Wednesday night. I hadn’t done a single page of reading for Thursday night’s art history class, so I’d parked myself at the library with my laptop, some smooth jams, and my textbook. Out the window, the Starbucks across the street was busier than the whole library. For some reason no one seemed particularly motivated to study on a Wednesday night on the third week of classes. To be fair, I wasn’t motivated either, I was mostly messing around with photoshop and listening to some albums I’d fallen behind on. I could only look at so many portraits of medieval royalty before they all started to blend together. It was a lot more fun to throw the images into photoshop and make memes.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a hooded figure brooding past the library windows.

Their walk looked familiar. Their posture too. So did the hoodie.

I pushed my textbook onto the bench and tore off my headphones. Dammit. I couldn’t see them anymore from my seat. The librarian’s heads snapped to attention as I launched myself down hall to catch up with the figure. Pencils clattered to the ground in my wake. Each window I passed I checked briefly to see if they were there. Eventually, I saw a hoodie outside so I jumped to the next window and knocked on it a couple times, visibly heaving, but trying to look casual about it. The figure walked into view and looked up at me confused.

I had no idea who they were.

I gave a pained smiled and waved them away before hiding my boiling face in my hands. Why had I even run after them? What would I have done if it had actually been Harmony? I couldn’t be that desperate.

“It’s both distracting and dangerous to run in the library, you know?” A voice said softly.

I spun around to see Harmony seated on a small stool leaning against a shelf in the aisle directly behind me. Their long legs comfortably extended all the way across to the shelf on the other side. A book lay splayed open on their lap as they smiled at me. Our eyes met and Harmony wasn’t looking away.

[drawing]Harmonylibrary[/drawing]

“I thought… How did you…? Was that… Shit, just… Gimme a sec.” I struggled to breathe.

“Are you ok?” Harmony asked, visibly worried. They put a finger on the page they were reading and closed the book around it. It was halfway finished.

“It’s… It’s nothing, I’m, maybe I’m just tired. How are you?”

“I’m sorry. I believe I’m well; I’ve made hard decisions today. Are you sitting somewhere?”

I nodded.

We followed the trail of ejected pencils back to my booth by the window. My laptop was untouched, though I’d accidentally tossed my art history textbook to the ground in my recklessness. Harmony picked it up and put it gently onto the table then sat across from me. I could see the librarians in the lobby glaring at me through their glasses. I smiled apologetically. Harmony opened their book again and went back to reading quietly, but my heart still pounded. This time out of excitement.

We worked for a while, quipping occasionally, but otherwise not speaking much. It was natural. Normal. It was as if we’d sat and studied a thousand times before.

-- 

I noticed I hadn’t heard a page flip recently. Looking up, I found myself eye to eye with Harmony, transfixed almost. Their brow was tight and their usual hazel eyes had darkened. The book they’d been reading was closed in front of them, so I closed mine and placed it carefully in my lap. We didn’t often lock eyes.

“When I woke up, I wasn’t going to do this. But I’ve come to think it’s actually the right thing to do. I want to ask for your help. Or rather, I want to tell you something with hopes that you might be able to help.” Harmony said with deathlike stillness.

“Ok, uh, sure.”

“This isn’t fair, but I’m asking for your consent. What I tell you can’t be untold. I would like to speak with you candidly, but I don’t want to be invasive upon your life without your permission.” They continued.

“Uhm. This is a bit… Ominous. But I get the paradox. I can’t really consent without knowing what you’re going to say, but once you tell me whatever it is, we’re sort of past the consent part…” I trailed off.

Harmony didn’t cut in. They really wanted me to take them seriously and consent if I wanted to listen. The importance of the conversation grew, but so did my curiosity.

“I am consenting now, with the ability to revoke it later.” I said firmly.

“Absolutely, thank you. Would you be willing to bring your belongings? I would prefer talking elsewhere, the park perhaps?” They asked.

“Oh, alright.”

It was quite exciting that Harmony wanted to talk, though I hoped nothing was too wrong. Harmony was an unusually solemn person, but was suddenly reaching out for help. Selfishly, it felt like an opportunity to get closer to them.

I folded my computer without saving the meme I’d been working on. I closed my notebook around my pen, slapped it onto my textbook, and shoved everything into my backpack. There was urgency about my actions, which I didn’t understand because Harmony hadn’t implied we were pressed for time. I just felt like it was important. After I’d fit everything into my backpack, I started to zip it up when Harmony handed me my laptop charger. I’d completely forgotten it under the table. I took it quickly, zipping it into the overflowing pack which I slung over my shoulder. They grabbed a straw wrapper off the table and used it to mark their page before tucking the book under their arm.

