In Time for Prom

By Cassandra Morphy

Carrie Beerson was late for work when she got pulled into a paranormal space by a mad scientist, only looking for a guinea pig for his experiment; the creation of an alternate world, an alternate time. When given the option, there was only one place she wanted to go; her high school prom. Not going to her prom was one of the many things she missed out on, being stuck growing up male in the late 20th century. After a wonderful night, she finds herself stuck in the past, stuck at the most awkward period of her life. She must deal with the tensions of growing up trans, all over again, this time out in the light of day, with the eyes of her school upon her. As the weeks go by, she finds that the past isn't how she remembers it, as events warp themselves around her. Time was quickly catching up to her as the chances to change the greatest tragedy of her lifetime quickly start to fade. Will the friends she made along the way help her in her pursuit of righting that wrong, or only get in her way? Who are these mysterious agents that are investigating the events leading up to that day? And what is with the black sedan following her everywhere she goes?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cassandra Morphy
• Release date: Jan 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463459836

Cassandra Morphy

Cassandra Morphy is a Business Data Analyst, working with numbers by day, but words by night. She grew up escaping the world, into the other realities of books, TV shows, and movies, and now she writes about those same worlds. Her only hope in life is to reach one person with her work, the way so many others had reached her. As a TV addict and avid movie goer, her entire life is just one big research project, focused on generating innovative ideas for worlds that don’t exist anywhere other than in her sick, twisted mind.

Book preview

Chapter One

In the Beginning There Was Darkness

The room that I was in had the typical interrogation room feel to it, grey walls, a large, one-way mirror on the wall, and a table with four chairs centered in the middle of the room. The table had brackets for handcuffs so the prisoners could be secured to it. Fortunately, they hadn't felt the need to use these on me just yet. That might change as the day went on.

Personally, I didn't think what I did should be considered illegal in any way. My actions saved a lot of people, people who would have been dead if I had done nothing. The men in suits that had brought me to that room apparently didn't care about that part. Otherwise, I wouldn't be there, god knows how far under the city, about to get chewed out for it. As I waited for my interrogators to show up, I ran through all the events that had led me to where I was, to that room.

The door opened and two guys in suits came in. They were both quiet as they took the seats across the table from me. One of them was tall, lean, maybe a bit on the muscular side, but his suit hides it well. The other was short, maybe a couple inches shorter than I was. Neither looked happy at this particular moment in time, which begged the question just how much trouble was I in.

Seeing the shorter guy sitting there, practically staring me down, made me self-conscious about my height, yet again. I had always felt tall for a girl, and seeing as how I dwarfed this man, he no doubt felt the same. Or, perhaps I should say tall for a real girl, as if I was somehow fake, or that some girls were more real than others. It always annoyed me when people said that, and they said it often enough to me over the years. I just never thought I could ever really measure up to what those people expected me to be. And, no matter how hard I tried not to care, I always did, and probably always would.

The three of us sat there in silence for a while, neither one saying a word. I had seen it happen often enough on TV to know they were waiting for me to talk. The idea is that silence makes the guilty feel uncomfortable. Despite what they might think of my actions, I had nothing on my conscience, so I had no problem with quiet. It just gets boring after a while. Plus, the sooner I talked, the sooner I could get out of there. Whether it was home or a cell that was next, it would be better than just sitting around waiting for something to happen.

Shouldn't I have a lawyer? I asked, breaking the silence. I expected my voice to echo around the small, enclosed space, but it sounded normal enough.

I don't know; do you need a lawyer? the short one asked.

Despite his almost snarky tone, one similar to the tone I'm almost constant using, he actually seemed like he wanted to help me. His partner, on the other hand, seemed to be taking on the bad cop role in their partnership. In the TV shows, this would happen if the suspect seemed to show at least some preference of one over the other. The one that the suspect preferred automatically became the good cop, trying to develop a rapport so that the suspect would open up to them. When I spoke, I was trying to look directly between the two, in an attempt at not showing favor to either. I guess I subconsciously leaned more towards the shorter one. Or, maybe, they had just drawn straws before coming in, and the shorter one lost.

No, but it would be nice to have someone to talk to though.

