Time and Technicalities (Timewalkers Book 1)

by RP Halliway

  “Not cool, man. I just wanted to say that I’ve been doxxed and it isn’t fun. I have had several stalkers, and used to be a fun person, now I just stay in my house, and have to check everywhere before I leave the house and when I come back. Internet fame isn’t worth it.”

  “Kill yourself, LOSER! Don’t expect any of us to help you get a date.”

  “This is a very interesting method. I am a psychology student, and I don’t know much about dreams yet, but it is hard to know what causes them, or what they mean. This could be just a strong response to something you did. Any drugs used that might induce this?”

  The next message stood out a bit. “How vivid was it? Was it a lucid dream? Or was it something you felt like an ‘experience’?” And the message just left it at that.

  Silas suddenly felt empty and drained from being shamed and attacked on the website. His enthusiasm for his quest quickly waned, and he sunk down into the couch. Almost in real-time he could hear the sound of the keyboard tappings of his haters as the mailbox numbers kept clicking upward. The fog over his mind kept growing and he thought of deleting his account. He felt a chill run down his spine realizing that other factions of internet users—the black hat and dark web hackers—were trying to glean his information and dox him back.

  Had he taken any precautions when he created the account? Where had he been? What Wi-Fi had he connected to? He looked at the email address he signed up with and wondered how easily tracked it was.

  He clicked the account settings button and looked at the delete button. Waiting a few moments, he decided to first see what other posts captured his huge mistake. Clicking the home page link for the social platform, he noticed four other posts appear on the screen that mocked the picture and his username.

  “I’ve become a meme.” He tried to control the negative emotions flooding through his normally happy self. “People hate me so much for this,” he declared aloud, almost disbelieving, but resigned to the fact.

  Looking at the clock, he noticed it was just before four. The deli would be starting to get busy, but Silas wondered if he could call Noel for support. Torn about calling, but not wanting to suffer alone until after the dinner rush, he dialed Noel’s number.

  “Hey bud,” Noel answered, speaking quickly.

  “Hey.” He was pretty sure the tone of his voice conveyed everything.

  “Dude, what’s up?”

  He blew out a deep breath. “The internet is blowing up against me. I posted the drawing and asked for any information, and people are hating on me hard. Claiming I’m a stalker and want to dox this girl to get a date, or something worse.”

  “Whoa. That’s shitty bud. I didn’t expect anything like that,” Noel said. The background noises disappeared, indicating Noel stopped working to focus on the conversation for a minute.

  “Me either. I had no intentions of doxing anybody, but I guess that this could be a pretty clever way of getting to somebody. And now I don’t know if I should apologize or just delete the account.”

  “Hmm . . . It’s getting busy here, can this wait?” Noel asked, now understanding the reason for the call, starting back to cleaning the metal pans and utensils, producing clanking in the background.

  “If you have a quick solution, I’m all ears, but otherwise, I can probably wait. I am just in shock right now, so I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere.”

  “Yeah, I don’t have anything, right now, but put on some good loud music and take a long shower, or even a bath, dude. Get away from the computer and don’t think about it, and try to relax. When the rush is over, and we can bang our heads together.”

  Silas was silent and thought for a few seconds. “I guess that is a good idea—at least as good as mine. Thanks Noel.”

  “Stay positive, dude. All things shall pass,” Noel said with a louder clanging starting. “Gotta go! We’ll talk later.” Then he hung up.

  Silas shut the laptop and used the remote to turn the radio to an oldies station. He turned the volume up loud enough to drown his own thoughts but not loud enough to bother any neighbors. Then he turned on the shower and let it warm up.

  Stepping into the shower, he let the hot water powerfully cascade over him. Silas stood under the shower, letting the massaging flow try to wash away the mortification he felt. After what seemed like twenty minutes, Silas stepped out, a little more relaxed but still feeling the weight of the negative energy from the whole situation.

  Jumping straight into his comfortable apartment ensemble—flannel pants and a loose fitting hoodie—he went to his bedroom and sunk into the bed. He wasn’t sure the negative thoughts would let him nap, or at least let the music take over, but after a few minutes of lying there, he managed to fall into a light sleep.

  During the sleep, he managed to process the intense shock of being hated by the internet, at least a little. Waking after an hour, his thoughts turned to how to manage instead of just being hated and deleting the account. Lying there until the sun set, he felt a little refreshed, and less shocked and stunned by the misinterpretation of his intentions, although the mortification hadn’t let up much.

  The clock crept slowly up to the 8PM time when he knew Noel would finish working, and drive home. Silas wanted this to be over, or to at least have an answer to calm his frazzled emotional shock. Calculating the time until Noel would call, he got up and opened the laptop.

  Returning to the social media site, he logged in, and looked at the messages. Another two hundred seventy three messages greeted him, and he clicked on the “M” to start reading them.

