NomNomNomNation

NomNomNomNation t1_jdvqmin wrote

Working at Maximum Self has always been fun. An app that lets you connect with and talk to other versions of yourself throughout the multiverse? How did nobody think of it sooner?

Well, actually, it was thought of infinite times by infinite people. The company was founded a few billion times - We all joined together to form a mega-company and shared the profits. There's a reason that the Multiversal Councils are trying to mandate how money is allowed to be shared between universes; Infinity means infinite money, which wraps around to no money. But it's hard for them to come to a decision when they have an uncountable amount of members voting for endless choices... You know what, let's stop the political talk. The parties always draw with infinite votes each anyway.

Last week, we got a new boss after the old one stepped down. It was another me. I wasn't surprised - All of my bosses have been me. It's a game of ego, really. Who is going to set their replacement as anyone other than themselves? This company has had a long, long line of Max's, since the very beginning. But this Max is different. This Max is an asshole.

He got us all to install software that clocks us in and out when we boot up and shut down our PC. This means that when the internet goes, so does our paycheck. 3 minutes offline? Say goodbye to that day's money. We'd take him to court if the legal system wasn't in shambles right now. Multiversal travel has been a blessing and a curse. From miracles that you can't imagine, to horrors you can't comprehend. Infinity means everything; The good and the bad.

I decided to use the app to my advantage. I came up with an incredible plan: Use the app to find another Max in the same situation, and steal their plan. I spent hours swiping through other versions of myself. Max after Max after Max. Somewhere out there, there just had to be another me who had dealt with another asshole-me. Eventually, I found it. B-73812. His name was Max (unsurprisingly), and he had dealt with a very similar situation. He had hired a photographer for his wedding who turned out to be himself. His photos were terrible yet he demanded payment. Our stories were different, yet shared a common goal: We both wanted to take revenge to the Max.

I asked him if he had a plan. I was delighted when he said he did.

"I have an incredible plan: Use the app to find another Max in the same situation..."

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NomNomNomNation OP t1_j030qzd wrote

If you were gonna suggest breaking up with my wife, yes, you've suggested that before. It broke both of our hearts, and didn't work

Or maybe you were gonna suggest your plan involving bread

Idk, you're a bit of a wild card. Always something new

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NomNomNomNation OP t1_j02w086 wrote

Oh hey timelady. Yeah, I tried this the first time you suggested it.

To answer what your reply was going to be - I did it by pretending I broke my leg, tricking my wife into going to the hospital. She still hadn't given birth by midnight, and the same reset happened.

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NomNomNomNation t1_ixsst6v wrote

I'm actually from the UK and entirely winged this story using what I found on Wikipedia. I know nothing about them or what food they serve (I assume waffles)

I can confirm that we don't have anything similar over here

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NomNomNomNation t1_ixpvt01 wrote

The news said everything would be fine.

Most of my friends were being encouraged to still go into work.

We'd had a much worse hurricane just the month before.

So why, just why, was Waffle House closed?

It must've meant something bad was coming. Something terrible. Waffle House stay open through anything - I've seen those doors wide open in far worse conditions. If there are patrons around, they will sell to them, no questions asked. It's how things have always been.

At that moment, I knew only 2 things:

  1. I had to get out of there.

  2. I needed to get to the bottom of this.

So, I did what any sane person would. I tracked down the manager of my local Waffle House and went straight to his home address.

He lived about a 10-minute drive away, in the next town over. There were still many other cars on the road at this time. All that kept racing through my head was why Waffle House would be closed. The hurricane wasn't for another few hours - If drivers could be out, Waffle House could stay open! In fact, I don't think I had ever seen them closed before this. Do their doors even have locks?

I pulled up at the house. There was already a car in the driveway, so I just pulled up on the sidewalk.

I got out of my car and walked up to the door. I knocked. 3 stern, demanding knocks.

Not a movement inside.

This was definitely the right house. So I knocked again. 3 sterner, even more demanding knocks.

Still nothing.

I walked up to the window and peered in. A chair was knocked over, breakfast was getting cold on the table... I could see the kitchen through an open door at the back of the room - The sink was overflowing with water, and the faucet left on.

I walked slowly back to my car. What could have made everyone leave so fast? And without their car?

I sat down, defeated. I had come for answers, but only collected more questions. To clear my head, I turned the radio on, and what blasted out of the speakers is etched in my mind.

"Breaking News: All 2,100 Waffle Houses have decided to close today."

The only words I could muster up were "My god..."

The first thought I had was, well, wow, that's a lot of locations. Is there really that many? That seems like a lot.

But then my second thought was about how dire this must be. ALL Waffle Houses?? Whatever was going on was not a localised problem - This was national, maybe even global.

That's when I spotted a black car with tinted windows at the end of the road. I decided to follow them, in hopes that I had just caught the family as they left the house.

I saw them disappear around the corner and immediately started driving. No other cars were around at the time, so I knew I had to be discreet, as my presence would be obvious. But when I turned the corner, there the car was. Just stopped in the middle of the road, as if waiting for me.

I slowed down to a stop, and their back left door opened. A man in a suit stepped out - As soon as his face was visible, I recognised him. This was the manager I had been looking for.

I felt my stomach drop a little as he approached the driver's seat window, and waited for me to roll it down. He peered at me through the glass with calculating eyes, as if he already knew me.

I rolled down the window.

He spoke up, "You're wondering how I knew you'd follow me, aren't you Jeremy?"

I probably looked terrified at this point. I felt myself go pale, but tried to keep my composure. "You know my name?"

"I know a lot of things, your name is just one. But you should probably leave, Jeremy. Things aren't safe in most of America."

He began to walk away. But as soon as I opened my mouth to talk, he stopped. Not a sound had left my lips yet, but somehow, without even so much as glancing back at me, he knew I was about to speak.

"Not safe? What do you mean?"

He stood for a moment, as if he was thinking. I'm not entirely sure why, as he seemed to know everything that was going to happen up to this point. But then he spoke without looking at me.

"As a manager of a Waffle House, I'm granted special knowledge every morning. I'm told what will happen throughout my day. Not tomorrow, not next week, every morning I am only informed about the current day."

He turned back at me now, and continued. "I'm told how safe my restaurant will be, how safe my staff will be, and how safe my family will be. I don't know who tells me these things, no manager does. We just know it's always through a phone call, and it's always correct."

I caught my breath, not even realising it had sped up, and replied, "And your family isn't safe today?"

"They are not. And it sounds like no family is."

"What's causing it? What's going to happen?"

He looked a little scared, maybe sad. He had a way of hiding his emotions behind his cold, serious tone.

"I've told you everything I know. I also know that this is the end of this conversation, and that's the last question you ask me today. Goodbye."

He was right. I was speechless, and hardly moved a muscle as he walked back to the car, got in, and was driven off.

I contacted my friends and family and told them we had to go to Europe, right now. I explained everything I could, but they all thought I sounded insane. They mostly told me I wasn't thinking straight.

That's when the news interrupted all broadcasts. All planes were cancelled due to a large solar flare, the largest ever recorded, estimated to hit somewhere in Northern America later that day.

They urged the listeners not to panic, and that it was only precautionary.

But I knew better.

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