“ No, no, no, no, no, ” İlkay holds her hands up as if she’s been accused of something, shaking her head vigorously, “ I’m too pretty to be a scientist. ” Her admission is meant to be humorous, but she finds herself wincing at just how narcissistic she sounds. It’s as if the last four hours hadn’t been filled with her own form of mourning and whining; thinking she was the only stowaway had allowed her to rain down whatever baggage she had onto the team. She’d talked and talked, complained, threw a fit with Akira, and it hadn’t been enough ? “ I was brought here too, against my will, frankly. ” Her shoulders droop at this, and she tilts her head, ushering forward the flash of colors she’d been met with when the jump had happened. İlkay looks at her counterpart, the young face and in her drunkenness, is struck by a hard wave of compassion and empathy. It was impossible to comprehend what’s happened, why them, when you’ve seen a lot of shit in your lifetime. She could not imagine how someone younger than her would react to being in the comfort of their own world and then, snatched away from it in a blurry instant.
“ Oh, you’re crying, ” the tears lining down their face make her heart twang and quickly, İlkay pats herself down for a pack of tissues she definitely does not have. Right, she recalls, not my clothes. “ I’m sorry, I’d offer you a tissue but I don’t have one on me. ” Without thinking to do so, her hand reaches up to wipe away the trail of their sadness till the scrambled logic of her mind kicks in. She can’t just touch someone without asking them first. Instead, the hand drops onto the empty space on the bench, next to their knee. “ Huh … sometimes, when I’m really sad I try to name five things, ” İlkay holds up five responsive fingers, “ five things that catch my eye, five good memories, or, five places I’d rather be. Anything, just needs to be five comforting things. ” It can’t be all that helpful, she knows what rollercoaster-of-emotions they are experiencing and understands that right now, that they’re probably trying to make sense of everything.
🌹
As odd as this stranger is, Scout has a feeling that she is not dangerous. To be fair, Scout believes in the goodness of most ( if not all ) people, so they rarely think to suspect anyone of maliciousness. Much like Scout, she is confused, probably scared, and wants to go home. Scout has nothing to fear from her. So they don’t comment on the touch, which they would have readily accepted if they were only slightly tipsy, and they don’t pull away. They just sit there and try to take in the advice. Their mother once said, “If you want the truth, you will find it with the drunks and the kids.” Whatever this woman says, she must be honest.
Only five places? Scout thinks to themselves and almost laughs. There are endless places they would rather be than here: at home; at the library; in Melanie’s dorm; in Ryan’s apartment... the list goes on. “Um, okay, uh, one, the day my parents and I drove to pick up Laika.” At the sound of her name, Laika cocks her head to the side and looks attentively at Scout. They smile and scratch her ear. “Two, moving into my university dorm.” It had been a feeling of complete freedom. Even though they love their parents, there was something special about moving out for the first time. “Three...” They sigh, deeply, but not out of frustration or indeed any other negative feeling; they feel relieved. Because with the memory of their first move, they are bolstered with a sense of I can do this, and their worries become smaller, even if they don’t disappear completely. “I think that helped already, actually. Thank you. Oh, I’m Scout, by the way.”
“Scout, hey! Hey, hey,” Their feet slip and stumble as Scout buries themself so firmly into their arms, with a force that they didn’t know Scout had, but they’re unsurprised to see it. “Hey, hey, hey…” Rambling excited words peter out, repeated until they’ve lost the sharp edge.
Comfort comes genuinely from them, though not without its tinge of awkward– if not from a relationship that’s too new to understand deeply then from the fact that Nimi has no idea where to rest their hands.“Hey, breathe, it’s okay, you’re alright. Laika’s alright. Check those off the list, yeah?” With considerable effort, rough calloused hands hover in the air for a minute too long before patting Scout’s shoulder, a disjointed juxtaposition to the warmth of their words.
Each shaking breath coming from Scout feels like a small trophy and he entertains the silence by counting the seconds between each, mentally cheering every time they shift a second further apart, or when they crisp up. Though they can only cheerlead for so long before the breaths match the ticks of the clock, driving Nimi crazy with the stillness of each moment. They’re ready to move on, to poke and prod Scout out of whatever dark corner of their mind they’ve lost themselves in.
“And I’m here, even better. Things are turning around.” Their voice takes a lighter tone, playful. “Come on, let’s get your head back on your shoulders. I can grab some tape if you’d like. Or would a super glue work better?”
🌹
The comfort of the dark does wonders. As does Nimi’s cologne, which is another sensory experience that Scout can use to tie themselves to the present. As is the awkward pat they receive on their shoulder. While the tears persist, they no longer flow as quickly, and when Nimi starts making gentle jokes, Scout laughs and pulls away.
They immediately cross their arms in front of their chest, an attempt to physically keep themselves together, as well as a subconscious sign of their insecurity. Laika is on them fast, though, throwing her paws up on their torso and sniffing them. That brings out another laugh from Scout, who takes a paw in each hand and gently shake them. “I’m okay, pretty girl,” they coo. Laika lets out a small woof and her tail wags. The sight is almost enough to make Scout cry again.
To distract themselves, they look back up at Nimi. Come to think of it, it is really strange to see them here. Not that Scout knows more about this time project thing than what they have read in the news, hence Nimi could technically be involved, but they have never gotten the vibe from Nimi that they are secretly a scientist working on a classified experiment. Especially since they always have the time to babysit.
“Thank you,” they say, a little self-conscious of how they just threw themselves into their arms. “Why are you here, though? I’m guessing you know about the future thing, since you’re here, at the meeting spot. But, like... why?”
