The wedding reception buzzed with happiness and fulfilled dreams as everyone flooded into

the hall, music playing, and congratulations being thrown at the newlyweds. Blue and silver balloons
framed their table, and a banner was hung behind it, reading “Congratulations Michael and Lola!”
The room was full of family, friends, loved ones… and that one gross guy from Michael’s work. Nick
Kaliszeski walked happily into the reception hall, almost as if he’d actually been invited. Michael and
Lola had hoped some sense of shame would keep him away, by expressly not sending Nick an
invitation. It didn’t. Nick had merely assumed his invitation had gotten lost in the mail when all his
coworkers had gotten one (and why would he not be invited to his best friend Michael’s wedding?).
“Hey, what do you say we get out of here? We can have our own honeymoon… Of sorts?”
Nick asked a woman who looked like she desperately wanted to get away from him (looks can often
be deceiving, Nick thought).
“Are you seriously trying to flirt with me at my own wedding?” Lola replied, before leaving to
go and find Michael. Nick took his business elsewhere, only to hear…
“No thank you, Nick,”
“Come on, Alice,”
“My husband’s right over there,” Alice pointed out her husband, Larry, who was working
security at the door. With a sigh, Nick walked away. That was only two strikes, he’s not out yet. He
ambled over to his final hope.
“Heather, from the top floor. You know—”
“No.” Heather’s boyfriend, Ryan came up behind Heather and lead her away, over to
Michael and Lola.
Defeated, Nick sat in the corner of the room, with another sad, pathetic bachelor. A
professor, who officiated the wedding upon his student, Lola’s request.
“I can’t believe this, I’ve struck out not even twenty minutes in,”
“You’re telling me,” The professor replied. He sat, slouched, sipping a glass of scotch.
“I don’t get it. I used to love going to weddings. Bunch of jealous bridesmaids, looking for
love… Then settling for me in a cheap hotel room for one night. It was a magical thing,”
“Maybe when you were younger, but that well has run dry, my friend. Everyone’s coupled
up. And where does that leave men like us? On the sidelines. Left with nothing but our regrets. And
our memories of the good old days…” The professor seemed to get lost in forty-year-old memories,
his eyes going glassy as he continued, “Back in that beat-up old house, on the edge of college
campus…”
At this, Nick also began to reminisce, “Yeah, I remember college. Things were different back
then. I was different. Not the tornado of charisma I am now,” If Nick didn’t know any better, he
could’ve sworn he heard the professor chuckle slightly at that. Nevertheless, he continued, “I was
even in love. Real love. With a real woman.” Nick shocked himself slightly with his own sincerity,
“That’s how I viewed her. As an actual person,” he was incredulous at this revelation, which spurred
him on to keep talking, “Mallory. My Mallory. The best friend I ever had,” Nick took a breath before
continuing, “But I was a wimp. I never even told her how I felt. I remember the night I lost her for
good. May 11th, 2006. I was in my apartment, trying to build up the nerve to make a move. You
know, with a little liquid courage. Guess I had one too many and passed out. Alone,” the professor
scrutinised Nick closely as he continued, “I got a letter the next day. From Mallory. Turns out, she
was in love with me too. Said she couldn’t see me anymore. It was too painful. Some guy was bolder
than me. Asked her to move in with him to Saltingdale. I never saw her again,” he had lost the love
of his life to some pushy guy, so he became the pushy guy, he thought with conviction. He had never
looked back on that decision until then. The professor looked as though he was going to say
something meaningful, but he changed his mind and merely shrugged.

1
 “Well, you can’t change the past,” he put a hand on Nick’s shoulder, “Something like that
happened to me once. Me and Brad…”
“I don’t care, man,” Nick brushed off the professor’s hand and walked over to the bar. He
pushed his way to the front of the line and shouted at the bartender.
“Hey, pal! Give me a vodka,” the bartender shrugged poured him a shot. Nick glared at him.
“The bottle, man,” he took the whole bottle of Smirnoff from the bartender’s hands and,
despite his protests, left to find an empty table at which to wallow in self-pity.
After polishing off his fourth drink, he began muttering to himself.
“Look at everyone having so much fun… Such a fun time…” he slurred. over the sound
system, he vaguely heard a DJ speak.
“Alright, everyone, we’d like to invite the newlyweds to the dance floor for their first dance
as husband and wife,” the crowd began cheering as Nick just poured himself another drink. After a
few seconds the DJ spoke again, uncertainty tingeing her tone, “… Has anybody seen the groom?”
Guests began to look around. No one could seem to find Michael. They’re all stupid, Nick
thought, he was right there, a few tables away from him.
