Nothing Happens Tomorrow

This story was the final round of the auditions that lead to the public vote.
Thanks to everybody who voted for me!

NOTHING HAPPENS TOMORROW
by Bernie Fishnotes

Ben woke early. This wasn’t a usual thing for him; his lifestyle usually involved a lot of late and restless nights, but he seemed to have been doing this quite a bit lately. He went over to the mirror, brushing his blonde hair from his deep blue eyes. I really must get a hair cut, he thought to himself as he looked at his reflection, taking in his angular cheekbones. He saw perfection in the mirror, and that was enough for him. If anybody else though otherwise, they were wrong. He put on the radio, and was surprised to hear the DJ going on about embarrassing things that had happened to people at parties. Ben wasn’t sure, but he was certain that this same topic had been discussed to death over the past week or so, with the same old stories. We went into the kitchen, and pulled out the cafetiere. As he put some of the ground coffee he prepared the night before into it, he started singing to himself. Kyle told him several times that he had the singing voice of a tone-deaf cat, but Ben knew better. Still, he’d stopped singing around people recently, but with Kyle in Cardiff with Craig visiting that girl they’d rescued a few months back, he had the flat to himself for a change, just like in the good old days. Ben suddenly realised that the radio had started playing the same song as he was singing. “That’s odd” he thought to himself, as he made his coffee.

Later, Ben had just emerged from the shower when the phone rang.

“It’s probably Katie, wanting me to come over and help her with some ‘curation’” Ben said to himself. He picked up the phone.

“Hi Ben” came a familiar voice over the phone, “It’s me, Katie. I wonder if you could give me a hand here at the department, we’ve got some new artefacts brought in from the F. J. Lewis collection over at Kings in Oxford, wonder if you could help us sort them out, they’re in a right old mess!”

“Don’t tell me” Ben said, rolling his eyes “They’ve spelt Sutton Hoo with a W!”

There was silence. “Yes” Katie said “that’s exactly what they’ve done! How did you know?”

Ben wasn’t sure, but he was buggered if he was going to let on that it was a guess “Well, Katie, I am an expert, you know!” Ben retorted with as much indignation as he could muster. “I’m sorry Katie, but I don’t have time for such things. I have a busy day ahead of me!” As he put down the phone, he could just hear Katie’s voice saying something about him and Anselm, which he chose to ignore. Anyway, they wouldn’t be doing that, Anselm was off with his parents at a family funeral, which Ben hadn’t wished to attend, despite Anselm’s begging. Now Ben thought about it, Anselm had been away for quite a while, and he seemed to remember being alone in the flat for longer than he should have. Kyle, at least, should have returned by now. Ben dismissed this, and went to the window. He realised he hadn’t gotten dressed yet, but who was he to hide his body from the public. Just because that old woman complained once because his towel fell down, didn’t mean he should stop it. He made sure his towel was firmly wrapped round him, with no risk of slipping, and he drew the curtains.

Outside Cambridge was coming to life. The recently reopened Bignell museum was opening it’s doors, awaiting a hoard of chav schoolchildren from the local comprehensive no doubt, and people were leaving their homes heading off to do shopping or whatever they did with their lives. Ben noticed a cat sitting on one of the cars parked outside the student terraces across the road. It was a large ginger tom, washing itself in a way Ben found both disgusting and admirable. Suddenly, Ben had a feeling of dread. He knew that the cat wasn’t long for this world. Suddenly, and without warning, the cat darted across the road, just as a car came hurtling up the road. The cat was caught under one of the tyres, and…

Ben had to turn away. He’d seen a lot of horrible things in his time, but never one he’d known would happen. Or had he made it happen? Had he been granted telekinetic powers overnight? Stranger things had happened, he thought. He concentrated on turning the television on, but nothing happened.

