Seven Days — Twelve Months

— So, what the fuck, nerd, when’s it happening? — Brad growled, looming over the table cluttered with some metal junk and a screen still blinking with lines of code.

— We’ve been stuck here for a fucking week, — Trevor added, breathing heavy like he was about to swing — and if you don’t bring Craig back right now, I’ll shove you into that damn thing myself.

Alex didn’t answer right away. His fingers were trembling as he moved them across the touchpad. His face was gaunt, cheekbones sharp, dark circles under his eyes — he hadn’t slept much since Craig had stormed into his garage with Trevor and Brad a week ago and accidentally activated the prototype. He vanished right in front of them, dissolved in an orange flash and a short metallic zap.

— It’s not that simple... — Alex tried to explain again, partly feeling guilty — yeah, it was his device — but on the other hand, Craig had no one to blame but himself for barging in like he always did. — I told you that...

— Then say it again! — Trevor snapped, gripping Alex’s fragile shoulder hard enough to nearly break it.

— A-a-a-ah! Let go, Trevor! — Alex yelled, jerking back and almost knocking over the laptop, where a frozen frame from another reality had been flickering for a while.

Trevor exhaled sharply but eased his grip. Brad silently stepped closer, eyes locked on the screen. There was a blurry photo — looked like it was taken from a security camera or through a zoomed-in window. And in it, there she was. A girl. Young, relaxed, with a slight smirk on her lips, bringing either a chip or a fry to her mouth. She wore simple but feminine clothes: a sweater, a tank top, a black skirt. A black purse with a chain strap on her shoulder. Her expression... relaxed, almost cocky.

— Who the hell is that? — Brad asked hoarsely, frowning. He didn’t take his eyes off the screen, but his voice was loaded with growing suspicion. — And why the fuck are you showing us this?

Alex swallowed. His lips trembled.

— That’s... Craig, — he said, and for a second the garage fell into a silence heavier than Trevor’s grip a moment ago. Alex could physically feel the weight of it, wanting to curl up under the table, terrified of what was coming next.

— Are you fucking insane? — Trevor shook his head violently, like trying to get rid of a bad dream. — That’s... that’s a chick. A full-on chick. What the fuck do you mean, Craig?

— He... She... — Alex exhaled, clutching the edge of the table. — That version of reality... It works differently. Time passed faster there. For him, it’s been a year. He... she...

— What the hell are you talking about?! — Brad roared. — Our Craig doesn’t strut around in skirts, sipping lattes and munching chips like some kind of... Barbie!

— Look at her closer, — Alex whispered, and with shaking hands zoomed in on the photo.

The three of them stared at the screen, the tense silence gluing their mouths shut. The camera quality wasn’t great, but — yeah, in that face, that softer, more feminine face, Craig’s features were clearly there. That squint, that familiar look like he was scheming something, even his stance. Brad leaned forward first, his frown deepening.

— No fucking way... — Brad breathed, his hands balling into fists. — That... That fucking look.

— No, man, this is bullshit, — Trevor backed away, shaking his head. — This can’t be real. He’s a... Nerd, what the hell?! He’d rather die than end up like that — in a skirt, in fucking heels, with that... that glam-ass purse on his shoulder!

— You’re saying — Brad started slowly — that he lived there for a year? In the body... of that?

— I’m not “saying” it, — Alex said quietly. — I’m telling you how it is. He was gone for seven days. Over there, it’s been twelve months. I ran the calculations and synced the streams — we can bring him back now. But... — he stopped, glancing at the photo.

— But what? — Trevor growled.

— But it looks like... he doesn’t want to come back.

— He doesn’t want to?! — Brad slammed his fist onto the workbench, making the tools rattle. — You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me! That’s Craig! He’d knock the teeth outta anyone who even joked he was a chick! He would never...