“Hey, Mike!” Nick called out to him. Upon hearing him, Michael rushed over to Nick, smiling,
rather than heading to the dance floor.
“There you are! What are you doing over here?” Michael grabbed Nick by the arm and
pulled him up (not without some resistance) and started to drag him towards the cheering crowd.
Nick, confused, said, “I don’t wanna watch you dance…”
“Come on, Nick. She’s waiting for ya,” Michael pushed his way through the throng of people,
pulling Nick along behind him, and onto the dance floor. He pushed Nick forward, and he felt the
crowd’s eyes land on him. He looked behind him, but Michael had faded into the mass. He turned
towards the bride, only to be met by the eyes of…
“Mallory?” she stood in her wedding dress, blushing and smiling.
“Hey, Nicky. Wow, here we are, huh?” Nick felt like he was in shock. All he could choke out
was a weak, “Huh?” as he stared at her in disbelief, trying to make piece together what on earth was
happening. He looked around him, bewildered. As he did, he picked up tiny inconsistencies. Had the
balloons always been green? Hadn’t Michael been wearing a tuxedo? Then, he notices the banner
hanging on the back wall, the one that once read, “Congratulations Michael and Lola!”. His eyes
must’ve nearly popped out of his skull. It now read, “Congratulations Nick and Mallory!”. She
stepped towards Nick and took his hand.
“Okay, just remember the lessons. One hand goes here, and you lead,” she placed his hand
on her waist, and they began to sway back and forth, Nick still too dumbfounded to attempt to take
the lead.
“Mallory, am I dreaming? Are you real?”
“Nick, are you okay? Of course I’m real,” for the first time in a long time, Nick felt tears
stream down his cheeks.
“Mallory. It’s our wedding. I can’t believe it. You’re so beautiful,” he pulled her into a hug as
they continued to sway, and he felt her weight in his arms. Her breath on his neck. This was no
dream. Mallory was there with him. He stopped dancing. He just stood there, holding her. With a
laugh, Mallory said, “Okay, Nicky, I’ll lead.”
Soon, their song ended, and the crowd went wild. Their family and friends enveloped the
happy couple. Nick felt his boss slap him on the back.
“Congratulations, Nick,”
“You’re the man, Nick,” Michael gave him a thumbs up.

2
 “Hi, Mr. Kaliszeski. I just wanted to let you know, I’ll have those reports on your desk by
tomorrow morning,” Ryan looked tentatively at Nick. It seemed that not only was this Nicks’
wedding, somehow his life was different. Better. Perfect, even. Here, he was Ryan’s boss.
“Tomorrow? I wanted ‘em on my desk yesterday, Ryan. Get outta here,”
“Yes, sir,” Ryan said miserably, and he walked away.
Later, Nick sat in the place of honour with his bride, finishing off a piece of wedding cake. He
was in utter bliss.
“Nicky, tonight has been everything I always dreamed,” Mallory said. From under the table,
Mallory took out a present wrapped in glittering green paper. She handed it to Nick, “Here,”
Putting down his fork, Nick replied, “What’s this?”
“Just a little something. For you,” Mallory said with a smile.
Nick tore through the paper to reveal an ornate, golden cube. It had bizarre and confusing
patterns crisscrossing and covering each of it’s six sides.
“What is it? A box?”
“The Bastard’s Box,” a voice said. It seemed to be nowhere near him, yet surrounding him all
at once. He looked up. Mallory was gone. So were all the wedding guests. The hall was eerily silent.
The fresh roses in the centrepieces had all wilted and turned black. Rotten food sat on abandoned
plates.
Standing on the dance floor was a solitary figure. It wore a baggy, furry bodysuit that was
green and matted. Dirty. Stinking. It stared numbly at Nick through a motionless, demented goat’s
mask. It had glassy, evil eyes, a slack jaw with big, crooked teeth, and a flopping, wet tongue. Saliva
dripped from its agape mouth and landed on the green fur. Nick nearly fell from his seat in terror.
“What?” he meant to speak in a loud, confident voice, but it came out small and broken. The
thing pointed to the box in Nick’s hands.
“That’s where I keep all my little toys, Nicky-Knock. Toys like you!” it laughed maniacally, the
shrill, ear-splitting sound filling the room.
“Where’s Mallory?” he asked, horrified.