Talk to us, then, the short one said, gesturing to himself and his partner next to him. Explain what exactly happened out there. We're still a little unclear as to what went down today.

More like what didn't go down today, I said, smiling a little at my play on words. Seeing as how no buildings had fallen, they didn't get the joke. I subverted a terrorist attack. It would have gone down as the worst terrorist attack on American soil.

But how? That's where we're unclear. You knew this was going to happen, didn't you?

Yes.

Which normally means you had something to do with it. Personally, I don't believe that. You look like a nice enough girl. My partner here, though, he's not as convinced of that as I am.

Trust me, you wouldn't believe the story if I told you.

His partner gave a slight snicker, maintaining his passive appearance, his arms crossed over his chest.

Try me, the short one responded, leaning forward in his chair as if preparing himself for an exciting story.

Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you. See, the thing is, this story starts fifteen years in the future, in 2016.

The future? the tall one huffed. Yea, right. This ought to be good.

I smiled a weak smile at him as I started the story:

***

I was having the weirdest dream as I woke up. Honestly, I don't remember much about it, just that it was weird and it dragged on far too long. It had nothing on the events of the past few months, but it was quite the whopper at the time. As soon as I rolled onto my back, I woke up. I don't know why but I really can't sleep on my back. Anyway, I remember feeling relieved that the dream was over, that I was free of it. Only, when I looked over at my alarm clock, I saw that it said 9:20 a.m. This gave me quite the fright.

Oh, crap, I said, with a start. It's Monday. Looking at the clock, I saw that the little light indicating the alarm was on, or at least that it should be on. I had always hated that alarm clock, so much more so than just that it kept doing its job by waking me up. There was a bit of a section of the switch where the light was on but the alarm wasn't. I fiddled with the switch a little and it locked into place where it should have been the night before. Stupid alarm clock.

I jumped out of bed and into the shower. I'd rather be another five minutes late for work and not stink. Besides, I knew that I could go from my bed to the door in ten minutes when properly motivated, and nothing motivated me more than being late. Even under normal circumstances, I'm not one of those girls that takes forever in the morning, deciding on what to wear and making sure my makeup looks just right. It's usually whatever dress is closest to the end, light makeup, and my usual jewelry. None of that takes long to put on. Sure enough, by the time I got dressed and got all my stuff together, it was nine-thirty. With one last quick glance around the area by the door, where I kept my purse and shoes, I rushed out the door... into someplace unexpected.

Instead of the hallway outside my apartment, I was in a large room. It was so humongous that I couldn't see the other three walls to it, just the one I was standing next to. Granted, the portion of the walls I could see were jet black, to the point where I could barely tell if it was a wall or some weird substance that didn't give off light or if the door was just standing there in midair, with nothing around it. The room itself was pretty dark as well, though there was an odd, subtle illumination that seemed to surround me, to come out from the very air. It wasn't that unlike starlight, but there were no signs of stars anywhere. For all I knew, the room may not have been as large as I was thinking at the time, but the sound of me just dithering there as I got over the shock of coming into that strange place echoed back to me, louder than any echo I had ever heard before.

One of the first things that I noticed, after getting over that initial shock, was that the door I just walked through, that I only just closed, had no door handle. Not even a stub where a handle would go, like those doors that had a handle on only one end to keep people from opening them from the wrong side. It was just plain wood, and only a few shades lighter than the wall it was in. The wood itself was flush with the rest of the wall, which would make it hard for me to find it again if I left the area. Unfortunately, seeing as how there was nothing around me but dark emptiness, I knew that was exactly what I would need to do. Even if I had something to work with to break down the door, or some way to open it, something told me that my apartment wasn't on the other side.

Hello? I called into the distance, hoping that someone would hear my call and come let me out of that strange place. I was already late for work, and adding an unexpected, paranormal detour wasn't helping things. However, my voice simply echoed off the cavernous room, and no response followed it.

With nowhere else to go, I reluctantly headed into the room. My ballet flats were silent on the concrete floor. They were my usual go to shoes when running late, because they looked work related enough and I could actually run in them if needed. I thought back to my favorite pair of heels, back in my apartment, wherever that was compared to that room, wishing I had worn them so that there was some sound besides my own breathing.

