The First State of Being: Chapters 1–4

If the world came to a standstill at midnight on January 1, 2000, at least she would have two things she cherished: peaches and Michael.

He slipped the peaches into the pocket of his windbreaker and felt them settle.

He didn’t want to move, he didn’t want to sneeze, he didn’t want to do anything but disappear into the ether.

Michael wanted desperately to pick it up so he could throw it away properly, but he didn’t want to look fussy.

Jamar veered left, toward Building A, while Michael veered right, toward Building J.

Cars in their assigned parking spots; a stray cat, the one Michael had secretly named Tuxedo, slinking around the bushes; Mr. Mosley, the maintenance man, hefting a can of paint toward a vacant apartment.

There was a kid, a teenager, several paces away, wandering toward them with an unusual expression on his face.

Together, the outfit glinted strangely in the sun.

He was chewing his bottom lip like he was trying to solve a complex math equation.

It was nearly eight a.m. when Michael sailed through the front door to find his sixteen-year-old babysitter perched on his secondhand couch.

The smell of strawberries permeated the air.

A mischievous smile spread across her face.

“Make sure to tell your mom we had a nutritious lunch,” he said to Michael as he settled down on the one wobbly stool at the kitchen counter and popped open a can of Dr Pepper, his favorite drink.

When Ms. Rosario was working, which was almost all the time, Mosley stopped by to make sure Michael hadn’t been kidnapped by psychopaths or brainwashed by daytime television.

“Something’s off about that kid. Can’t put my finger on it. If he lingers around too long, I’ll have to tell Mr. Ship. Hate to do that, though. Just in case.”

It was easy enough to imagine an endless series of dangerous scenarios.

They silently changed out the cat food in front of Building L, then meandered toward the dumpster to get rid of the empty cans.

“Hello, what’s up?” he said. His voice was odd. Stilted.

Suddenly he didn’t look so off and menacing.

Spatial Teleportation Scientists should avoid interaction with Native Timeprint Inhabitants (NTIs); however, if scientists are engaged in unavoidable conversation, they should be aware of popular slang being used at this time in order to have an organic, seemingly natural conversation.

The slang used in this timeprint could depend on the age of the NTIs, their race and/or ethnicity, and/or their geographic location; therefore, the following should be considered generalities for young NTIs in the United States during this period.

Instead, assume the NTI is asking how you are and/or what you are doing.

Later. A common phrase of departure among young people.

Other common phrases of departure in this demographic include “Peace” and “Peace out.”

The scientist is advised to simply repeat “word” back to the speaker and/or to consider the context of the conversation before providing an appropriate response.