“Tick-tock, Nicky-Knock. Tick-tock,” in the blink of an eye, the creature disappeared from the
dance floor. Nick looked around apprehensively. It suddenly slammed onto Nick’s table, inches from
his face. Dinnerware shattered beneath its hooves. Maggots crawled out of the smashed wedding
cake. The nightmare goat grabbed the front of Nick’s jacket and lifted him into the air. Nick stared
into its dead eyes, too terrified to breathe.
“I’m coming for you, Nicky-Knock,” it laughed again. A terrible, jarring shriek that made Nick
scream back at an almost equal volume. It brought him closer to his face…
Michael put a hand on Nick’s shoulder. He stopped screaming and opened his eyes.
“Hey, Nick,” Michael said, a smile-like grimace on his face. Nick whirled around in his seat,
spilling the cup of vodka he was holding. It soaked the front of his shirt.
“Would ya lay off the booze, buddy?” Michael asked sheepishly.
“Mike?” Nick looked at him, stuck in a haze. He looked around him. The reception hall was
full once more. The banner on the wall again read, “Congratulations Matthew and Lola!”
“What happened to Mallory, Mike?” Michael would know. He was at the wedding; he would
know where Mallory went. But he ignored him.
“Hey, I got a favour to ask. I forgot to hand in my weekly reports on Friday. Do you think you
could run back to the office and slide ‘em under Mr. Robinson’s door? I’d do it myself, but it’s my
wedding night. I know you’re not here with anybody, so…” Michael lowered his voice and sat next to
Nick, “And you’re making some people uncomfortable. Including Lola. So could you be a pal?”

3
 Nick blinked up at Michael, then looked at the bottle of Smirnoff on the table between them.
It was nearly empty. Was it all a dream? A hallucination? Nick lurched to his feet, drunk and
depressed.
“Fine. I know when I’m not wanted,” he hoped Mike wouldn’t notice the slur in his voice. He
replied off-handedly, “Really? That’s news to me,” Michael took the half-empty glass from him and
set it on the table. He patted him on the shoulder half-heartedly, “I called you a car. Thanks for
coming, Nick.”
Later, at Nick’s deserted office building, Nick rummaged through Michael’s workstation,
trying to find his weekly reports. He muttered to himself, “Where are they? God, Mike, you’re
useless. I gotta print ‘em out all over again, now,”
Still slightly drunk, he stumbled into his office and turned on the light, only to turn it straight
back off again after the brightness made his eyes hurt. In the dark, he sat at his desk, pulled up the
documents, and hit ‘print’. He sat at his desk and watched the printer.
“Come on. Stupid printer. It’s just black text, why are you taking so long?” He berated his
printer as if that would make it print faster (you never know).
“I’m gonna be here for eighty-five years…” Nick closed his eyes as a wave of exhaustion
washed over him, “Eighty-five years…”
In a drunken stupor and an incredibly comfortable chair, Nick couldn’t seem to keep his eyes
open. He drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep…

He was ripped back to waking-life by his phone’s angrily blaring alarm. He blinked,
completely disoriented by his surroundings. It was his office. But in his state, he failed to notice the
hanging cobwebs or the thick layers of dust coating it. The previous night returned to him, piece by
piece. Right, he fell asleep. Shoot, it’s Monday, he thought to himself, Stupid Monday meetings.
He lumbered to the door, his head feeling heavy, and turned the latch, but found… It won’t
open.
“What the hell?” his voice was dry and raspy, as if he hadn’t spoken for days. He jiggled the
knob on the door to no avail.
“Damn door…” he kicked it with all his strength. Nothing. He backed up, took a run at it, and
slammed into it with his shoulder. Nothing. He tried again. CRACK. It flew open.
Outside his office, dozens of employees looked up from their holo-pads and stared at Nick,
faces full of puzzlement. He shrugged.
“Sorry, it sticks all the time,” all at once, the employees turned back to their work. Nick
closed the door softly, trying not to make a sound. As he did, he noticed the jagged nails jutting from
its side. That’s why it wouldn’t open. Some practical joker must’ve nailed his door shut. Ryan, he
figured. He shuffled down the hall, rubbing his temples.
“Jesus. My head. Ugh…” he murmured to himself as he walked.
He made a quick pit stop at the breakroom to chug a bucket of water and say ‘hi’ to his
buddy, Michael. But the breakroom looked… Different. The walls were made of frosted glass,
covered with digital displays. And just Nick’s luck, someone’s removed the water cooler. Worst of
all? There was no sign of his best friend, Mike. Where the hell was he? Oh, right. The honeymoon.
As per usual, Nick crept into the Monday morning meeting around twenty minutes late. He
fell into a free seat in the back and tried to look like he cared about whatever his company does. A
scientist stood at the front of the boardroom, giving a presentation. Behind her was a huge
holographic display, showing a metallic humanoid skeleton.