He cut himself off when he realized the girl in the photo looked more and more like Craig — not in a cheap parody kind of way or some sad imitation, but the opposite. In that soft, slightly provocative expression, in the squint, in the way her head was tilted — there was the same inner confidence that always lit up Craig’s eyes before a fight or right before his classic line: “Just chill the fuck out.”

— It’s her... — Brad almost whispered, slowly lowering his fists. He looked like he was about to laugh or scream, but instead just stood there, staring at the screen. — He... She...

— Her name is Carrie, — Alex said hoarsely, finally saying the name that had been echoing in his head the past two days — popping up in messages, camera logs, even in fragments of audio files he barely managed to decode from the other side.

— What the fuck are you saying, Alex? — Trevor tensed again, his voice rising with each word. — She’s got a fucking name now?! What next, you gonna show us her fucking passport?

— And she’s got... a boyfriend, — Alex exhaled, bracing for the explosion. But it didn’t come.

— A boyfriend?! — Brad stepped closer. — What the actual fuck?! Craig was... he...

— Two, actually — if we’re being precise, — Alex added quietly, like mocking them, though he already mentally slapped himself for it. — One of them’s a fashion guy with a model haircut, the other — typical gym rat. I saw how she... she’s with them. Not like a slut, no. But...

— Shut the fuck up, you little bitch, or I’ll smash your head so hard you’ll never talk again! — Trevor snapped, raising his hand. Alex flinched instantly, like a scared puppy, bracing for the hit. But it never landed.

— Hey! — Brad barked, grabbing Trevor’s wrist just before he could strike. — That’s enough. It all makes sense now, doesn’t it? Why he kept quiet. I wouldn’t fucking blurt out something like that either. But that’s it. Enough crying. You, nerd — he turned to Alex and jabbed a finger into his chest — bring Craig back. Or that... Carrie. Fuck, even saying that name makes me sick.

Alex swallowed hard and lowered his eyes.

— I... tried, — he said barely audibly. — More than once. I sent signals, activated emergency protocol, fed in the coordinates. Dozens of times. At first I thought it was a glitch. Then I thought something was blocking it. But she... — he stressed she almost like a death sentence — she’s ignoring it. Doesn’t answer. Doesn’t react. It’s like... she doesn’t even want to come back.

— Doesn’t want to?! — Trevor spun around sharply, eyes scanning the room like he was about to punch a hole through the wall. But he stopped, exhaled roughly.

— Are you saying she’s fucking enjoying it?

— I don’t know if it’s enjoyment, — Alex said quietly, barely meeting their eyes — but she... looks happy.

It was like even he could barely get the words out. And after he said them, silence crushed the garage again. Trevor shook his head, like he didn’t hear it right.

— The fuck did you say?

— I said she’s happy, — Alex breathed. — I watched the footage, the pictures, the audio... She laughs over there. Smiles — not fake, not forced — real. She hangs out with friends, works, learns stuff. She lives like... like this is how it’s always been.

— You’re outta your fucking mind, — Trevor hissed. — You’re seriously telling me that Craig — fucking Craig — is living some chick’s life and he’s fucking fine with it?

— It’s not that he’s fine with it, — Alex said flatly, not raising his voice. — You don’t get it, Trevor. Over there, everyone knows her as Carrie. Since day one. In that reality, no one has a clue who he used to be here. There’s no past Craig. There’s only... her. A girl who’s always been told she’s cute. That the skirt suits her. That she’s got a great figure. That her voice is so bubbly. — Alex smiled just for a second, but his face twitched like he’d been slapped. — Imagine waking up and your friend’s calling to grab coffee. You walk into the bathroom — and it’s all girl stuff. No questions, no suspicion. It’s like it’s always been this way.

Brad clenched his jaw and turned away, eyes flicking back to the screen. In the photo, Carrie was holding a coffee cup, and in that slight tilt of her head, in the lips gently licking the edge of the lid — there was something... fucking natural about it.

— Shit... — he whispered. — Just... shit.