Experiments 1

Chapter 8 Experiments 1

The glow of the digital clock on Rick Lane's bedside table cast a faint, cool light across the room. 3:00 AM. He hadn't slept a wink, and the quiet hum of the air conditioner was the only sound breaking the stillness. The past two days had been a whirlwind of revelations. His dreams, once just fleeting echoes of memory, were now a portal, a tangible connection to his past. The realization that the time he spent in those dreams mirrored the time he was actually asleep in the present was a game-changer. It wasn't just a dream; it was an opportunity.

He swung his legs out of bed, the plush carpet cool beneath his bare feet. The city of Bee was still asleep, but Rick's mind was racing. The lottery. It was the simplest, most direct path to accumulating the capital he needed. He had Leo, his unwitting accomplice from the past, and a plan that felt foolproof. Weekly bets on the 3-digit lottery, then a monthly excursion to another city for the 4-digit. It was a methodical approach, designed to avoid suspicion while maximizing his gains.

An even more audacious idea sparked in his mind: leaving something for himself in the past. Something hidden, something that would remain untouched even after decades. A message. This is to make sure that everything that is happening is real and not just some random dream that he can remember when awake. The thought filled him with a surge of adrenaline. This wasn't just about money anymore; it was about rewriting history, about leaving a mark that defied the boundaries of time.

He quickly dressed, grabbed his car keys, and headed to the old house. It had been his home for decades, from his youth well into his forties, before the renovations, before the quiet decline of his marriage. He walked through the familiar rooms, a pang of nostalgia hitting him in the gut. He found it, just as he'd hoped. His old room, the one he moved into after he and Jenny started sleeping separately before her accident. The memory was a dull ache, a reminder of a time when their love, once so vibrant, had begun to fray under the relentless pressures of Jenny's booming restaurant business and his uselessness. He pushed the thought aside. This was about the future, not about dwelling on the past. He scanned the room, committing every detail to memory, pinpointing the perfect, undisturbed spot.

…

The next morning, the polished chrome and sleek lines of Rick's office were a stark contrast to the old, familiar comfort of his childhood home. He was poring over some restaurant expansion plans when his assistant buzzed him. "Mr. Lane, Joana Thaine is here to see you. With her family."

Rick felt a small smile touch his lips. Joana, Jenny's elder sister. He hadn't seen her in a while. "Send them in, please."

The door swung open, and Joana entered, a whirlwind of warm embraces and cheerful chatter. Behind her, her husband, a quiet, stoic man Rick respected, offered a polite nod. Trailing them were their two daughters. The older one, a shy woman, hung back, but the younger, a bright-eyed young woman of about eighteen, bounced forward, a wide, infectious grin on her face. "Uncle Rick!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his arm.

Rick chuckled, ruffling her hair. "And how's my beautiful niece doing today?"

"I'm great, Uncle Rick! Mama said we're going to the mall then to the park after this!" Her enthusiasm was a balm to his often-serious demeanor.

Joana laughed. "She's been excited all morning. Rick, it's so good to see you. You're looking well."

"You too, Joana. And you, Michael." Rick extended a hand to his brother-in-law. "Girls, come here, let me see you." He exchanged pleasantries with the older daughter, then focused back on the younger. "You know, you remind me so much of your Aunt Jenny when she was your age. All that energy."

The conversation flowed easily, jumping from family updates to Joana's latest community projects. She was a shareholder of the company, and Rick promised that he would do everything he could to make Joana's life comfortable. She eventually steered the topic to Rick himself. "You know, Rick," she began gently, her eyes softening, "Jenny's been gone for a long time now. It's okay to move on. To find someone new."

Rick offered a noncommittal hum. He appreciated her concern, but a new relationship was the last thing on his mind. He had bigger, more temporal fish to fry. After a while, Joana gathered her family. Before they left, Rick slipped two thick red packets into the girls' hands, earning him another enthusiastic hug from his youngest niece.

As the door closed behind them, Rick leaned back in his chair, a pensive expression on his face. Joana's words, though well-intentioned, felt distant. His focus was entirely on the intricate dance he was performing with time.

