THE SPECIOUS PRESENT

Dear Eya,

               Hello, friend! How are you? It is so nice to meet you (I know this doesn’t really count, but still). I should introduce myself… My name is Zoe Black and I live twelve minutes ago.

               I know that seems like I miswrote, but it’s true. From your perspective, I live twelve minutes ago. So, if you’re reading this (which you are) then I no longer exist. If you had read this twelve minutes earlier however then I would exist. Does that make sense? No, it doesn’t. Hold on, let me draw a diagram…

               OK, so, this is you, here:

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIvIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

               And this is me:   

IIIIIIIIIIII^IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

               You see? We’re unsynchronised.

               Yes, I know, now you’re probably saying to yourself, “Wait a split-second there, Zoe, that’s not right, I don’t exist in one moment, my diagram is more like this:”

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

               Not quite, cookie. You might think that you exist in past, present and future but if that were true then how come you can’t affect the past or the future? Sure, you remember being in the past but you don’t exist then, you are only ever present. Same with me, but my present is in the past. Your memories (of twelve minutes ago) are my present. For me, the future, where you exist, doesn’t exist and so neither do you.

               Get it? No, OK, let me try to explain one last time (I promise).

               You only ever experience the present. You have memories of the past, but you can only remember them in the present. Everyone you know seems to live in the same present, but do they? How can you be sure? The last person you spoke to could think their present is three years from now. The instance you think of as ‘now’ has already happened to them. For them, the events have already taken place, the decisions have already been made.

               Your present doesn’t have to be the same as everyone else’s. In fact, your present doesn’t have to be this particular point in time at all, it could be, oh, I don’t know, twelve minutes ago.

               Why not?

               Alright, now you’re wondering, “How? Why is your present this particular point in time and not any other? And also, how?” Yeah. I can’t help with that either. I’ve read every book I could find on relativity, time dilation and metaphysics but unfortunately, physics doctors don’t offer diagnoses. In fact, I was kind of hoping that you might have a few more answers than I do.

               My best guess is that it has something to do with my birth. My mother would never admit it but I think my birth was quite traumatic for her. I was born twelve minutes early (which is close enough if you ask me) in my parents’ house right on the edge of Verilsberg (it’s in Europe, look it up). The doctor was late and had to travel over from the town on the other side of the valley. Here’s when it started to get freaky, you see, without a baby, the doctor declared that I had been a phantom pregnancy. My mother was terribly confused until twelve minutes later there was a flash of red and she suddenly remembered that I had, in fact, been born.

               Any sane doctor would have dismissed such a delusion as the result of some kind of post-natal depression, but at that moment the doctor also remembered my birth, despite the unshakeable feeling that it had never happened.

               From then on, my mother raised me as best she could, always a little after the fact, but always with love. Growing up was not easy, especially when it came to making friends. You see, some people would remember me, but they’d never remember having met me. The only way I could communicate was through letters. I struck up a handful of pen pals, but they all ended when their parents learned of their child’s ‘imaginary’ friend. It wouldn’t have worked out anyway, after all, how could you be friends with a memory?

               Don’t worry about me, though, I live a happy life. I enjoy long walks, reading, people watching and writing letters. In the end, I settled with being with myself, not with loneliness, but with being alone.

                Although I had come to accept who I was, I had not come to accept how I was. I researched for years, but how do you even look up a condition that doesn’t have a name? I went with ‘temporal ghost’ for a while, but that’s a bit of a mouthful. More recently I’ve borrowed from the Icelanders (I hope they don’t mind) and have come to call myself a ‘hidden person’.

               I found occasional mentions of other people caught between space and time, but I passed them off as myths and hoaxes until, one day, I came across you.

               In all my research it seems you’ve only been sighted three times (a good start). You’ve spoken directly to people, so you don’t have exactly what I have but get this (that’s for dramatic effect, I know you already know this) the gap between the first and last sighting was an impossible 120 years.

               The descriptions all match: a red-haired woman who seemed to move through space and time in an instant with a red flash. And crucially in one report, you’d given your name: Eya Vane.

               I’m not sure you’re even real, but if I’m real, then I don’t see why you can’t be too. So, I’m leaving this letter where you were last sighted in the hope that you might find it and somehow help me. I know you don’t have what I have so I’m not expecting a cure and I’m not expecting to be brought to the present, but if you can move through time at will, perhaps you could meet me, actually meet me and we could just talk.

               I’ll check this spot regularly, so if you do find this letter, please leave me a reply. Hopefully, you don’t leave as long a gap as last time, I am so excited to learn all about you.

               Until I’ve found you, I wish you well and if ever you need me, I’m only twelve minutes away.

               Yours,

                              Zoe

ANAX.