As I walked through the room, I noticed that the low light that illuminated the area was actually coming from the floor, which was why the cement was the familiar gray rather than the jet black of the walls. The light got brighter as I walked along it, as if the floor somehow knew that I was there and was trying to make it easier for me to see. I tried to keep the wall in sight while I explored the area, as it was my only guide in the otherwise nothingness of the room.

My purse bumped against my hip in a regular rhythm, a constant reminder that it was there. After a while, though, it reminded me that something else was there, something that could actually help me. My phone was in the front pocket, sticking out at just the right place for my hand to pull it free. As I did just that, I rolled my eyes at myself, at the fact that I hadn't thought of it sooner. As I unlocked it and started to flip on the flashlight, I noticed that I had no signal and that the clock was still saying it was 9:30. The first wasn't that surprising, given the otherworldliness of the room I was in, but I knew it had been at least a couple of minutes since I had left my apartment. It meant something was interfering with my phone's internal clock, not just with the signal it would need to stay in time with the rest of the network. Or, that maybe something was wrong with time. I didn't really think that was something that could happen, it was just where my mind went at the time. My mind does that. It's like it has a mind of its own sometimes.

Even with the flashlight on, light up the area around me, I couldn't see anything more than I did without it. The floor's light, though still low, drowned out that of my phone. Not knowing what else to do, I continued to walk into the distance, hoping for some sign of life in that strange space. Soon enough, I saw something other than empty floor and blank walls, something that looked like a desk off in the distance. It was the first thing I had seen since entering the strange room so I ran towards it, almost dropping my phone when I forgot it was in my hands.

The brown, faux wood desk stood vacant, but familiar. It reminded me of my own desk in my apartment, the one that I had only glanced at on my way out the door. The desk seemed completely out of place in that room, as if it ruined the supernatural motif the area was going for. As I came up next to it, I noticed a splattering of papers spread across the surface. There were notes sprawled across the sheets, some that were obviously English while others were of a math that I had never seen before, and I'm one of those weird people that use math for a living. As I fumbled around with the papers, trying to find something in them that I could use, my hand bumped a mug that I had missed, buried in the mess. When I noticed that the mug of what smelled like coffee was still warm, I called out again, hoping the owner of the mug wouldn't be far.

Hello? Is there anyone out there? What's going on? Where am I? I'd like to go home now. I'm late enough for work as it is.

After the echoes died down again, I heard a different sound in the distance. It sounded like a toilet flushing. Staring off in the direction I thought I heard it from, I could just see the silhouette of a man as he came through another door. I figured that the bathrooms must be on the other side of that door. The thing was, the door was in the middle of the room. Not in the middle of the wall or something like that. I mean, it was in the middle of the room itself. There was no wall or anything that the door would be in. It was just standing there. I watched as the door closed, quickly fading from sight after it did. I wasn't sure if the door was just too difficult to see without the bathroom light illuminating it or if it simply stopped being there. Neither would surprise me at that point. Nothing much surprised me after seeing that.

As the man walked back towards the desk, the floor lit up for him as well, though much brighter than it had for me. I looked at my feet, at the floor beneath me, hoping to find some brightness controls that I could crank up, though I hoped more that I wouldn't be in that space much longer, that this strange man would be able to send me home. He was human, or at least human enough in that strange, alien room, but his clothes set him apart from anything that I had seen before. It was like wherever, or whenever, he was from, the fifteenth century clothing was retro with a strange clashing between the fashion of the middle ages and something more modern, put together with cloth that hadn't been invented yet. When he got halfway between that strange door and the desk, he gave a start as he spotted me, even looking behind himself in confusion, as if trying to find where I came from.

Hi, I said to him. Do you know where we are? Or how to get out of here?

How... how did you get in here? he asked.

Um, through the door.

Which door?

The one back over there, I said, pointing in the direction I had come from. The one with no doorknob that's actually in the wall itself.

That doesn't exactly narrow it down, he said, as he looked behind me. The door would have been too far off to see through the dark room, especially given the fact that I had walked at least half a mile, but he seemed to recognize which door I had been talking about. Oh, that one. That door doesn't open.

