Time Trap

I was sitting by the window watching the rainfall outside. The wind bent the trees' branches across the road, and the drops hitting the glass merged and floated down into thin columns of water.

A bolt of forked lightning struck on the horizon, it ended descending to the sea, and time stopped. From the evening on, my head was smoky because of the wine I was drinking, so I thought what I was seeing was a delusion. The lightning on the horizon stood before me in all its glory. Raindrops illuminated by the white light of lightning just hung in the air.

For some reason, I didn't panic in the face of this strange view. It's like I've had a moment like this before. My heart began to beat rapidly, but there was hope in my heart that the world would soon return to its former state.

My expectation that the world would function in the order weakened as the seconds progressed. I was hurt because I brutally pinched my arm, and the place I squeezed was blue. Such things would only happen in movies and dreams, but I was sure I wasn't dreaming.

When I got up from the chair to look around, my eyes caught on the TV screen; it was written 02:04 in the top left corner of the screen. I pressed the switch on the satellite receiver in the hope of accessing a news story explaining the situation. This attempt did not result in any changes to the screen of the television. I picked up my mobile phone, which has become a natural extension of my body in recent years. The phone charge was full, but it didn't turn on. At that moment, I was shaken by a massive wave of panic. I made my way to the hall door to throw myself out of the house, but unfortunately, I couldn't get through the door; it was as if an invisible cushion had been put in place of the door that was open. Not only did I bounce off the transparent border of the hall, but I fell to the ground.

I got up slowly from where I fell, turned around, and saw a 10-11-year-old boy sleeping on the couch opposite the TV. Nor has there been any change in the dull landscape outside.

I approached the boy and leaned over him. He slept peacefully as if his presence in the hall of my house was the most normal thing in the world. There was something extra in the boy's image that bothered me. I looked at the child's face again and understood the source of my discomfort: the child lying on the couch looked like me. In fact, something told me the kid was me at that age. I thought about waking the child up and asking what was going on, but I wasn't sure it would be the proper behavior. I sat in the high-back seat next to the coach and started thinking about what had happened:

I came home late in the evening after drinking a lot of wine at Meltem's birthday party. By the time I entered the house, it was raining outside. After a lightning bolt on the horizon, time stopped, and from that moment on, the electronic instruments were not working. Even though time stopped, I could move. An invisible wall prevented me from leaving the hall, and on the couch opposite me lay a 10-11-year-old boy. I looked at the TV clock. I'm not surprised that the 02:04 message on the screen didn't change because even the rays emitted from the leg lamp in the corner of the hall were frozen. In this micro-universe I was trapped in, two beings could move: me and my childhood.

I sat back, not knowing what to do, and this time a middle-aged man appeared before my eyes. His body was gradually formed as if he were teleporting from somewhere. I got up in distress and pushed him to see if it was real.

"What am I doing here? Who are you?" the man inquired. He answered his question as "You look like me in my twenties."

I wonder if I was dead, drawn to the test by someone playing this game for me? Whoever set this up had superhuman powers, but he should have known he couldn't fear me with such tricks.

"Who are you? Who is the boy lying on the couch?" I asked him.

"The boy on the couch is one of us. I think someone's playing us. Your name Is Mehmet, right?" he replied.

I was still drunk, I was tired, and I couldn't understand what had happened. So the opportunity to meet the past and future selves, which had never been destined for anyone before, came and found me? I could have passed out in the living room and started dreaming. I replied to the man, "The only thing I'm sure of right now is that my name is Mehmet."

"Raindrops hung in the air. This is your home. Then we can assume that this is about you. I remember this house. And what I did at my age. What could you have done that required you to fall into such a plot?" he said.

"I'm 25, and you?" I asked.

"I'm 49. Let me save you the trouble of calculating: I'm from the year 2040. But it's not normal even for the years I live. In my age, no technology can explain this situation."

"I'm sure someone's trying to trick me. In fact, something tells me you're involved."

"I think someone sent me here to help you, but who and what? Decisions made at your age affect a person's entire life. I'm not saying this to be condescending, but how much can a person know the world at the age of 25?"

"49 - year-olds are also usually exhausted. Most of them are boring types," I replied.

"Have you made a decision that can lead to significant changes in your life these days?" my 49-year-old self asked.

"There's no such thing, and who cares about our lives? No God, no government, no corporations. Let's wake this kid up. Maybe he knows something."

The boy thought it was his mother who woke him up. And when I told him that we were future Mehmets and wanted to talk to him, he turned around and went to sleep. He must have thought what he was seeing was a dream.

I intended to shake him and wake him up, but when another Mehmet appeared in front of me, I had to take care of my new guest.

"Welcome, master Mehmet. We were just talking about you, wondering where were you, if something had happened to you," I said.

Old Mehmet and the 49-year-old Mehmet in front of me didn't understand anything I said. As age progressed, people's ability to understand sarcastic words decreased.

Old Mehmet shouted," Hülya, bring my pill from inside; I suppose I started to dream."

"This is not a dream, Mehmet the fourth. The greatest and wisest of Mehmets. No dream, no simulation. Could the Time Machine have been invented in your time?"

"Hülya, come to the hall, look, we have guests. I've seen the time machine a lot in movies. I liked it when I was young. Age 83, not easy. Appreciate your youth," the old Mehmet said.

