I flicked over the channels, trying to find a recap of that day’s Powerball selection, only to realise there was no Powerball that night. Then I tried looking for horse races, greyhound races, stock exchange index, anything I could bet on in the past. But now my eyes were so blurry and my mind couldn’t make sense of the numbers. I cursed myself for not thinking of it before now.

“Jerry, they’re doing the countdown in a minute -- ” Tasha came in, with the others behind her, “ – switch over to the live cover.”

I flicked back and then – feeling a mad surge of confidence – stood up, taking Remy’s machine in my arms. Spare minutes to midnight, feeling drunk and reckless and like I had nothing to lose, I positioned myself in the room so I could see everyone, and everyone could see me, and held Remy’s machine up in front of me.

“Everyone, please be quiet.”

They stopped chatting and turned to stare at me, somewhat impatient.

“You are about to witness something incredible.”

“Hey, Jerry,” Scott piped up from somewhere in the crowd, “just how much have you had to drink?”

I was not a usual candidate for a drunk disorderly display, and there was a ripple of concern throughout the room. I didn’t usually take centre stage like this, in fact, not at all.

“He’s not fooling around,” Remy said soberly. “Jerry, I didn’t think we were going to make this so public.”

“We need witnesses,” I said. Inside I was buzzing, barely able to contain my excitement. I was going to ensure they weren’t going to remember me as the ‘Mickey Mouse guy’, now they were going to remember me as some kind of superhero.

“Mighty fucking hell!” he said, wiping his forehead. “You want to go balls deep, fine. I’m geared up for this, too. But this won’t be like the shed thing, Jerry. This is another level. Don’t you think we should isolate the jolt zone – ”

“It’s a bit late, now, Remy. I want to just do this. Now or never.”

“Sure man,” he said with a tired shrug. “It probably shouldn’t create too much of a tangle. We’ll debrief after. Your trip, your terms.”

I switched on the machine. Oddly, it began humming, vibrating in my hands. The others were starting to get worried looks.

“Is that a generator?” said Scott, watching me blankly. “Why is it making that weird noise? It’s not going to explode is it?”

“She’s cranked right up,” crowed Remy. He could hear it humming too. “Oh baby, the Flip is going to jump the Jesus out of her. Everybody stand back, we’re looking at some deep shit.”

They began unquestioningly stepping away from me.

“This is kind of creeping me out,” said Tasha. “Is anyone else creeped out?”

“This looks like it’s going to hurt,” I heard Stuart mutter. “Hurt someone, anyway.”

“You’re not doing anything stupid, are you?” Scott said with a lopsided, half-not-believing smile.

“What are you doing, Jerry?”

It was Jennifer, her voice cutting like a knife. She sounded afraid and when she stepped forward, I saw something rare and tender in her eyes. Something in my chest caught. The rum had made me forget she was here – a brief, blissful amnesia. Now my mind reeled, and some seconds slipped away as I regained myself. If my jump was successful, would I lose this Jennifer? By changing the old Jennifer did I overwrite this one standing before me; the one who looked kind and concerned for me? Would I ever see her again? Did any of this drunken philosophizing even make any sense?

“Jerry, look at me.”

My mind teetered on the edge of spoiling the surprise, but I clamped my jaw shut and kept my eyes on the clock, watching the last few seconds tick down. Stuart leaned over and muttered something to her, and she shook her head, not looking at him. My silence worried her, and that made me feel an odd grim satisfaction.

“Don’t do it,” she tried again weakly.

“FIVE…” people on the TV were chanting. “FOUR…THREE…TWO…”

I hit the trigger. Held it down. Reality curved and split. I walked to the archway, a little unsteady on my feet. Found the straightest angle in and strode in.

“ONE…”

I yelled, my speech slurred, “See you in the pas – !”

I tripped.

The ground raced up and corkscrewed around my head.

FIZZZZZZT

Everything was dark. I could hear loud rumblings playing over my head. Was there a thunderstorm going on outside? I must have gotten knocked out, I realized. It felt like the floor was rotating around under me like a carnival ride. It slowed, and then stopped. My stomach was squeezed as if captured in a fist, and – without even opening my eyes – I rolled over and violently threw up on the ground, but at least the squeezing feeling relaxed.

“JERRY?” boomed an unrecognizable male voice. “CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

Could I hear him? Of course I could – the voice was playing over booming speakers.

“You don’t need to yell,” I grunted.

“I DON'T THINK HE CAN HEAR US,” another voice said. It had the ring of Tasha’s voice, but deeper to a distorted degree. And loud, broad, like it filled up the entire airspace over my head. Now that I thought about it, the male voice had kind of sounded like Remy, but absurdly deep and loud.

Jesus, I thought, worriedly. The time travel must have done a number on my hearing, made it painfully sensitive or something. I prayed the damage wasn’t permanent. Then it struck me what the ‘vaguely Tasha voice’ had said.