It opened for me. At least it did to let me in here, not so much to let me out. Where exactly am I?

Uh, you're exactly... nowhere.

Is that a figurative nowhere, a literal nowhere, or an 'I'm not telling you' nowhere?

A literal nowhere. This place exists outside time and space.

How exactly can a place like that exist? Isn't there time and space in here? If this is outside of time and space where did this time and space come from?

Well, it came from time and space, obviously, it just isn't there anymore.

Um, ok, so, what? Pocket dimension? Bubble universe?

He seemed surprised that I wasn't more confused by what he was saying, that I wasn't more thrown by the idea that I was somehow outside of existence itself, but I had grown up in sci-fi, reading it, watching it, living, it, loving it. I lived for that stuff, and honestly, despite being confused to no end, I was loving every minute of being there.

If only it had happened on Saturday, and I had the time to enjoy it.

I guess bubble universe would be the best way to describe it, but it might be a bit misleading. It's not exactly... universe sized.

Uh, huh. Anyway, about getting out of here....

Oh, right, yes. Um, I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to get you out of here.

Well, how were you planning on leaving? I asked.

Through the door.

I gave him my patented no duh look, a sideways smirk with a slight head bob to the side.

Well, see, the problem with letting you out that way is that it leads back to my time. From the look of your clothes, you're not really from then. No one's used cotton for centuries. It's extinct. You'd be locked up for stealing it from someone's collection.

Ok, well, I must have gotten here somehow, there has to be a way to get back that way. Any ideas? Maybe I can just take a step into your time and ask for directions. I'm sure time travel is rather commonplace there now.

Wait, when are you from? I didn't think they knew about temporal displacement back then.

The idea of time travel has been around longer than I have, I said. It's just still in the realm of science fiction, rather than the actual science you're working with. I hope it's highly regulated, given the sort of damage one can do with it.

Actually, no, it's not... Commonplace, that is. I mean, it's not that commonplace, anyway. It's still experimental, that's actually why I'm here. How much do you know about temporal theory?

You mean about the rules of time travel or the actual doing of it?

Either.

Well, I started, as I began to vomit up everything that I've ever learned from all the sci-fi movies, TV shows, and books I had experienced over the years. "The current theories are that the only way to travel through time is to go near the speed of light, but that will only take you into the future. To go back in time, you need to go faster than the speed of light, which is impossible without bending the laws of physics. That is, of course, relative speed not observable speed. Bending space won't allow you to go back in time, despite what Star Trek might want us to believe.

"Anyway, once in the past, one thought is that you would not be able to change it no matter how hard you try. This idea is, of course, completely ridiculous given that the person has enough information. Even if time were to try to push back, also a ridiculous idea given that time isn't sentient, just being there is enough to change things more than anyone can imagine.

"Another thought is that changing the past would result in overwriting your own timeline, causing the previous future's events to never have happened. This, too, is obviously wrong, as this would lead to the destruction of matter, which everyone knows is impossible.

The third, and only viable, theory on changing the past is that it creates a new timeline, independent of any other. Seeing as how timelines are, most likely, several dimensions of their own and, by the definition of a dimension, uncountably infinite and ever expanding, this actually makes sense. It also explains why the time traveler would still have knowledge of the timeline he's from and would prevent him from erasing his own existence. Of course, how could someone erase their own existence if they didn't exist to do so?

Right..., he said, sounding completely surprised, and maybe a little impressed. That last one anyway. At least that's what my experiment is trying to prove. With my equipment, I am able to establish kind of a bubble timeline if you will.

So, you went to a bubble universe to create a bubble timeline so as to prevent it from popping under the temporal pressure? I didn't exactly know any of the science behind any of that, but the theory made some semblance of sense to me.

His face lit up with a look of shock while he blinked a few times in rapid succession. Exactly.

Cool. But how do I come in in all of this? What made that door suddenly work?

Well, the only thing I can think of is that something went wrong with the original calibration of my machine and, while nature was calling me, it connected to some random place in space-time and somehow created some kind of wormhole. I'm just glad the thing didn't pop up in the middle of the road or swallow a missile or a train or something. Can you imagine a train coming through here?

