Lucky Charlie

"Your name, Convict?"

The man in the blue hat said in a slightly French accent. Like he had moved to America a while ago. He was a lot bigger than me — a lot older than me — and on the better side of the table from me. He knew what was going on.

And he wasn't in cuffs.

"Why am I in cuffs?"

"The convict will give iz name."

"How am I a convict?! I've never even had a trial. How can I already be convicted if you don't even know my name, huh? Answer that for me, Mr. Blue Hat Guy?" I sat back and put my hands together.

"I really do not want to play these games today Monsieur Parsons-"

"Hah!" I pointed my finger at him. "Mr. Parsons is my father! You obviously have the wrong person!"

"Are you really blaming votre famille from the get-go?" The man looked at me with disgust.

"Well considering you got that wrong I'm more than sure you're just wrong all around."

He slammed his hand on the cold metal table between us.

"You are convict Sharlie Parsons — the onle'. I am Commandant Fini'Eternelle," his French Canadian accent deepening on his name, "— of the time regulation authority. You are in violation of section forty four one A of the TRA code of ethics. As the time authority has the ability to monitor and act on said incursions we have no need for any trials."

"Time regulation?— I've never heard-"

"Of course you 'ahevn't — we do not exist."

"Are you Russian? You mean like a KGB, FSA — TGIF type thing?"

Fini rolled his eyes. "We are not a top secret organization — we do not exist. We do not exist because time travel doesn't exist."

"Then what do you regulate?"

"Hypothetically if time travel were to exist and random fools-" he stared at me. "-random fools were able to utilize the properties of it — the results would be catastrophique."

I mulled that over for a second. Still utterly confused. "So let's say time travel doesn't exist-"

"It doesn't."

"-okay, it doesn't. Then I can't be guilty of any crime by your authority — if you're accusing me of something that can't possibly be done then I obviously cannot be convicted of said crime." I'd seen plenty of Judge Judy — too much.

The blue hat man rubbed his chin. He looked like an admiral on the deck of a ship, inspecting his men. One hand behind his back. He stood like that for a few moments then abruptly he walked around me to the back of the room. A door I hadn't even noticed opened and he left.

I was alone. I took in my surroundings. Drab gray room with thin long LED bulbs lining the ceiling casting a clinical glow. Silver rectangular table. Silver molded chair. Futuristic looking cuffs. It all seemed so alien — in a late night budget sci-fi movie kind of way. Nothing in this room besides the blue hat man's meager words that hung in the air could explain to me just why the hell I was here.

I know, I know — I should be freaking out.

But let's just say luck has never been my companion. I'm the kind of guy that misses the bus just as it starts to rain. I'm the guy that wins a free meal and gets stomach poisoning. If something went right in my life it was only setting me up for a bigger fall. At least this wasn't one of those grimy police stations like on TV. Maybe being locked up here wouldn't be so bad — I've seen worse. I've only been to county for traffic tickets — that was a weekend I wouldn't relive again if I had the choice.

It wasn't my fault. The letters went to another address and they absolutely do not want to hear that. But they did, I swear — I'm just unlucky.

Still — this seemed much nicer than any of that.

The door opened behind me and blue hat man strolled in confidently. In his hands was a crumpled piece of paper. His face had a stoic glaze like this was just another day at the office. He placed the paper on the table and smoothed it out. Though it was ages ago I recognized it immediately. My fourth grade spelling test. My name on the top drawn out in shaky letters.

"Zis' is exhibit one two two, three eight six, six one one one — four."

"A thirty year old spelling test?"

"A thurty year old spelling test," he repeated at me smugly.

"On October six nineteen ninety six did you or did you not take a spelling test?"

"Obviously," I said incredulously.

"And did that test contain the word — wheelbarrow?"

I glanced at the paper. Blue hat man slammed his hand down covering it.

"I guess-"

"Is it or is it not true that at the time you were in the fourth grade-"

"When I was ten, you mean."

"Is it or is it not true you believed the word was 'wheel-barrel'?" He shook his head in a cocky manner.

"It was a simple misunderstanding! I was ten!"

"Yes Monsieur Parsons, a simple misunderstanding that any child could make." Suddenly he took the paper and placed it in front of me. "Can you read me your answer for number five please?"

I scanned down the test and found the line. I'd written wheelbarrow.

"I wrote wheelbarrow — what's the problem? Dude — you are not making any sense."

"During the test do you remember having a moment of — clairvoyance?"

