Chapter 1: Where It All Began
Chapter Text
"S.T.C corp. proudly presents to you a once in a lifetime creation! An invention that is an ohmage to the ever-coming future that is racing towards us faster than the speed of light! Something that will truly change the course of all our lives!" A man in an annoying commercial voice booms through a microphone attached to a long wooden podium, echoing through the hundreds of speakers surrounding the large dome-like stadium.
I fidget with my hands, twisting the edge of my plain black dress between my manicured fingers. My father stands tall besides me in his white lab coat, the glimmer of his silver name tag glowing in the blinding lights beaming onto us. My eyes burn from the bright light, forcing my eyes to squint and my eyelashes to flutter violently closed as I tried to look away from the glaring light that seemed to follow me, the blinding white and silver color of the paneled walls surrounding us didn't help with my predicament. But despite that, I can still see the growing wrinkles on his face as he grins widely, and I can tell how proud he is of working on the long-awaited project. He'd been boasting about it for the past couple of years practically every night during dinner. I had known about his work since I was born; how he was working with the concept of time, and his theories on how "time isn't linear and how reality in itself is malleable", or whatever he'd spout. As a kid I was awestruck by these ideas, having always looked up to my self-confident and adoring father. But as the years passed, I found the light inside of me that held onto the excitement of wonder and new possibilities slowly dimmed. The longer the projects stalled, the less I believed in my father. That was until I was standing next to him on the stage, in front of crowd of hundreds of feet long filled with mothers and their children and fathers with their rotting old parents.
"Now, that moment you've all been waiting for! Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the first ever time machine!" The man booms even louder with a rushing excitement as he spreads his arms wide, and behind him multiple curtains drop to reveal cylinder-like transparent rooms that almost look like the glass shower we have in our house, in front of each of them were long keyboards that wrapped around them like a belt with buttons, levers and switches I couldn't understand the placement of. But it looked like something ripped straight from one of those sci-fi movies me and my dad used to watch together. Something blue glares against the glass and I realize that it isn't just a window, but a digital 360 screen. When the machines are revealed, a large roar rips through the room as cheers, claps and hoots fill the air and the sound is so loud it feels like a large static that is ringing in my head. I can see everyone in their seats rise and glancing down I can see the tall men that make up the security team below stiffen and plant themselves firmly a few feet in front of the stage; where a large metal fence is present to protect us from what I assume is anyone crazy enough to attempt to run up the stage and to the machines. Gripping their guns tightly in their hands I almost shiver a little at the thought of someone messing with them.
The man at the podium drops his hands and turns to look at my father with an endearing smile before turning back to the microphone before him as the shouting from the crowd begins to die. He cleared his throat into the mic for a moment, causing the rest of the crowd to slowly silence and take their seats.
"Now then, I'd like to introduce a good friend of mine. The man and myth himself who worked tirelessly for a decade to come up with this marvelous creation. He is going to come up and share a little information about these miraculous creations! Everyone please give a warm welcome to the mic, Dr. Calvin!" He gives a small drumroll for my father against the wooden podium with the clubbed tips of his fingers, before swiftly moving to the side as my father walks up a small flight of stairs to the microphone. He taps it once to test the frequency and then leans forward as he speaks in his smooth, mundane voice. I find my father kind of sounds like a fresh cup of black coffee with one packet of sugar. Dark and smooth, with a hint of sweetness. I guess that just comes with being a scientific space engineer at 40 years old. Your voice becomes tired and robotic, yet with the sultry taste of ageing and with much help of the disgusting pack of cigarettes he finishes every week or so, against the protests of me and my mother. You'd think being a scientist you'd be more aware of your health, but it seems my father is quite the opposite in that department. I could just roll my eyes thinking about it.
"Thank you for having me. I appreciate all of you for coming tonight, it wouldn't be possible without you." He says with a gentle smile on his face. I think it's the happiest I've ever seen or heard of my father and my heart almost hurts from the squeeze of excitement that courses through it. I'm proud of my father, and there is nothing that could ever change the feelings of respect I have for him, for believing in himself and sticking to those beliefs for all this time. His perseverance never slipped my mind for a single moment. Even during those years that I doubted him and his lifelong project. He'd be out of the house for 10 hours most days, and on the hardest he'd be gone for weeks at a time tirelessly working, researching, building and testing. All for this moment. And in those beaming bright lights, he truly glowed like nothing I'd ever seen before.
