Джей Эшер - The Future of Us

I almost say: Or marrying the hottest chick in school.

“So why do you think people write all this stuff about cupcakes or whatever?” I ask.

“It’s not everyone,” Emma says. “I talk about real issues, but only because I’m not afraid to admit when life sucks.” She laughs bitterly. “And my life sucks.”

At the top of the screen, it says “Emma Nelson Jones.” Her picture is small, but I can tell it’s different from the one that was here yesterday. Emma clicks the photo and it enlarges. Now Ms. Jones is standing in front of a white stucco wall, her hands clasped by her waist. She’s wearing a yellow sweater and a gold necklace with the letter E .

Emma Nelson Jones

Last night’s lasagna heated up great, but work is

stressing me out.

2 hours ago · Like · Comment

“That’s odd,” Emma says. “Yesterday, it said I made macaroni and cheese. I wonder why it…” Emma turns to me, her eyes wide. “I bet the mac and cheese at dinner tonight turned me off to it… even in the future.”

I try to suppress a smirk. She’s taking this too far.

I look back at the monitor. “If work is stressing you out, that means you have a job. Weren’t you unemployed yesterday? This is a cause for celebration!”

“You’re right.” Emma touches her finger to the screen and scans down. “It’s all different. None of this was here yesterday.”

“I was teasing,” I say. “It’s a prank, Emma.”

“No, now you’re wrong,” she says. “If it was a prank, nothing would’ve changed between yesterday and today. But everything I did differently today sent little ripples of change into the future. Being in a bad mood this morning, because of this , changed the way I interacted with people when I got to school. And that, fifteen years down the line—”

I laugh. “Ripples of change?”

“It’s something Kellan told me.”

“You told Kellan ?”

“Of course not,” Emma says. “I just asked her about time travel from a physics perspective.”

“So something you did today kept you from losing your job in the future. It also made you cook lasagna instead of mac and cheese. Got it.” I wave my hand toward the screen. “Then maybe you’re not married to what’s-his-face anymore either.”

Emma looks at the screen and reads:

Married toJordan Jones, Jr.

“Unfortunately,” she says, “those ripples didn’t develop into a typhoon.”

“Hurricane Emma. That could do some damage.”

“I know you’re trying to pretend there’s no difference between this and the Goatman,” Emma says, “but didn’t you say you made a stupid face at Sydney Mills today?”

“So?” I ask.

Emma raises one eyebrow. “You wouldn’t have made any face at all if I hadn’t told you about your future. I wonder what damage Hurricane Joshua inflicted.”

Emma points the arrow at a group of pictures labeled “Friends.” “Now I’m at four hundred and six friends. Cool! I guess I’ve made a lot of new friends at my job.”

I crouch down beside her. “Am I in there?”

Emma smiles smugly. “I thought you weren’t a believer.”

“I’m just having fun.”

Emma moves the arrow over “Friends (406)” and clicks it. Anew page appears with more tiny pictures and names. I resist the urge to ask Emma to hurry up and find me. I don’t want to seem like I think it’s even a possibility that I’ll marry Sydney Mills. Because it’s not.

The list is organized alphabetically by first name. When she gets to the J s, she slows down. And there it is.

Josh Templeton

My heart beats faster. I don’t know what to say. In the very off-chance that this is real, I don’t know how to feel about what I’m going to see.

Emma moves the arrow over my name. “Josh, here you are,” she says dramatically, “fifteen years in the future.”

A new page slowly appears. The small picture contains a cluster of colorful balloons. At the very bottom of the photo is the face of a man with reddish hair and glasses. I don’t need to ask if that’s supposed to be me. Beside the photo, it says his birthday is April 5. He went to the University of Washington, and works somewhere called Electra Design.

Josh Templeton

The family just returned from Acapulco.

Breathtaking! I’ve posted photos on my blog.

May 15 at 4:36pm · Like · Comment

“What’s a blog?” I ask.

“No idea,” Emma says. “But I wonder why your vacation changed. It has to be more than that face you made at Sydney. Maybe it’s because you knew you were going to Waikiki, but you really wanted to go to Acapulco, so when you and Sydney began planning the vacation you made sure to change it.”

Josh Templeton

Helped my son put together a model of the solar

system today.

May 8 at 10:26pm · Like · Comment

Terry FernandezWe did that last year. Made

me feel nostalgic for Pluto. That was always my

favorite planet.

May 9 at 8:07am · Like

Josh TempletonPoor Pluto! :-(

May 9 at 9:13am · Like

I flinch. “What the hell happens to Pluto?”

Emma shrugs. “ That , I’m guessing, wasn’t our fault.”

I rock back on my sneakers. “How can you tell who my… you know… wife is?”

Emma points to the top of the screen.

Married toSydney Templeton

“But how do you know that’s supposed to be Sydney Mills?” I ask.

Emma looks straight at me. “You need to stop saying things like ‘supposed to be.’ It’s annoying.”

“Fine. How can you tell that person is Sydney Mills?”

Emma clicks on “Sydney Templeton.”

The webpage is slowly replaced by another one. This time, the photo is of a family with three kids sitting on a lawn. The oldest son has red hair. The girls look like identical twin sisters with the same brown hair as their ridiculously beautiful mom.

I back up to Emma’s papasan chair and sink into it.

“Are you still skeptical?” Emma asks.

“I’m just… I want to…” I want to be skeptical. I need to be skeptical. But this rush of impossible information is almost too much.

“Jordan Jones Junior,” Emma says. “I hate him just for that stupid name. Now I have a job, but it looks like Jordan spends everything I make. Listen… here I wrote, ‘Got my paycheck on Thursday and JJJ borrowed every last dollar to buy an iPad. Men and toys!’ I put quotes around ‘borrowed,’ so I’m guessing he’s not giving the money back.”

“What’s an iPad?” I ask.

“That’s not the point! Whatever it is, I gave my husband enough money to buy one.” She clicks around on the webpage. “We live in Florida, but he’s from Chico, California. Where’s Chico?”

“No idea,” I say. “How do you know where he’s from?”

“I clicked on his name. There’s not much here, but he seems like a real asshole.”

“You don’t even know him and you’re calling him an asshole ?”

“Some things you can just tell,” Emma says.

I feel ridiculous for even entertaining the idea that this could be real, but there’s no way that wasn’t Sydney Mills and me in that photo. They were older versions of us, but the resemblance was unreal.

“Check this out!” Emma says.

I push myself out of her chair.

“These pictures were attached to my website,” Emma says, pointing to the screen. “It looks like each one leads to more photos, kind of like albums.”

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