“This synthetic life-form will completely eliminate the need for a human workforce. It will be
compliant, efficient, and given our database of genetic material to choose from aesthetically pleasing

4
as well,” the scientist waved her hand. On the holographic display, skin wraps around the robotic
frame. It was now an exact double of Lola Martinez.
“Oh my God. You guys are making a robot that looks like Mike’s wife? You guys are crazy,”
everyone stared blankly at Nick. The scientist cleared her throat, unamused.
“Well, it’s an android, not a robot. Who is Mike? Is there a Mike in here?”
“You don’t know Michael Taylor? He is carrying this entire division on his back, science girl,”
Nick never passed up an opportunity to talk up his best friend.
“Okay, that’s enough. Who even are you? What department are you from?”
“Tech support,” Nick replied, slightly confused. A man spoke from across him.
“No. I run the technical department, and I’ve never seen this guy before in my life,” the
scientist moved closer to Nick, “How’d you get into the building? Scan his implant,” she said to the
apparent head of tech. Without so much as a warning, two workers grabbed Nick and slammed him
against the conference table.
“Hey! Careful, guys! I’m hungover as hell! You’re gonna make me throw up!” Nick choked
out as one of them took out a small device and touched it to the back of Nick’s neck. It made a long
beeping sound, and they stared at it, dumbfounded.
“Huh,” one of them said.
“What is it?” the scientist asked.
“Must be a malfunction. It’s saying this man has no implant,”
“That’s impossible. Call security,” the workers pulled him off the table into an upright
position.
“Hey, don’t rough-house me! I’m serious about throwing up!” the scientist took out another
machine, jabbed it into Nick’s back, and ZAP. A surge of electricity knocked him unconscious.
Some time later, miles beneath the Earth’s surface, deep in the bowel of the Sector 19
Headquarters, an urgent code-black data transmission slid across a holo-screen. Something like
surprise glinted in the robotic eye of an enormous cyborg. Not surprise, exactly. After all, he knew
this day would come. The question was always, ‘when?’. The man-machine looked down to his steel
hand. A compartment in it’s palm opened to reveal… the locket. For this first time in years, his
reconstructed heart stirred with human emotion. The long wait was finally over.
Back in the tech department, Nick sat in a sterile, white, holding room. Behind a two-way
mirror, scientists scurried about, studying read-outs and poring over reams of genetic data. The
doors behind them slid open, and the room went silent. CLANK. CLANK. CLANK. Metal footsteps
echoed. A steel hand clenched into a fist. A robotic eye glowed red. The lead scientist gulped.
“Executive Knox,” he said, nervously. The chrome-plated giant stepped towards the two-way
mirror. The scientist followed, explaining.
“We’ve performed a complete genetic analysis. Cross-referenced it with the company
database. This is going to sound unbelievable, but this man is… Nicholas Kaliszeski. An employee that
vanished without a trace eighty-five years ago,” he took a breath, and when Knox didn’t speak, he
continued, “Now, here’s where it gets very interesting. In 2023, this man’s office was located directly
above Laboratory C-8, where this company was conducting an experiment in time manipulation,”
“A successful experiment, it would seem,” Knox spoke quietly, in a guttural, deep voice.
“We’re still performing some tests, right now, it’s safest to keep this man in isolation. For all
we know, he could be completely radioactive—”
“Your tests are over, Doctor,” Knox spoke declaratively, “I’ve waited long enough. It’s time I
had a word with Mr. Kaliszeski.”
In his containment chamber, Nick reached for a pitcher of brown liquid on the table and
poured himself a cup. He took a sip, then immediately spat it out.

5
 “Plugh. This coffee tastes disgusting,” he said to a nearby guard. He looked at him, puzzled,
“What’s coffee?”
Before Nick could reply, the door opened, and Executive Knox stomped inside. The guard
bowed nervously and hurried from the room.
“Are the accommodations to your liking, Mr. Kaliszeski?” Nick stared at the mechanical
monstrosity, unimpressed, “What are you supposed to be?”
“I am executive Anthony Knox, Manager in Chief of Sector 19. I oversee the operations of all
of these facilities in the Western Hemisphere. I ensure production remains on schedule and enforce
disciplinary measures. Here, I am judge, jury, and at times, to my great satisfaction, executioner,”
“Okay, pal,” Nick said defiantly, “It’s not illegal to be hungover at work. And I haven’t read
the constitution in while, but I’m pretty sure it’s the right of every American citizen to drink before
work. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, and all that,” amused, Knox let out a small laugh,
“Liberty. I haven’t heard that word since the Great Crash, and the subsequent Buyout. You don’t
understand, Mr. Kaliszeski. There are no nations any longer. Only corporations,” there was a
moment of silence in which Knox scrutinised Nick carefully, before… “Are you aware of what year it
is, Mr. Kaliszeski?”