"I would like to say a few words before we get started. A moment of appreciation. For all my coworkers who helped me work on this passion project." He turns to the left where a line of 10 people in the same white lab coats stood at the bottom of the other side of the stage, a mirroring platform of the one I was standing on. There was a diverse cast of them, a mix of races and genders I remember seeing occasionally from the times my father invited them to stay for dinner at our house. Times when my father worked at his office at home. Despite our suburban family appearance, we were much richer. My father is a billionaire, because of his time he worked at NASA before splitting from them to create his own company: Space and Time Core. A corporation with the goal of "changing the future for the better and using the ever-changing technology and knowledge around us to create things from the wildest of imaginations." At least, that's the moto my dad came up with for the company. This all happened after he came up with the plan to build a time machine; Because of my father's intense research, we had a custom mansion built with underground facilities for my father and his partners to work on their project. But he also had a few dozen company buildings where other 'top-tier researchers, scientists and engineers' worked. Even though my father was constantly working, somehow, he still always found a way to make time for me as much as he could. I was an only child, so I had no other siblings to keep me company, and some days taking care of me was too stressful for my mother. They'd both take me on expensive trips to other countries when I turned 13 and any other time we'd spend at the beach or Universal Studios in Florida, and I was allowed to hang out with my friends whenever I wanted.
When we hung out, my friends and I would often do stupid stereotypically girly things. Such as gossip about people in our sophomore class at Burbank High. We talk about fashion and trends while painting our nails inside my large, hot pink, early 2000's inspired bedroom; Eating chips on my bed and drinking enough caffeine to give us heart palpitations at the ripe age of 16. We'd also squeak about boys and chatter about our exes and their obviously ugly new girlfriends. My friends would sometimes tease me about my past boyfriends because the guys I dated were usually the opposite of my type. My actual type was closer to the likes of my celebrity crush: Evan Peters. The reason is, I feel like I will never be satisfied if I try to find a relationship comparing my partner to the looks of someone who I will never be able to replace. There will never be anyone like Evan, therefore I will date the last person who looks like him to save my heart from searching for a thousand years for a person who doesn't exist. When I first fell in love with Evan, it was from his work on 'American Horror Stories' in 2014, a decade ago. Granted, I was around 6 or 7 then, but I was starting to develop curious feelings towards boys at that point, so it didn't feel unnatural for me to feel an infatuation for the man on my TV screen as I sat in my mother's lap, who was braiding my hair at the time. She had stopped folding the laundry so she could 'make me look pretty like a princess' as I had asked after putting on my favorite cheap princess costume.
Ever since then, I could still clearly remember watching Evan that night and once I had gotten older and truly understood what was happening, I became obsessed with him. Not in a creepy fan sort of way, but I had binge-watched all the seasons of 'American Horror Stories' at that point, and religiously waited for the new episodes to be released. I saw every single production Evan was in as soon as it was released and brought my friends to the theater with me so we could have 'watch parties' together. I was lucky to have found friends who liked Evan and AHS as much as me, otherwise I believe I would have been really annoying. Not like I could blame them if they did think that. I even had posters from all the AHS seasons hung around my room, including movie posters from his other castings. I had even printed some of my favorite photos of him posted online and pasted them on the edges of my mirror along with some polaroids of me and my friends. Of course, half of them were from the nights we went to the theater to see Evan.
To say the least, I have had a crush on Evan Peters most of my life. The one problem for me was, he was 30 years my senior, so despite my father's billionaire status, there was no chance of a romance between us no matter how hard I manifested it. My father's work wasn't just a beam of hope for him, but also for me. If I could travel back in time to become the same age as Evan, or even just a few years apart, I could become an A-List actor alongside him; We could have a comically perfect fairytale romance. At least, that's what I had fantasized about in my head for years. But as the project stalled, I had less and less hope of this dream coming to fruition. And with time, those dreams disappeared with the faith I had in my father's ideas. I knew that if my father had accomplished his goal and warped time itself, I would wait until the time machines were in mass-production before I even considered getting inside of one. I trust my father, but I don't trust the universe. It had already screwed me over once.
