“Okay you boys, unpack your bags and put your laundry in the basket, please.”
“K’ Mom,” Dennis and Dale said in sync.
“You too, Bob.”
“Yes Deanna, but I’ll put away the camping gear first.”
The kids ran upstairs to change and empty their packs, and Deanna headed for the kitchen. As I headed back to the camper, I walked through the living room and noticed that our old answering machine was flashing. We kept our landline all these years, but never use it. Everyone has their own mobile.
I picked up the receiver and entered the passcode.
You have One new message. Press one to hear it now.
I pressed one.
Message received August 7 at 10:45 am from 555-789-2524.
I froze. Today’s date is August 4th, and the phone number is my own mobile. I paused, feeling a chill, but then I just had to hear the message.
“You are not real.”
That was it. Just those four words. Four impossible words from a future. But that voice—it wasn’t mine. That voice had an old English accent. The polished high society type London accent, not Cockney or something else.
There had to be a glitch in the system. I checked the logs on my mobile. Sure enough, there was a call tagged three days from now at that exact timestamp. I called the phone company to see if there was some kind of error. They had no explanation.
This was just too weird. And why such a cryptic message? Of course I’m real.
Deanna came into the living room from the kitchen. “You unloaded already, hun?”
“No, but you’re not going to believe this.”
“What?”
“I just got this message on the answering machine, but the thing is, it’s from my mobile and it’s timestamped three days from now.”
“Really? That is weird. What was the message?”
“It was only four words from a person that sounded English. He said, ‘You are not real.'”
I saw the expression on Deanna’s face change from curiosity to sudden, cold concern.
“Can I hear the message?”
I played it back for her.
“Computer. End Program,” Deanna said firmly.
“Computer, belay that order,” I said, though I wasn’t sure why the words left my mouth.
“You can’t do that, Bob,” Deanna said in panic.
“Oh, but I can, my dear Deanna.” My voice had changed. It was smoother now. Sophisticated.
“Captain Picard, we have a problem.”
“What is the problem?”
“It’s Moriarty. He’s out of the box again.”