Out of Time

A Day in February - Sometime in the Evening

A package arrived at his doorstep. The video doorbell failed to notify him of the movement at his door yet again, so he was surprised to find a small yellow package waiting on him when he took the trash to the curb that evening.

The only thing that slid out of the padded manila envelope was a small black notebook. The pages from the second half of the notebook had been torn from the book. The elastic band that served as a bookmark was worn, but still held its place around the first half of the book. Overall, the book was slightly larger than his hand when closed. The only thing of note about the book was an ambiguous symbol that he could not quite place which was pressed into the textured leather surface of the cover that bound the remaining contents firmly in place. Held vertically, the symbol reminded him of an hour glass and when flipped horizontally an infinity symbol.

He opened the book to the band’s placemark and stared vacantly at a page filled with what seemed like a random assortment of numbers. He stared for several minutes trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

When he removed the band from around the front of the notebook, he began to realize that the numbers were a series of dates followed by a set of long decimal numbers in brackets and a sequence of six other numbers separated by colons. Underneath each of the number series lines was another smaller secondary number that appeared out of place. The second number seemed to range from five to fifty. There was a blank line separating each entry. He noted that every three to five entries a new page was used and each series of entries bore striking differences in both penmanship and writing medium.

The first set of numbers were in an obvious XX/XX/XX date format. The second bracketed numbers were a XX.XXXXXX format, each of the eight digits separated with a comma. Negative symbols were present on one or the other numbers and sometimes both. The negatives seemed to vary throughout the book but were generally the same for each set of three to five numbers. He fished out his laptop from a closet, and booted up a browser while ignoring the prompts to update his operating system. He typed in the numbers and was surprised to find they appeared to be GPS coordinates. Before long, he realized that the next four dates in the notebook were within twenty miles of his house. And he began to assume the last set of numbers was a timestamp of XX:XX:XX listed in a twenty-four hour format of hours:minutes:seconds.

The second most recent series ended on February 1, 2019 before the next handwriting began. Just a couple of weeks ago he realized. The dates that followed on the most recent page were February 29, 2020, January 8, 2021, March 1, 2021, and March 15, 2021 and then nothing but torn pages. He felt a rush of excitement wash over him only to be tempered by the realization that February 29, 2020 was more than a year away. This tempered excitement gave way to feverish curiosity when he realized the first dates in the notebook began more than forty-three years ago.

March 1, 2021 - After Midnight

He was in a small park on the southside of Chattanooga. A small tin box lay partly hidden by mulch undetected a few feet away. He could just make out the symbol on the top of the box. The same symbol that was stamped on the cover of the small black notebook he held. He opened the notebook to double-check the date, time, and GPS coordinates in the entry for today’s date. Everything was correct. He was five minutes and twenty-two seconds early.

As he fought the urge to rummage through the contents of the box, he found a nearby swing to relax for a minute. He imagined a father or mother may have been pushing their children on this swing earlier in the day. He found himself wondering what it must have been like to have a family. To not be an orphan. To have more than just casual acquaintances from work. But he was a loner through and through. He enjoyed the freedom of not having to make plans for the holidays. And he did not relish the idea of having to explain his almost morbid fascination over this notebook that had consumed his life over the last two years.

He stood from the swing and stretched. Two previous trials and two previous errors had led him to this point. For a final time, he checked the next entry in the notebook:

03/01/21 [ 35.023640, -85.313707 ] 00:28:05

7

He assumed from the most recent attempt that any movement of the box before the timestamp would result in an empty box. Conversely, he knew from his first attempt that if he did not open the box and remove the contents within seven seconds of the timestamp, he would more than likely be left empty handed. He checked his watch that he had synchronized to the National Institute of Standards and Technology's clock before he left the house this evening and saw that he had thirty seconds to go. He tried not to think back on his first attempt as he knelt down, but he could not help himself.

Despite his best efforts, tremors began in his hands as he found himself reliving the moment when five stacks of twenties disappeared in front of his eyes over a year ago. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. The thought of coming into seven thousand dollars helped him focus.

Seconds later he was seven thousand dollars richer.