That's beside the point though. In my household there is one rule and that is: when everyone is home, we all eat dinner together in the same room and afterwards spend the night watching movies. It kept a balance between us, and therefore I never felt like I didn't see my father. I was ecstatic when he asked me if I wanted to be his plus-one to the grand reveal of his invention. Of course I had said yes without any hesitation; I wanted to be the one who was able to support my father in this moment, especially because I had always truly believed he would make it somewhere. Even if that passion strayed and dwindled a little.
"And my wife and daughter, who have always been my biggest supporters on this project." He continues, turning to me and smiling before glancing to my mother who opted to sit in the front of the crowd to watch us. She said it would be the better view and none of us wanted nor cared to argue with her about it. Cameras that had been live streaming the whole event for TV the entire time begins to pan to both me and my mother and we both give our best commercial smiles. My mother and I both enjoy attention. We're not active seekers of it, but when we have the chance to show off our performative sides, we take that opportunity and grasp it tightly in our hands. And I believe we do it well. My mother clearly expected the cameras to be pointed in all of our faces, so she made sure to doll herself up perfectly tonight, and so did I. I opted for a classier appearance than usual to seem more professional in favor of my father, only wearing a simple thin strapped black dress with a loose knee length skirt and some black flats, accented with a dainty silver necklace and earrings. I left my hair down but made sure to have it curly and shine in the stage lights. Being the daughter of a billionaire comes with experience of professional video and photography, so I also made sure that my 'natural makeup' look didn't make me look like a giant shiny greaseball and actually covered the embarrassing teenage hormonal blemishes on my face that I was cursed with. The cameras then began to pan the crowd and my father again, turning their attention away from my mother and me, allowing me to drop the painful smile painted on my face to a neutral expression.
"I would also like to thank all of the donors who truly helped bring this dream to life with your trust in this project. Now with that out of the way, I would like to explain how the machine actually works, so that when you get your hands on it you can understand the rules of the game." He retorts sarcastically with the flash of a cheeky grin. "To help me with this presentation, I have invited my lovely daughter, Y/N. '' He says as he turns to me with that same sweet grin.
My vision blurs for a moment as my head spins, the blood rushing down from my head, and I don't feel very well now. My stomach flips and churns violently and I feel I'm going to vomit on the stage. My knees begin to weaken as I feel like I'm wobbling as I slowly walk up the steps and to my father's out-stretched hand towards me. I don't recall agreeing to be the demonstrator of the time machine, yet here I was, standing in front of my beaming father with hundreds of thousands of eyes on me. For once in my life, I hated the fact that I was the center of attention. I don't know what came over me, but a deep unsettling feeling was squeezing my gut, and I felt the chill of inevitability rush down my spine as I knew I wasn't going to be able to weave my way out of this one with all these eyes on me. I couldn't risk embarrassing my father in front of all these people, especially when he has worked so hard to get where he's standing right now.
I decided to suck it up and take a silent deep breath, I trust my father and I'm sure that there is nothing that can go wrong solely on the fact that he has been working and building up for this day practically before I was even born. So, with my mind calmed, and the ache in my stomach subdued, I take my father's hand as he gently pulls me to stand next to him. He leads me beside the time machine behind us and walks back up to the podium where he quickly clips a small microphone to the front of his button-up collared shirt in that blue stripped pattern I always hated, that was unfortunately his favorite one. He called it his 'lucky shirt'. Right now, it was a bad omen for me. He should really call it his 'unlucky shirt' with the number of times I've had something bad happen when he wears it. And the chills I had recalled came rushing back as I watched him walk back over towards me and he places a tender hand on my shoulder.