Jin wasn’t entirely sure what kind of answer she was expecting, but for the stranger to gently rest their head on her shoulder was decidedly not it. It’s not unpleasant in the slightest for Jin, but her mind bubbles up with concerns– Jin is not a comfortable pillow. She’s all gangly limbs (she’d never quite grown into her height), bony joints, and to top it off, she’s still shaking. At least the last issue has a solution. Instinctively, Jin holds her breath, focusing solely on dropping her shoulders and maintaining a stillness. She even shifts, just a touch, to angle herself into a flatter surface. At least the fabric of the unfamiliar, futuristic jacket should add some padding.
When the stranger pulls back, Jin’s startled into a sharp exhale. Really, it was better that way. Jin wasn’t sure how much longer she could have gone without air. “No, don’t be!” Jin replies, blinking out of her surprise “I didn’t mind. Er… I mean, I don’t mind.” She offers a disarming smile. She’s finally gathered the strength to look over her new bench-mate, lingering over each feature. They’re lovely, like a nymph from a story, Jin thinks. Often, she’d run across people who were handsome or cute or otherwise well worth a double-take, but not beautiful in the same way. She was breathless all over again. With considerable effort, Jin tears her wide eyed gaze away, only to have it caught by a hoodie. Maybe Jin was giving herself a little too much credit, but there certainly had not been any hoodies in the clothing store she’d dashed through, nor was anyone wearing one on the way over. Especially not one with UCL stitched into it, paired with blue leggings. The whole thing screamed anachronism. “Oh,” Jin gasps, “Oh no.”
If there was one thing the past few hours had proved, it was that Jin had nowhere near a clear enough grasp on what was going on to be of any help. Certainly, Jin’s first attempt at explaining time travel to İlkay had probably only exacerbated her confusion. The only hope was that if this person had managed to stumble all the way to the meeting spot, they might have had some idea of what was going on. Jin just needed to find out if that was the case. “Um, are you..? Did you happen to..?” Jin tries, although how exactly she should phrase it eludes her. Subtlety was not her strong suit. Better to just come out and say it. “Time travel?”
🌹
As the young woman looks them over and is suddenly shocked, Scout’s muscles tense. For all that they know that hatred is pervasive, they had hoped that 2060 would be a kinder world. Maybe it still can be, if they go home and are able to succeed in their dreams. Maybe this is a reflection of what the world will be if they do not succeed in their dreams, because, after all, Scout is trapped here, so how could they have done anything to help the world along?
Out of all of the things, Scout expected the stranger to say, ‘time travel’ was not one of them. They blink and look over at the stranger. After a moment of letting the words sink in, their muscles relax and they let go of their breath. It’s just Quincy’s coworker, not a contemporary stranger with disappointing opinions. Despite how she’s dressed.
Scout forces themselves to smile a little, but after all of the crying and stress, they’re sure it looks artificial. “Time travel,” they agree. “Not on purpose. Obviously. I assume you’re one of the scientists?” She looks a little young for a scientist, but Quinn is part of the project, too, so it’s not impossible. Maybe she’s another ambitious student like Scout themselves, maybe she’s studying under one of the scientists or just got her degree. Maybe Scout can learn something from her.
It is while Scout is searching her face for answers that they realize they’ve met this woman before. “Wait, I know you. Charlie’s friend, right? I think I’ve got you on Facebook.”
“oh, that’s okay” quincy offered, still smiling reassuringly. as she wondered whether the raven-haired were to be from the future, the urge to ask them about what life was like in this decade grew. was public transport different? had the inequality gap decreased? did all countries still have the same name as they did in 2020?
but quincy had to soothe her own thirst for answers and shift that attention to pinpointing where it was the two had meet ( if they indeed had ). her head felt a bit light still from the jump, yet the seasickness was practically over with. at this moment, there was a certain lag to her thoughts.
the realization seemed to hit scout before it hit quincy. it took a moment, the name melanie and the word party then finally clicking. red party glasses and flashing lights came practically into view, as did scout’s face within the memory’s panorama. scout! scout? oh dear.
“oh my god!” quincy echoed, eyes widening. she wanted to smile, but couldn’t fully. not yet, not with the implications to scout’s presence in 2060. “scout! i-i’m quincy, yes,” the brunette mirrored their smile. the ‘ it’s so good to see you ’ felt different: indeed, it was good to see someone closer to her own social circle, aside from the lab technicians. but seeing scout, who had not been present in the lab, also meant that they had been pulled along with them by accident and unwillingly.
“wait, but-” she had heard it everywhere, in movie logic most frequently, that one ought not to disturb the timeline by revealing oneself too much and simultaneously implicate others in a similar fashion. thus, the words leaving her lips were uttered slowly, almost delicately so as not to unleash upon the other a tide of mind-boggling information- “that party happened in 2019, why are you here with us? and oh my god, are you okay?”
🌹
Why does it feel like Scout is a ghost haunting a Victorian mansion and Quincy is the new homeowner, who tells them they have been dead for a hundred years? Scout feels their heart launch into their throat, where it nestles itself against their epiglottis. It thuds frantically. The over-eager smile on Scout’s face stiffens.
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” they ask, even though they don’t really feel okay, because something strange is definitely going on.
That is when they decide to take a second look at their surroundings. The cafe is fairly busy and its patrons do not seem to notice the strange conversation going on in the corner. Everyone is dressed in what Scout can only describe as monochrome unity, each embodying one color and one color alone. The suits are longer than necessary, but not wider, so they’ve been specifically made to be too long, and they’re completely streamlined into mind-numbing minimalism.
Two figures stand out from the rest, and Scout feels like passing out when they recognize both. Although they’ve never seen them together before, they didn’t even know they knew each other, Scout very easily identifies them as Ibrahim Ayadi and Lamisi Boateng. Scout’s studiousness has granted them acquaintanceships with both, but Mr. Ayadi is the one they focus on.
“’With us’? With who?” they ask Quincy very quietly. “With Mr. Ayadi? Where am I?”
