Temporal Arm

Something a bit different for a change today everyone. I guess Thor's just been that much of a bad influence on me or something. That or my muse was just bored today and bit me, but instead of a rant, today you will all be subjected to a short sci-fi story that should suck on toast for a number of reasons. One of those for the record is that due to a combination of my being lazy and having a bit of a fondness for vignettes, there's not much here.

Anyway though, here's the important part of this little intro. As you should all know by now, I am one of the most easily discouraged people in existance, so if you really can't stand this here, just toss a quick little e-mail along the lines of "Never do that again!" and with a little luck, I'll just keep shoving NON-fiction down your throats and leave this sort of thing locked up in my head. Oh, and you know, if you actually LIKE this little sucker, let me know that too.

My arm is five minutes long. That's the best way I have to explain it. In all other respects, it's a perfectly normal arm. A bit pale and flabby, like the rest of me, but you wouldn't know it was special to look at it. It's just that I can send my right hand up to five minutes forward and backward in time.

It isn't as useful as you'd think either. I can't pass my arm through something that's already there, and if someone punches me in the face, I can't send my hand back after to block it. Despite what the movies may lead you think, the past can't be changed. I suppose that means the universe is run by fate more than free will, but unless you're trying to change the past it's really academic. The whole thing can get a bit creepy at times though. I couldn't even tell you the number of times I've turned around and had something disappear, making me have to reach back for it. Every time I find myself thinking that if I hadn't reached back, I wouldn't have needed to.

That there is one of the main perks though. Every once in a while when a friend isn't looking, I'll glance at a clock, make a mental note, and spend the next ten minutes laughing while they hunt for their keys.

There's a more practical use for it too. If I can get a grip on something solid enough, I can pull myself through time a bit. Now again, I can't go back in time this way. Sure, maybe if I was in better shape I could, but it's a bit like swimming upstream with one hand at your side. Still, while I can't do anything that dramatic, it's pretty darn handy in its way. If I'm stuck at a red light, a quick tug on the dashboard turns it green. If I only have half an hour to finish a paper, clutching my desk can give me an extension.

I just need to be careful when people are watching. See, for my arm, forward and backward through time are directions, just like up down left and right. So when I really stretch it out, there's a bit of foreshortening. I tell you, there's not a more indignant look someone can give you then when you get caught with a hand coming right out of your shoulder and clutching the back of your chair.