"This ring here," He begins and holds up a wide shining silver ring with a small blue gem embedded in the middle between his fingertips. It flashes brightly in the light as he holds it up, a small glare flickering upon it. "Is your gateway out. There is only one chance to return back to your original timeline through this ring, and there is a time limit." He describes as he asks for my hand and slips the ring on my middle finger. "When a year passes by in the alternate timeline, this ring will become a useless, normal ring and you will be forever stuck in that timeline." I hear his voice begin to shift as he slowly changes into his professional voice, I've heard him use so many times before as he begins to focus. It's like he has this separate personality that appears when he is deep in focus on his work that gets stuck. Whenever he comes home or stops by, he'll use this same voice for an hour before it disappears.
"But before that, this ring also has multiple functions. While it is your gateway home, it is also your timer and gives you set information about the timeline you are in." He taps the blue gem in the middle of the ring, and it lights up with a blue laser beam high into the ceiling of the stadium before zipping back down and simmering into a low glow. "Setup is required before activation of the time machine. Both are separate processes. Once the ring is activated it will automatically connect to the nearest time machine and absorb whatever information is processed into it." Behind me, one of the few partners my dad worked with that were lined on the stage comes up and turns on the time machine directly behind me with a soft whirring sound as it begins to flash and beep with blue lights and small chimes and chirps before powering on, and in that moment my heart begins to pound rapidly in my ears.
"Now that the ring is activated, the next setup is voice activation. Tapping the ring again will begin this process." He looks to me and nods, telling me that the next part I have to do at my own ready. I hesitate for a moment but quickly tap the ring again when I glance up and seeing the peering and impatient, fascinated eyes of hundreds of eyes staring directly at me in anticipation. The ring flashes for a moment before a small light hologram appears above the ring through a laser in the ring. I almost jump back as it appears in front of me above the flat of my hand. It flickers subtly as the small voice of a woman chirps from the ring in a robotic tone, asking me to activate the voice by repeating a phrase.
"I repeat, Blue Bird." I repeat the phrase into the ring closely, so it catches my voice and in return it rings out happily as the holographic screen changes into a set of icons and options. "Now that voice activation is secured, you can ask Blue Bird to tell you anything about the timeline you are in once you have traveled." My father says a few moments after the ring chimes.
I notice my father slightly bob his head and nod at the engineer behind me who had previously turned on the time machine behind me. I turn around for a moment and see the man stills when standing at the panel, now beginning to flick some buttons which causes the time machine doors to open, and a hissing noise of pressure is released as they are opened for the first time; Causing the breath the crowd was holding to slip from their lips into a small, united gasp. My jaw slacks open a bit, hanging as I turn between my dad and the machine with a nervous look painted on my face that I only realized because my dad leaned in and whispered to me reassurance. "Everything will be fine. You'll go inside the machine for demonstration and come right back out." He says to me discreetly before pulling back. But it isn't enough to fully subdue my nerves as my gut begins to knot and squeeze again. This time it comes with an aching in my head.
"Now that the ring has been activated, all you have to do is step inside the machine. Once inside, you will choose the time and the date you want to travel to." As he trails on, he looks me in the eyes patiently and nods over at the open machine, beckoning me inside. I hesitate again but I swallow my aching feelings and slowly walk into the machine, turning around inside and facing the on-looking crowd that was peering at me intensely with a wide-struck awe. The doors of the machine hiss shut again, this time with a silent ringing as the man standing at the panel hits a small button.
My father turns to me and begins to speak, I wouldn't be able to tell in his tone if he's speaking to me or to the crowd if it weren't for the attentive look in his eyes. "Where would you like to travel?" He asks me, still stuck in his professional voice. I paused for a moment, thinking. I knew that I was going to leave the machine eventually, and my choice wouldn't matter. But for some reason I felt I needed to be honest about my answer. Where would I like to travel back in time to? I asked myself, but before I could really think, the answer seemed to have already come to me.
"2003." The calm words spill smoothly from my lips, surprising myself for how easy they seemed to come out on their own. My father smiles at me as if he expected me to say that which wasn't surprising to me. I have been obsessed with the early 2000s for years. My room is filled with memorabilia of Heath Ledger, Beyonce, Britney and Christina Aguilera. I had a collection of old cd's with a pink cd player that matched my walls and a cheetah print comforter. In my closet was filled with baby tees and low-rise jeans and large purses with multiple clasps and tons of belts, and a few juicy tracksuits that were typically laying on my floor with the pile of other clothes I had left unattended.