“Hey, I can hear you,” I croaked.

“IS HE AWAKE?”

“I said I can hear you!” I yelled. Christ, of course they couldn’t hear me if they kept yelling over the top of my voice.

“OH MY GOSH, DID YOU HEAR THAT? WAS THAT HIM?” The ‘Tasha’ voice again.

Now I was getting scared. My eyes fluttered open and I found myself surrounded by towering objects, crowding me in a circle, seeming to me as tall as sequoia trees. But how did I get outside? And where was everyone?

Over the treelike objects there was a bright golden light, the sun, I guessed. So it was daytime? How far back in time had I gone?

I groggily sat up, blinking.

“Scott?” I called out. “Tasha?...Remy?”

“WHAT’S THAT ON THE GROUND? – IS THAT…VOMIT?” Now it sounded like a distorted parody of Scott’s voice.

“YEAH, HE THREW UP.”

“YOU! – WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU MAKE HIM DO?”

That last accusation was in Jennifer’s voice, but again, deeper and louder than I’d ever heard.

“I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING,” came a Remy-like rumble.

I goggled up at the flat vanilla sky, taking in the huge black silhouettes encircling me, my vision clearing but my mind reeling, not wanting to accept what was gradually taking form.

“JERRY, SAY SOMETHING,” the ‘Jennifer’ voice again, “PLEASE.”

The darkness was lifting from the treelike forms, faces began to materialize, features blown up horribly like living billboard models.

“DOES HE…” a thundering male voice began nervously – Scott – “…DOES HE KNOW WHO HE IS?”

I stared dumbly at them all for a moment. The situation I was in hit me like a ton of bricks. Then an abject terror seized my chest.

“Remy,” I squealed. “What the fuck happened?”

“YOU CAN HEAR US,” he said.

I stared up at him imploringly. He was enormous – terrifyingly so, less a person and more a living mountainous landscape, a wall of unyielding skin, hair and cloth.

By comparison, I was the size of a mouse. I was momentarily stricken with the hysterical thought that if he accidentally tripped on me, he would turn me to paper. And there were five of them.

“Yes! Just don’t talk so loud.”

“TECHNICALLY, YOU KIND OF DID IT,” he said, unhelpfully, as if that was all I really cared about. “YOU WARPED SPACETIME. OR, SPACE, AT LEAST. OR SCALE.”

I stared up at him in exasperation, waving my hands futilely. “Remy, it fucked up, obviously.”

“WELL, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO WARP EVERYONE EXCEPT YOURSELF. BUT YOU’VE WARPED YOURSELF, BUT NO ONE ELSE.”

An oak tree of an arm lifted over his shoulder as he scratched his head in thought. To me, his china plate sized fingernails combing his scalp sounded like rakes scraping concrete. Invisible to him, I made out flakes of skin being disturbed from his head and flicking into the air. I cringed.

Suddenly, his eyes lit up with a realisation.

“YOU MUST HAVE GONE DIHEDRAL,” he exclaimed, surveying me with academic loftiness. “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GO ANHEDRAL. IT’S WARPED YOU ALONG THE WRONG PLANE.”

“Well, thank you for letting me borrow your instruction manual on using the thing,” I screeched back. “How the hell was I supposed to know what anhedral means!”

“WELL, YOU DID SAY YOU’D ALREADY READ ALL ABOUT IT.”

I shook my head angrily and looked back down – past all their car sized shoes and noticed the machine lying on the ground, now the size of a small apartment flat to me. That only added insult to injury; the machine that had caused this had gotten through unscathed, leaving me solely to suffer its consequences. 

Then I noticed Tasha’s shoulders – like two great mountainous ridges – trembling before a great shuddering giggle escaped her and she quickly slapped a hand the size of a bedroom floor over her mouth.

“JERRY, I’M SORRY,” her voice quaked down over me, “DON’T BE MAD, BUT YOU SOUND A LITTLE LIKE ALVIN THE CHIPMUNK.”

“Remy, you got me into this,” I cried out, “you get me out!”

“LOOK, CAN YOU WAIT?” He said, shifting on his feet, uncomfortably. Every time he did so, I heard the sole of his giant sneaker groan against the floor like an old iron door. “IT’S GOING TO TAKE TIME. I NEED TO FIGURE THIS OUT.”

“HOW LONG YOU THINK IT’LL TAKE?” said a gigantic Stuart, looking at him with trepidation.

Remy stuffed his hands in his pockets, bowing his head.

“DON’T PIN ME DOWN ON A TIMEFRAME,” he stuttered, “I DON’T EVEN KNOW IF...IF I CAN, YOU KNOW…DO IT.”

“Remy!” I squealed suddenly. “Quick – jolt back and prevent me from using the machine!”

