Cosmic Corkscrew

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Stasis felt unreal.

Dr. Scheihagen had warned me about that when I volunteered for this mission. “Remember, we don’t know what it’ll be like for you inside,” he said in his German accent. “We’ve never sent a human so far back before.”

Scheihagen himself had been the volunteer for the first few experiments, but he had only gone back in time on the scale of hours, not years. So he was little equipped to prepare me for my experience.

Even now, I can’t describe it. How does one describe the passage of imaginary time in a box of Stasis, of timelessness? I felt frozen in time, while events passed around me in a blur of color. Throughout, I worried that I might get trapped in Stasis, and never emerge into normal time again. But I had been willing to take the risk for this literary mission of the utmost importance.

Finally, after an eternity of nothing, the Chronobox and I materialized in a small, isolated alleyway. I jumped out of the Chronobox, gulped down a few breaths of air, and closed the door. The sunlight passed through the glass cubicle, rendering it almost invisible. Only once I felt safely back in normal time did I check my wrist chronometer.

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