Projecting

By: Abbie Wong

Looking through a window made of time,

Would you have the courage not to lie?

Say this to anyone you know, they’ll tell you that song lyrics aren’t meant to be taken literally. Oscar Rainn must’ve been born different, because he wanted to put this to the test. Would he be able to tell only the truth to his past self? After all, he was probably one of very few people who had the ability to do so. My powers let me project different places, but can I project a different time period? He asked himself, standing in front of his bedroom window. Oscar had to try, it wouldn’t hurt to.

Wait, would it?

He looked out of the window, seeing his dull reflection. Oscar planned to see his past self from ten years ago, and within ten years his life had changed quite a bit, first experiencing his powers and whatnot. One thing that did not change was the room he returned to almost every night. With this, Oscar assumed that this would make projecting easier. He took a breath and raised his tensed-up hand towards the window, trying to create a projection. He only had to let a location “occupy” his mind to be able to see it with his powers, so he imagined his bedroom from ten years ago. How its walls were covered by posters of robots and animated buff men. How his bedside lamp didn’t work yet he insisted to his mum that he keep it because it looked like a ninja mask. How stripes of blue lit the ceiling up during the night.

That lamp did it for Oscar. He felt the invisible force lightly pushing against his body, indicating that he had successfully made a projection. His friends had told him his eyes went all grey when projecting. They had seen him doing it when they wanted to see restaurant menus from thirty minutes away or bird-eye views of the city to take pictures of. But now, the window had reflected a familiar face. His own, just younger.

“Wait, you’re not my reflection!” Oscar’s younger self cried out. His hands scattered across the window, moving rather quickly. “Who are you?” He was bewildered to see himself, even though he had lived through being a little child. “I’m future you, Oscar.” He responded with a smile, hoping it wouldn’t scare him too much. “Really? Awesome! Guess that’s what my new powers can do, right?” The child said, jumping up and down in unison with his toy robots.

That’s right, Oscar’s powers first started to show up around this time. “Yeah, it’s our power.” The older one exclaimed, making a hearty gesture. However, concern befell him when his younger counterpart’s smile slowly faded. “May I ask you about the future?” He asked, tippy toeing around his room. “If it doesn’t break any rules of time or whatever, that is.” The last remark made Oscar chuckle, it would be a moment to remember so he could brag to his friends about making himself laugh.

“I don’t believe it breaks any rules. Ask away.” He said, still in the midst of chuckling.

The younger Oscar nodded, and grabbed his chin to ponder. His eyes gleamed with inspiration as he asked “Did they make a second Magma Mayhem game?” Easy question, thank goodness. The older thought, as he exclaimed “Yup” with confidence. He had a feeling the others would be trickier to tackle.

“Do flying cars exist?”

“No.”

“Awww. Is the future happy?”

“For the most part. You will be sad, but the happiness overcomes that.”

“Do you like being old?”

“Don’t call this old.”

The child giggled with his mouth covered. “Then do you like being a teenager?”

“My responsibilities pile with every year, but other than that I do like being a teenager.”

So far, no lies told. Oscar was ready to accomplish this mini-goal. “I see.” His younger self said. “Anyways, how is Fitz?”

“Left the country recently. Didn’t say where, but it seems he’s everywhere nowadays.”

“That’s a real shame, I loved baking and playing Magma Mayhem with him.”

“He seems to be a ladies’ man now, posing with loads of ‘em on social media.”

“Wait wait wait wait wait, really? Didn’t expect him to be a Chadley type.”

That name didn’t ring any bells to the older Oscar. “Chadley?” “Do you not remember him?” The younger one cried. “The one that hung out with basically everyone on the street? Boys and girls? Old and young?”

Oh right, that guy. “I remember him now, probably didn’t just now because he leaves at the end of your current school year. You’re seven, right?” He explained.

“I am indeed seven! And with you forgetting him, that makes sense...”

A silence ensued between the two. One could suppose things don’t really change, because they both were wondering if they should say something first.

“Speaking of ladies’ man, do you have a girlfriend? The younger boy asked. He buried his face into his hands, muffling out an apology for being “stupid and silly.” Oscar laughed, contemplating how in character that was for his younger self.

He should probably stop laughing, he’s about to suffocate. “Yeah!” He wheezed out, clutching his stomach. Thankfully, a loud “wait” snapped him back to reality with regular breathing capacity. “Really?” His younger self asked.

“Um, yeah. We love each other and stuff.” Oscar wasn’t lying about any of that, but it made him wonder if the withholding of information counted as lying as well. “Guess girls’ tastes get worse for them to like us.” His younger self commented. “Or is she the only girl you’ve, uh, dated?” “Yeah. Yeah, she’s the only girl I’ve been with.” That wasn’t a lie either. Oscar didn’t see the need in mentioning the many people he had rejected before that.

“‘Is nearly time for me to go to bed, so I’ll ask you one more question, future me.” Younger Oscar clarified, reminding the older of how lenient he was with going to sleep at the exact time he was told to. “Go on.” He responded.

“Were you lying about everything you said?”

What?

This wasn’t the boy that Oscar knew. He wouldn’t ask such a question. “No, why would you ask that?” He blurted, gasping at the rude tone he had shown his younger self.

“Don’t worry, I always knew you wouldn’t lie to me.” He replied. “Good night! I’ll be seeing you soon!”

What did he mean by all of that crap? Do I not remember myself? Oscar wondered. He was bordering on believing he had gone mad when it hit him: No matter how hard he tried, his projections were always slightly off. If he was projecting a restaurant menu, there were a few typos and some really long numbers. If he was projecting someone’s point of view, there was a weird shade of red covering everything. If that was the case for place, what about time? Or universe, even?

What hellish version of himself did Oscar just speak to?