Remy regarded me sadly. “JERRY, YOU WERE BLACKED OUT FOR LONGER THAN EIGHT MINUTES. I’M SORRY, MAN. I SHOULD HAVE JOLTED THE SECOND YOU SHRANK, BUT I WAS IN SHOCK. I WASN’T THINKING CLEARLY.”

“REMY,” Scott’s voice was higher pitched now, but still incredibly deep, from my perspective. “YOU’VE GOTTA HAVE SOME IDEA. HE CAN’T STAY LIKE THIS FOREVER.”

“I’M THINKING, MAN, I’M THINKING.”

My head swam. I leaned back on my hands, staring dumbly into space. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was at serious risk of throwing up again. Remy watched me with trepidation, like he thought I was about to blow up. To be fair, I felt like I was.

“The solution is just going to come to you while you’re goggling at me like an idiot?” I yelled up at him, my face going red.

To make matters worse, I could feel hot tears building up in my eyes, and tried to wipe them away but my hands were shaking. The night had been getting progressively worse and worse for me, but surely this took the cake. This was rock bottom. I literally could not get any lower than this. My life as I knew it was over. This was no time to care about preserving dignity – that was clearly a lost cause.

There were a couple of deep shuddering thuds, like someone had lifted up a couch and let it drop back onto the floor, twice, each time quaking me to my skeleton. There was a lengthening and deepening of shadow over me, like the sun was setting really quickly – except I now knew the glowing light above me wasn’t the sun, but the regular old ceiling light, intensified in size. I had the vague notion of a building collapsing right next to me. I turned around uneasily and found a familiar-looking pair of white wedge heels had stepped up behind me, except now they were each the size of small sedans, each seated with a lineup of red-nailed toes, like passengers, shifting in nervous restlessness.

“JERRY, CALM DOWN,” came Jennifer’s voice, now half the distance to me than before, because she was crouching over me, I knew, but had no desire to look up and get the terrifying visual.

“YOU’RE TIRED AND SICK. LET’S GET YOU OFF THE FLOOR.”

Well, if I could only flap some wings and fly – I was about to say, and the next second she had trapped my body in her enormous hand.

Same old Jennifer, phrasing her demands as statements, never asking permission.

It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, actually somewhat like having a plush mattress curl around me, firmly, but warm and her pulse beat against my chest and stomach. I should have been annoyed but I was too tired to complain. It was palpably hypnotizing, and, despite my best efforts, was making me sleepy almost immediately. And I wanted so badly to believe that if I just went to sleep, I would wake up normal again, like this was just a bad dream.

And then I was rising into the air, like I was in a glass elevator except there were no walls. My eyes bugged out at the floor zooming away down below. I was rising up past pairs of legs, torsos, and levelling with chests. Only now, with all of this space flying past me, it struck me how large my friends really were, how their bodies expanded out so far, and how comparatively tiny and weak I must seem. My weight must have felt negligible to Jennifer – possibly why she was holding me so tightly that I couldn’t move. The others watched me with silent, stunned curiosity. And to them, I thought, I must have looked like a tiny creature trapped in her hand; the fuzzy head of something like a dazzled, frightened canary or robin poking out from between her fingers. I shrunk with embarrassment in her grasp, actually wishing her hand just covered me entirely, or that I was so small that no one could see me at all.

I shut my eyes to block everything – and everyone – out. Then I found it difficult to wrench my eyelids open again, they felt so heavy. And I was so warm now, and no one really seemed to want to speak to me, only about me. My consciousness was retreating inside my skull. Conversation was swirling around me, loud and throbbing, but increasingly becoming an indistinct rumble. I caught snatches:

“…AT A LOSS HERE, GUYS…”

“…BE ABLE TO LOOK AFTER HIMSELF…”

“…I CAN’T – I HAVE TWO DOGS…”

“…IDEA HOW LONG THIS IS GOING…”

“…NO PROMISES…”

“…THE REST OF HIS LIFE…?”

Then all the words deepened to an indecipherable drone, and I fell asleep.

I seemed to recall brief moments where I woke up in darkness and blearily recognized I was lying down on a soft surface, covered in a blanket. That made me almost collapse again with relief. I must have been in bed. It was a dream. I couldn’t remember anything past the point I’d used the machine. How did I get home after that? I’d been too drunk to remember, evidently. Not good; hopefully someone arranged transport for me, and I hadn’t said anything stupid in front of Jennifer and Stuart. I recalled an incident with a giraffe lady. But maybe the whole GPR party was part of the dream, and the GPR was actually tonight.

But then, I thought, excitedly, if that was the case, how could I not be sure the machine had worked after all, and it had taken me back in time a day, into my bed the previous night? Then I could avoid the damn party altogether, stay home like I’d originally envisioned. But wouldn’t that create a paradox, seeing as I needed to attend the party to use the machine in the first place?

I was way too tired for this mindflip shit right now. And I was very warm – what was I lying on a giant hot water bottle, or something? I flipped my shirt off, and then closed my eyes again and was shortly asleep.