Time is a continuum, possibly. Or it’s discreet intervals. Maybe it’s spreading in all directions, and maybe it doesn’t exist at all. Nevertheless, somewhere in the Überverse, there is a house filled with versions of myself from pieces of my timeline in this reality. It’s not all of me; that would look like one giant centipede stretching from when I came into existence until the moment I died. And that doesn’t make for a fun party.
At this party samples of Me from moments in my lifetime rub shoulders with each other in the rooms of this grand house. Me(18) is explaining why PCs are better than Macs, while Me(32) listens patiently before telling him some future computer purchases that might surprise him. Me(22) is making out with Me(34). By the stereo, Me(26) has just smashed Me(20)’s tapes of Tommy Emmanuel under his boot, and putting on The Pogues.
Somewhere in the kitchen, Me(Start of Dry July) bumps into Me(End of Dry July). Me(SDJ) is holding a glass of red wine as Me(EDJ) is pouring himself some soda water from the fridge.
Me(SDJ): Oh, hey! You’ve just got to the end of the month. Not going to have a celebratory drink?
Me(EDJ): Funny you should mention that. I don’t want one.
Me(SDJ): I’m sorry, I thought you were me from the future.
Me(EDJ): Yeah, I am, doofus. (Smiles.) And I’m not drinking right now.
There’s a pause while Me(SDJ) takes this in.
Me(SDJ): You realise you just called yourself a doofus?
Me(EDJ): I do it all the time.
Me(SDJ): True that. (Sips wine.) See I thought I’d get through the month, and still have the odd drink when it finished.
Me(EDJ): I know. And there might be an odd drink somewhere in the future. Just not right now.
Me(SDJ): Huh! (Sips again.) Any spoilers for the month.
Me(EDJ): Well…(looks into the middle distance) People will still put pressure on you to drink. Things like “Dry July? Why?!” And you won’t be able to get a non-alcoholic drink without it being questioned. That said, there’s support from plenty of others. They’ll cheer you on, and you’ll love them for it. You’ll start feeling physically stronger, emotionally stabler, and even start learning French. It will be a zen state like Cobi keeps saying. Feeling the craving, then letting it go. To test this, a crisis will arise in the last week, and you’ll still not drink for comfort.
Me(SDJ) takes all of this in and thinks it over for a bit.
Me(SDJ): Is stabler a word?
Me(EDJ): Sure it’s a word.
Me(SDJ): I don’t think it means what you think it means.
Me(EDJ): Stabler. “To have greater stability.”
Me(SDJ): I’m pretty sure it’s some dude who looks after horses.
Me(EDJ) looks up “stabler” on his phone while a realisation comes to Me(SDJ).
Me(SDJ): There’s probably more people at this party because of you.
Me(EDJ): (reading) …a person who runs a horse stable. Shit. Sorry, you were saying something?
Me(SDJ): Well, you’ve effectively giving the chance for the possibility of maybe a little longer in in the game of life. So (he gestures around) more people here.
Me(EDJ): Good point! I wonder how old we get?
Me(75) comes into the kitchen wearing a large metal backpack with wings.
Me(75): Check out the future, boys! They finally invented commercial Jet Packstm!
Me(75) blasts off, exiting the kitchen through the ceiling via a hole he makes with his head. Me(SDJ) and Me(EDJ) look at the hole as pieces of plaster crumble from it. Me(EDJ) clears his throat.
Me(EDJ): You don’t suppose…?
Me(SDJ): I hope not. I’m pretty sure I saw Me(82) doing the Dead Parrot Sketch with Me(29) in the lounge…hey doofus.
Me(SDJ): Proud of you.
Me(EDJ): Thanks. And good luck for the next thirty-one days.
They bump fists.
The party continues. Outside the noisy house, high in the star speckled night, an old man in a jet pack dances though the sky, careering to the future.