there. Well, you were.»
     «So, where are you now?»
     «In the yard, under your window. Come and take a look.»
     «What?»
     «Is this real?»
     «Oh my god. It's real.»
     «Um, CA, the device has just started ticking.»
     «Shit.»
     «Well, I've told you all I know.»
     «And she's gone.»
     «Was that a flash of light?»
     «You didn't tell me about this, Cheryl!»
     «I didn't know. Vince, could you step outside for a moment?»
     «Hopefully she was smart enough to leave her phone here.»
     «My phone.»
     «Yep, she left it. I'll bring it up to you in a sec.»
     «I'm going crazy, or you two are pranking me.»
     «What the heck guys.»
     «I'm coming over, just so you know.»

I shut down my PC and pocket my phone before going downstairs to eat breakfast. In the meantime I let my thoughts mill over what happened, but I continue to blank out. When I finish, I get ready to leave for Ninecord. I want to see them face-to-face, and I want to make sure I'm not all making this up somehow.

Just as I open the door, a man walks onto the path and approaches. He is tall, and of African descent. Something tells me I should feel threatened by men like him, but he doesn't strike me as dangerous. He is dressed like security or a secret agent, but his pose is a little slumped and his expression is relaxed. He glances at me with surprise and then smiles.

"Miss Francine. May I accompany you for a few minutes? I need to speak with you."

Oh. The device sends a copy of you (possibly along with itself) into the past, to wherever you were at that point, where/when it can functionally be viewed as future you but is also alternate you. This alternate self then diverges paths and is able to alter the events of the 'past' (from their perspective). When the time that was departed from arrives again, that which was sent to the past vanishes, leaving the device behind. It is not a time loop, in the sense that the effects of the time travel are already present before the time travel occurs. Rather, it is a rewriting of the immediate past. Not necessarily a paradox, but a branching of the timeline through retroactive addition of a temporary element.

This might be about the device, which she clearly doesn't understand. Or it might be about Vince's father. This Francine doesn't know he's dead yet.

>Of course. Usually best to be polite and cooperative with authority. "A few minutes" walking conversation should not derail your visit.

>Of course.

I nod as I take my bicycle from under the window. I start walking towards the city centre, and the man follows me, keeping pace.

"I'm sorry for bothering you today, miss Francine, but this is a very important matter. As you are no doubt aware, a package was delivered to you yesterday. I would like to know whether you opened it."

"Y-yes, I did. I used it."

"Yes, the experience is somewhat unpleasant, for which I apologize. At any rate, the package was addressed to you for a reason. Originally it was going to be addressed to Vince Starvault, but a last-minute change of plan happened."

"What does Vince need to do with a time- mmhh!"

The man quickly places his hand over my mouth and shushes me.

"Please do not speak of such matters in public, miss Francine. All will be explained in due time. For now, it is enough to know that the sender is also called Vince. He has been working with us for almost a year."

"I see. Why was it sent?"

"To complete a stable... loop."

He pauses a bit to look around, obviously concerned someone may be listening.

"It's not paramount, but unstable... usage makes the device need to work harder in the future. It creates more entropy. A lot more. Unfortunately, around the same time, Mister Vince's identity was leaked, and this is something that puts you and your friends in danger."

"So, you offer us protection?"

"Yes. And I'm afraid I must insist. We cannot allow another tragedy to happen."

"ANOTHER tragedy?"

"Yes. For us to realize what had happened... Mister Vince's father is no longer among us."