043. Skip forward

In 21st century America, time was everything. It was sold on every hot dog stand, pushed on TV, radio, and compartmentalized on the web. People obsessed about time in their cars, on the subway, even on the stairs away from work. The phrase "Have a nice day" was uttered automatically to speed up the process of goodbye and have you on your way. Time was money. Even more so, the hope that time would deliver a better future kept the hopeless alive, made the masses dream, and it spun the wheels of commerce.

Therefore, The Powers in Charge were surprised when people started to Skip Forward.

It all began with Elizabeth Lonegan.

Elizabeth had caught her husband in an affair and now she sat on their living room floor, trashed furniture all around her, and watched Andrew's dog, Bumble, a Jack Russell terrier, play with a rubber ball. Elizabeth's brother, Eric, had once told her that dogs lack the ability to perceive the past and the future and could live only in the absolute now. As Bumble chased his tail and scratched his back on the shaggy carpet, Elisabeth found herself immensely jealous of the dog. Unburdened by memories, he didn't have a care in the world. Humans, with their power to imagine countless futures and re-imagine an endless amount of past scenarios always see themselves somewhere else. They turn the past over and over and expect different endings to a film long ago committed to tape.

"Distance is the only remedy", said Elisabeth flatly and caught Bumbles attention. He sauntered up to her and nudged her with his nose. As she started to scratch his head she saw that her hands were bloody. She must have cut them when she smashed the framed pictures of her and Andrew. "Listen, Bumble", she said and the dog looked at her with his big black eyes, "I can't stay here, buddy". 

And with that she left.

The first time Elisabeth skipped forward she merely hopped a year. They went by so quickly anyway and she longed for a new one. But the immediate future reeked of Andrew and his shadows were everywhere. His job was still there. So was his car, his friends and his Facebook-page. The park where she'd first met him (and Bumble) was gone, replaced by a football stadium with surrounding shops. So that was good. But the restaurant where they celebrated their wedding day every year still lay at the corner of Smith and 1st. And the building that housed Laura's apartment, where Andrew had held her hand as she met his friends for the first time, it was still there.

So she jumped again. Fifteen years this time. The company Andrew had worked for was gone, swallowed by a larger one and the restaurant was now a Google McDonald's. Laura's flat had become renovated condos and his favorite bar, a run-down Irish pub, had been bulldozed in favor of a parking lot.

This place had less of him. She could stay here. 

As the gospel of Elizabeth spread and people realized that they didn't have to be anchored in time many chose to try their luck in the future. They packed their bags, made a snack, and skipped forward. What started out as a small movement quickly grew into a migration and The Powers in Charge started to panic. Employers drafted documents, legally prohibiting new employees from skipping forward and politicians won elections on present-friendly platforms. "A better life today", boasted one candidate, aware that his constituents had finally grown wise to the fact that nothing ever happens when important men talk about the future.

But panic was largely uncalled for. For most people one jump was enough. The future was harsh and alien. Money dropped in value and skills quickly became dated.
Time flows naturally in one direction. It's easy to move forward because it's the motion of the current that you're in. But you can never go back. And so time-lag and regret hit most first-time jumpers hard. Most people jumped only once and then stopped.

A few continued to skip forward. The rootless and the restless. People whose anchors were weak became nomads in time. They chipped away at her, snacked at the aeons and sampled new cultures as they rose and fell. Man evolved and fused with technology and the humans the jumpers encountered seemed increasingly alien. Some attacked their ancient relatives, aware of who they were but unwilling to share whatever resources past generations had left them. Others implored them to stop. "You'll skip to the end", they said, "And you'll miss the story".
 
But few to none headed their warnings and most traveled on. Some because they craved the ever-new. And others simply to see the end.