“We’ve never really talked.” Chase stifled a grimace at the awkward conversation starter, nearly spilling his mug of tea as he handed the other to Jessica. It was a far cry from his polished interview questions, but he hadn’t usually had his conception of spacetime upended right before asking the dean about parking passes.
“We’ve never really had a chance to,” she replied haltingly. “There was freshman year English, but you had your paper friends and I was just trying to pass.”
“Suppose you’re right. It was kinda the opposite in Calculus last fall. Probably should have asked you for tutoring.”
“You asked Raymond, remember?”
“And not a day goes by that I don’t regret that.”
Jessica gave a tiny smile to his weak joke, then breathed out a sigh. “Not that I don’t appreciate you trying to lighten the mood, but I get the feeling we should be more worried about missing 34 minutes of time.”
Chase sat up straight, noting the precise number. “You’re sure it’s 34? Last I saw on my phone was 12:20.”
She shook her head. “That always happens. It’s 34. I noticed it three days ago and the furthest I’ve seen is 12:26. Then I blinked and it was 1.”
“Always happens? And why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“Always as far as I can tell. And what would I say? ‘Hey, I know we’re trapped in a neon snowglobe, but here’s more existential dread for you: there’s over half an hour every day that you just don’t remember!’”
Chase frowned. “Fair point, I guess. But there are two of us now. Do you… I think we should try to tell the researchers. It could be connected.”
“Maybe.” Jessica chewed her bottom lip. “But have you had any luck getting them to give you the time of day? We’re not high on their priority list, and they’re going to want more proof than the word of a couple college kids.”
“Proof, like video? Can we do that?”
“I don’t know! I’ve only known about this for three more days than you, and most of that time I’ve been trying to avoid a nervous breakdown!”
Chase held his hands up in surrender, then really looked at Jessica. In the light of the dorm living room, her paleness and stringy hair really stood out. She gripped her mug of tea like a lifeline, knuckles turning white around the handle. Her shoulders were hunched forward and her whole posture screamed stress at metal concert volumes.
“Hey.” He said softly, and waited until she met his eyes. “We’re gonna get through this, okay? You’re not alone, and I’ve never met a story I couldn’t chase down.”
Jessica stared at his expectant expression for long moments before beginning to giggle, then laugh, then outright guffaw. Chase flushed with a combination of pride and embarrassment, but kept a smile on his face. Thanks dad. It really does get ‘em every time.
“I’m, I’m sorry!” She gasped out. “That was just so lame! And you looked so proud of yourself, it was perfect!”
“I aim to please.” Chase said with a wink. “It was my dad’s favorite thing to say about me.”
Jessica paused. “Was?” She asked in a small voice.
Chase waved away her concern. “Brain tumor, back when I was a sophomore in high school.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. He would love that his jokes are still making people laugh. Now, you look like you haven’t eaten much lately - how bout one of chef Chase’s signature toasted peanut butter sandwiches?”
Jessica smiled. “I could eat.”
“Then we shall feast!” Chase proclaimed as he dramatically threw open the pantry of their dorm kitchen. Flicking his eyes over their remaining supplies, he grabbed a loaf of bread and jar of peanut butter. Luckily someone was keeping their pantry stocked from the communal supplies, probably Tom. He was the grounded, responsible type. Chase made a mental note to do something nice for him. With all the stress of this new environment weighing on everyone, it was all too easy for the little things to fall through the cracks.
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“So Jess,” Chase called over his shoulder. “Can I call you Jess?”
“Only if I can call you… crap, there’s no way to shorten Chase, is there?”
“There’s a reason I chose it!” Chase declared triumphantly, spreading peanut butter on one piece of toast.
“Chose it?” Jessica asked. “Chase isn’t your real name?”
“Middle name. And before you ask, it’s not because I’d hate everybody calling me Eugene.”
“Your first name is Eugene?”
“No, that’s why I’d hate everybody calling me that.”
Jessica groaned. “Dial it back there, pops, dad jokes are an occasional indulgence only.”