So, not telekinesis then, Ben thought. Precognitive powers then. He tried to think of a way to test them, but couldn’t think of anything. At that moment he heard the postman shove something through the letterbox. He rushed down the stairs to the letterbox, and retrieved the three letters with his name on, plus a large envelope addressed to “N. Tilsley”, a pseudonym Ben liked to use when he wanted to be able to deny ownership of post. He looked at the letters. Mostly bills. He never normally opened these, as his parents would usually pay them off, but he thought this might be a good way to test his possible new powers. He held up the first one, and concentrated. He did this with all three letters, and opened them.

Every single one of his predictions was wrong.

Ben couldn’t understand it. If he had no powers of prediction, how did he know about the cat, and the mislabelled artefacts, and the song on the radio? What was going on? He was very concerned.

He opened the package addressed to N. Tilsley, and tipped the contents onto the coffee table. Star Trek Monthly, read the cover, the dignified face of Patrick Stewart staring up at him. Ben would never have lived it down if Kyle discovered he was a trekker. He didn’t do all the dressing up or convention going, but he’d seen every episode several times, something he considered his only vice. He sat down on the sofa, and flicked through the pages, sipping from a glass of absinthe he’d left on the table the night before. He suddenly stopped on an article about one of the episodes. In it, the Enterprise was trapped in a time warp, and they were reliving the same events over and over again, eventually ending up at the same point again. Ben felt this seemed familiar, but dismissed it as just a Groundhog Day rip-off. But something still dwelt in his mind. Something that said it was more than that…

Suddenly there was a crash from the kitchen, and the milk flew through the doorway, splashing on the carpet. Ben leapt up, almost leaving his towel behind, and ran to the kitchen. In the fridge he saw a figure wearing what looked like a black spacesuit with a blacked out helmet, covered in wires, trying very hard to scramble out. Ben offered him a hand, and he managed to pull the figure out.

“Who are you, and what are you doing in my fridge!” Ben said, surveying the damage that had been done.

“Ben? It’s me!” came a muffled, yet familiar voice. The figure twisted its helmet, revealing a thin, youthful face, topped with scruffy spiked hair. “Hallo!” He grinned.

“Doctor?” Ben replied, slightly taken aback. “What were you doing in the fridge?” The Doctor looked back at the remains of the fridge. “Yeah, sorry about that. Hard to direct a trans-temporal hysteritial cross-jumper with any accuracy.” He pulled a mock-serious face “last time I ended up in your neighbours shower. She was NOT impressed!” He looked around, distractedly. “I don’t think I’ve seen your kitchen. Very nice, needs a tidy…”

“Did you want something?” Ben asked, getting annoyed. “I’m a very busy man…”

“Of course you are!” The Doctor replied “Off to see your mates at Operation Delta, who’ve bought themselves a new toy off eBay!”

“How did you know about that?” Ban asked, surprised. “Have you been listening in on our private correspondence?”

“Oh no, that would be rude!” The Doctor replied. “I know because you’re stuck in a Chronic Hysteresis caused by this new toy. Which,” The Doctor added “turned out to be a Zolfan Hysteritial compresser. Not the sort of thing you want to be pressing buttons on ‘willy-nilly’.”

“A Chronic Hysteresis? You’ve mentioned them before, it’s another name for a time loop” Ben realised what was happening. “I’m stuck in a time loop! That would explain my premonitions!” He looked to the Doctor. “How long have I been in this time loop?”

“About a month” The Doctor admitted. “Don’t worry, it’s being dealt with.”

“What do I have to do?” Ben asked, trying to remember where he’d left his mobile.

“Oh, nothing” The Doctor told him “Just go about your daily routine, and we’ll sort it out on the outside.”

“Can’t I try and alter the course of events, prevent it from happening that way?”

“Not really,” the Doctor said, scratching his neck. “It’s more like that film, Groundhog Day. Whatever you do, you’ll still end up at the same point at the beginning.” The Doctor put his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry!”