"A what?"

He looked at me, annoyed. "Do you recall intending to write down wheel-barrel before having a sudden change of heart?"

I strained my brain to think back all those years. I wasn't a great speller but I could have sworn I passed that test. Then it hit me. A quick flash of a moment. Like Déjà vu. My teacher was standing at the head of the room checking papers, the class erupting in laughter when she showed them my mistake. Then I was back at my seat writing wheelbarrow. Nothing more than a daydream.

"Are you telling me that was real?"

"No — because time travel doesn't exist — but hypothetically if that did happen it would be le plus flagrant."

"So I've been convicted for hypothetically traveling forward in time and getting the correct answer to one question on a fourth grade spelling test?"

"Oui."

This had to be a dream. I looked around for hidden cameras. I could see nothing adorning the drab walls and innocuous ceiling.

"This is a joke right? I mean — I think this has gone far enough."

"Non — do I look like a comique?"

"Not a popular one — okay. Assuming I agree that time travel doesn't exist-"

"It doesn't," he reminded me.

"And if I agree that I somehow broke the — law? Rules — whatever. What's my sentence?"

"Ah Monsieur, you are misunderstanding. As I stated. You have already been convicted and served your sentence. This is your official release date."

"I wha-? What was my sentence?" asked with utter astonishment — that's a lot more than regular astonishment if you didn't know.

"Hypothetical timeline correction — hypothetically, access to such information would give you an unfair advantage — we removed that advantage," he said, quite proud of himself.

"How did you do that?"

"Hypothetically we would have made some adjustments — minor ones — only affecting yourself. We began immediately after the incursion occurred — hypothetically."

"Began? How long did you make 'adjustments' for?" I was starting to get angry now.

"It was a fairly minimum sentence — only thirty years."

"Thirty years?! Is this why my social security number is one number off from a serial burglar? — Why every car I've ever owned has broken down in the middle of a drive-thru lane?! Oh my god! Did you guys switch my fiancée's birthday present order from a first edition Jane Austen to a signed copy of 'Sweating with the Oldies'?!!" I was out of breath and manic. Did this beefy Frenchman ruin my entire life because I got a good grade on a spelling test?

"Hypothetically — yes. Except the book — that was eBay." He cocked his head in a "whatta ya gonna do?" type manner.

"So you guys just go around ruining people's lives for no reason? Why even tell me this?"

"Once you are deposited back to your normal life you'll remember nothing of this conversation. We are however required to properly notify you of your release and probation."

"Oh great. I'll have to see you every week now."

"Non, all matter moving toward entropy at the constant speed of the universe is on probation for traveling forward through time. Standard probation for all life forms is feeling the effects of entropy. This being your second offense you have additional restrictions."

"Sec- wha — well I guess you couldn't do much worse than you already have."

"Oh no! Maybe just a few things will speed up a bit — hemorrhoids, rosacea — you are rather pale-"

"Are you speeding up entropy? How is that not breaking the rules of time travel?"

"Technically it's breaking the laws of entropy — not our department — anyway — you can still live a full life — just with a few more bumps and bruises. I must say any future hypothetical incursions would result in harsher sentencing."

"But you're done messing with my life otherwise? No more messing around? Can you clear up any of those 'misunderstandings' — at least fix my social so I can get approved for an apartment that's not in a sober living community?"

"Unfortunately to fix those things it would require time travel — which as you know-"

"— doesn't exist.”

“Au revoir.”

—

It was a fine spring day as I walked down the street. Just whistling Dixie — actually I have no idea how to do that and it sounds slightly problematic — I was whistling In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida. I'd been having a wonderful run of luck lately — I didn't know what in the universe had flipped but my ship was coming in. My car was almost done at the shop and almost nothing was wrong — I could actually afford the bill. I had an interview with a great company in the morning. If you don't count the hemorrhoids, it was as close to paradise as I'd ever been.

Yes world! My luck has changed!

Smiling a stupid grin I approached the crosswalk and pressed the button for the signal change. I was just about to move my foot forward when I had the strangest vision. Like Déjà vu — a car slamming into me. It frightened me enough that I held back. At that exact moment an SUV ran through the red light and continued on. My heart pounded as I imagined what could have happened. Just like my daydream.

I let myself calm and then when the light was green again I continued along to get my car. It looked like black smoke was rising in the direction of the garage. Probably just somebody burning trash. Nothing was going to ruin my day.

Yes world! My luck has changed!