“I make no promises.” Chase said as he set the plate of toast in front of her. Distraction successful, now she isn’t stewing in existential dread or guilt. Now, time for toast! Huh, it’s been two weeks, I wonder how long bread stays good for? Man, questions like that really make me miss the internet!
A crunch followed by a moan interrupted Chase’s thoughts. He quirked an eyebrow as a flush spread across Jessica’s face.
“Shut up, I’ve barely eaten in days.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to. You had that look.”
“How dare you impugn my honor. Pistols, at dawn.”
“Why would you get up at such an ungodly hour?”
“Well it’s certainly more dramatic than pistols at midafternoon!”
“Highly debatable.”
“What’s debatable?” A new voice broke into the bickering, and Chase turned to see Tom removing his second earbud as he emerged from their shared room.
“Back me up here, Tom. Dawn is way more dramatic than midafternoon for a duel to the death, right?” Chase wheedled.
Tom shook his head. “I don’t even want to know how things ended up there. Anyway, dawn isn’t really a thing anymore. The glow’s pretty constant.” Chase and Jessica both stilled a bit at that, while Tom made his way obliviously over to the kitchen.
“Yes, thank you Tom. I’d almost forgotten we were living in disco prison. Any other nuggets of wisdom?” Chase deadpanned.
“Er, thanks for getting new bread?” Tom said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head.
“New bread?” Jessica muttered.
“Yeah, I’m with her. New bread? I’ll grant you that it was a new loaf, but I figured you had snagged it for us on one of your resupply runs.”
Tom froze, holding one slice above the toaster. As he turned to face them, his thick eyebrows were furrowed and lips pursed in thought. “Chase,” Tom began seriously. “I’ve been on exactly zero resupply runs.”
Chase blinked. “Huh. Guess I should thank Miles when I see him?”
“Chase, I don’t think any of us have been on a resupply run. I thought you were doing it, and I know I finished off the last of the bread we had earlier this afternoon.”
Jessica sucked in a breath, and Chase looked at his toast like it had betrayed him. Then he took another bite, chewing carefully. After swallowing, he looked up to meet the incredulous stares of Tom and Jessica.
“I can definitively say this bread is the tastiest shared delusion I’ve ever encountered.” Chase proclaimed.
“What the hell is wrong with you, dude? This is serious!” Tom yelled.
“The blank 34.” Jessica whispered.
“Just because it’s serious will not get me to take phantom bread seriously.” Chase said.
“The blank 34!” Jessica repeated. “Tom. Quick, was there anything else you noticed we were out of this afternoon?”
“Um, I’m pretty sure one of the boxes of mac and cheese was empty?” Tom replied hesitantly. “What’s the blank 34?”
Jessica and Chase sprang toward the pantry, Tom following in their wake like a confused duckling. There, prominently displayed in the middle shelf, were four boxes of mac and cheese. Chase immediately grabbed two of them while Jessica snatched the other two. One improvised maraca solo later made it obvious that all four boxes were full. Jessica and Chase both turned to Tom, eerily in sync.
“Tom. How many boxes of mac and cheese were there in the pantry earlier?” Jessica asked with forced calm.
“Four…” Tom replied.
“And one of them was empty?” Chase asked.
“Y-Yeah. I remember being annoyed that someone put it back that way.”
“So why,” Jessica asked. “Do we now have four full boxes of mac and cheese?”
Tom’s eyes darted from the boxes to the bread to Chase to Jessica in record time. Meanwhile, Chase’s mind was whirling. There was a thread here, one of those delightful threads that somehow filled out more of the picture the more you pulled on it. Restocking food. Missing minutes. Bread that was still fresh and delicious after more than two weeks. A lab that was cut off from the outside world, yet somehow still getting consistent water and power. The date flickering from April 15th back to April 14th in the blink of an eye.
Chase’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Jessica to see she had gone pale again. Tom mostly looked confused, but with a dawning realization that something else besides their extradimensional confinement was very strange.
“It’s a loop.” Chase guessed. “The blank 34 is when everything resets. That’s why the date still reads as April 14th. That’s why we’re not desperately scrounging for more food. It wasn’t enough to shove us all in a glow globe, now we’re living the same day on repeat.”