In this room? They'd think it was just another tunnel, as long as they actually went somewhere. I tried to look off into the distance again, to see if I could make out the far wall, but it looked like the room just went on for forever. It made me feel a little sorry for the hypothetical passengers on that hypothetical train.

Anyway, I think the only way for me to return you to your own timeline, in your own time period, is to put you in the bubble timeline.

What? I asked, disbelieving him. Oh. Oh, I see. That's really what happened, isn't it? Your machine didn't accidentally link to my door. You needed a guinea pig to be stuck into your bubble timeline so you can get readings from inside the thing, to prove your theory.

He didn't respond to my accusation, ignoring it completely as he continued. The bubble timelines I've created so far are too unstable to last longer than twenty-four hours, but the safeguards I've put in place in the equipment return all the mass that was borrowed in its creation to their origin.

Meaning I'll go back to my apartment right before coming in here.

Yes. Well, at least in theory. If you don't go back there, though, you'll probably just end up back here. If that happens, we can come up with another plan.

Ok, I'll be your guinea pig, if it means I get to go home. So, what's this bubble timeline like?

It can be like anything, though we should probably make it from your own timeline. I'm thinking that will increase the likelihood of you returning to your own time. Do you have a time in mind?

Well, what are the limitations?

Unfortunately, we'd be limited to what's available at the time. That means you'll be put into your body of that time period.

Wouldn't that defeat the purpose of sending me in there? I mean, if I'm in the body I was in at the time, wouldn't the matter that I'm made up of now not be there?

It's more like we're taking the target time period as a mold to pour the matter into. It'll still be the you that you are now, just molded to look like the you that you were then.

Ok, that makes a weird kind of sense, I guess. But why use the time period as a mold at all? Why not just throw all the matter in there and let the chips fall as they may?

It's for stability. We know that time period was temporally sound. We might be able to develop snapshots of time from scratch down the road, the technology just isn't there yet.

So, the target time period would need to be some point after I was born but before I came in here, otherwise my consciousness wouldn't have an anchor.

Yup, sorry.

No, that's fine. What would the effect be on my timeline though? I'm guessing nothing I do in the bubble timeline would affect a thing.

Everything would go back to however it was when you left it. Actually, technically, it's not impacted at all, as we're not touching it. Anyway, the point is, if you get back there, when you get back, it'll be as if you never left.

I don't know, I said, trying to think of a good time to revisit. My life at the time had been rather boring, dull, repetitive, as it tends to become when you're living the life you choose. However, there were a few things that I missed out on growing up that I would always wish I could re-do. I guess I'd re-do the day of my senior prom, then. I know how odd it is for someone named Carrie to be willing to break the space time continuum in order to go to the prom.

I... I don't get the reference, he said. I didn't even know your name was Carrie until you said that. Besides, you won't break anything, I assure you; at least, that's what we're trying to prove with this. But, why the prom? Did something tragic happen there or something?

No. No pigs' blood or anything like that.

Pigs' blood?

I guess the classics have a shelf life after all. Anyway, no I didn't even go. It's one of those things that I missed out on because of how I grew up.

Why? How did you grow up?

Male, I said, the word venom in my mouth, spit out against my better judgement. There was no telling how this man would react to it, and I had heard enough horror stories over the years. Worse, he was obviously my only way out of that room, so it might condemn me to stay there for the rest of my life. Thinking back, I wasn't even sure why I told him at all.

Oh... wow, he said, surprised but no more so than others I had told over the years. That still happens in your time? They made a pill for that ages ago.

To correct the thought pattern or the body?

The body, of course. Drugs that permanently alter thought patterns are illegal.

Any chance you got one of those pills on you? I asked.

Nope, sorry. If I did, I wouldn't be able to give it to you anyway. It wouldn't come with you back to your time period when the time bubble pops. Plus, you know, it would be illegal.

And abducting a random girl from the twenty-first century as a guinea pig isn't?

So, senior prom. Any idea on what day that was?

May 12, 2001, I said, instantly.

Thought about that day a lot, have you?

