Lillie OA Blip in the Space Time Continuum

A Blip in the Spacetime Continuum

Lillie Olliver, 2021

SPACE is sitting in a restaurant booth centerstage, illuminated by a spotlight. They are patiently waiting with their hands folded on the table in front of them, seeming to stare off into nothingness. WAITRESS enters the shot, a portly woman with a messy bun wearing a white apron covering a flannel shirt and jean shorts that are probably too short for any sort of respectable culinary establishment. SPACE speaks inaudibly to WAITRESS for a moment, WAITRESS nods after writing down what we assume is SPACE’s order, and she walks away into the darkness surrounding the solitary booth. Silence. Silence. TIME appears out of the darkness and slides suavely into the booth seat opposite SPACE, long limbs sprawling out beneath the table as they throw one arm over the back of the booth , the very picture of someone who should care more than they bother to. TIME: Well well well, fancy meeting you here. SPACE sighs a deep sigh of resignation. SPACE: You say that like you don’t follow me everywhere I go. TIME grins. TIME: Oh, don’t say it like that, darling! I go where the universe demands. (TIME leans forward, bracing both elbows on the table and clasping their own fingers together in a mockery of SPACE’s posture.) Odd how that works, doesn’t it? SPACE: (Scoffs) Just because we have to work together doesn’t mean you have to be around me ALL the time. TIME: Ah, but I AM all the time, darling. SPACE: (With a look of exasperation that could only come from centuries upon centuries of hearing this same line over and over again) I’m well aware. TIME smirks and leans back again, crossing their arms across their chest. SPACE: So, what is it you want this time? TIME: Since when have I ever come to see you because I want something from you? SPACE: Every time. TIME: MAYBE once- SPACE: Every. Time. TIME: Ah, I see where our discrepancy is. SPACE: Oh, DO you now? TIME: Oh, yes. SPACE: Do tell. TIME: I believe that you are VASTLY misinterpreting what I consider to be lovely get-togethers between two very old friends- SPACE: (Flatly) Coworkers. TIME: Sorry, what was that? Anyways, that is our problem. What I see, and rightly so, is simply a date of sorts with one of my oldest, dearest friends, while you see this as a call for a favor to be fulfilled, a need to be satisfied. Maybe I just wanted to see you,

Always assuming I’m up to no good and all. Who hurt you, dearest? SPACE: I would love to hear your definitions of “lovely-get-together-between-friends” and “asking-for-a-favor” side by side, particular to our case. In my experience, they’re quite interchangeable in terms of how you go about getting what you want. TIME: Ooh, so we’re a CASE now? Isn’t THAT romantic… SPACE: Oh, get over yourself. TIME: “No, you.” Isn’t that what the kids say these days? SPACE: I wouldn’t know. Sounds juvenile enough. Are you sure you didn’t come up with it yourself? TIME: Ooh, burn. There’s silence as TIME smiles smugly at SPACE and SPACE returns the grin with an unamused frown before giving a soft sigh. SPACE: Well, since you’re here, why don’t you get out your spiel and be done with it? I’ve got a burger on the way that I would love to enjoy in peace and quiet, so please make it snappy. TIME: Spiel? As if I would ever be so scripted in my carefully crafted speeches. SPACE: Go on, then. Silence. TIME (enthusiastically) and SPACE (dryly): Oh, my dearest, please take me back! Silence. TIME (with determination) and SPACE (with exhaustion): You know it’s meant to be! This has been predestined since the dawn of… well, ME! TIME sits up and bangs their fist against the table.

TIME: There’s NO way I’ve used that line before! I thought of it last week! SPACE: I think you’ve been looping. TIME: (Mutters) Ridiculous. TIME slumps down in their seat even further, and gives WAITRESS a mulish glare as she re-enters the light, placing a tray with a classic American cheeseburger and a fountain drink in front of SPACE before exiting. SPACE: (Tucking a napkin into their shirt neck) Are you done now? TIME: No! SPACE: (Sighs, taking a bite of burger and chewing, making their speech muffled) So, what do you want? TIME: I just told you! Do I need to re-list all the reasons we’re meant to be together? SPACE swallows quickly. SPACE: No, no you don’t- TIME: (Listing off on each finger) We’re literally super cool- THE ultimate power couple. We’re both super hot because… well, duh. We can make black holes and... stuff. SPACE: That’s not how that works. TIME: Whatever. Close enough. The mortals LOVE us, by the way. SPACE: Prove it. TIME: They’re always asking for you. “Give me more space! I need space!” They love you ALMOST as much as I do. And they love me too! “I need more time! My time has come!” They WORSHIP us. SPACE: I think you need to look a bit more at the context there TIME: Why should I? It’s obvious! They even “ship” us.