Harmony walked me out of the library and right past the Starbucks. I kept a quick pace to match their long strides while still trying to close my jacket. After the first turn it looked like they were heading for Millennium Park, which I was certain would be nearly abandoned at that hour. I remarked to myself that nighttime walks in empty parks fit with Harmony’s appeal, a thought I immediately regretted. I shook my head. I wanted to be more attentive to whatever they were feeling and less to my aesthetic judgements.

We stopped at the edge of the plaza, looked at the few people silhouetted by various lights, and made our way toward a low wall. Harmony sat down first, and I immediately put my bag beside them and stretched my arms in the cold air.

“It’s probably best we sit. The wall will break the wind.” Harmony said.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Let me take a moment to collect myself. Are you alright, do you need anything?”

“Nope, thanks.” I said, pulling my coat in closer and hunkering against the wall. Harmony was right, it was a lot less cold.

[drawing]RachelHarmonyparkwall[/drawing]

There was nothing but the wind and silence.

Then Harmony breathed, and for a moment even the wind stopped to listen.

“I’m trapped. I’m chained to a particular point in time such that I cannot escape and do not know how to continue. My life begins on June twenty-first of this year. I exist, I deteriorate, eventually I collapse, and then my life begins anew. Once again on the twenty-first of June. I live in repeated cyclical iteration, infinitely suspended in time. And each time, the world forgets.” They said.

What the fuck was Harmony talking about? But their flat face betrayed no hint of jest or humor. They continued.

“This is a loop. I awake, I live, I die, I awake again. Hundreds of times, potentially thousands or millions for I have no memory of a time before the twenty-first of June. I have no memory of a time before the iterations began. My only memory is that each life begins the same. I wake up in my apartment. I roll over because the sunlight coming in the window is too bright for my sleep-weary eyes. A half glass of water sits on the counter precariously, too close to the edge. Directly in front of my face lies my phone, plugged in but dead, as the charger has fallen out of the socket. When my consciousness slips to, the people below me argue about groceries. I can hear specifically that one hates sourdough, and the other hates potato bread. I get up and my covers fall over my left leg and arm, and I just sit there for a minute before the dawn of every life I have previously lived comes crashing down on top of me. Then finally, lie back down to look out the window and see thirty-eight windows from the spot where I first come to. Every single time.”

Harmony had closed their eyes as they described the scenario to me but opened them at the end. They didn’t look away, leaving their pupils large and open for me. I looked in, with difficulty because of the darkness. I waited and they waited. I wanted to understand, but I didn’t. It didn’t seem reasonable to take their story at face value, so I hunted for a metaphor. I imagined Harmony was still being cryptic about what they meant. Why was June twenty-first so important? Was it a memory loss issue? Was Harmony hurt? Harmony answered as if I’d asked the questions out loud.

“This is not a joke, and though partially related memory loss I am not hurt. Or at least not in any way that is medically resolvable. To be explicitly clear, I’m trapped in a time loop of some kind. I am reliving the same events again and again, capable of altering pieces, yet unable to alter the result. My life lasts only a few months. I suffer increasing physical stress because of it, seizures ensue, and eventually my body gives up and my mind returns to the beginning. To further emphasize, and perhaps clarify… I’ve died. Hundreds of times. Presumably I die at the end of every life and yet no death is final. Every time I die, I wake up again in the same room with the same glass of water and the same thirty-eight windows. I can’t actually die in any meaningful way, whatever that entails, and I can’t live because I’m trapped. The implications of both life and death have lost their meaning and I am struggling to stay afloat.”

My eyes flit from one side of their face to the other, then back and forth. I could tell the story was a cry for help, but I couldn’t tell what it was about. I looked for some evidence that it was part of a larger narrative where it would make sense in context. It didn’t make sense. Time travel wasn’t real, or if it was, it didn’t work the way Harmony had described. All time travel was inherently paradoxical, Harmony would already know the result of every conversation. I was sure another explanation lurked beneath the surface. Harmony continued.

“In previous iterations where this conversation emerged, you asked me to predict something that was going to happen, would that help? I would like to get past the step where you don’t believe me as quickly as possible.” The desperation in their voice chilled my skin more than the frigid wind. Whatever it was about it seemed so real to Harmony. But they couldn’t expect me to accept a time travel story as the excuse. There had to be something wrong; I just couldn’t tell what it was. I began softly.

“I’m… trying to understand. Waking up again and again and again, nothing ever changing. That’s… Have you… tried talking to someone?” I asked.

“You’re implying that I may be imagining things and that this is a convoluted way of telling you that I’m depressed and need help.” Harmony deduced immediately.

“Are you depressed?”

“Clinically, yes.”

“Oh.”

“However, I would prefer discussing the chemical imbalance in my brain on a separate occasion. I’d like to instead reach an understanding about the nature of time, specifically how it’s not functioning correctly.” Harmony sounded frustrated.