Like I said, it's one of my biggest regrets.

Ok, he said, as he moved over to the desk.

He drummed his fingers across the top of the desk. It took me a while to realize he was typing on some type of keyboard that I just couldn't see. The display lit up in the wood itself, which was looking a lot more futuristic than I had originally taken it to be. The whole desk itself was the computer, the machine he had been talking about the whole time. I had half expected the machine to be in some other room somewhere, a pocket room like the bathroom had been.

Alright, he said, as he hit the last few keys. May 12, 2001, wherever you were that day. I've set it to nine-thirty in the morning. Re-entry might cause you to wake up if you were asleep; otherwise, whatever you were doing at the time, you'll be coming right in in the middle of it. Unless you actually remember what you were doing then, people might notice. It's better if you try to play along with whatever is happening around you. The less you do, the better. Just go to your prom and have a nice evening. The bubble timeline should pop at around nine-thirty the next morning and you'll be back to your apartment before coming in here. Any questions?

Nope, I think I'm set.

Ok, then, he hit one last button on the desk and a door appeared right in front of me. Head on in there and have fun.

Chapter Two

Re-entry

Male? the short one said, jarring me out of my re-telling of the story. I was a little depressed to find myself still stuck in that gray-walled interrogation room, as if the retelling of my story would somehow change the result.

You do know that lying to federal agents is a crime, right? the tall one said.

First off, no one ever said you guys were feds, I said. Not that it would matter much, as I'm not lying. I'm from the future, and not some distant future where time travel really is a thing. How else would I have known what was going to happen today?

We already told you that we know how you know. You were in on it.

Then why would I want to stop it?

Wait, wait, wait a second. Male? the short one asked, incredulously.

Yes, male, I said, allowing my voice to drop down to the lower octaves again. I never liked doing that, especially since it went so much lower than it used to go in the future. My booming bass was in full bloom, so close to puberty, when the perverting testosterone still flooded my system.

But you grew up male? Meaning you're a transvestite or something? the short one said, as he looked at me in shock.

Personally, I prefer the term transgendered, as it's harder to make it sound perverted though, technically, I'm a transsexual. Transvestites are more like people who cross-dress.

But you look nothing like a transsexual.

Yea, I know, I get that a lot. My only tells are my voice and my facial hair, which only gets bad in the evenings. Anyway, I'm what some people call an early transitioner. The longer a male to female transsexual goes without doing hormone replacement, the less affective it is. Those individuals most people think of when they hear the word transsexual are late transitioners, people that couldn't start hormones until their late thirties or even later. The first time around, I waited till I was twenty-five; well, not waited, it's not like I had a choice in the matter, but I'll get to that. I still stealthed, but my breasts were on the small side, as well as the voice and hair issues I have now. These girls are all me, though. I pointed to the much bigger breasts that were showing out of the top of my dress. I loved showing them off, now that I actually had some cleavage to show off, and they were still growing by the day.

Ok, the tall one interrupted. So, you went back in time to go to your senior prom.

So, you believe me? I asked.

I didn't say that, but let's just for the sake of argument continue with this crap. I imagine you'll get to the truth, eventually. So, your senior prom. Then what? You decided to take the scenic route back?

Something like that.

***

Like the guy had said, re-entry into the time period was a bit of a shock. Thankfully, I was asleep. It was nine-thirty in the morning on a Saturday, of course I was asleep. It woke me up alright, and it hurt like hell too. The pain shocked me awake so much I sat bolt upright in my bed. Unfortunately for me, there was a poorly placed shelf over my bed in those days. I had kept begging my father to move it, but he never got around to doing so. It wasn't much of an annoyance, as long as I was careful when getting up in the morning. However, when I was suddenly thrown into my old body, after years of being out of that bed, I had totally forgotten about it. And, so, the pain of being thrown into that time period was escalated ten-fold when I slammed my head into the shelf.

OH, Ffffff... frack that hurt, I yelled. I wasn't allowed to curse in those days, though that didn't stop my dad from cursing up a storm. He would have gotten a kick out of my choice in near curses, though, as he used to love Battlestar Galactica, back when the original series was on.