Later that afternoon, his son, Mark, arrived with his wife, Sarah. Sarah, radiant and beaming, was visibly pregnant, her belly round and prominent at eight months.

"Dad!" Mark's voice boomed as he entered, a mirror of Rick's own youthful energy. He enveloped his father in a bear hug. "How are you? You look amazing…"

"Thank you, my son! And let me look at my lovely daughter-in-law!" Rick embraced Sarah gently. "You're getting close now, aren't you?"

Sarah patted her belly. "Any day now, Papa Rick. We're so excited. And nervous!"

"Haha… That is the feeling. I remember when my wife's water broke, I was too worried. I mean, no matter how many books I've read and ready myself for it, it was all gone when Mark was about to be born." Rick chuckled while shaking his head.

"But don't worry. I've already prepared the best for you. All you have to do is bring forth my grandson!" Rick's face showed happiness.

"But I wish it were a granddaughter," he suddenly muttered in a low voice as he looked at Mark.

Mark, hearing his father's words, sneered. "Dad, I… want… a son," he said with a teasing smile.

Sarah couldn't help but chuckle upon seeing the father and son bickering. She knew that her father-in-law wanted to have a granddaughter, but her husband wanted a son. She could only shake her head at their childish bickering.

"Okay, guys… I'm the one who's going to bear the child, so back off." Sarah said with a chuckle.

They settled into the comfortable armchairs in Rick's office, the atmosphere light and joyous. They talked about the baby, about Mark's new project at the architectural firm, and Sarah's plans for maternity leave. Rick found himself genuinely smiling, feeling a warmth spread through him. It was a good day, a truly fortunate day. Perhaps Joana was right about luck being on his side, though not in the way she imagined.

…

That night, the city lights twinkled outside Rick's penthouse window. He stood in his bathroom, a small bottle of sleeping pills in one hand, his smartphone in the other. Yesterday, he'd managed to bring a piece of paper back with him. Today, he was going for a bigger prize. With a deep breath, he pricked his finger with a sterile lancet. He winced, then a single, crimson droplet welled up, and he carefully let it fall onto the screen of his smartphone. The metallic scent of blood mingled with the sterile tang of the bathroom. His vision began to blur, so he quickly went back to bed and swallowed the two sleeping pills, the bitter taste a familiar prelude to his temporal journeys. The blur was first to take effect before the pills; his eyes grew heavy, the world around him blurring into a soft, inviting darkness.

…

Rick woke with a jolt, not to the familiar, uncomfortable desk of a university classroom, but to the sight of a faded poster of a hip hop artist on a wall. His gaze swept around the room. This wasn't his old room from the main house. This was Erk's room, his brother's room, in their childhood home. Erk's worn guitar leaned against the wall, a stack of comic books precariously balanced on a bedside table. A wave of exhilaration washed over him. He was here! And then he looked at his hand. His smartphone, still clutched in his grasp, its screen dark. It had worked!

He tried using the phone, and it turned on. The display and time are from the future. But it does not have any signal or internet. But that is fine, he can deal with it. This is just a trial. An experiment.

He scrambled out of bed, a frantic energy coursing through him. He needed to act fast. Time was precious. He rummaged through a desk drawer, finding a clean sheet of paper and a pen. In hurried, almost illegible script, he scribbled a message to his future self, the one who lived in this era:

To my future self,

If you can read this, then my theory is correct, and I can really travel to the past through dreaming. This is awesome!

He folded the paper carefully, slipped it into a small, resealable plastic bag, and then, after a moment's hesitation, tucked it beneath a loose floorboard in Erk's room, a place he knew would be undisturbed for a long time. It felt like a small, mischievous secret, a ripple in the fabric of time.

A glance at the cheap alarm clock on the bedside table confirmed it: 8:45 AM. He was supposed to meet Leo at 8:00. He cursed under his breath. He had to go.

…

Rick got into a taxi and when he reached the university he ran through the campus, the morning air cool and crisp against his face. He spotted Leo Chen leaning against a lamppost a few blocks near the lottery store, arms crossed, a scowl on his face. Leo, still a lanky, slightly disheveled college student.

"You're late," Leo grumbled, pushing himself off the lamppost. "Nearly an hour! I thought you stood me up."