“Harmony…” I sighed.

“I sense that we’ve hit a wall. You’re not receiving this whatsoever; usually we have a substantial enough relationship that you’re willing to trust me, but I’ve never told you so early.” They frowned.

Relationship? I said nothing.

“Would you tell me what time it is, please?” Harmony asked.

I hesitantly retrieved my phone from my backpack and showed it to them. Eight forty-six PM. I started to put it away again, but Harmony held up a hand to stop me.

“Eleven minutes ago, BBC put out an article revealing the discovery of a new multi-cell, subzero, arctic, life-form. Would you please look it up?” They said, pointing to my phone.

I felt silly. Was I being recorded? I looked around, imagining an elaborate prank where I might be mocked by an invisible audience.

“Please, Ray. This is unbelievably important. I’d like to ask for a suspension of disbelief.” They begged. The name Ray echoed in my head. I withdrew my phone slowly, cleared an incoming message from Sammy, and typed BBC into Safari.

“Uh, ok, nothing on the front page…” I said.

“Hit news, then science… The first few words of the article are ‘In an icebreaking discovery, Polish scientists have…’ and then some technical jargon. Also check the recency of the article. It probably says twelve minutes ago at this point.” They directed impatiently.

“Ok, science, there it is… Oh Fuck.”

Sure enough. A bleary-eyed lady in a furry coat and rosy red cheeks smiled next to a big drill. The headline read New Extremophiles. And exactly as predicted, the time changed from twelve to thirteen minutes ago. Harmony watched me intently and didn’t speak a word.

“How…? Did. Did you look this up before?” I asked, my mind racing for answers.

“In the next five minutes a tour bus will pull up about twenty-five feet from here and offload several tourists. They will quickly scurry over to the Cloud Gate, the Bean that is, and take some photos. Then they’ll rush back onto the bus, and it will promptly leave again.” Harmony said, as if it was an answer. Their voice was ominous in its completeness. I didn’t like it.

“Ok, just… I’m confused. Please tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring me.” My throat clenched.

“I’m telling you all of this now because I am so, so tired, and while you don’t know me, I only know you.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean, Harmony?” I scooted back, squeezing my phone in my hand.

“I need you to believe me so I can explain to you what’s happening. I don’t know what to do, and I know you don’t either but I…” Harmony almost finished their sentence but pulled their lips back from the edge painfully. Their eyes glimmered, reflecting the streetlights, wet with tears, pleading with me to listen.

I wanted to. I wanted to trust them.

Why did I want to trust them? I’d talked to them a few times, got coffee once, and then a story of time travel. Or whatever it was. Did I pity them? Did I see a cute, sad person and think I could fix them? That wouldn’t be fair. I knew I couldn’t fix anyone; I’d told Tsuki she couldn’t enough times that it was utterly hypocritical for me to think that I could. But I’d always told Tsuki she could try to help. Maybe that’s all Harmony was asking for, in the weirdest way I’d ever seen.

Harmony sighed into a slump. Then groaned, standing up as they spoke.

“I think that’s my answer. I can’t approach you with any of this before we know one another. There needs to be some sort of foundation. A friendship perhaps…” They muttered, almost to themselves.

“I’ll listen.” I interjected.

Harmony stopped.

“You, earlier, asked for me to trust you and listen. I think I can do that. I don’t know how much else I can do, but I can do that.” I offered.

“This conversation is not going to get easier. I would not reproach you for retracting your consent.”

“Thank you. You have my consent to continue.” I said firmly.

Harmony took another deep breath.

I waited.

“Every life, from my awakening on June twenty-first –” They began again.

“Is there anything, like, special about June twenty-first? Why that day?” I asked, interrupting, surprising Harmony.

“I don’t know. I don’t believe so. It’s the solstice?” They said, sitting down again.

“Hm. Alright. Sorry”

“Every life proceeds the same way. If I don’t change anything, or interact, it is exactly the same. Different things only happen depending on when and how I interfere with the world, but never has any alteration carried over after a new awakening, except of course for my memory of it.” Harmony explained.

“So, you’ve known me before.” I challenged.

“I have… I should mention I’ve known hundreds of lives with you. We actually know each other quite well. I’ve been on hundreds of coffee shop dates, attended hundreds of Kennan’s house parties, and hundreds of walks in this very plaza. I’ve skyped with you to meet Paul and your parents and even seen them visit for the holidays. But I also know exactly how the next six months play out for every person here. I could tell you every major event that’s going to happen across the world. I could tell you which trade agreements China signs next week, who the secret guest star is on SNL this weekend, and even who draws the most attention at the Venice Biennale. I’m watching the world spin like rotary dial.”