  This new set of messages were still of the same nature—condemning him for being a stalker, and trying to find this girl to harm her. Many responses of this second set were more angry and threatening, although it was against the rules of the site to directly threaten someone or even to say “kill yourself” on the posts. Those were all sent to his personal messages.

  The personal messages were also ticking upwards, although at a much slower rate than the posted messages. He read the more direct threats and more positive messages that people were afraid to write to the actual post. A few also mentioned having vivid dreams, and how they admitted they would have liked to do something similar. This gave him a little boost from feeling totally mortified.

  Another message stood out, being a completely different feel from the others. “Did you talk to anybody in the dream? Did the conversation feel real and logical?”

  Silas disregarded the message, but noted the different tone. “All dreams have conversations that make sense,” he thought after reading it.

  Silas was still scrolling through the social media site when Noel finally called back. He fumbled with the phone, trying to answer it immediately.

  “How are you doing, bud?”

  “A little better, but still feel like I’ve been crushed by the world,” Silas admitted, clicking through a few more messages.

  “That’s shock for you. Fight or flight mode on the emotional level. Most people develop ways of dealing with these shocks on a subconscious level. Distractions, sleep, and tears seem pretty common on the flight side, and anger is probably the most common fight effect.”

  Silas sighed audibly. “It’s the internet. I don’t think there is a way to fight it.”

  “True. I took a look at the post and saw all the shit that they are saying about you. Don’t worry, none of that is you. They are just reacting to a post. This shall pass. I don’t really have any other advice except to just let time handle it.”

  “Can you speed up time?” Silas asked, hoping for a more immediate solution.

  Noel laughed. “The only thing I can think of is to edit the post and add an apology, and then lock the comments.”

  “I guess that’s better than deleting it.” He clicked back to the post page.

  “Oh, you wouldn’t be able to stop this. I’ve seen at least a dozen post
s already, either reposted as is, mocked, or meme’d with funny comments.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of. I didn’t have the nerve to check.”

  “The only good news I have is that I went through most of the posts and some of the other hacker spots and while they may be trying to dox you, it doesn’t seem like they have you yet. Just be safe and stop posting things on all media until this dies down.”

  “Oh, yeah, I think I’m actually done with social media for a while.” He resolved to not post anything for a long time. He found the post on the site and clicked the ‘edit’ button. “Editing it now.” He scrolled down to the bottom of the post, and added the new text:

  “Edit:

  It seems that I have crossed a line by posting a drawing of a girl. I am so sorry [you don’t really know how sorry I am for posting this] for trying this. I wasn’t thinking about what would happen if this was a real person. I don’t want to stalk anyone, and I don’t know this person, and if this is a person, I personally apologize for posting your picture anywhere, and having it blow up like this.

  My intent was to see if this person existed, who I really did see in my dream.

  I am locking this post, and I hope that anybody that feels this was a violation accepts my apology.”

  He read it to Noel before hitting “post.”

  “Sounds good. I would probably add ‘only in my dreams’ just to make sure that your point is solid that you have never met this person.”

  “Good point.” He made the change. “I am so shocked that people are so violently angered by this post.”

  “Well, nobody knows who you are, and most of the comments do seem to have that little qualifier ‘if this is a stalker’ to make their anger and violence acceptable to them. The internet isn’t as fun as it used to be, and there is definitely reason to be suspicious.”

  “Yeah, but it is such a mob. Pitchforks even.”

  “Exactly. They are both protective and assholes at the same time.”

  “Protective assholes, protecting a dream person,” Silas said, managing to break into a small smile, knowing that he would feel the same way if the roles were reversed.

  “Yeah. People are weird. Especially on the internet from their basements.”

  A few minutes after the phone call ended Eric returned to the apartment.

  “Hey Si,” Eric said, tossing a bagged sandwich to Silas, “I talked with Noel at the deli and he said you might having a rough night. I got a movie too.”

  Silas gently caught the sandwich and felt his spirits lift slightly. “That sounds perfect.”

  Eric slid a DVD into the machine and jumped onto the couch beside Silas. Pulling two trays from next to the couch, he slid one to Silas and used one for his own sandwich.

  “I would have never guessed your literal dream girl would turn on you,” Eric said, giving Silas a playful push. “Almost feels like payback for all the girls you reject for not meeting your standards.”

  “I don’t think my standards are too high, it’s just that I can’t seem to find anyone that fits them.”

  Eric laughed as he spread the sandwich paper across the tray. “Potato, tomato.”

  “Maybe,” Silas said, managing a small smile. “I can’t help if this feels different. I thought it was worth a try.”

  “Have you thought about what you will do if you find her?” Eric asked as the movie started.

  Hearing the question aloud for the first time shocked Silas again. “Only a little.”

  “Your own ‘happily ever after’ fairytale, I guess.”

  “Something like that,” Silas said, shifting his focus to the movie and sandwich.

  ***

  Silas woke up feeling drained. He checked the time, and did some mental calculations. While there was enough time to make it to work, he wondered how effective he could be in his current state. A quick analysis told him not very. He called his boss.