"Obviously, this is going to go on. My pocket computer doesn't work. Should we go out and tell someone about our problems?" 49 years-old Mehmet said.

"How could I not think of that?" I replied.

He got up and headed for the hall door, and the look on his face was funny when he hit the invisible wall at the door and fell to the ground.

The 49-year-old Mehmet (Mehmet the third) looked to me from where it fell and asked, "You've tried this before, right?"

"After the age of 30, the mind begins to decline."

"If you're so smart, solve this mystery," the third Mehmet said as he stood up.

"I'm an ordinary man. Whose chicken could I have said shoo? You know what I've been through. Although your intelligence has declined, You have more life experience. Besides, you've spent more time in post-modern times than I have. Obviously, someone is starting to rule time. They brought you in and locked you in here. If they can afford to do something like this, it's very likely that they're listening to us right now. Explain your joke! I'm tired of it!"

"I wouldn't be in a hurry to leave you if we knew how this could happen," said the third Mehmet. Then he turned to the fourth Mehmet and asked, "Were we able to win the Gebze Palace of culture architectural project competition?"

I think Mehmet the fourth was tired during time travel. He was sleeping on the seat where he was sitting, with his head back and his mouth open.

“I Am Mehmet The Second. The smartest and drunkest of Mehmets. Guards, I command you. Tell the time to start flowing immediately. My Mehmetness is enough for me. I don't want another Mehmet in this house. I'm cold; I've always been cold. My father, the King, was cold, too. We're always cold as a family."

"Nuts, have you?" the third Mehmet asked. "It's up to both of us to fix this because there's no better than the others.," he added.

"I haven't been well lately. I want to leave the Meltem, but I don't know how to tell her. I'm tired of pretending that nothing happens when I have such an intention. I'm pretty happy with her. I don't know why you want to leave her. And all of a sudden, time stopped outside. And my house was full of Mehmets."

The fourth Mehmet opened his eyes, the edges of which were wrinkled, and said, "Hülya, leave these dishes. Let's have a conversation." He waited for Hülya for a while, with glimmers of hope in his old eyes. After being sure that Hulya would not come, he closed his eyes and fell asleep again.

I turned to Mehmet the third and asked, "Do you know Hulya?"

"His dead wife, I guess. After an age, I will meet a woman named Hulya. And I'll have Alzheimer's in my 80s. It's not easy being Mehmet. All Mehmet must have the wisdom to gather here. All Mehmets of the world, unite!"

"We may starve here, but you're still joking. Come on, I'm young, and I'm drunk. You're an adult. At least you don't do it, third Mehmet."

"I forgot about Meltem. Now that I think about her, she was a great person. And I was so happy in the eight months we spent together. Why do you want to break up with her?"

"Since you implied that I should not leave Meltem, I will not have a happy life in the future if we get out of here, of course. Maybe you're not me. Because if a person encounters himself at another time, it becomes a paradox. I won't leave Meltem if that's why we're trapped here. We have learned our lesson, we have already learned our lesson," I said, and I got up, woke up the boy Mehmet and asked him how old he was.

"11," he said, looking at us with confused gazes. Apparently, he finally really woke up and, of course, didn't make sense of what he saw.

The third Mehmet said: "There is nothing to worry about. When you're 25, you'll live in this house. We are the people you will become in the future."

"How can such a thing happen?" first Mehmet asked.

"That's what we're trying to understand. I'll ask you a question: what number is following series 11, 25, 49, 83?"

Boy Mehmet looked at my face in a daze. He couldn't get over the sleepiness.

"The answer to your question is 127. So as age progresses, intelligence does not decline much," said Mehmet the third.

"There is no one on earth who has lived to be 127 years old. So we can assume that an older Mehmet will not come to this room," I said.

"You're wrong," said Mehmet the fifth. He had a confident look with his stylish exoskeleton and fancy glasses on his eye. Although fourth Mehmet's age spots were preserved on his face, he looked very energetic and cheerful.

"Great, Mehmet. A 127-year-old sycamore, the wisest of sages. Would you mind explaining what happened to us?" I asked him.

"The cure for Alzheimer's has been found, and the quality of serums that slow aging has increased," said Mehmet, the fifth, looking at Mehmet, the fourth, who was napping with his mouth open in the chair. He was proud to be still alive at the age of 127. "Last year, we were reunited with Meltem. She sent us here," he added.

I noticed that his eyes flashed with happiness when he said the name of Meltem. So, after 102 years, she was reunited with me and wanted to change my past. She wanted to rule all Mehmets, to take over all of them.

"Let no one expect me to submit to such tyranny. There is no compulsion in religion," I said.

"She obviously loves you. Give up this word of separation," said the first Mehmet.

"Don't interfere in things that you don't understand," I said. Life was mine, but everyone had an opinion.

" I know what love is," said Mehmet the first.

"I suppose you know we're not perfect. Meltem may not be perfect, but my subsequent relationships never worked. We have difficulties due to the nature of being Mehmet," said the third Mehmet.

"I'm shelving the issue of separation until my next depression, friends."

The Mehmets left my room in the order they came, and outside, the raindrops moved again. As soon as time passed, the image of lightning hanging in the sky head was erased.

I went to the bathroom and washed my face, turned around, and went into my bedroom. I had a feeling things would go well.

Image Source: https://unsplash.com/photos/bhE2HWhO9U0