SPACE: …I’m sorry, what?

A Space Time Continuum, Bhavana Kunnnath, 2021

Silence. SPACE: That is... the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, and that’s saying a lot. TIME: No, I mean- I mean that you’re the only one for me! Look, look- TIME reaches into their back pocket and somehow produces a full novel, dropping it on the table and flipping through it frantically to a page market with a fluorescent sticky note. TIME: Look, read this. SPACE: I don’t- TIME: Just READ IT. SPACE sighs heavily and gives the burger in their hands a woeful look before placing it back down, wiping their fingers on their napkin, and sliding the book around and over to their side of the table. TIME: There, see? (TIME points to a line on the page and SPACE’s eyes trace over it.) SPACE looks up, eyes slightly narrowed but looking slightly less convinced of his own perspective. SPACE: Where’d you find this? TIME: In the backpack of a fifteen year old girl. SPACE: Why were you- never mind. TIME: So? Are you convinced? SPACE: … No. TIME: (Groans) What do you MEAN? It says it right here, look- SPACE: I read it- TIME: “When someone breaks up with you and you just KNOW that you’re MEANT TO BE, all you need to do is give it time and space. Eventually, the universe will bring you two back together!” See? THE UNIVERSE. SPACE: As much of a credible source as this seems, I’m still not sure. TIME: Babe, what more convincing do you need? TIME reaches across the table and places their hands over SPACE’s hands. TIME: We only have forever, you know. SPACE looks conflicted. TIME looks hopeful. Silence. SPACE lets out a drawn-out sigh, one that lasts longer than it should. Even TIME looks concerned at the length of the colossally long sigh that contains billions upon billions of years of exhaustion. SPACE: …Fine. TIME: Really? You mean it? SPACE nods, then draws their hands apart and picks up the burger again to resume eating. TIME: (Fist pumps) YES! We’re going to have so much fun, you’ll see! It’ll be just like old times! SPACE: (Muffled) Sure. SPACE chokes on their burger as TIME stands up abruptly, upsetting the booth table and knocking it into SPACE’s chest. SPACE spits out the mouthful of food, gasping for breath, then lifts their eyes to the heavens in exasperation. SPACE: (Mutters) Why did I even do that? I don’t even need to breathe. SPACE looks woefully at the lost segment of half-chewed burger and puts down the rest with a resigned sigh. SPACE grabs the fountain drink in its styrofoam cup off the table and slides out, standing gracefully as TIME wiggles out from their side of the table to join him. TIME: Come, darling. The universe

TIME: It’s what they call it when they want two people to be together. Granted, we’re... not people, but they ship it! SPACE: What’s your reasoning for that, huh? TIME: (With conviction) Spacetime. SPACE: …Spacetime? TIME: That’s our “ship name.” SPACE: Are you sure about that? TIME: Oh, absolutely. They call our love story “the Space-Time Continuum!” (Because it’s gonna continue forever. I mean come on, be a little more subtle, right?) Not to mention the fact that they simply can’t say our names like they aren’t meant to be together. “Space and Time” this and “Time and Space” that. We’re practically one and the same! Spime? Tace? Spame? Tice? SPICE? SPACE: Please stop. TIME: (Leaning forward) Come oooonnnnnn, babe. Let me in that personal- SPACE: Space? TIME: -Space. Oh, COME ON. SPACE: Not happening. TIME: What BETTER thing do you have to do with eternity? SPACE: Eat. TIME: Oh, and that’s SO dignified. TIME snaps their fingers and the stage lights come on, revealing that the booth is one of many in a VERY southern restaurant, stuffed deer heads lining the walls and camouflage flags and draperies hanging on every bare expanse of wooden-boarded wall. Monochrome photos of blonde babes in daisy dukes and cowboy hats with rifles cradled in their delicate arms spot the walls. A fake bull that might have once been designed to be ridden as part of a game gathers dust in a corner. A distant YEE YEE echoes from offstage. SPACE: Your point?