  “Hi Myron, I can’t come in to work today,” he said. “I don’t feel good. I don’t think I can manage a crew today.”

  “Another day? Yesterday you looked fine! I gave you the day off to get your shit organized.” Myron was just barely not shouting. “I need you here to get things running.”

  “I know, and I appreciate getting yesterday off, but today is different. I think I might have caught something.”

  “I can’t have too many of these unscheduled days off, Silas. I need you to work. But fine. Take another day. I don’t want to get another call tomorrow though.”

  Silas ended the call and pulled the covers over his head, hiding from the world. After another hour, Silas managed to pull himself out of bed and head to the shower.

  Standing in the third long hot shower in two days under the powerful jets, his body definitely felt a lot more relaxed, although his mind still felt tied in the knots of dozens of emotions.

  He sat on the couch slowly drinking the coffee Eric left for him until he summoned up the courage to open his laptop. He logged in with his username, almost dreading the confrontation. Since his post was locked, there shouldn’t be any more negative comments showing up but that didn’t apply to any others. Thankfully those comments didn’t appear in his mailbox.

  “I guess they just moved to the personal messaging side,” he said with a sinking feeling, seeing fifty-seven new messages.

  He reluctantly clicked the “P” mail icon and loaded the messages. As expected, most of the messages were negative and attacking, accusatory and angry at him for trying to dox an innocent girl. Even the apology and explanation that it was only his dream didn’t assuage the mob’s angry demeanor.

  A couple messages from people who did believe him seemed to help ease his anxiety. Two actually apologized for their earlier angry and threatening posts and personal messages, which lifted some of the weight of guilt Silas felt.

  One message, which he recognized as from Noel’s username, just said “This too shall pass” and Silas let out a much needed little laugh.

  He gave each message a quick glance while eagerly hitting the delete button, just to make sure he wasn’t missing any information, but didn’t really feel like being weighed down with all the anger of the negative posts.

  Clicking to the next message, he paused for a second. He scanned the top line of the message, and then he moved the mouse down and read the message completely. The message was short, reading only:

  “Seems like you hit a nerve on the internet.

  Don’t take it personally.

  Did you recognize any of the voices?”

  “What? How would I know?” he asked himself aloud. “And who thinks they know that there were even voices in my dream?” He felt a little anger bubbling up. “Who is this person that thinks they know my dream?” He looked at the username trying to figure out who it might be but it didn’t ring a bell.

  “Oh well, away with you!” he said with a mouse click, deleting the message. The other messages were deleted rapidly with no quality content in any of them either.

  Silas decided not to look at any other posts.

  Chapter 3

  “Glad you are with us again,” Myron shouted to Silas as they approached the planning table to start the early morning construction.

  “Yeah, I managed to shake whatever I had. I should be good to go for the day.”

  “That’s good because I need you on the roofing construction and beaming,” Myron said, slapping him on the back. “Gonna be a great day to get some real progress done.”

  “I hope so.” Silas checked his belt and walking over to the waiting crew to start assigning tasks for the day.

  So began his recovery into a mostly normal life of working and relaxing, with the occasional—but not too often—foray into social media. The next two days passed uneventfully, but that all changed when he got home from work and his phone rang.

&nbs
p; “You should watch channel 42 news for yesterday,” Noel said without so much as a hello.

  “Why?” Silas moved to the couch and grabbed the remote from the coffee table.

  “There is a small blurb about your post,” Noel said. Silas could hear a hint of laughter in his voice. “I thought you should know.”

  “Ugh. I don’t want to think about that anymore,” Silas said, plopping loudly onto the couch. Two days with no mention of the post had been bliss.

  “Don’t worry bud, it isn’t a hit piece. It’s more of an exposition. They called it dream drawing.” Then Noel hung up.

  There was no putting it off. Opening his laptop, he typed in a web search of the local channel 42 news and dream drawing. The laptop screen filled almost completely with hits.

  He felt the blood drain out of his face. The links were all newscasts about his post—and not just local news channels. Silas clicked on a highly viewed video, and waited briefly for it to load.

  “In light-hearted news today, a post went viral two days ago, drawing both anger and condemnation from the online community. One user, PS513, posted a drawing of a girl he seemed to have seen in his dreams. The immediate reaction focused on stalking and doxing. Doxing being the action of exposing someone’s real life identity and location and other personal information while tying it to an online identity. The act of doxing allows unstable people to target online individuals for physical violence or other acts, and should be avoided as much as possible. The poster apologized profusely for trying to start anything, claiming that the drawing did in fact only come from the dream. Some users accepted the apology, but others still decried the practice, saying it could be used for copycats or by actual stalkers to learn real identities.

  On the other hand, one psychologist says that, with some caveats, most people actually have this desire, although most people aren’t able to remember dreams vividly enough to create a sketch of anybody from their dreams. Dreams are one of the realms that are vastly unexplored in the human psyche, and people have been trying for generations to make sense of the dream world, and attempting to find connections between dreams and reality.