Staying put and waiting is the last thing Nimi wants to do right now, especially with more questions than answers after their encounter with Ilkay. They pace the room, one step after another, in some vain attempt to make their mind think that they’re actually doing something. Fingertips glide over the strange cold metals of the hallways, only to separate as they navigate around the android bellhops that seem to carry luggage through the lobby. It works in its own way, letting them file away small little tidbits of information as they explore the hotel further, trying to keep their mind away from the heavy phone in their pocket that’s still pinging with the reminder that they have to make dinner tonight, that there’s a life somehow going on without them. And everyone’s going to think they ran away..
They shake their head, away from the thoughts that aren’t going to do anything for them right now, and scan the room for something new, something to wrap themself up in. Their eyes land on a dog that looks so achingly familiar that they step forward almost immediately. “Laika?”. So here’s the thing. The mind can play tricks on you too, show you things you want to see in some attempt to comfort you or ease the anxious ball in the pit of your stomach. It can’t be. They know it can’t, which is why they stop short just three feet away from the dog, suddenly aware of how they shouldn’t be doing this, and glance over at the owner. “Sorry, she – Wait, Scout?” A dumbfounded blink folds into an excitement that bubbles through everything else they’ve experienced so far together, taking over them with a breathless laugh. “Is that you? Please tell me it is, this is insane, what in the world? ”
🌹
A familiar voice has never sounded so sweet. As soon as Scout hears it, they know Nimi is the source. To find a friend, a real friend, not just someone they met at a party once (no offense to Quincy), provides the kind of comfort Scout could not have hoped for, just a moment ago. Nevertheless, their brain still turns and twists. It continues to ramble and rant and list all of the millions of ways the trip home could fail.
“Nimi,” Scout manages through sobs as they stand. Their legs shake like flags flapping in the wind. It’s a wonder their knees don’t rattle. The world is a blur of shapeless colors. Scout quickly crosses the distance between them and throws their arms around Nimi’s neck, burying their face in their shoulder.
In a few hours, maybe even in a few minutes, Scout will regret this. They will feel like an inconvenience, a burden nobody but Scout themselves should carry. But in this moment, they anchor themselves to a stable, warm body. And this body reminds them of their own. For example, Nimi’s breathing forces Scout to think about their own. They become aware of how erratic and shallow it is.
Scout wonders if maybe this is why they should foster more friendships with people older than the student crowd -- so that they can seek comfort somewhere, when something goes wrong. But the thought is fleeting, and they quickly dismiss it. A failure to cope with their own failures is a failure all on its own. No one should have to deal with that, nor does Scout want anyone to see them as anything other than a hundred percent capable a hundred percent of the time.
This is a rare exception. Mostly because no one can anticipate being dragged off into the future. Even Scout is allowed to have a moment of weakness in that extreme of a situation.
The hotel lobby is horribly untouched, when Jin staggers in. Horribly, only because after one gets kidnapped, the entire world ought to be just as shaken as she was. Seeing a peaceful normality felt acutely invalidating. Then again, nothing short of an earthquake maxing out the Richter scale, toppling the city and grinding the hotel into dust would have moved Jin. Not until the ringing in her ears subsided, at least. Her whole consciousness was shrouded and bleary, as though someone had put translucent films between every synapse in her brain.
It seems she’s not alone in having a dreadful time, not if the sounds of hyperventilation were anything to go by. Jin turns, drifting towards the sound, only to come across… a German Shepherd? You know what, okay. This might as well happen. Today was already so goddamn weird. “Oh. I’m just gonna sit,” Jin mumbles, at first to the dog until she gathers her thoughts enough to look up at the owner. And the owner is… wow. Jin’s heart does the equivalent of the little mrrrrp a cat makes upon waking. Her brain, on the other hand, shuts off the last few operating bits, her internal monologue going dead silent.
Jin half-collapses, half-lowers herself onto the bench, shoulder brushing the stranger’s own. The proximity causes Jin to shiver, but her thoughts are still on strike, so she settles on staring into the middle distance. Was her presence reassuring? Possibly. Jin couldn’t tell. Had she started crying? Also a possibility. Misery loves company, or so they say. Regrettably, joining in on a breakdown didn’t seem like the appropriate response, so Jin presses the heels of her palms into her eyes and rubs until she sees stars, before letting them drop back down. She turned to look at the unfortunate soul beside her and… yup, they were still… wow, so Jin reconsiders and trains her gaze squarely on the canine, even as she speaks. “Is… Is there anything I can do to help?” Jin’s voice is gentle and subdued, her hands twisting restlessly in her lap.
🌹
A quiet, polite voice manages to break through the chaos, like Moses parting the sea. It is accompanied by a figure, one that quickly comes to rest next to Scout, just barely brushing against their shoulder. They don't know whether to flinch or lean into the touch, both overstimulated and undoubtedly in need of some kind of grounding sensation, so they stay completely still, in a paralysis of choice. The following, careful question is not what they need, they need reassurance that everything is okay, they need some kind of guidance, they need strength.
They need… Scout acts without thinking. It's not often they do this, let their body move without extensive approval from their brain, but it's also not often that their brain is in complete disarray and is convinced of its imminent demise. So Scout moves.
They lean against the stranger, still not even looking at her, and place their head on a coat-wrapped shoulder.
Once upon a time, their mother taught them a trick. It was during one of these attacks. It had come on while Scout was studying for the Advanced Highers. They couldn't understand the math problem and suddenly the world seemed to collapse. Maths was important for their future study. If they couldn't understand maths, how could they ever be a doctor?
That evening, their mother taught them this: list five things you see, four that you feel, three that you hear, two that you smell, and one that you taste.
I see Laika, Scout thinks. I see marble floors, I see red hair, I see a potted plant, I see a lamp. They reach out and touch Laika's ears. I feel fur against my hand, I feel a coat against my cheek, I feel the bench under my butt, I feel warmth against my side. They adjust against the shoulder. I hear the clinking of glass, I hear someone else's breathing—
Suddenly, reality has settled over them like a warm blanket, and they realize that they have cuddled up to a complete stranger, who didn't ask to be cozied up against.