“Uhm. What?” I started.

Fuck that. How did Harmony know my family? I pushed myself off the wall, stood up, and walked away from them. They had violated my privacy, my dignity, in an uncomfortable way. Harmony was inside my life. Were they a stalker? A hacker? Was it some government scheme? A chill ran down my spine and I pulled my feet closer together and took one step away.

“What kind of shitty consent is this? I revoke –” I said before I was muffled by an engine. A loud engine.

I wondered only for a second before the sound of hydraulics rooted me on the spot. Without turning I heard the familiar sound of a bus lowering onto the temporary parking. I watched in horror as six or seven ill-dressed tourists jumped out and hurried towards the enormous chrome sculpture in the center of the plaza, just as Harmony had predicted. I listened to them run all the way there and all the way back before I even dared breathe. After the bus pulled out, I finally finished my rotation. Harmony was silent, still seated against the wall, head up, eyes alert.

“You knew about the bus. You knew about the article. How is that possible?” I asked.

“I’m telling you the truth.”

“Stop bullshitting me.”

Harmony didn’t answer.

“I’m sitting down again. My consent is given, but you need to just let me think first.”

Harmony nodded.

The wind disappeared. My feet disappeared. Even Harmony a few feet beside me vanished from view. Instead, I sat in a swirl filled with the events of the last few minutes. The article, the bus, the story. Harmony’s explanation didn’t seem so far-fetched if I just looked at the immediate evidence, but everything else I’d ever known told me not to believe. There weren’t a lot of ways of explaining what had just happened.

I recognized that with a big enough budget and enough planning, seemingly random events could be orchestrated. The BBC article could be released or backdated on the spot, and the bus as well. Yet, something felt strange about their predictions. Harmony volunteered the information, but if it was all faked it wouldn’t be difficult to break the illusion if I asked them to predict something they hadn’t planned. Surely Harmony knew that. I thought I might ask them what my grandmother’s name was, but that couldn’t be too difficult to discover on the internet. Especially if they were a hacker. I debated asking instead about something in the future, but of my choosing, so they couldn’t orchestrate it.

Would they have just dismissed my question and say that they hadn’t noticed whatever I’d asked them to predict? That was the easy way out. My heart dropped a bit in disappointment. I realized I sort of wanted to believe them.

“Harmony?” I asked, breaking the air.

“Yes, Ray?” They answered.

“Can I, uh, ask you something? About what you’re telling me. Or how to prove it. It’s not that I don’t believe you, or rather not that I don’t want to. I don’t know what I believe right now. I just, I think I need to ask.”

“Of course. What is it?”

“What happens between Okaasan and Ototo?” I asked, intentionally withholding as much information as possible. Harmony looked at me gently.

“Are you sure you want to know? You knowing may change things.” Harmony held out their hands, one closed and one open.

“No, not really… But if you know, and if I’m supposed to trust you as much as you say you trust me, then tell me.” I admitted, sticking to my instincts. They nodded.

“Your mother, who has asked me to address her as Okaasan, has already paid the fees and submitted Paul’s application to Fifth Union Military Academy. She’s not happy about it, but she’s willing to let your brother go. There should be a family meeting about it in the next few weeks. It’s worth noting that, at this point, she hasn’t told anyone yet. Not even Harry, er, your father. She’s still absolutely terrified for Paul and would rather talk him out of it than anything else. Though now that you know this information you may alter that result.” Harmony explained.

Harmony knew. They knew everything. They knew about Paul’s military academy dream and Okaasan’s hatred of it. They knew something I didn’t even know. That Otoosan didn’t know. And it didn’t even make sense, she’d been fighting Paul for months about it. Harmony even knew that Okaasan would have insisted being called Okaasan, while Otoosan would have preferred Harry. I was stunned.

“Wait. She’s just going to let him go?” I asked.

“She is. She’s going to ask him not to, but she won’t stop him.”

I quickly pulled out my phone.

Both of my parents were opposed to Paul pursuing a military career. Okaasan unequivocally forbade him from becoming what she called a government-trained murderer when she first heard that’s what he wanted to do. Otoosan took a gentler approach, trying to show Paul why Okaasan felt that way, but each attempt only emboldened him. He wanted it so badly. He even tried to sign up for a summer program by himself once, but they found out he wasn’t eighteen and requested parental approval, which Okaasan of course denied. I’d gotten tired of the arguments. I sympathized with Paul, and the fact that Okaasan was not listening to him, and yet I too didn’t love the idea of him training to kill people and going abroad to do just that. I didn’t understand his drive. How could he look past what war-time America had done to our family? What about the thousands of other Japanese Americans? With the near-constant suffocating tension of the household, it didn’t make sense that Okaasan would have simply folded. Not without at least Otoosan having a hand in it. When I left for Chicago, Paul had insisted that he would get a job and pay for everything himself as soon as he graduated and turned eighteen. Okaasan had no response.

