August 8 - The Message

Tim opened the door, and the man he saw looked familiar.
"Hi," he said, speaking quickly. "Your name is Tim Rogers. You were born on October 3, 1973, you have a birth mark on your elbow that looks like an elephant, and the first time you jerked off it was to Daisy Duke. Am I right? I'm right, right?"
Tim looked at the man dubiously, and he continued.
"I know all of this because I am you." He showed Tim his left elbow which had an elephant shaped birthmark on it. "I am you 20 years in the future, and I only have two minutes to talk to you. After that I disappear. Do you understand?"
Tim continued to look at the man doubtfully.
The man exhaled impatiently and then continued his machine gun barrage of words. "You're afraid of rats, your favorite book is Watership Down but you tell everybody it's Catcher in the Rye, your earliest memory is when you were jumping on the bed when you were four and you fell off and broke your arm. Look, I'm you, OK? Do you believe me yet? I have something incredibly important to tell you about your future. Our future. It's about--"
"OK, if you're really me in the future, who did I lose my virginity to?"
"You haven't yet."
"OK, so who will I lose it to?"
"Karen Boyle."
He perked up. "Really?"
"Yes. You'll both be drunk. You on Schlitz, her on wine coolers. Seagrams. I think. Next summer vacation. Pool party. Her folks out of town."
"Seriously? Karen Boyle?"
"Yes, now listen--"
"Am I any good?"
"Of course not. Now listen to me. Very carefully."
"Do we do it more than once?"
"No, but don't worry. You do fine in that department once you go away to college."
"Really? Like who with?"
"Tim, seriously. What I have to tell you is far more important than all that. It's a chance to be rich. You want to be rich, don't you?"
"Yes, but come on, man. Just one name."
"Amy Van Martin."
"Who's she?"
"You'll meet her your freshman year. Now look--"
"How will I recognize her?"
"She'll be the one named Amy Van Martin. Jesus, Tim. Listen, we only have two minutes, and after that I disappear."
"Why?"
"Who gives a flying shit why? Complicated quantum physics whose explanations are well beyond the scope of this conversation, OK? That's why."
"OK, if you're really from the future, who wins the World Series this year?"
"Jesus, man! I don't know, and it's for the same reason why you don't know who won the World Series two years ago. It's because we hate baseball. Just accept that I am who I say I am and I'm from where I say I'm from and listen to me. OK?"
Tim was quiet.
"Good. Now, in the future, there will be this thing called the Internet. And it's--I don't have enough time to explain what it is but it's going to be huge. Anyway, a few years after you graduate from college you're going to meet a guy named Jeff Bezos, and he's going to ask you if you want to invest in his company. It'll be called Amazon. Here, write this down. Do you have a pen?"
"I'll remember it."
"No, you won't. Write it down. Amazon. Jeff Bezos. Put every bit of money you have into that company. Seriously, Tim. You'll make millions."
Tim wrote in his notebook.
"Promise me you'll do this."
"OK, I promise."
"Good. I wish we had more time to talk, but my time here is--"
And he disappeared.
It was the strangest thing. For just about two minutes Tim had been talking to this guy who knew a scary amount of trivia about him and then he just disappeared.
Tim looked where he'd been standing and then glanced up and down the street.
Nothing.
Then he looked again at the two names he'd written down in his notebook: Karen Boyle and Amy Van Martin.
He closed the door and went back to his living room, feeling pretty good about his prospects for the future.