He was not poor by any means, but seven thousand dollars could make a difference in his life. He began to stash his cash into his backpack when he noticed a note tucked into one of the purple bands wrapped around the twenties. He paused for a moment and glanced back towards his car then behind him. He saw a group of few teenagers milling around on the opposite side of the park. One of the teenagers had pointed towards him and they seemed to be considering their options.

Since his personal experience told him that kids at public parks after midnight were generally up to no good, he decided the note could wait. He jogged towards his car and was thankful he sprang for the keyless entry. By the time he reached his car, the teenagers were looking at the empty tin box; and by the time he had his car in reverse, they were coming towards him.

His adrenaline coursed as he sped home.

Safe in his living room, he steadied his nerves as his current plunder was an afterthought. He wanted to know what was next. He had seen the entry hundreds of times over the last two years and knew he could not sleep until he looked again.

03/15/2021 [ 35.057445, -85.305059 ] 23:59:59

20

Almost two weeks to prepare for the next entry. He remembered the note and eased it out of the purple money wrap. It read:

“We’re gonna assume you found this one since the other two drops came back. There’s not much time left on your side. Normally, this is where we’d leave you with instructions for preparing the notebook for the next recipient after your next and last drop. New set of coordinates in the book and whatnot. Knowing what’s gonna happen in a few months, that’ll be pointless. There's not time to make a difference on that side now. This whole thing has been about what happens next. We’ll tell you what we told the others: try to use your stash up before July 2022. Preferable on a boat. And get inland. And get supplies. It looks like Chattanooga will be fine. We’d tell you more, but there’s the whole space time continuum thing. However we will let you know what is coming in the next drop. Try not to make too much of a fuss about it”

His head was muddled. He was tired. He took a shower and laid down to rest. Before he drifted off, he sent a quick text to his boss to let him know he would not make it into work the following morning.

The Ides of March - Close to Midnight

He had spent the last two weeks wondering about the obtuse message left in the last drop.

He had done as advised and researched boats. The forty-foot houseboat he was currently piloting was now thirty hours overdue for its weekend rental check-in. It was also fully stocked with food and water. As always, it was just him and he anticipated about a ten-month supply.

He cut the engines of the boat and let the current of the Tennessee River push him towards the dock of the small island in the middle of the river separating two of the downtown Chattanooga districts. He was glad midnight was chosen as drop time. On a normal day, this area was busy with random paddleboarders navigating the banks of downtown. Tonight, there was only the sound of the wake against the shore.

He arrived at the western edge of the small island with ten minutes to spare. A few minutes passed before he spotted a small cluster of rocks that did not look natural on the muddy banks of the island. Checking his notebook, he reread the entry for tonight:

03/15/2021 [ 35.057445, -85.305059 ] 23:59:59

20

He had liquidated what few assets he had over the last two weeks to purchase his supplies. The twenty thousand from tonight’s drop would make him whole again.

Midnight came and midnight went. He was twenty thousand dollars richer. What interested him more though was the newspaper clippings from tomorrow morning’s paper that were wrapped around the ten stacks of twenties.

Sometime tonight it appeared that scientists will announce a series of large asteroids were found to be heading towards Earth. They predicted that the first one would impact the edge of the northern Greenland glaciers in July of this year. It would have a major impact on the northern glacier systems; however, scientists were of the consensus that this would not be a planet killer. Ocean current disruption and sea levels were the general areas of concern.

Behind that clipping was the front page of the same paper for July 17, 2022. It would appear that Mjollnir’s impact precipitated changes in the global climate that could not be reversed. Sea levels rose much more than expected. The global disaster was secondary to the major topic of the article, however.

A larger asteroid, which they had named Gungnir, was anticipated to impact off the coast of England near Dover in October of 2022.

His phone buzzed on the way back to his boat as news alerts begin to warn of the impending doom that was less than three months away.

As he untied his boat from the worn, wooden dock he turned into the current and began to drift downstream. He knew the Tennessee River would take him to the Mississippi and away from the Eastern seaboard. He would save gas by heading down river too.

His phone continued with chatter from a co-workers group message. He tossed the phone into the murky water as he drifted past the Tennessee Aquarium. We wondered how much more gasoline he could store on his boat. Then he wondered how much gas twenty thousand dollars would even be able to buy him tomorrow.