I typed out a message.

            Hey Okaasan, did you submit Paul’s application to Fifth Union? Did you tell Otoosan? Did you pay for everything?

It felt crazy, but I needed to be sure if Harmony was right, and I needed to know what was going on with Paul. I reread what I’d written a dozen times while Harmony watched. Then texted Okaasan again.

            Are you ok? I asked.

The air settled, waiting for an answer. Harmony gazed focus-less down the street behind me.

Okaasan responded unusually quickly. I felt my heart try to rip its way through my chest as I read.

            How did you know? I haven’t told Harry yet, or Pauly. I don’t know what to do. Please don’t tell them. She wrote.

She had done exactly as Harmony predicted. Or knew. I wasn’t really sure what Harmony had done, but Okaasan had definitely submitted Paul’s application in secret. She hadn’t told either of the boys and seemed embarrassed. There wasn’t an answer to whether she was alright, but I knew she was struggling. I looked up at Harmony beside me.

“Does… Does Pauly die?” I asked, wincing as I forgot to call him Paul.

“I don’t know. In some iterations he goes to the academy, and in some he doesn’t, but I haven’t lived long enough to see him go into service. I’m sorry.” Harmony answered, visibly pained that they couldn’t help.

“It’s ok. Thank you. For telling me.”

Harmony nodded and leaned back against the wall.

The empty reply box on my phone illuminated my face from below. It waited. I wanted to reply, but I needed time to think.

Shit.

I put my phone back into my pocket. Later. First, Harmony.

Did I believe them? Harmony couldn’t have known what I was going to ask, and without conspiracy-level preparation they never would have known the intricate information I wanted to hear. Could they read my mind? Or did I accept their explanation? A time loop. June twenty-first, again and again. They’d been a bit vague about the rest, why or how the loop had begun. What was the deterioration? Why didn’t anyone else remember if they had lived the loop before? Why was Harmony explaining it to me again if they’d already lived that life a hundred times? What the fuck was happening?

“Harmony…  promise me it’s true. The story. This thing you’re describing. If you tell me it’s true, I’ll believe you.” I said. Their face frowned but their eyes smiled.

“Ray. I am telling you truthfully what I experience. I’m neither lying nor withholding anything from you, but I have a lot more story to tell.” They answered.

“Ok.”

“Let’s go somewhere. It’s getting cold, and I would feel warmer moving.” Harmony said.

I only nodded.

“Also… Thank you.” They said.

--

“Can I ask about your family?” I said as we rounded a corner, buffeted by a breeze.

“I’ve researched myself before. I don’t personally remember anything before June, so that’s my best option. From what I’ve found, I was raised by my uncle after my mother abandoned me. He and I don’t speak. The evidence from our chat history isn’t pretty, though he is one of the few people who knew me before the loop began. Apparently, my mother was an addict and I think my uncle blames me for her disappearance.” Harmony explained.

“Fuck… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… I didn’t… I probably should have been more careful.”

“It’s alright. I’m not upset about it. The concept of parents is foreign to me, I don’t remember what it was like. I’ve existed in this perpetual place for so long that I don’t even think about them, or what it’s like to interact in a family. Your instinct will be to think it’s sad, but I never knew them. I don’t miss what I never experienced. It’s as if they lived hundreds of years ago, like a myth.”

“You don’t get lonely?”

“I do. But rather because the world forgets me.”

My chest clenched.

I looked up at the tall, hooded figure beside me. Their pale face reflected the headlights of an oncoming car, but they didn’t even blink. I reached my hand out from my pocket and put it in theirs, finding their hand inside. Harmony flinched.

“Is this ok?” I asked.

“Yes.”

--

“How did we meet?” I asked, breaking another silence.

“I don’t know, actually. I can’t recall a time where I saw you and didn’t know already who you were.”

“Do you usually remember everything?”

“Usually. I’m quite good at remembering previous iterations. It’s like watching them unfold next to the one I’m living, seeing all the various deviations as I go.” Harmony explained.

“And your first loop? Do you remember that one? Like, how it started?”

“No. I can only remember a few hundred iterations back, and the earliest are the most difficult.”

A few hundred? If the iterations lasted six months, that would be over a hundred years of memories.

“I remember a lot of pain. A desert. A mountain. Then flashes of dehydration and hysteria, all plagued by desperation. I don’t like to think of those, the more recent are more pleasant. But each one ends.” Harmony said solemnly.

“How do they end?” I probed.