“Uh… 2022. No. 2023,” Nick thought about it, proudly correcting himself.
“You’re mistaken, I’m afraid. The year is 2108. Eighty-five years from the time you call home.
Here, you are a homeless man, Mr. Kaliszeski. You are the property of Sector 19. That means, you
belong to me,” suddenly, with a roar of rage, Knox reached across the table, clamped his metal hand
around Nick’s throat, and lifted him into the air.
“A hundred years is a long time to wait for you… Bastard,” Nick was starting to get the
feeling that maybe he might be in trouble.
“Please don’t hurt me,” he pleaded. This was worse than that one time he had a dream
about a green goat.
“You don’t remember me, do you, Bastard? Perhaps that means it hasn’t happened yet… for
you. Perhaps there’s still time to prevent it,”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Nick was starting to have trouble breathing.
“Do you know what you are, Bastard? You are the key,” as suddenly as he lifted him, Knox
dropped Nick, and he hit his head on the table. Rubbing it gingerly, Nick looked up as Knox began
stalking around the room, with a CLANK. CLANK. CLANK.
“Eighty-five years ago, we sought to unlock the power of Templactis. The Bastard of Time
and Space. The Weaver of Impossibilities. A Lord of Darkness. To control the power of Templactis is
to control time and space itself. They thought the experiment a failure, but somehow you have been
touched by Templactis. Perhaps the temporal rift opened in your office,” Knox paused as he walked
back over to Nick, “You have been aborted from the flow of time. You have become the Time
Bastard. And somewhere in your genetic code is the secret to your power,” Knox held up his robotic
hand. Nick watched as its fingers split apart to reveal a hellish assortment of surgical scalpels, razor-
sharp blades, and whirling drills.
“I will unravel that secret as I dismantle your DNA, strand by strand. You will suffer, as I have
suffered,” Nick froze as hate bubbled behind Knox’s eye, “Now you shall remember me… Bastard,”
as Knox edged closer, Nick sprang into action. He grabbed a chair and hurled it at Knox. The chair’s
legs knocked loose a tube from his re-breather. Oxygen spewed from the wriggling piping as the
cyborg fell to his knees, gasping. From the door, three guards rushed inside. Nick grabbed the
container of piping hot brown liquid he mistook for coffee. He splashed the first guard in the face
with it, smashed the pitcher over another’s head, and punched the last one in the face. He bolted
out the door. A guard raced to Knox and reconnected the loose tube. As he caught his breath, Knox
spoke, “He’s a wily one…” suddenly alert, he said, “Sound the alarm. Stop that bastard!” another

6
guard hit a red button outside the door, and it immediately began blaring ‘INTRUDER ALERT.
INTRUDER ALERT.’
Nick raced through the halls as they flashed red around him, running for his life. As he ran
back into the office he first entered, he glimpsed the employees open their desks and reach for their
laser pistols, plasma rifles, and disintegrators. As they caught sight of him, one shouted, “There he
is!” they open fired.
Nick dove behind the nearest cubicle and rolled under a (thankfully empty) desk. All around
laser blasts flew through the air. Nick stayed low, crawling from one desk to the next. During the
shoot-out, the horde of murderous workers lost track of Nick. They scattered in every direction,
searching. Amidst the chaos, Nick leapt from his hiding spot and slammed directly into the guard he
punched in the face.
The guard grinned and removed a device from his pocket. It was a flat rectangle with a big,
red, button on top. He pointed it at Nick.
“Prepare to be disintegrated, Kaliszeski,” he said. But before he could press the button, a
metal hand grabbed him by the back of the neck and hurled him across the room.
“No, you fool! His genes must remain intact!” Knox shouted over the commotion. The device
went flying from the guard’s hand. Knox rounded on Nick. He stomped towards him. As he did, his
robotic arm transformed into a mass of spinning blades. Nick fell backwards, screaming in terror.
Knox was ten feet away and closing in, blade arm extended, ready to rip Nick to shreds.
There was no hope… unless. Nick’s fingertips brushed against the device the guard dropped. He
pointed it at Knox and slammed the big, red, button. A glowing dot appeared on Knox’s chest. It
looked like a cigarette burn. It smoked slightly. That’s all? Just when Nick was thinking that he picked
up the most stupid weapon ever invented, Knox stopped dead in his tracks and howled in pain.
