1676971801.002

That was the exact fraction of a second his sister had vanished from a locked room.

When he opened them, the smell of ozone was gone. Instead, the air smelled of stale coffee and old books.

He reached out a hand, his fingers tingling with static. He was a ghost in his own past. Elena paused, shivering slightly as if a cold draft had just swept through the sealed room. She looked up from her screen, looking directly toward him. "Arthur?" she whispered into the empty air. Then, the clock flipped. 1676971801.002

Arthur stared at the digital timestamp blinking on his monitor: .

The hum rose to a glass-shattering shriek. The air turned the metallic color of a bruised sky. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut as a blinding flash of white light swallowed his vision. That was the exact fraction of a second

To the rest of the world, it looked like random data junk. To him, it was a precise coordinate in the river of time. It translated directly to February 21, 2023, at exactly 01:30:01 AM and two milliseconds.

Arthur watched in horror as the air around Elena began to fracture like broken glass. The timestamp was executing itself. He reached out a hand, his fingers tingling with static

Arthur tried to speak, but his voice was a silent vibration. He looked at the digital clock on the desk. 01:30:00 AM.