“Most frequently they end in seizures followed by what I assume is death. My brain is deteriorating rapidly and occasionally blood hemorrhages into my skull. As time goes on, my body will periodically spasm and strain itself as I drift further from my corporeal form. This happens with increasing frequency until eventually my consciousness snaps from this iteration and reattaches itself to the next. I can survive for months before a total collapse occurs, though stress exacerbates the seizures and speeds up the process. I try to avoid that if possible.” Harmony said, unfazed by the ominous, damning nature of their own statements.

“When you say stress you mean, like, physical? Emotional?” I asked.

“Both. The more strain I put on my brain, the quicker the deterioration.”

“What if… Have you tried living without stress? Like, in isolation? I know that sounds dumb, but…”

“It’s not dumb. Isolation isn’t free of stress, but conceptually it works to some extent. While a low-stress existence does extend an iteration considerably, it just results in a delay before the next begins. Stress eventually finds me.”

“Oh.”

“I know it’s not fun to think about. I’m sorry. With any luck you won’t have to see any actual seizures.”

“Are they bad?”

“I’ve recorded myself before. It’s a bit like an epileptic fit.”

“Ok.”

Fuck.

--

I watched the pavement move under our feet. The walk felt long; we had already passed the library. A cute bodega on the corner stuck out to me, so I looked for some street signs to orient myself. I shivered enough for Harmony to notice.

“Are you cold?” They asked.

“Uh, Harmony? Where are we?”

“We are four blocks south of campus. My apartment is just ahead, and yours is two blocks east of campus. I was walking to my apartment out of habit. Sammy is most likely having Carmen over right now.”

I looked at them quizzically. I checked my phone for the text I’d cleared earlier. Sure enough.

            Hey my date is coming over tonight and I’m making food. Want any? Sammy had asked at seven forty-three PM.

I quickly declined.

            I’m good thanks, have fun!

            Also, I’m with Harmony, don’t wait up. I returned.

When I finally looked up, Harmony was standing in front of a pair of glass doors, off the sidewalk. The building glimmered in dull steel, the way an old pot would when used far beyond its intended lifespan. There were windows, but none until the third floor. The entryway had a slight overhang, and the right door had a lengthy crack rising from a spiderweb impact at the bottom all the way to Harmony’s shoulder.

[drawing]Harmonybuilding[/drawing]

“Looking at your face I’m now realizing you don’t actually know me. This is a stranger’s house. I’m sorry. We can go somewhere else, the library perhaps? Let’s go back to the library.” Harmony said, stepping down from the entrance.

“No, it’s fine. Its ok, really. Honestly, I’m freezing and would love to go inside. I can Uber later.”

I trusted Harmony. I didn’t really have a reason, other than that I wanted to. The sheer oddity of the evening had somehow convinced me that if they were malicious, so many more terrible things would have already befallen me. What worse could happen if I saw their home? They knew the future.

I imagined they probably also knew that I would accept the invitation. That lingered, sour in my mouth.

Sammy texted me back with some tea emojis and a gif of someone raising their eyebrows suggestively. I snorted in surprise. Harmony whipped around just to catch me covering my mouth in embarrassment. They must’ve thought something was wrong, but their wide eyes calmed as they realized nothing was. Then they opened the front door with a shove.

“Ninth floor, third door on the left.” They said, as if reminding me.

Harmony’s apartment was nearly empty. It could have been chic with some effort, but it barely looked inhabited. From the entryway I could see into every room, there weren’t any doors, only empty doorframes. The apartment completely lacked any sort of furniture, the kitchen was dusty with disuse, there were still cardboard boxes in the living room, and the bedroom was comprised of a single futon mattress tossed on the ground. I saw no drawing supplies, which astonished me considering how much time they seemed to spend doing art. A stack of newspapers misfolded one another in a corner, a laptop on the floor plugged into the wall, and several boxes of empty pizza and takeout hid by the front door. I glared skeptically at Harmony who forced a grin and shrugged.

[drawing]Harmonyapartment1[/drawing]

I followed Harmony into the kitchen. There was a small, round, café-style table guarded by two chairs, both pushed in. Harmony gestured for me to have a seat and rolled up their sleeves in front of the sink.

“Are you thirsty? Hungry?” They asked.

“Uh, just a glass of water would be nice. Thanks.”

Harmony held up a soapy hand with a glass in it and looked for my approval. I nodded. It felt meaningless to talk about trivial things in face of the colossus that stood before us. Time travel. Harmony finished washing the glass, rinsed it off, filled it with tap water, then wiped the outside dry. I cupped it into my hand as if it were warm tea. Harmony resumed washing in silence.

I didn’t know what was next. I avoided thinking much about anything. It was complicated to wander far down any hypothetical, but I did occasionally. What did time travel mean for the rest of the world? Were there other people who remembered previous loops like Harmony? Was I going to forget everything if the loop began again? Or would my world continue on when Harmony’s reset? Why was I conscious in our particular iteration and not an earlier or later one? I found myself tunneling until Harmony drew me out again.