The cyborg convulsed uncontrollably. Nick watched his metal feet turn to ash. The
disintegration was not instantaneous, but once it started, it couldn’t be stopped. The process began
at the bottom and worked its way up the body. Knox could only watch, screaming as his legs
crumbled apart. Then his stomach. Then his chest. The last thing he saw before his head collapsed in
on itself, was the face of that bastard. All that was left of Knox was a foot-high pile of dust. Nick
wiped sweat from his brow. He laughed, kissed the disintegrator, and shoved it into his shirt pocket.
Then the elevator dinged. Before it could open, Nick raced back into his office, slamming the door
behind him. From inside, he heard two employees step off the elevator.
“Where’d he go?” one of them asked. Nick listened in terror as their footsteps got closer and
closer. The two employees were right outside his office.
“Let’s check in here,” the other one replied. The door latch started to turn, until…
“No way. That place’s been locked for years. No way he got in there. Let’s check the break
room,” Nick sighed in relief as he heard the two wander off. But he wasn’t out of the woods yet. He
paced his office frantically, trying to piece it all together.
“Okay, okay…” he said to himself quietly, “There’s a temporal rift in my office,” he
considered this for a second. So, his office was a time machine? Okay. How but how does he get
back to his own time? Think. Think. What’d I do last time?
He was sitting… in his chair. Nick sat down uncertainly. He was printing! It took forever,
“Eighty-five years…” he muttered, before bolting upright in his seat. Was that it? Was that all he had
to do? Focus on a time and he’ll go there? He immediately got comfortable in his chair and closed his
eyes.
“Okay. 2023. 2023. Back to my life…” Nick said to himself. Back to his wonderful… Lonely…
Miserable life. Nick sat, contemplating. Then all of a sudden, it all clicked into place.
If Nick was dealing with some tricky-dicky time-travel stuff, then he was also looking at the
possibility of different timelines. And that meant his vision at the wedding wasn’t a dream. He was

7
with Mallory last night. Only in a timeline where he didn’t screw everything up! A timeline where
they got married. He could fix it. He could fix things with Mallory. Then it would actually be his
wedding.
Nick leaned back in his chair again and closed his eyes.
“Okay. Gotta get this right. May 11th, 2006… May 11th, 2006…” he said to himself as he let his
exhaustion wash over him. In no time at all, he was fast asleep.

“Excuse me,” at the sound of a voice, Nick’s eyes fluttered open. He groggily sat up in his
chair to be met with the eyes of a confused-looking man in a dress shirt and tie.
“What are you doing in my office?” Nick suddenly stood up, alert, “What day is it?”
“May 11th…”
“What year?”
“2006?” Nick looked around at his office… Only it wasn’t his office anymore. Framed
newspaper clipping hung on the wall. Nick pushed past the man and out of the office. The building
was bustling with people frantically typing, yelling back and forth. Nick turned to see huge letters
hanging on the back wall: “The Icarfield Gazette”. He remembered now, his company wasn’t even
here in 2006. The building was home to the old newspaper. Which meant… He’d done it.
“It worked… it worked! I am the Time Bastard!” Nick shouted triumphantly, ignoring stares
from the people around him.
Elsewhere, in a tiny, studio apartment, a shy, sensitive college boy named Nicky poured
himself another drink. He looked in the mirror, trying to build up the nerve to finally do it.
“Man. I should go over there. I should tell her everything,” he said to himself in the mirror,
“Don’t be a baby, Kaliszeski. You can do this,” Nicky looked at the drink in his hand, then asked his
reflection…
“Am I too drunk, or not drunk enough? What do you think, pal?” Nicky watched as another
image of himself stepped into view. This older Nick answered…
“I think I’m not gonna let you screw this up,” Nicky blinked at his double, stupidly and slowly,
“Woah, I am way too drunk…” he laughed to himself vaguely. The older Nick grabbed his younger
self and held an ether-soaked cloth to his mouth. The college boy’s eyes went wide, then rolled back.
Later, a few blocks from Mallory’s apartment, a young man named Anthony strolled down
the sidewalk with a spring in his step. He’d been seeing Mallory on and off for a while now, but he
was ready to take things to the next level. In one hand, he held a bouquet of roses, in the other was
a black box.
“Oh, Mallory. Saltingdale will be our oyster. Oh boy, oh boy. I am excited…” he spoke in a
sing-song voice to himself as he cheerily walked down the sidewalk. Then, Anthony heard a voice
from behind him.