Scout pulls away, ears burning with shame and guilt and embarrassment. This person is probably even a contemporary, completely unrelated to the fucked up series of events that have led Scout here, and now they've cried all over her for no good reason.
They clear their throat and wipe their cheeks. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't've done that, that's so inappropriate, I don't know what I was thinking."
By hour four, Yas already has an idea of the mess he’s gotten himself into. Well, the mess that they all got themselves into, but he still feels a pang of guilt and responsibility. He doesn’t think he’s the sole culprit anymore, maybe it wasn’t only his code that got fucked up in the process, but he still thinks he should’ve been able to avoid it.
He decides to go back to the hotel lobby, bunker down and write some more notes and thoughts that his brain is rushing through, and that when he spots someone else. Admittedly, the dog is what catches his eyes first. But then he notices the apparent panic, and the outfit that stands out for being familiar, and the shoes that aren’t completely ugly and insane-looking like the rest of what he’d seen around tonight. It’s easier than he’d think, to spot someone from their present. In hindsight, he supposes it would also be easy to spot a person from the 80s in 2020, so it makes sense.
“Hi? Hi,” he approaches carefully, his steps wide and hesitant, his movements slow like he’s approaching a scared animal. At least the dog doesn’t seem to show any aggression, although Yas doesn’t know much about dogs at all. He wants to sit on the bench so they can be levelled and he doesn’t feel so creepy by just standing there while they panic, but he also doesn’t want to invade their space. So instead, he crouches down on the sidewalk by the bench, like he’s doing some form of spiderman pose. At least he knows he achieves the unthreatening look, specially being on the dog’s eye level. Lowering his stance works when he has to calm down his nephew, so. He’s just trying to be comforting. “Are you alright? What are you feeling? Deep breaths,” he instructs, and hopes to heaven above that this isn’t some crazy dangerous reaction to time travel. “Hey, we’re going back in just another hour or so. It’s okay.”
🌹
‘What are you feeling?’ Scout feels... their skin prickling, their heart beating in their throat, their throat closing around their heart, suffocating, dying- ‘Deep breaths.’ They take in a big gulp of air and hold it for a moment, before letting it fizzle out between their lips. ‘It’s okay.’ It doesn’t feel okay, it feels like they’re going to pass out. But maybe they can’t trust themselves. Maybe they should trust this guy. He seems like he knows what he’s talking about, right? ‘Another hour or so’, that sounds like someone vaguely in charge of all of this, someone who might know for certain that everything is okay, someone who is qualified to make that statement.
A wet nose brings them closer to reality. Laika has put her face in Scout’s lap and is whimpering softly. Scout doesn’t even feel their hand move as they reach out and pat her head. The feeling of her fur grounds them further.
They look up at the stranger and are startled to realize that while this face isn’t familiar, they’re aware of one that looks an awful lot like it. “Anybody ever tell you, you look like Aisha Gamal?” The words feel removed from Scout, but they sure sound like they’ve been said by their voice, and they have to agree: this stranger looks an eerily lot like the famous actress. Maybe that’s rude to say to a man, maybe they should apologize, but they aren’t even sure they said it. Does their tongue even work?
Laika licks their hand. Her spit is slimy and wonderful and Scout feels more like themselves when they’re covered in it. They scratch her ear and try to find solace in the feeling, the softness, the warmth. And they try not to stare too much at this weird man who looks like a BAFTA regular.
——What a day. Thank god for alcohol. She hadn’t wasted a single second when they’d returned to The Savoy, her and Tasneem. It was hard enough having to manage her own burdens and endless sense of doubt, her mind completely boggled, but add on Tasneem’s bewilderment and she thought her head might explode. After four strenuous hours of going back and forth with her interpretations, İlkay knew it was time to make her way to the hotel bar. There was no one to keep her from indulging in some drinking, taking shots of the future’s new-and-improved tequila. Except, it wasn’t tequila. It sloshed a pink hue—she couldn’t resist after she’d set her eyes on its bubblegum appearance—and it was awfully-bitter in the first second, made her scrunch her face like she’d taken a bite out of a lemon, and then it soothed into something sweeter, something sugary. A bit like caramel, but not really. When she reminisced over the flavor, she realized she couldn’t describe its taste in words but in feelings instead. So, İlkay feels as if she’s walking through a carnival bursting with warm, vibrant colors and is picking at a clump of cotton candy. When she licks her lips she can almost taste the sucrose.
She drifts from the hotel bar, to the dining room ( spending a handful of minutes staring up at a chandelier that eventually, blurs into the sun ), and finally, the lobby. With hooded eyes, İlkay surveys the perimeter, trying to find Charlie or Jin cooped up in some foyer seat, but fails to spot them. Instead, she finds a young incomer curled up, wallowing in complete misery and—DOG. She crumbles at the furry creatures appearance and İlkay cups her own face in a blend of glee and disbelief. The dog’s owner doesn’t appear to be a 2060 civilian. It could be their clothes that gives it away, or more likely, the familiar look of being mystified by the mind-blowing concept of a time machine and the more-unbelievable idea of time traveling. Their sweater … she tilts her head to the side … U? C? L. UCL.
Her glee fades into a sorrowful pout when she notices the presumably-college student is hyperventilating. The drunk nears the younger, careful not to accidentally step on their dog or to trip over her own two feet and fall onto the poor thing. “ Hey, love, are you alright ? ” İlkay furrows her brow, suddenly spiked with concern for this individual. If anything, she should know more than anyone else how paralyzing the shock can be, how pointless it feels trying to make their reality make sense—but her attempt to be a comforting beacon of light falls short, thanks to her drunkenness. “ You fell here, jumped here? ” She hiccups, her hand drifting down to pet the dog’s head. She cannot tell which one of them her words are meant for. “ Well, you see, they don’t give us counseling after what we’ve been through. You’re from the past, right? Or, the present, I should say. Everything’s all so … jumbled, ” İlkay gapes at her own reflection in the dog’s button-like eyes. She sniffles, turns her attention to the moping newcomer. A new hitchhiker.