“Can we start this conversation again?” They asked, back against the sink, drying their hands.

“Yeah, sure, but I’m still… I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do.”

“I’m not certain either, but if you have the energy to walk through this with me, that would be nice.”

“Sure, ok.” I took a sip of water. Harmony sat down across the table from me, holding onto the edge with one hand.

“You are now aware that I’m trapped within an impermeable piece of time. From June twenty-first onward, lasting approximately five months but occasionally as long as seven, I live in the same slice of this year indefinitely. Or at least so far as I can remember, having no memories of any time not bound within. Each iteration, I eventually begin to suffer wracking pain and seizures with increasing frequency, usually related to stress or pain. Eventually, death brings me back to the beginning, resetting the loop. You, and the rest of the world forget. We have had this conversation before, many times, at many different points in our relationship, but never this early. My hope is that –” Harmony reiterated. I perked up at the end, cutting them off.

“Relationship?”

“Yes.” They said. My heart thumped.

“Why only me?”

“Not only, but primarily you. I have endeavored to explain this to a few others in past lives: Physicists, Quantum Theorists, Professor Vitelli, even Kennan and India once.” Harmony sighed.

“Kennan?” I was surprised, but they waved it away, moving on.

“I have all but given up my search for answers as to why or how this is happening. Breaking the loop is no longer my goal. Really, I’m searching a way to subsist within the reality I can never escape. I seek endurance, or stamina if you will. And someone to see me off.”

“Why not accept immortality?”

“It’s not quite immortality. It’s more nuanced. Immortality appeals to those who would use infinite time to dedicate themselves to or construct something… Beautiful. I can’t. My shackle is my mind. The only thing I bring from one iteration to the next. I can build nothing, nothing that matters. Immortality is tempting because it appears to conquer one’s fear of death. I still experience death, regularly, and still fear it. Every time.” Harmony said, sobering me.

“Then… How do we, you, break the loop if you don’t know what’s causing it?”

“That, I don’t know.”

“So, what… what are we doing?” I asked, looking around the kitchen as if the answer was watching us.

“I’m not asking you to break the loop. My general approach has changed significantly, I’m altering small pieces of the loop to get things right.”

I sensed that Harmony was dancing around something, so I waited.

“Recent iterations have become more and more complex. At first, I was pushing the envelope, building something for once. But as it kept crumbling, the magnitude of each failure increasing, my heart splintered. It was as though I was punishing myself. The fruit looked so sweet, but the taste never lasted. On that path, I couldn’t fix enough. Never enough.”

“Fix?”

“I hope, here, to drive a new path. One I don’t know.”

“Then why tell me?” I asked.

“You’ve acted differently. Unpredictably at times. Despite this new path, I think if you know you might be able to help. And, to be perfectly transparent, I miss you.”

Harmony missed me. My heart rose.

“I… We… In previous lives, you and I… pursued a relationship. A romantic relationship.” Harmony shivered. It wasn’t cold.

Fuck.

“I feel the urge to follow that path again. My feelings for you only grow with each iteration.”

Double Fuck.

“But… I think it’s best I not indulge them. This is the new path I would like to try.”

Wait, what? My heart slipped into my stomach.

“I hope by…” Harmony continued but my mind tuned them out.

I was getting rejected. Harmony definitely liked me, wanted to be with me, but just decided that we wouldn’t date.

Their approach made me uneasy. It felt invasive, as if my autonomy was being robbed by my past selves. I felt conflicted. It didn’t seem fair. Their authoritative approach seemed inappropriate. Even their tone was accusatory, as if my feelings were inevitable and it was my fault we couldn’t pursue a relationship. Harmony’s unilateral conclusion discounted my control over my own decisions. However, in a reality where time loops existed and people’s actions were consistent over hundreds of iterations, maybe I should have reconsidered what autonomy meant.

“Ray?” Harmony asked, bringing me back.

“Why? Why not pursue a relationship with me this time?” I held back tears.

“I’m sorry. I think I phrased that incorrectly.” Harmony flinched.

“No, yes, but, I’m pretty sure you do mean that. You don’t want to be with me because, basically, you’ve been with me before?”

“Partially yes. Which makes me sound heartless, but it’s more complicated than that. I –” Harmony started defensively.

“I get it. I understand. You’re altering your loop to try and fix it. I’m just… part of the loop.”

Harmony just stared at me, nodding slowly. It hurt.

I did get it, what they were trying to do, in theory. But I was still a person. I had free will, a concept I held onto tightly despite the growing ramifications of time travel. I inhaled, blinked a few times, took a big gulp of water, and pushed on.

