Chapter 1

Xan woke slow and steady from his afternoon nap in the middle of the pool. He had no memory of climbing onto the yellow inflatable lounge, nor of releasing it from its long slumber in the shed, where it had gathered dust since he'd bought it as a housewarming gift for himself three years ago.

Nonetheless he felt content. He had a slight hard-on, and he'd aced his fourth-level warlock exams, and his yard's translucent protective sphere filtered just the perfect degree of sun to the pool. He'd sprung for the extra UV protection. Worth every penny.

Then he remembered the internet was still down and his zen dissipated.

He swiped his hand through the water until he'd gotten close enough to push himself onto dry land. He wrapped himself in a fluffy white towel and puttered through the open sliding-glass door.

"Oh, fuck." 

He'd left the place a mess. Books and food wrappers dotted the shag carpet, and two of his three laptops sat on the table at odd angles, each running what looked like a complex coding sequence.

The disarray didn't bother him nearly as much as having no memory of making it. Sure, he'd been pretty heavy on the coke lately — or had that been last month?

Maybe one of his many enemies had snuck a virus into the latest software update. The lines of code...no, those were status quo audits, nothing to worry about. He double-checked to confirm.

Coffee. A fresh pot would jog his memory. Then he could get back to work.

He weighed out the beans — another gift to himself, this time for passing his exams — and plugged in the old-style drip machine. He'd bought the 2022 edition from eBay last year after a coworker had mentioned it being the most reliable thing in his miserable existence.

His hand caught on something crinkled and dry atop the glass pot. A plain yellow sticky note. Odd; he hadn't used paper in years.

CALL JEM, the note read.

He turned it over. No other info, just the all-caps directive to call his boss. His handwriting, for sure, though he couldn't remember why he'd written it.

He spooned in the ground coffee and poured cold filtered water from the fridge and pulled out his phone.

A little popup said WiFi connection timed out. "Fuck," he said. The fucking internet. Two days now with no internet. Wait, make that three — it went out Sunday, and his phone said Wednesday — what had happened to Tuesday?

He pulled up Jem's contact. He'd have to call on the landline. Thank god he'd installed it as a backup.

"Jem speaking."

"Internet's still down."

"Oh my god. Xan? What the fuck's going on over there? You're late on your assignment."

"Have they confirmed if it's the whole world yet?"

"Are you fucking with me right now?"

Xan plopped down on the plush sofa. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, god. You did it again, didn't you? Jesus."

A delightful waft of coffee made Xan's mouth water. "Uh, I don't think I did it even once, never mind again—"

"Did you time-travel again?" Jem was barely keeping his cool. "Oh, god, not again."

Xan chuckled. "What a silly thing to say."

"Listen to me. You know how the internet is down right now?"

"Yeah, super annoying, you never answered if we'd figured out how far the problem goes—"

"You went back in time to fix it. You've gone back multiple times now. Like, at least four times now."

"That's—that doesn't sound true," Xan said. "First of all, I think I'd remember if I was time traveling left and right."

Jem's breath was heavy on the other end of the line. "Except that the human brain can't handle time travel, so every time you come back you forget all about it. Sound familiar yet?"

"I don't think I'd be that stupid. Everyone knows time travel is forbidden."

"Did you just wake up in the pool?"

Xan froze. "Yes..."

"I know. We've had this conversation before. A few times now."

"Why would I do that? That doesn't sound like me."

"God. Fuck. You told me you needed to, that you didn't have a choice. But you didn't say why. That was yesterday."

Xan's stomach dropped. "Wait, how did you know I'd wake up in the pool?" 

"Being separated from land is the easiest way to detach yourself from time. Jesus, I shouldn't even be telling you that."

"But you told me the first time? Why am I supposed to call you?"

"I think that's an old note," Jem said. "We don't have time for this right now, we need all hands on deck on this internet issue."

"Yeah, that's really bad, I mean how are people supposed to get food or like talk to doctors or anything without the internet? Is it—"

"Yes, the whole world, three days now, everything's fucked and everyone's all over the place in figuring it out. Turns out communication's a lot harder when your whole infrastructure's gone kaput."

The coffee pot bleeped three long bleeps. Xan grinned and padded his way to the kitchen. "Lucky for us we're warlocks, then."

"Right now we're trying a three-pronged approach." Jem was gruff, annoyed. "The Alpha team's making moves in the Ether right now that seem to be helping, but the structure is just so complicated, even figuring out how to map it seems futile..."

Jem continued his explanation. Xan had stopped listening. Reaching for his favorite novelty mug, he'd found another sticky note on the cabinet door, this one orange. When had he come into so many sticky notes?

DON'T TRUST JEM. Again in his own handwriting. A bit less neat this time.

Xan's head spun. "What the fuck?" he mumbled.

Jem fell silent. "I know, it's a lot to take in, but we've gotta get moving. The world is depending on us," he said.

The kitchen air turned to molasses. Xan poured himself a cup of hot java in slow motion. 

"Can I call you right back?" He stuck the sticky note back on the cabinet door. "I need to do something real quick."