TIME: Are you really going to sit there and tell me that you’d rather eat your feelings in a dingy dustbowl diner than go out on galactic-level dates with yours truly? SPACE: I was almost tempted until you said “yours truly.” TIME: (Wails) I’m CLASSY! SPACE: (With a soft sigh) You always were. TIME: (Sits up) Wait, really? SPACE: (Flatly) No. TIME groans, burying their face in their arms on the table with a soft thud. SPACE takes another bite of their burger, chewing slowly and watching TIME’s antics with little to no amusement. TIME: (Muffled) Why must you hurt me like this? SPACE: (Swallows) You do this to yourself. TIME: (Raises their head) It’s in my nature to move on, so why can’t I move on with you? SPACE: Time will tell. TIME: But I don’t know the answer! SPACE: You don’t know the answer yet. TIME: You know that’s not how that works. SPACE: Yeah, you’re right. But that’s not my problem. TIME: It’s so unfair. SPACE: Really? TIME: Everything I read, everything I see, points back to you. SPACE: Unfortunate. Maybe the universe is making fun of you. It’s probably on my side. TIME: (Indignantly) The universe doesn’t play favorites! SPACE: Have you even SEEN “The Witcher?” The universe plays favorites, and Henry Cavill’s face is proof of that. TIME: Alright, whatever. My point still

awaits! SPACE takes TIME’s hand with a small sigh, but one that’s laced with slightly less chagrin than had been previously weighing down his speech prior. TIME grins excitedly as they pull SPACE across the stage and into the wings as the lights dim. If someone in, maybe, the front row, looked close enough (they might need binoculars), they just might be able to catch the hint of a smile that graces SPACE’s lips.

Un-fur-tunate Times

Chloe Duensing, 2020

There was a loud whirr like a vacuum trying to strum an electric guitar that had been hooked up to an overly bass-boosted amplifier and then connected via Bluetooth to yet another overly bass-boosted school intercom. It decidedly woke Robert as he fell out of bed, the sheets tangled around his feet as he released an ungodly shriek of fear and terror. In his defense, his entire apartment was vibrating and objects were beginning to float, such as the sheets currently entrapping his ankles. There was a violently flashing light, akin to that of many strobe lights in a rave. He writhed in the air, hands gesticulating wildly as he tried to convince himself this whole event was a horrible dream and he would soon wake up. When the sound faded and the objects fell back down abruptly, Robert was convinced this was not a dream because his poor head went bonk against the hardwood floor. He immediately sat up, groaning in pain as he rubbed the sore spot on his forehead. Great. The time on his clock cast a red glow around the room, now the only light, and also dictated the hour of 3:30 AM. He still managed to open the door from his bedroom into the only other room of the small apartment, staring at the mess (albeit already messy before). Most changed was the strange, naked human lying on his couch, groaning softly, a dark mass of shadows in the dim lighting. Robert flipped on the light, blinking as he stared. It was him with a mustache. How dare he. Robert had shaved his villian mustache months ago with the sole purpose of never looking like a Bond villain again. The man was also covered in strange scars, long three-line claw marks decorating his body like he had been used as a scratching post. “Who are you?” Robert asked, his voice sharp as he grabbed a frying pan that he hadn’t washed and thus was still lying in the sink as he stormed over, raising it threateningly. “And what are you doing in my living room?” Not-Robert-But-Man-Who-LookedLike-Him (whom Robert temporarily dubbed NRBMWLLH although the lack of vowels made it vaguely unpronounceable) held up his hands in the universal sign of surrender. “Don’t hit me! I can explain!” he said, his voice high pitched with appropriate fear from seeing a man in his surprised Pikachu pajamas towering over him with a dirty frying pan. “I’m you, but from the future, and I need to save the world!” “Save the world?” Robert repeated doubtfully, letting the frying pan drop. “Save the world from what? Nuclear warfare? World War III? Climate change?” “No, no, no, nothing like that.” NRBMWLLH stood up, shaking his head, before realizing he was naked, as one does