🌹
Unbelievably, the strange behavior of the woman surprises Scout enough to momentarily drag them out of their hurricane of panic. The tears that have started falling at some point or other halt on their cheeks as they take in the stranger, a beautiful woman maybe a decade older than Scout. Her behavior is very obviously influenced by alcohol (maybe even something stronger), but Scout has interacted with a lot of drunk people and this is not exactly standard behavior.
It unsettles them a little, how this woman is touching Laika like they’re good friends. Normally, Scout has no issue with people showering attention onto her, but they are in a situation that is beyond strange, and they really don’t want anyone to hurt their baby. Nevertheless, they can’t bring themselves to say something; it seems unnecessarily cruel to treat this woman like an enemy, when all she has done is be a little strange.
Laika looks back and forth between the two of them, tail wagging tentatively against the floor. Her eyes ask, Do we like her, mom? I think I like her. Do you like her?
Be nice, Scout tells themselves. Clearly, she’s been through what you’ve been through. Couldn’t you use a drink right now? Exactly. So, be nice. She’s trying to help.
“I, yeah, I’m from 2020. You traveled, too? Are you one of the scientists?” It doesn’t seem like she would be; she looks more like an accidental stowaway, like Scout.
Where: The Savoy, year 2060.
When: Time Jump 01, Hour 04.
Who: Open.
Dressed in running gear (consisting of blue leggings, a gray UCL hoodie, and black trainers) and with a dirty-pawed German shepherd by their side, Scout feels completely misplaced in the upscale hotel. The walk here has stressed out Laika, who keeps pulling at the leash in all sorts of directions, completely at a loss for where to go. To be fair, so is Scout.
They decide to sit down on a nearby bench, where they can dedicate their attention entirely to Laika. Quincy told them that their time in 2060 would run out soon, so Scout is tentatively hopeful. However, it’s not like time travel has ever been done before. What if they don’t go back? What if they go too far back? What if they land a few months off? Even just a few days would irreversibly fuck up Scout’s pre-semester planning. Weeks might cost them their entire degree.
Although their intention was to calm Laika, Scout is now the one who needs calming. As much as they have attempted to keep things together for Laika’s (and their dignity’s) sake, they can’t do it anymore. There are too many unknowns. Scout doesn’t function when there are unknowns. Unknowns ruin plans, they ruin lives, they’ll ruin their life, their life is ruined.
That’s the line of reasoning that leaves Scout in the beginning stages of a panic attack. Their breath comes in fast and leaves just as quick. The right side of their body begins to tingle, oh God, they can’t feel their arm, this is it, this is a heart attack, they’re going to die, and no one will know because they’ll die in the future, and Laika won’t know what happened, and their parents won’t know what happened, and they never got to fall in love again or grow old with someone, they never got to help enough people or leave a piece of themselves behind for others to remember them by, all they’ve left is a shitty flat and a messy calendar.
upon ‘ landing ’ in 2060, quincy’s first impulse was to pinch herself. childish as it were, the neon lights and rows of brutalist towers looming over them like mighty giants seem like sights only embedded in a dream. for the first few moments, right before her index and thumb carve a small mark on her forearm’s skin, it feels like just that. a dream.
but the louder the vehicles around them were, and the sharper the voices of the people around them became, the reality to the scene before her crystallized. they had made it. the jump had worked. great scott! was this what making history was supposed to feel like? was discovering how to command the time continuum meant to be this sweet? god, was she looking forward to meeting the team and seeing their faces.
after the meeting at the hotel, the possibilities seemed endless. quincy felt herself almost turn into a child, awestruck by the sheer realization and eager to explore this new london. but her desires, per usual, always came second to her duties. it didn’t seem too bad: she would still get to witness a bit of 2060, but she’d remain available to help. a good balance, so it seemed.
the timeless scent of coffee grounded her, and her lips instinctively curled into a smile. feeling ever so bashful for intruding lam and ibra’s business, the urge to get a cup of the place’s brew grew ( would futuristic coffee taste any different? the curiosity was eating her alive, trivial of a thought as it was ). but the train of thought halted gently as she felt something against her leg. the barking, previously faint, now reached her ears. as was her custom, quincy bent over ever so slightly, giving the pup a few friendly pats.
“it’s no problem. she seems lovely,” quincy offered, the smile on her face lingering. she approached the other, refraining from frowning too notoriously as her gaze took in their features. for someone whose job depended on remembering people’s faces and names, all quincy could get ahold of were faint traces of familiarity. still, it couldn’t be… was having jumped 40 years into the future and seeing a familiar face meant to be a red flag? “her name is… laika, you said?”
“i hope it’s not too blunt to ask, but…” curse the tendency to prioritize politeness even in times like these– “are you from around the… area?”
.
.
"I- I’m a bit lost,” Scout offers. Automatically, they reach down to scratch Laika behind the ear. Even though they are thirty percent sure they have completely lost their mind and are projecting their desparate need for familiarity onto this person, they cannot shake the feeling that they have met before. But where? Volleyball is out of the question, their team is so small that Scout knows everyone very well. The Medical Society committee is out, too, but there is a chance she’s a course mate, since their year is so large. Friend of a friend makes sense, too, maybe they met at a party... Party. Yes, that feels right. Scout stares at her and thinks, I’ve seen this person dressed up for a party.
They are hit with a wave of images. A living room thrumming with music. A drinking game going out of hand. “Oh my god!” Their face splits in a huge smile. “I know you! We met at Melanie’s party, in December, remember? Scout,” they gesture to themselves, “I’m sorry, I’ve totally forgotten your name. Wow, it’s so good to see you!”
