Jake believes I did because he has mistaken a reflection, a delay buffer, and his own body language for a breakthrough in physics.
This is not unusual for him.
No laws of nature were violated. No paradoxes were created. No timelines forked, merged, or filed complaints.
This was maintenance.
This is what actually happened. - H
Jake was already explaining it when Howard arrived, which meant he was confident, incorrect, and halfway to a conclusion.
“It’s not faster than light,” Jake said, pacing in a tight circle. “It’s… offset from it.”
Howard set his toolbox down.
“Offset how,” he asked.
“Like,” Jake said, searching for the word, “sideways.”
Howard waited.
“You know,” Jake continued, gesturing broadly, “diagonal. In spacetime.”
“Spacetime does not have diagonals,” Howard said.
Jake waved this away. “That’s a limitation of language.”
Trent was filming. The Hopper was sitting perfectly still, optics glowing, which Jake took as anticipation.
“So,” Jake said, pointing, “the bunny reacts before I press the button.”
Howard looked at the Hopper.
Then at the dumpster behind it.
Then at the sun reflecting off the dumpster’s polished lid.
Then back at Jake.
“No,” Howard said. “It sees you.”
“That’s still before I press the button,” Jake said.
“Yes,” Howard replied. “You lean first.”
“I do not.”
“You do,” Howard said. “Every time.”
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The Hopper emitted a soft confirmation tone.
Jake glared at it. “Don’t take his side.”
Howard continued, “Your shoulder drops, your wrist rotates, your finger tenses, and then you hesitate because you enjoy drama.”
“That hesitation is philosophical,” Jake said.
“It is optical,” Howard replied.
Jake crossed his arms. “So you’re saying it predicts me.”
“Yes.”
“That’s basically time travel.”
“No,” Howard said. “That’s pattern recognition.”
Jake opened his mouth to escalate, then stopped.
“I need a visual,” he said.
Jake disappeared briefly. Howard did not trust this.
He came back holding a plastic protractor, yellowed with age, with a faded sticker that read PROPERTY OF VALEROSO MIDDLE SCHOOL.
“Okay,” Jake said, kneeling beside the Hopper, “let’s assume the bunny isn’t seeing me. Let’s assume it’s seeing… angles.”
Howard did not move.
Jake pressed the flat edge of the protractor against the dumpster lid and squinted.
“So if the light comes in at, like, thirty degrees,” Jake said, rotating it, “and the sensor’s here—”
“That’s not how light works,” Howard said.
Jake ignored him.
“And I’m standing here,” Jake continued, dramatically repositioning himself, “then technically the bunny is seeing future-me.”
Howard blinked once.
“Jake,” he said, “that is not future-you. That is you, earlier, from the side.”
Jake straightened. “That’s what time is.”
Trent stopped filming.
The Hopper tilted slightly, optics tracking the protractor with what Jake interpreted as respect.
“So from its point of view,” Jake said, leaning closer to the sensor array, “I haven’t moved yet.”
“It does not have a point of view,” Howard said.
“Which means when it moves first,” Jake finished triumphantly, “it’s reacting to a state that hasn’t happened.”
Howard crouched beside him.
“You are holding a protractor,” he said calmly, “and attempting to bully geometry into admitting time travel.”
Jake frowned. “Geometry has secrets.”
Howard gently took the protractor, flipped it over, and pointed.
“It sees your shoulder drop,” he said. “Your wrist rotate. Your finger tense. You do this every time.”
Jake froze.
“I do not.”
“You do,” Howard said. “You also inhale.”
The Hopper emitted another confirming beep.
Jake stared at it. “You told it.”
“I didn’t have to,” Howard said.
The Hopper printed a small diagnostic slip and extended it politely.
Observed:
Human action preceded by repeatable cues
Confidence exceeds novelty
Jake read it twice.
“Why does it sound smug.”
“It’s a printer,” Howard said. “It sounds like you.”
Howard applied a strip of matte tape to the dumpster lid, dulled the reflection, recalibrated the sensor angle, and added a small randomized delay.
“There,” he said. “Now it will wait until you actually press the button.”
Jake pressed the button.
The Hopper responded afterward.
Jake sagged. “You killed it.”
“I fixed it,” Howard said.
Jake stood, brushing dirt off his knees. “I’m still posting the video.”
“I assumed you would,” Howard replied. “Please don’t say ‘suppressed’ when people explain it to you.”
Jake was already typing.
The Hopper rolled away toward its next task.
Nothing about this incident involved light speed.
Nothing outran causality. Nothing learned the future. Nothing bent spacetime, diagonally or otherwise.
A reflective surface was dulled. A sensor was recalibrated. A delay buffer was corrected.
Jake remains convinced something almost happened.
It did not.
If faster-than-light travel ever occurs, it will not involve dumpsters, protractors, or a man trying to intimidate geometry.
It will involve discoveries that rewrite physics and cause problems far above my pay grade.
This was not that.
This was maintenance.