“Hey,” Nick said. Anthony turned around just as Nick smacked him across the face with a
crowbar. Anthony fell to the ground, jaw broken, left eye filled with blood. Nick crouched and ripped
the flowers from his hand.
“These flowers for Mallory? How cute,” he tossed the bouquet into the gutter, “You’re not
taking her to Saltingdale this time, pal. What’s this?” he pried the small, black box from Anthony’s
grip. He opened it. Inside was a silver locket. Nick laughed, maliciously.
“A necklace? How pretty,” he tossed that too, and it landed on the sidewalk in front of him.
He leaned down, right over Anthony’s face.
“You stay away from her. Mallory and I are gonna be happy. I know. I’ve seen it. ‘Cause I’m
from the future, dude. Look at me, I want you to remember my face. I’m the Time Bastard,” he stood
and left the boy there, bleeding on the pavement. Anthony watched Nick go, not knowing his name
but swearing vengeance in his mind and wheezing…

8
 “Bastard…” he choked out.
A few streets over, Mallory was penning the hardest letter she’d ever have to write… “Nicky.
Anthony’s asked me to move in with him. I’ve said yes. Not because I wanna go to Saltingdale. Screw
Saltingdale. It’s just… Seeing you every day. Knowing you don’t love me back. It’s… Too painful. I’ll
probably never see you again, but I want you to know that you were the best friend I ever had. I love
you, Nicky. Always and forever. Mallory,” she wiped tears from her eyes and sealed the letter. She
threw on her coat and walked to the nearest mailbox. She turned the envelope over in her hands.
She wished she didn’t need to go. She wished Nicky were here with her right now. But he wasn’t. she
opened the latch on the mailbox and dropped the letter inside. As he did…
“Mallory! Mallory!”
“Nicky?” Nick came running down the street. When he reached her, he leaned on the
mailbox, catching his breath. Completely winded, he spoke, “Hey, babe,”
“Hey yourself… babe?” Mallory raised an eyebrow, confused. Trying to brush it off, she
continued, “Listen, Nicky. I just sent you a letter, but it’s cowardly. Maybe I should just tell you how I
feel…” Nick put a finger to her lips, “You don’t have to say anything,” Mallory stepped back from
him, a little rattled, “What? Nick, you’re acting… Different. Why are you talking like that?”
“Because that’s who I am. This is what I became. For you. You chose the pushy guy, so I
became the pushy guy. That’s what you want, right?”
“No! I don’t know what’s happening right now, but you’re not acting like the guy I’m in love
with!” Mallory gasped, a blush forming on her face. She was so shaken, she actually let it slip.
“Uh… Sorry. We’re both acting weird right now. I’m gonna go…”
“No! I lost you once. I’m never gonna let you go again,” Nick said. Mallory made to leave, but
Nick grabbed her by the wrist.
“Please, Nick…” she said. She managed to push free, and she pushed him away. Her hand
bumped something in his shirt pocket.
There was a small click. A flash. And Mallory’s eyes went wide. She let out a small whimper.
Nick looked down to see a glowing dot on Mallory’s chest. Like a cigarette burn. It was smoking.
There was a hole in his shirt pocket, from where the beam burned through. He forgot it was in there.
The disintegrator. Mallory must’ve hit it. And it hit her. He took the device from his pocket and
smashed it on the ground. Mallory looked at him, terror in her eyes.
“Nicky…” the only girl Nick’s ever loved fell into his arms, as she started to disintegrate.
“Nicky, it hurts…” the process began at her feet. They turned to dust. Then her legs. And her
waist. Tears streamed from her eyes.
“I’m scared, Nicky…” Mallory whispered, and all Nick could say was “No, no, no…” over and
over again, like a broken record. As her head crumbled in on itself, the love of Nick Kaliszeski’s life
was nothing more than a pile of ash on the pavement. Nick stood up, pulling himself together.
It’s okay. I can fix this, he thought, I have a time machine. This is fine. I meant to do that. I’m
the Time Bastard. I can fix anything.
Thirty minutes later, Nick burst through the back door of the Icarfield Gazette building. He
rushed up to his office… well, what will one day be his office. He sat behind the desk and closed his
eyes.
“Take two,” he said to himself, “I just gotta go back… Four hours. I’ll meet myself here, knock
myself out. And stop myself from messing it up with Mallory,” this was easy. Nick was good at this.
“Four hours ago…” he repeated as he forced his heartbeat to slow, and with some effort, he
slept…
“Excuse me,” Nick was awoken by a familiar voice. Again, the confused-looking man stood in
the doorway. Good, it worked.