My father comes up to the panel now and begins to type and click some information into the panel. "When choosing your destination, an operator will be the one inputting the information. Any user who wishes to type in their own destination and operate the machine will have to pay for a two-week course to learn the controls. All time machines will be operable in one facility. You will have to pay for a ticket ahead of time online. Rings come separately and must be ordered online personally." I can see him tapping away at the panel in the corner of my eye as I kept my posture straight, keeping a commercial smile of excitement towards the crowd despite the painful nervous tears burning in the corners of my eyes.
There's a small chime and a light-blue light flashes across the screen as a large rolling text appears and wraps around me in a large circle, spinning across the screen with large words reading the date and location. My father steps back to the podium and continues wrapping up his speech.
"Now that we have that out of the way, I am willing to take questions from the audience." My father nods and I see a few people rush out and begin to hand microphones to those who have questions to ask my father. I stay standing inside the machine, the text still flashing across the screen, the doors never sliding open. I try to peer past the flashing screen to the crowd and I swear I could see the concerned look of my mother contorting her face in the front of the crowd. But her face disappears as a large spark erupts from the panel on the side of my machine and a large yelp and gasp erupts from the crowd. I flinch and jump back, slipping onto the floor of the machine. I could feel the panic rising in my chest as my breathing shallows and I have to force myself to take desperate gasps of air to keep my throat from closing to no avail.
I feel those tears that had been sparking in my eyes from earlier come silently rolling down my cheeks and I realize how truly scary it is being inside this machine. A thousand questions and possibilities came rushing to my mind that left me panting like a wounded animal, my chest heaving visibly. My father turns back and sees me inside the machine and yells something I can't discern from the intense ringing in my ears and a rush of those white coat men come rushing to the sparking panel. The ringing had calmed, but all the yelling and shouting that follow are drowned out by the sound of my own thoughts and the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears.
Before I could open my mouth to let out a panicked call for help to my father as he watches me with wide, glossy eyes, a bright light flashes and blinds me. It feels like hours have gone by with the flaming white that clouds my vision and engulfs me. I couldn't feel my body anymore, it felt as if I was constantly floating in a ghostly form with nothing to hold onto and nowhere to go but to let the wind take me. But just as quickly as it had come, it had gone and settled in the back of my mind, and I could feel the tingling sensation of my fingers again. Soon I regained the sensation of my legs and the ability to open my eyes. My vision was blurry and stung, still sore from whatever loud bang and a loud ringing began to appear in my ears again that caused me to wince and rub my temples to ease the pounding in my head. I couldn't see where I was, but I could make out the different bright light blinding me, the sun. I could feel the gentle breeze of what smelled like spring, and I swallowed dryly as my vision stabilized and I pieced together that I was no longer in the theater. I was somewhere familiar. It was hard to recognize exactly what was so familiar with the whiplash that had swept me off my feet moments before.
I heard the familiar rush of cars on a road behind me, and I pressed my feet into a concrete street below me. I turned my head and glanced around me, taking note of my surroundings. I didn't care how silly I must have looked, acting confused and lost. It was the last thing on my mind. All I wanted to know was a million different questions, but mainly what had just happened and;
"Where am I?" I muttered under my breath, my voice was hoarse and came out in small cracks.
As if God was willing to answer immediately, everything hit me like a bus all at once when I turned my head to notice the large brick building in front of me and I realized where I was.
Burbank High.
Chapter Text
Hey guys! Quick update, as you can see it has taken me a WHILEEEE to get back to this story. I run out of inspo so quick (and motivation). I've seen and appreciated the support so much I got on the first chapter, and hopefully soon I will be able to finish the draft I had for the second. (No promises). I just wanted to let you all know that I have not forgotten this story and there is more in the future. I may also post some stuff I've made between this time frame to make up for the insane hiatus.
Notes:
Really sorry for the long wait just for this
Anon (Guest) on Chapter 1 Mon 08 Jul 2024 05:38AM UTC
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Kazoososilly on Chapter 1 Thu 15 Aug 2024 05:47PM UTC
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iloveevanpeters (Guest) on Chapter 1 Mon 16 Sep 2024 08:41AM UTC
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