Doubtlessly, they are coming on too strong. It’s hard not to, when you feel like your grip on sanity has just returned. They genuinely know this person, which means they’re not completely crazy. The question remaining is: what the fuck is wrong with the rest of the world, then?
Where: A cafe in 2060.
When: Time Jump 01, Hour 03.
Who: @scoutshonours & @anintern.
There is a part of Scout that is convinced that they are in the middle of a complete mental breakdown. Every face is a stranger’s. Scout knows who they are supposed to see, they notice every person they come across on their runs, and they have all been replaced by pretenders. Scout’s mother would say it was just a matter of time, with how busy their plate always is. Something has got to give.
But the rest of Scout knows that this is real, it has to be, because Laika is with them, and she is just as confused. Scout has tried to keep their calm outwardly to save Laika some stress. They make sure to pet her and call her a good girl, all the while their insides are churning with anxiety. Their smile is wobbly on their lips.
Someone kind noticed. When Scout realized they left without their wallet, the barista took one look at the tears building in their eyes and said, “It’s on the house.” That was enough to make the tears flow for real. Scout hates crying, hates feeling like an inconvenience to others, and most of all hates upsetting Laika. So they do their best to swallow the lump in their throat and ease the anxiety in their chest, if for no one else’s sake then at least for hers.
Being inside the cafe seems to have calmed Laika. While it’s not familiar territory, she has visited a number of cafes and pubs with Scout, and this is not so different. Not on the surface, anyway. That’s why Scout is surprised when Laika abandons them in favor of someone else. Scout quickly wipes any residual tears on their sleeve and then turns around to apologize to the stranger.
They stand still, dumbstruck. In front of them is the first familiar face they have seen since the world changed. Where does Scout know them from, though? They can’t remember. They must be a student, they’re that age range, but Scout cannot for the life of them connect a name to the face -- or even a real memory, just a feeling that they know this person. But maybe they’re crazy, maybe they’ve completely lost their mind, and this stranger is the unlucky person who has to deal with Scout.
“Laika!” they call out and lightly tug at the leash. Although she clearly is interested in whatever the stranger has in their pocket, Laika returns to Scout’s side rather promptly. “Good girl.” Scout makes a mental note to thank Nimi for all their work with her... if Scout ever gets back home. “I’m sorry, she’s a little excited.” They try to smile, they’re usually quite good at it, even during times of distress, but this entire situation is so strange that they cannot even muster a small one.
Full name: Scout Johnson.
Pronunciation: Straightforward English pronunciation.
Nickname(s): Josie, Scout the Scot.
Birthdate: 21st April, 1998.
Age: 22.
Zodiac: Aries.
Gender: Non-binary transfeminine.
Pronouns: They/them.
Sexuality: Bi.
Nationality: Scottish.
Ethnicity: Afro-Dominican, Afro-Haitian, Taino, and Puerto-Rican.
Current location: London.
Living conditions: Teeny, tiny studio apartment with thin walls and creaky, carpeted floors. It has a kitchenette, which is stocked with a microwave and a kettle. The shower is right next to the toilet, and the toilet has a very weak flush that replenishes every five minutes. They keep most of their things in boxes under their bed. Despite all of this, their rent is sky-high.
Background
Birthplace: Edinburgh, Scotland.
Hometown: London, England.
Social Class: Upper middle class.
Educational achievements: Scottish Advanced Highers (A1, A1, A); the first four years of a six-year Medicine MBBS BSc degree at UCL.
Father: Angel Johnson
Mother: Siara Pérez.
Sibling(s): Only child.
Birth order: Only child.
Pets: Laika (German shepherd).
Previous relationships: Aliyah (ex-girlfriend, together for 3 years).
Arrests: None.
Prison time: None.
Occupation & Income
Current occupation: Medical student at UCL.
Dream occupation: Surgeon.
Past job(s): Bartender.
Spending habits: Primarily spends money on pub food or drinks at clubs.
In debt?: Yes, tuition-related.
Most valuable possession: Their computer.
Skills & Abilities
Physical strength: Above Average | Average | Below Average
Speed: Above Average | Average | Below Average
Intelligence: Above Average | Average | Below Average
Accuracy: Above Average | Average | Below Average
Agility: Above Average | Average | Below Average
Stamina: Above Average | Average | Below Average
Teamwork: As much as they love people, they actually prefer to work on their projects alone, because it allows them to work on their own schedule, as opposed to having to meet with study groups etc. However, they’re also not super against group projects, and for non-academic things they’re a big team player.
Talents/hobbies: Volleyball, establishing and maintaining friendships (let’s be real, that’s a talent), morning runs or walks with Laika, spreadsheet-making, note-taking, memorizing.
Shortcomings: Working/living outside of a schedule; recognizing people’s true motives; allowing people (and themselves) to be upset (especially with other people); creative tasks like painting or sewing.
Languages spoken: English, Spanish, some Latin.
Drive?: Yes.
Jump-start a car?: No.
Change a flat tyre?: No.
Ride a bicycle?: Yes.
Swim?: Yes.
Play an instrument?: No.
Play chess?: Yes.
Braid hair?: Yes.
Tie a tie?: No.
Pick a lock?: No.
Cook?: Yes, but only the basics.
Physical Appearance & Characteristics
Faceclaim: Indya Moore.
Eye colour: Dark brown.
Hair colour: Dark brown.
Hair type/style/length: 3b, shoulder-length.
Glasses/contacts?: Neither.
Dominant hand: Ambidextrous, but originally right-handed.
Height: 1.73 m.
Weight: 120 lbs.
Build: Slim.
Exercise habits: Running 3 times a week, volleyball practice 3 times a week.
Skin tone: Brown.
Tattoos: A pair of lovebirds on their right arm; an ornate flower design on their left wrist.
Piercings: Earlobes and helix.
Marks/scars: Surgical scars from breast augmentation.
Clothing style: Trendy, cute, colorful.
