THE MOMENT
"That's quite a story," the old man, Tim, nodded with a chuckle as Carl finished his tale. The two men fell into easy conversation, and Carl was eager to share his hero. He was a young man in his late 30s, and Tim looked to be positively ancient in comparison. He was dressed rather casually with a black button shirt and baggy orange shorts with black socks and flip-flops. Carl wouldn't call the man ragged, but there was something about him that reminded him of mythical stranger.
"It's just an old legend," Carl replied. "I hope you're not mistaking my joy in retelling it for believing in it," he smiled. "They say sometimes he appears in taverns, sitting until offered food and drink. Just because I invited you to share a few drinks doesn't mean I think you're him," he grinned. "You don't even have a staff."
"And, just because I accepted doesn't mean I'm him either," Tim returned the smile with a raised mug before taking another swig.
"But, it is nice to have that hope. There are unknown good things happening out in the world as often as the bad things, and it's hard to remember that sometimes," Carl said. He didn't feel like he needed to explain himself, but he was comfortable enough that it felt okay to do so.
"Yeah, I hear you," Tim nodded. "That's good to keep in mind. But, I'm sure you can find some of those 'unknown good things' happening now if you looked for them. Old stories and legends have a habit of being twisted in one direction or the other," he added.
"What?" That seemed like an odd statement. Was he talking about the legendary ragged man with a gnarled staff? "I suppose that's true to an extent...," he tried to play it off without knowing for sure what Tim meant. "Yet, none of the legends seem to know his name. If there was any fame to be gained from twisting the legend in his favor, I feel like his name would be one with the story."
"You're not wrong," Tim said. "But, that'd be under the assumption that he did it intentionally. It's people retelling the story along the way that changes it. Every person adds their own perspective and moves it further and further from what really happened."
"You're old, but you're not that old," Carl chuckled. "If you're trying to sound like you were there hundreds of years ago, I'm not buying it." He didn't know why, but Carl wasn't pleased with the direction of the conversation. He'd wanted to share a story that brought him joy, and instead, Tim just wanted him to question it.
"Carl, my new friend..., by lucky coincidence, I can say I was there," Tim nodded. "You're going to have a lot of questions, so, to answer them as quickly as possible...," he snapped his fingers and then Carl blinked.
It happened so fast, that it took him a moment to register that something happened. He opened his eyes to entirely new surroundings. He and Tim now stood on a rocky cliff overlooking a dusty valley instead of the quaint tavern they'd been in moments ago. The sun was setting, but still out, and it was night time at the bar. However, amidst all the confusion, he became astutely aware of a bearded, ragged man with a gnarled staff below. He was standing his ground before several dozen armed bandits. This was that legendary moment.
"How?" he asked without disturbing his mind too much. His gaze was locked on the scene below, and he didn't want to miss anything by asking questions. Fortunately, Tim was smart enough to grasp the entirety of what he was asking.
"Without getting too much into it, I can control time. I happened to be here when it happened the first time, and you seemed to like the story so much I thought you'd get a kick out of it."
"What?" Carl took his eyes off the mythical figure long enough scan the rocky surroundings. There was no one else below that looked like Tim.
"Are... are you him?"
"No," Tim shook his head. "He's down there, and I'm up here," he said. "They can't see us."
"But... this is the past.. right? Where is past you?"
"That starts the 'getting too much into it'," Tim shook his head. "For now, I'll explain it by saying there is no 'past' me. Nor, any 'future' me. I'm Unique, and I'm always me."
"But how..," Carl had another question, but Tim shook his head and pointed down.
"Your favorite part is about to happen," he said.
"Wait, where are the children?" Carl asked. The legend said the old man defeated an entire bandit gang threatening children, but he didn't see any youngsters in danger.
"He's bout to defeat the bandit gang threatening children," Tim chuckled.
"Heed my warning bandits!" The old, ragged man's voice was surpisingly strong. "We will no longer hold any prisoners. If you continue to assault us, your children will pay the price. WITH THEIR LIVES!"
"Release our children and we'll go!" one of the bandits walked forward with arms raised.
"This isn't how it happened!" Carl turned back to Tim with anger, but the old man shrugged with a polite smile. "He didn't defeat an entire bandit gang BY threatening children!"
"He defeated an entire bandit gang threatening children," Tim repeated the legend exactly as Carl had presented it. "It doesn't say, 'an entire gang that was threatening children' either. The point is, things happen, and people make up stories about those things. And stories get changed along the way, regardless of anyone's intentions."
"So, I have to assume you can actually control time. Why are you showing me this? Are you just trying to rub it in?" Carl asked.
"I liked your answer about trying to remember the good things," Tim nodded. "I got a few of those I want to show you, but I thought it'd be a good idea to set a baseline."
"By crushing my hero?" Carl chuckled. His mind was overflowing and he had no other way to express it except for anxious nerves.
"By pointing out that your hopes of your hero are different from the reality," Tim smiled and pointed to his own head. "Once you learn what's in here is different than what's out there...," he pointed at the bandits timidly following the old man back to town. "You're ready to meet the multiverse."
"Multi...verse? Do you mean a parallel reality?"
"I mean a lot of them," Tim nodded. "But first...," Carl blinked again. They were sitting at the bar once more with the same nighttime crowd, as if they'd never left. And, Tim was picking up his mug once more. "...It'd be rude not to finish this beer you bought me."