“No,” Ben said, “This is great! I can do all the things I’ve always wanted to do!” He ran to the window, pulled off his towel, and took great pleasure in the shocked look on that old woman who’d reported him last time. As she ran into her house, a thought struck him. “Er, this isn’t the last loop, is it, tomorrow won’t carry on from today will it?”

“No Ben, the police won’t be round tomorrow.” The Doctor said, stunned at what Ben had done. Ben was a bit shocked too. He was normally so dignified, yet that had been such a chavvy act. Perhaps the timeloop was effecting his mind.

“So how will I know if the loop is going to be over”, he said, tying his towel round himself again.

The Doctor sat down, with a look of sadness on his face. “Ben, I’m so sorry, but it is over.”

Ben looked at him, surprised. “But you said…”

“We got you out of the loop two days ago, that’s why you’ve started to get déjà vu.” The Doctor looked into Ben’s eyes, and they were full of sadness. “You’re just an echo. We managed to close off the time loop, shunt it into a pocket dimension, but part of you was trapped.” He sighed. “You, that is to say you on the outside, are getting on with your life, meeting new people, having adventures with Kyle and Craig and Katie and that boyfriend of yours with the weird name, but there’s part of you trapped here, and that’s you.”

Ben pointed at the window. “What about all the people outside, won’t they start to remember too?”

The Doctor scratched the back of his head, screwing his face up. “No, they’ll not remember” he said. “They’ll just go on living out the same day, never noticing. As far as they go, they only exist today.”

“Why will I notice, and not them?” Ben asked, angrily. If he had to suffer the constant repetition of this day, he wanted others to feel it too.

“Cos they,” the Doctor said, pointedly “Didn’t break the golden rule of alien artefacts –‘Don’t press buttons if you don’t know what they do.’”

Ben didn’t know what to make of this. “You mean, I’m trapped here alone, forever?”

“’fraid so.” The Doctor said sadly.

“And nobody will miss me.”

“I’m so, so, sorry” the Doctor said, shaking his head.

“Will I age?” Ben asked.

“No.” The Doctor replied.

So, some benefits, Ben thought to himself. “Can I die?”

“In theory” the Doctor said, “But you’ll probably just reappear at the beginning again. Like Bill Murray did.”

“Bill Murray” Ben repeated, sitting down. “So if you aren’t here to rescue me, why did you come?” he asked. “To tell me that I’m alone? That I have no future?”

“No, to tell you that you’re alive.” The Doctor tried to bring a little spark to his voice. “As you said, you now have a consequence free life. You can read every book ever written, catch up on all those videos and DVDs you’ve not got round to watching, you can rob banks, drive like a maniac, kill people – although I’d really, really prefer it if you didn’t! You can do whatever you want, and nobody has to suffer.” The Doctor looked into the distance. “Doesn’t sound too bad…”

Ben thought this over. He was free to do whatever he wanted. Anything. Nobody would judge him, as they’d all have forgotten by tomorrow. He was looking forward to this new freedom. Then, the Doctor started to fade. “Looks like I’m off!” The Doctor said. He pointed at Ben. “Behave!” he said sternly, then smiled sadly as he faded into nothingness. Ben found himself waving aimlessly at nothing. He lowered his hand, and went back into the kitchen. He surveyed the mess, salad and M&S ready meals scattered across the floor. He thought about cleaning it up for a moment, but decided not to bother. It’d all be sorted out next morning. He smiled, as he considered the idea that for once, sleeping on a problem would actually sort it out rather than put it off. Maybe being trapped like this wasn’t such a bad thing.

Ben realised he no longer had any milk, and went to get dressed. He then realised he had no way of keeping it cool, but that didn’t matter, the fridge would be fixed in the morning. He’d buy the milk, have a cup of tea, then go over to see Operation Delta. He wanted to see this Zolfan Hysteritial Compressor, which had changed his life. He thought of his other, luckier self, enjoying the future, and a tear came to his eye. He would never see Anselm again. Or Kyle. Or even Craig, who looked up to him with such pride. Ben thought about how he would live forever, but never see another day.