Jewellery: Small gold hoops in every ear piercing,
Allergies: Peanuts.
Diet: Pescetarian.
Physical ailments: An old knee injury that sometimes flares back up.
Psychology
MBTI type: ESFJ.
Enneagram type: 3, The Achiever.
Moral Alignment: Neutral Good.
Temperament: Choleric / Sanguine.
Element: Fire.
Emotional stability: Quite stable.
Introvert or Extrovert? Extrovert.
Obsession(s): Success, good grades, being liked, being kind enough, changing the world.
Compulsion(s): None.
Phobia(s): Claustrophobia.
Addiction(s): Caffeine.
Drug use: None.
Alcohol use: At parties and other social gatherings.
Prone to violence?: No.
Prone to crying?: No, they don’t like to ‘be a bother’
Believe in love at first sight?: Yes.
Mannerisms
Accent: A curious mix of Scottish and Spanish with American influences.
Speech quirks: Saying ‘like’ and ‘you know’ a lot.
Hobbies: Volleyball practice, planning events, going for a walk, going for a run, playing with Laika, going clubbing.
Habits: Practicing anatomy while doing the dishes, talking to themselves while alone, talking to Laika like she understands.
Nervous ticks: Picking at nails, biting lip.
Drives/motivations: Helping people, changing the world for the better (in order to help more people), a personal sense of success, leaving a legacy.
Fears: Failing (courses, tests, anything), falling behind their life schedule, anything happening to Laika, tight spaces.
Sense of humour?: Yes.
Do they curse often?: A normal amount for a Scot, which is to say a decent amount.
Favourites
Animal: Dogs.
Beverage: Coffee.
Book: The Pearl by John Steinbeck.
Colour: Red.
Food: Mushroom risotto.
Flower: Sunflower.
Gem: White opal.
Mode of transportation: Walking.
Scent: Lemon.
Sport: Volleyball.
Weather: Sunshine.
Vacation destination: Italy.
Attitudes
Greatest dream: Becoming a surgeon and revolutionizing trans healthcare in the UK.
Greatest fear: Failing at the above in any way.
Most at ease when: Surrounded by friends.
Least as ease when: Alone at the library at 4 am.
Worst possible thing that could happen: Flunking a class.
Biggest achievement: Getting into UCL.
Biggest regret: Being rejected by Oxford and Cambridge.
As many dates as they have been on, only one true heartbreak stands out to them: "His name was Victor. We were seven. We never talked, but I watched him from afar, and he was a good football player. One day, I gathered up the nerve to pick him a flower. He ate it." At this point, they erupt into laughter. "I thought that meant he hated me, I was devastated!" As the laughter fades and they wipe away moisture that has gathered at the corner of their eye, they add, "But no, I had a girlfriend for a while when I was younger, we lasted almost three years, which is an eternity at that age, but it was a mutual decision. We just weren't compatible as partners anymore, so we went back to being friends, and we still talk here and there."
🎬 Who is your biggest celebrity crush?
"Oh, that's a good question… I feel like I'm generally drawn to older people, someone like Sandra Oh, like, someone who has their life together and knows what they want, you know what I mean?"
👫 Who would you put before everyone else?
"My parents." It's the only answer that makes sense to them: without their parents (and specifically the kind of parents they have been to Scout), Scout would be lost. If they weren't so busy all the time, they would feel a constant ache for home.
📱 What was the last text you sent and who was it to?
"Hm…" Scout whips out their phone and frowns down at it. "Depends on how you define 'text'. Does WhatsApp count? Messenger? Skype? Discord? Twitter? Snapchat? Instagram? You'll get completely different answers depending on how you define it. I guess I'll go with the last message I sent on any given app: I messaged the volleyball club committee group chat to remind someone to bring pens to the pub quiz tonight."
🎵 What was the last song you listened to?
"Staring at the Sun by MIKA, I really love his music, it's just fun and enjoyable, which is what music should be, I think."
💻 What was the last Tweet you posted to Twitter?
"Oh, I do social media for the Medical Society at uni, so I just posted a reminder for people to sign up for an event later this week; we have limited space available, so we really need people to respond ASAP. That reminds me–" They look back down at their phone and begin typing furiously, completely ignoring the person in front of them. A moment later, they lock their phone and look back up. "Sorry about that. Now my latest tweet would be a reminder for the pub quiz I just talked about. Our social media person has been really busy, so I've been helping out by posting for them. I'm on my phone anyway, I don't mind."
💤 What did you dream about last night?
They laugh self-consciously. "I don't remember, I usually don't, it's all blank. My mom says it's 'cause I don't get enough sleep, but I don't know."
👚 What is your favourite confidence-boosting outfit?
They leap up from their bed and stride to their closet, which they swing open. Within is a mostly warm palette of clothing. They grab a denim miniskirt, a pair of long, white knee high socks, and a yellow tank with a simple illustration of a bee on it. "It's pretty simple but I love showing off my legs and cutting my waist like that, and I feel like it's kind of flirty."
👟 What are your most frequently worn pair of shoes?
"I'd love to say my platform boots 'cause they're amazing, but they're not very practical when you have to go from a walk with the dog, to a lecture, to the library, to outdoor training, to the pub… yeah, I stick mostly to trainers in my day-to-day."
📷 What was the last photo you took of?
"My dog!" They grin and hold out their phone, which displays the animal in question. It is quite a dopey photo of a German Shepherd sleeping halfway in its bed, halfway on the floor. "She's so cute, I love her."
🛏️ What is your favourite sleeping position?
“Spooning with someone,” they say, half-jokingly half-seriously. “No, uh, on my side, you know, the classic foetal position. It’s comforting.”
🛁 What is your favourite shower gel scent?
“I like lemony scents, like that one yellow gel from Lush, it’s really nice.”
👜 What would you typically find in your bag?