“What are you doing in my office? Again?”

9
 “Wait… Again?” outside, the morning sun shone over Icarfield, on May 12th, 2006. The man
turned to a colleague passing by…
“John. That guy’s back in my office. Can we get security up here?”
“No. no, no, no…” Nick said, starting to get hysterical, “I did everything right. I sat at the
desk. I concentrated on the time. Why didn’t it work? It should be four hours ago! My office is
supposed to be a time machine!”
“Not yet, Nicky-Knock,” a chill ran down Nick’s spine as he sharply looked up. The
concerned-looking man is gone. The goat-costumed thing, the Lord of Darkness named Templactis,
now stood in the doorway. It laughed witlessly.
“Not yet? What do you mean, ‘Not yet’?”
“Use that pea-sized brain, Nick. The experiment happens in 2023, Einstein! That’s not for
another fifteen years!” realisation slowly spread across Nick’s features.
“I went back too far. My office isn’t a time machine yet!”
“It was a one-way ticket, Time Bastard!” it laughed again, the sound splitting Nick’s ears.
“No! NO! I can’t be stuck here! In 2006! I hated 2006! Oh God! I can’t be stuck in here…”
Templactis held up the green cube from before. The one Nick had unwrapped at the wedding. The
Bastard’s Box.
“It’s Tempy’s little toy box. Can’t you hear yourself in there? Screaming. And screaming. And
screaming…” it cackled again. Nick can hear himself. He can hear the screams of all those who had
been born, and lived, and died, and yet had also never existed at all. The cries of the infinite and the
impossible spill forth from The Bastard’s Box as it slowly creaks open. Nick gazes inside and his mind
is shattered. All he can do is scream.
No one else at the Icarfield Gazette sees Templactis. All they know is that a strange man,
who broke into the building two days in a row, started having some kind of fit. A security guard
escorts Nick from the building.
He stands outside, shivering. After his peek into the box, his mind will never be the same.
He’s broken. Shattered. He speaks with a thick, awkward voice.
“Don’t leave me out here. It’s cold out here. So cold…”
Seventeen years pass. Nick has caught back up to the year 2023. Unfortunately, he has never
found a home. In fact, the now fifty-year-old Nick is simply known around town as ‘The Homeless
Man’. He spends his days begging for change in the streets.
“Spare change for the homeless?” a couple walks by, hand in hand. They avoid eye contact
and try to rush past.
“Sorry, we don’t have anything…” the man says.
“Michael?” it is. It’s Michael. They were best friends once. And Nick recognises the woman
Mike’s with as well… That’s the robot they were gonna make. I gotta warn him. I gotta warn Mike!
Days later, at Michael and the imposter-Lola’s wedding, homeless Nick bursts through the
doors yelling…
“Liar!” he shouts, pointing at Lola as she reads her wedding vows.
“What?” she says, fear in her eyes.
“I said, you are a liar! You think I don’t know? You think I don’t remember? I’ve seen the
plan! You aren’t Lola Martinez!” as Nick continues shouting, Lola’s brother-in-law takes his arm.
“Alright, pal. That’s enough,” as he is dragged from the church, Nick tries to break free,
shouting, “Get off me! Where are you taking me? That’s not Lola Martinez! That’s not Lola!” as he
tries to hold onto the door, a younger Nick watches, having snuck in the back, “What a loser,” he
mutters to Ryan.
A week later, Nick sits isolated in an alley, sipping from a bottle of whiskey. Then, in a flash
of green light, he’s no longer alone.

10
 “Huh? What are you doing here? I told you I don’t wanna see you anymore!” he says to
Templactis, who stares down at him, a deranged smile on its face.
“Tick-tock, Nicky-Knock. You’re time’s almost up. You’ll be in the Bastard’s Box real soon!” it
gleefully grins, as Nick covers his eyes with his hands.
“No! no! You’re not here!” he shouts over Templactis’ laughs, getting louder and louder until
it was all he could hear, and Nick is sure it’s all he will ever hear, until suddenly… silence. Ears
ringing, Nick slowly removes his hands from his eyes. Templactis is gone. Instead, two figures stand
over him. It’s Not-Lola and Michael, knives in their hands.
“Hey. You almost ruined our wedding. Bastard,” Not Lola says. Stab. Stab. Stab. Life leaves
Nick’s body. But don’t be too sad. He still lives on. In a way. After his physical death, Nick Kaliszeski
finds himself trapped in the twisting, impossible maze that is the Bastard’s Box. For him, his
ephialtes has only just begun.

11