My sugar daddy asks me for weird favors

My sugar daddy asks me for weird favors I don’t know why I wrote that. I don’t even have a sugar daddy. My sugar daddy is also sweet as pie and would never ask me for a weird favor. I guess I wrote it because everyone in the room was staring at me expectantly, waiting for me to type something, and I had to say *something.* I didn’t know what was going on. I had no idea where I was. I didn’t know how I got there. I had no idea who these people were. All I knew was my name was Lily Lacie. The last thing I remembered was going to bed the night before. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened that day. I went to work, I did my job, I went home, I watched some TV, and then I went to bed. But here I was. In this strange room filled with strange people who somehow knew my name. What the hell was this? Some sort of scam? Some sort of social experiment? Was this some sort of reality show? I stared at the computer screen. *My sugar daddy asks me for weird favors.* “Who are you people? Where am I? How did I get here?” I asked. No one answered. Instead they just stared at me, their eyes wide. “We.. we need you to keep typing,” one of them said. “You need to finish the story.” I was taken aback. What were they even talking about? “What story? What is this? My sugar daddy asks me for weird favors? What does that even mean?” This time no one answered. I shook my head. “You’re all insane. I’m just going to go now.” I got off the chair I was sitting at but two burly men stepped in front of me. “You can’t leave. You have to keep typing. If you don’t we will hurt you.” I gasped. “What? Why? What’s going on? Tell me!” One of the men was about to hit me but someone rushed forward. “No, don’t touch her.” I recognized this person, it was one of the people who had spoken up a few minutes ago, the one who had told me to continue typing. He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Listen… Lily. We know this is all very confusing. But please. If you cooperate we promise you won’t be harmed. We just need you to type.” “Why? Why is that so important? Why do I have to write that?” “I think we should just tell her,” a woman said. Everyone else started arguing. I watched, dazed, as they went back and forth. Finally one of them turned to me. “Alright. We will tell you. But you have to promise to keep typing.” I shook my head. “No. I don’t know any of you.” They all started talking amongst themselves again. Finally it stopped. “Alright. You have a choice of who to tell you. Any one of us can tell you.” I pointed to the man who had stopped me from being hit. “I want him to tell me.” “I’m Professor Michaels,” he said. “I’m an astrophysicist at Harvard. You are here at Harvard.” I trembled. “Why?” Michaels pointed to the machine next to the computer. “You’re in that machine. Or at least, your consciousness is.” I shook my head. “What?” He gestured at the control panel next to the machine. “As you can see we have dials that determine the date and location. We needed a human to test it, to be the first person to travel through space and time. We picked you, Lily.” I somehow managed to laugh. “What? Time machine? You expect me to believe that? No way.” “Unfortunately it’s true,” he said. “You’re currently in ancient Egypt.” I stared at him. Ancient Egypt? But he had just said he was an astrophysicist at Harvard. Luckily I didn’t have to ask any questions. He answered them anyway. “You are currently in ancient Egypt. But you are communicating with us, here at Harvard, through the internet, on this computer.” I somehow managed to laugh again. “But the internet didn’t exist back then.” “That’s right. But we have the capability to start new universe lines. Don’t worry too much about it. We have done this many times before.” Michaels pointed to the people around him. “You see, most of these people aren’t actually here. They’re from other timelines, other universes.” I opened my mouth to say something but before I could someone apologized. “I’m so sorry, Lily. But we need to talk about the machine.” Michaels took a deep breath. “You see… when you traveled through time, we lost contact with you. Since then we have opened up many different timelines looking for you and trying to get in contact, but none of them worked. We needed you to communicate with us, and that meant you needed access to a computer and to the internet.” “But like I said, the internet didn’t exist back then,” I said. “That’s right. So we needed to start a new timeline where it did.” I stared. “You mean that you… you created a new timeline where ancient Egypt had the internet?” Michaels nodded. “It’s not that hard. And it’s what we had to do in order to talk to you. But we needed a way for you to access the internet. Obviously you wouldn’t just happen to have a computer and internet. So we created a new universe line where that was the case.” I shook my head. I was way too confused right now to be able to comprehend all of this shit. But I still had to ask some questions. “Why did you choose me? Why did you choose me to test this out?” Michaels shook his head. “I don’t know. Someone in the government chose you. They came to us with the request and we were honor bound to do it.” “But why me? Why on Earth would they choose me? I don’t even know anyone in the government.” “I don’t know,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter. What matters is getting you back. And that’s why we need you to type this story.” I nodded. But before I could say anything else Michaels held up his hand. “Wait. Before you do anything, you need to understand that what you see on that screen is not what we see.” “What do you mean?” “I mean that the story you’re writing may seem normal to you. It may look like any other story. But to us it is not.” I frowned. “What do you mean?” “I mean that this story is a very detailed story. It’s a very, very detailed story.” I stared at him. “What do you mean?” He leaned in close. “I mean that your story is so detailed that it will tell us everything that’s going on in your universe. Everything.” I frowned. “But the story isn’t about me. It’s about some girl with a sugar daddy.” He nodded. “I know it is. But that doesn’t matter.” “But how does this even work? How does what I write have anything to do with what’s happening in the other universe?” “You see… this computer isn’t just any computer. It’s hooked up to the time machine. And that means that anything you type into it describes what’s going on where you are.” I stared. “That makes no sense. Such a thing is not scientifically possible.” “It is. And I can show you.” Michaels pointed to a piece of paper on the table. “Read it.” I picked it up. It was a few paragraphs that someone had written. It was about some woman who was moving. But none of the details stood out to me. I shrugged. “So?” “Look,” he said. I did. And what I saw shocked the hell out of me. Back where I was, there was a woman moving. No. It was more than that. It was exactly what was written in the paper. *Miss Donah had a smile on her face. The moving vans were finally here and in just a few short hours she would be out of this house for good.* There was a woman, and she was smiling. And there was a moving van, and it had just pulled up. *She walked outside to greet the movers. They waved, and she waved back.* She walked outside. The movers waved, and she waved back. *“What is your name, ma’am?” One of them asked.* One of them walked up to her. “What is your name, ma’am?” *“I’m Miss Donah. And you are?”* “I’m Miss Donah,” she said. “And you are?” *In that moment, something trembled in the ground beneath them.* In that moment, something trembled in the ground beneath them. It went on like this for a few more paragraphs. I watched in amazement as every letter, every word, every sentence of what was written on that piece of paper actually happened. I looked back at Michaels. “What the hell is this? How is this possible?” Michaels shrugged. “I told you, it’s the time machine. It allows us to communicate long distances, across huge swaths of time and space. So anything you type will describe what’s happening where you are.” I stared. “But that doesn’t make any sense.” “I know it doesn’t. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you keep typing.” I stared back at the computer. My sugar daddy asks me for weird favors. I shook my head. “Okay. Fine. I’ll keep typing, I’ll keep writing the story. But you have to

My sugar daddy asks me for weird favors

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