“Depends on the bag.” They pull out two: one is a Kånken-like backpack in light blue, and another is a brown leather over-the-shoulder bag. “This one,” they pat the over-the-shoulder, “fits my wallet, keys, earphones, a water bottle, bandaids, a lip balm, hand lotion, and hand sanitizer. Whereas this one,” they pick up the backpack, “is for school days, so I can get all of that,” they gesture to the smaller bag, “in here, plus my calendar, my laptop, a change of clothes, a deodorant, a couple of school books, a notebook, and a pencil case. It’s a tight squeeze, but it fits. You’ve got to be prepared for everything.”
⛰️ Where is your favourite place to escape to when stressed?
They laugh as though the idea of ‘escape’ is a pipe dream. “I guess the internet? I don’t have time to find a magic garden or something, so I just scroll through social media and reply to messages from friends.”
📚 Which fictional character do you aspire to be like?
“Hm… I’m trying to think of someone who made the world better… Katniss Everdeen but nice?” They laugh. “You know, I don’t know. I don’t read much, and the TV I watch is mostly reality, if I’m being honest. Or home renovations, they’re really satisfying.”
🍷 What’s your go-to drink to order at a bar?
“Double vodka lemonade. It’s simple, quick to order and receive, and it tastes nice.”
🦴 Have you ever broken a bone?
“Oh, too many! I played a lot of sports as a kid, so I’ve broken my right arm twice, my left leg once, and my toes… I don’t even know. I chipped a tooth, too, if we count teeth as bone. That’s why I’m ambidextrous, by the way; my right arm was in a sling for most of third grade.”
💭 How do you want to be remembered?
“I spend a lot of time thinking about that,” they say, leaning back in their seat, “which I guess is kind of selfish, but I’ve only got this one life. I want to help people, both people living right now and people of the future. That’s why I want to be a surgeon, so I can help other trans folks and other people who want gender-affirming surgery. There’s also not a lot of research on hormone blockers or even HRT, so I’d want to at least help facilitate that kind of research. Also, facial feminization surgery isn’t usually available through the NHS, and neither are hair transplants. Oh, and some people want surgery without transitioning in any other way, and they’re completely left out of the conversation right now.” They laugh self-consciously. “That was a bit of a rant, but I’m really passionate about this. Everyone deserves to have bodily autonomy.”
❤️ How would you describe a perfect date?
“I love something a bit more out there than just a lunch date, although those can be very nice! But I’d love to go rollerskating or to an amusement park, something with an activity built in so you can create those kinds of memories together. But I do love a good meal and a talk, there’s nothing wrong with that!”
📓 How did your high school teachers describe you?
“Teacher’s pet,” they laugh, “completely. Teachers have always liked me, they like when someone puts in an effort - not that others didn’t, and not everyone can, but I think they’ve generally liked me.”
✨ How would you describe your aesthetic?
“Trendy? Hip? One of the cool kids? That’s what I hope, anyway, I like to look good.”
👪 Do you aspire to be like your parents?
“If I become a parent, I’d want to be a parent the way my parents are parents… That didn’t make much sense. Essentially, yeah, I love my parents and I think they’ve done really well, but I do want something a bit different in terms of professional life and whatnot. But I wouldn’t be upset if I ended up like my parents, they’re really nice people.”
☎️ If you were in trouble, who is the first person you would call for help?
“Depends on the kind of trouble.” They laugh. “I keep saying ‘depends’, don’t I? Well, it does! ‘Cause some of my friends are good with a screwdriver and a hammer, and others give really good advice for personal problems, and others would get up in the middle of the night to pick me up if I was somewhere unsafe. Actually, I think the last one applies to everyone, really, I’ve got tons of nice people around me, it’s great. But I guess if I was in an accident or something, I’d have someone call my parents, they’d be on the first flight here.”
⌚ What advice would you tell yourself sixteen year old self?
“Hm… I guess ‘remember to be kind to yourself’ is a good one. We could all use a reminder like that. And stop wearing infinity scarves, they aren’t cute.”
🐈 If you could adopt any pet, what would you choose?
“Another dog! A sibling for Laika. I’ve got my future house and pets sorted out already, in my head. I mean, Laika will live forever, so she’ll be there, and I’ll have two siblings for her, and maybe the house will be big enough for a partner, we’ll see.”
🍽️ If you could invite anyone, living or dead, to a dinner party, who would you choose?
“You know, I’m sad I never got to meet my mom’s parents. From what she says, they were nice people. My dad’s parents, too. I know they’re not on speaking terms with my dad, but if they had to accept my dinner invitation and show up, then maybe I could hear their side of things. Maybe I could help. I know my dad misses them, you can see it in his eyes.”
🌹 If you had to get a tattoo, what would you get?
“Oh, I have a couple already.” They pull up their sleeve to reveal a pair of lovebirds on their inner upper arm. “That’s my mom and dad. And I got this matching one,” they pull up their other sleeve, but only a fraction, to reveal an ornate flower design on their wrist, “with my ex, actually, when we were still together, but I don’t regret it; we’re still friends, and it’s a cute tattoo.”
💢 Have you ever been in a verbal or physical fight?
“Never. I don’t like fights, I think people have their reasons to do things, and if someone got hurt, you can talk it out. People aren’t evil, they just don’t think sometimes, or they’re uneducated. Either way, it doesn’t get solved with a fight.”
🎓 If you could change what you studied at school, what new subject would you choose?
“I’d love to say law, so I could still change lives for the better, but I’m not sure I’d have it in me to care enough about corporate law and all that to really excel. Same with politics. I guess neuroscience or psychology would be interesting, and you could still use it to help people. Like I think I’d be a decent therapist.”
The future or the past? 1800s or 1900s? Comic books or video games? The tardis or the delorean? Polaroids or disposable cameras? Golden hour or midnight? Cloud watching or stargazing? Horror or romance? Science or history? Vinyls or cassettes? Pausing time or speeding time up?