“Ok. So, stamina or whatever aside, you eventually want to stop the loop. Or break it. If you’re not looking for the cause, you’re pretty much looking for… a hole. In this phenomena. Phenomenon. Whatever.”

“Yes, I suppose.” They answered unenthusiastically. I pursed my lips.

“What’s the same every time? What’s, like, consistent?” I asked.

“Everything is.”

“No, I mean, no matter what you do. What always happens no matter what you do?”

“I see, sorry. Most events I have no control over, actually. The tour bus or the BBC article for example. Every time an iteration begins, I gather newspapers and I check for small inconsistencies, anywhere. I watch major events to see if they happen at the same time and look for tiny variations that might herald a larger shift. I look for any indication that the actions of one iteration affect the next. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, none of those events change. If I don’t actively change something, each iteration is exactly the same as the last.”

“So, I guess, when the loop begins… Sorry this is wild to say. When the loop begins, it begins exactly the same way?” I asked, still gathering context.

“Yes. If it matters, the stars are in the same place apropos the earth so I can only assume that within the reaches of known space everything returns to where it was on June twenty-first. At least for me.” Harmony shrugged

“I guess, maybe that matters. I don’t really know anything about space. Other than it’s rad.”

“It is rad.” Harmony agreed.

I smiled briefly.

“What about your seizures? Do they happen every time?”

“I assume they do, but strictly speaking they haven’t happened every time. There are a few lives that have ended before the seizures began.” Harmony’s voice drew deep as they answered.

I instantly felt guilty for asking. In that moment I could see the age in their eyes, hear it in their breath. What did it mean to live hundreds of lives? How many were tortured beyond recognition? How twisted would reality have become?

“I’m sorry.” I managed softly.

“No, this is why I wanted to talk to you. You’re actually correct, though. Unless the iteration ends prematurely, every life culminates in seizures of growing severity until the loop begins again.” Harmony straightened in their seat.

“And, you said, the seizures are caused by pain and stress? Right?”

“That is often difficult to judge. The seizures themselves are painful, excruciatingly so. Inescapably, at some point in each life the seizures begin; even in the lives where I pursue an extremely calm, low stimulation environment. This is troublesome to parse however, because I naturally breed anxiety, no matter the stimulation. It’s a cyclical system that takes over regardless of what I do. However, in the extremely stressful or painful lives I certainly experience the seizures sooner and more frequently. Those lives end quickly, one way or another.” Harmony explained, ending in measured breaths. I watched them for a moment. We let the silence grow until an ambulance passed.

“How are you feeling now?” I asked. The seizures seemed important. And even though Harmony hadn’t asked me to break the loop, I wanted to.

“As difficult as this conversation is, I feel alright. I think about this almost every moment of every day. Being able to talk to you about it is a luxury I don’t often have.” Harmony said sweetly. It stung.

“I want to help. I don’t know what to do, or what helping means, but I want to. My… I mean, it sounds like I just decided that, which I sort of did. I’m still wrapping my brain around this.” I wasn’t lying. The full picture was unclear, and yet I wanted to do something. Curiosity was responsible in part, but it was also difficult to resist Harmony’s deep brown eyes, as much as they hid them.

I needed to be firm. Harmony decided that they didn’t want me, that was that. It might not have been fair to my feelings, but that’s not what it was about. In some ways, it wasn’t about the time loop either. Harmony didn’t have to date me just because they liked me and I liked them. That was something I had to swallow.

“I think… I think I am going to help. I can’t fix you, but I can support you. I’m going to admit that I had, and I guess I still have feelings for you. But, if this is really happening to you, to the world, which I guess I’m accepting, I don’t want there to be anything… romantic… between us, either.” I winced, covering a wound that really needed stitches.

“Thank you.”

“Ok. Rad, I mean… Good. I think…” I mumbled.

Harmony faked a smile, I faked one back.

Bleh.

I filled my lungs with air as if I’d just been submerged underwater for the last three hours.

“Ok. This might be terrible timing but… Can we, uh, get some food? I’m like fucking starving.” I groaned.

“Of course, I apologize!”

Harmony stood up immediately and opened a cabinet behind them. Some dust flew out as a single ramen packet fell over. There were a couple cans of soup and a jar of tomato sauce lingering in the back. I couldn’t help but giggle a bit as they sighed at the pitiful display.

“Did you predict that? Are you sure you live here?” I joked.

Harmony rolled their eyes and muscled away a grin. After a cursory inspection of the fridge revealed even fewer options than the cabinet, we decided on Taco Bell. Harmony left the conversation where it stood for the evening, but despite the occasional distraction I had a difficult time not letting my thoughts return to it. What the fuck had just happened?