Journal of a Time Traveler

By Charlie Vish

A blog written by a self-proclaimed Time Travel Agent can't possibly be real... can it?

Hiding the secret to building a time machine in a clickbait article... genius? O

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charlie Vish
• Release date: Nov 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781087989303

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Journal of a Time Traveler

Copyright © Charlie Vish, 2021

All rights reserved.

Cover & Interior Design:: Jennie Lyne Hiott @ bookcoverit.com

Copyright inspires creativity, encourages the sharing of voices, and creates a vibrant civilization. Thank you for purchasing an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form, electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously and should not be construed as real. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Chapter One

T

his story is the story of a loner, a loner, who was a bit gullible. Gullible as a way of putting it nicely. If I’m being honest, he was flat out naïve. Synonyms for sure, but naïve is slightly worse as it implies a lack of wisdom. And this person was indeed someone who was easily tricked, overly trusting, and lacked acumen. The loner in question’s name is Joshua Miller. His mother chose the name Joshua because it was the fourth most popular name for boys the year he was born. His name and its popularity have nothing to do with the story; it’s just an insight into the type of people who raised him, giving you some insight into Josh’s personality. He was an average-looking man, and like most Americans his age, he was slightly overweight; due mostly to a diet that consisted almost entirely of McDonald’s, Hungry Howie’s Pizza, and Slurpee’s from Seven-Eleven.

Most of his evenings were spent either mindlessly scrolling through social media news feeds (mostly taking tests to discover which famous comic book character he was) or trying to watch entire seasons of television shows on Netflix or Hulu in one sitting. Occasionally, he would mix it up and watch a DVD of something he’d seen a thousand times before, or even a VHS tape, if he was feeling nostalgic. For the most part, his days were a repeated blur of wasted time and youth. Much of his wasted time was spent in a fluorescent tomb that was the retail store in which he worked. Much of Josh’s time there was spent trying to convince people to buy products and services that they didn’t really need. He really wanted them to buy as his job depended on it. Josh was a customer service representative for a large corporation; that was a subsidiary of a parent company, operated by a conglomerate, which belonged to a guy who lived in Sandusky, Ohio. A rich prick who had neither ever stepped foot into one of his stores, nor knew anything about how they operated.

Josh often thought that the business of owning companies that merely purchase other companies would be an excellent business to get into himself. You would not have to make products, just become the CEO of a company that does. And what better way to further the idea of American Corporatism could there be? Plus, you’d have the added benefit of never having to work yourself. If you needed something done you could simply hire people in and pay them just enough to not starve to death, all while making outlandish promises of upward mobility. Whatever that means. It must be a very lucrative business. Perhaps one day I could get in on that action, Josh naively thought.

The days working in the store were long, and the majority of Josh’s time was spent helping people try to understand the complex reasoning as to why their cell phone bills were so high. Then, he would have to try and explain the new elaborate plans that somehow would make the customer’s lives simpler. More often than not, people would meet him with blank stares after he explains the new, more straightforward package. You see, you should switch from this first plan, where you had to use the formula x equals a plus b times c minus two a squared, all over b times the square root of two. Which was a bit too confusing, Josh explained to a customer while feigning amusement, Now we can switch you over to this new plan where all you have to do to calculate your monthly bill is use the formula a squared plus b squared equals c squared divided by x over y. You see, it’s much simpler. Then all you have to do is factor in the monthly cost of your phone! Plus, tax.

What made his days seem longer was his boss, Mr. Cretin. A stout and burly man, if he was able to grow a beard, he’d very much resemble a Dwarf from Tolkien Lore. Mr. Cretin on occasion tried to do so, but his face always wound up looking as though he had a terrible case of mange. Most days he would be dressed in a pastel-colored polo shirt with every button done. The shirt was kept firmly tucked into his khaki pants, which were secured with a jet-black belt. On his feet, Mr. Cretin sported the most awkward-looking wing-tipped dress shoes that were far too formal for the casual setting of a retail environment. In short, he was your typical corporate stooge — a right kiss ass.

Mr. Cretin strode through the retail store that was his domain; his chest puffed out as if he was compensating for something. Despite the entire shop being roughly the size of two studio apartments, it took him twelve minutes and eighteen seconds to walk over to the main desk. Every customer had to be spoken to, whether they wanted the attention or not. Most very clearly wanted to be left to their shopping, yet were impeded by Mr. Cretin’s awkward form of salesmanship. Hey buddy! Hey guy! You doing alright? Mr. Cretin would interrupt the customer’s train of thought.

I’m good, the customer would respond, with a clear tone of wanting to be left alone.

Well, that’s good. That’s good. Hey, can I interest you in our extended warranties? Mr. Cretin asked, oblivious to the customer.

I’m good.

That’s all right. That’s okay. You let myself or one of my sales reps know if you change your mind!

It’s a stylus that costs ten bucks

Mr. Cretin stared at the customer blankly, clearly unaware of the useless nature of an extended warranty on such an inexpensive item. The blank stare lasted for an oddly long moment until the customer slowly turned away, clearly disturbed by the interaction. With the customer’s back firmly turned to him, Mr. Cretin sauntered away, continuing on his blundering quest. Seeing that Mr. Cretin was now bumbling his way towards the main desk, Josh quickly put his phone away to make it appear as if he was doing something useful by company standards.

Traditionally, Josh actively avoided one-on-one conversations with his manager. Whenever Mr. Cretin did wrangle him into a corner, he always got right up next to Josh. Creepily, Mr. Cretin would wrap his arm around Josh’s shoulders. Josh would be yanked in closer, seemingly to make the moment even more uncomfortable. The odor from his breath wafting over, causing all in smelling distance to gag. The fowl stench of gingivitis that Mr. Cretin attempted to cover up with breath mints. Even after his boss would leave, the odor from those terrible breath mints and an unclean mouth would linger in the air. It took all of Josh’s strength to not vomit from the horrific smell as he was pulled in like a fly to a spider’s web.

Hey, guy! Hey, guy! Mr. Cretin’s wild call would sound, I want to go over some sales techniques with you. Have to drive those sales! Gotta drive those sales!

Absolutely, Josh regrettably replied.

You gotta get in there and make a little discovery! You gotta find out what kind of customer they are! Cretin excitedly droned on, the stench from his mouth engulfing the surrounding area, Because we have three types of customers. We have our mission, we have our project, and we have our inspirational customers. Moreover, you have to know which one they are. You have to know because they all have special needs! All of our customers have special needs.

Yes, Josh managed to squeak out.

Mr. Cretin swung his arm wide, presenting the store with finite space. As he did, Josh noticed that not only was Mr. Cretin not a fan of brushing his teeth, but apparently under arm deodorant as well. As the two surveyed the room, Josh received a hefty dose of the funk from Mr. Cretin’s pits.

And all of these customers are just waiting for you to sell them something. They want you to sell them something. They may act like they don’t, but they do. As they say, ‘No means yes!’

Josh pulled away from Mr. Cretin’s grasp, unable to stand anymore. He pretended to cough to hide his body, beginning to dry heave, Yes—urgh—sir, Mr. Cretin. Although, I think you may have gotten that turn of phrase wrong. I’ve gotta run to the restroom.

Hurriedly, Josh Powers walked to the back. Mr. Cretin continued in his typically oblivious manner. The man was completely unaware at how detestable those around him found him to be. Worse still, he didn’t care. He simply pushed forward in his blissful ignorance of proper social etiquette and basic hygiene.

By the end of his shift, Josh was always exhausted. After a long day of using math equations, he never thought he would use beyond tenth-grade algebra (as well as dodging Mr. Cretin as much as possible), he would go home, watch Netflix, and go to sleep. Rinse and repeat. He was not entirely alone, however. He lived with his mother, Karen, who oddly enough had the fourth most popular girl’s name from the year she was born. Unbeknownst to her, though, her name was chosen not because of its spot on the most popular name list, but because her mother was a closeted lesbian. She opted to name her daughter Karen after her lifelong crush. The fact that it was also the fourth most popular name was merely a coincidence.

They will talk here and there throughout the week. Mostly just simple pleasantries. Occasionally, they would discuss social and political issues. Usually, those conversations would not go anywhere, however. Karen did not follow any social or political issues. When it came to social issues, such as crime or poverty, she preferred to blame the upbringing of those involved, rather than the economic conditions that influenced the situation. As the conversation turned to politics, she would quickly side with whoever scared her the most about the possibility of change, no matter how slight, whomever threw around hot-button words such as socialist when describing sound policies, or whoever validated her personal religious beliefs.

We’re losing our country, Karen could often be heard squawking at the talking heads of Fox News, They’re just taking away everything! I can’t even say Merry Christmas anymore!

In order to avoid further headaches in his day, Josh would typically roll his eyes and head straight for his room. Occasionally he would engage, but that would simply result in a twenty-minute rant that made no sense, in which Karen would typically contradict herself in every other sentence. Having a nice warm pizza in his hands that he didn’t want to go cold, on this day Josh decided to keep walking. In fact, most days he’d find some excuse to keep moving, treating her like the deranged homeless person who screamed at nothing while rubbing their head in circular motions. Just keep walking and don’t make eye contact.

So, for the most part, Josh had no one to have in-depth conversations with about any of the various topics and issues that floated through his head. Like most loners, he had a difficult time fitting in anywhere. Josh always seemed to be well-liked at work or while attending college; but for the most part, no one seemed interested in palling around with him beyond the casual sense of being an acquaintance. Because of this, he mostly kept to himself. It, strangely enough, did not seem to bother Josh to be alone most of the time. While he did feel lonely from time to time, these periods were often taken care of either by spending uncomfortably large sums of money at a strip club or, when money was tight, furiously masturbating with a Fleshlight.

Chapter Two

I

t was a Thursday evening. Josh had just gotten home and was sitting down at his desk. Karen was in her usual place on the couch, fear screaming into the television as the talking head filled her mind with nonsense. Josh had managed to sneak past without detection as his mother nearly choked on her popcorn as the news announced a public initiative to help the homeless population. Josh heard the headline and knew it was a tirade that was to follow.

What? The government isn’t meant to govern! That’s tyranny! What is this, Nazi Germany? Karen howled at the television.

Quickly and silently, Josh crept up the staircase to his room. He closed the door over with the care one shows a delicate egg to ensure it doesn’t break. As soon as the door was secured shut, a weight lifted off him. The migraine