Elias frowned. The filename said the video was recorded just after midnight, but the footage was clearly midday. He looked closer at the pixels. In the reflection of the rift, he didn't see the pasture. He saw the very room he was sitting in now, ten years later, staring back at himself. The file wasn't a recording of the past. It was a bridge.
He clicked it. The video player opened, small and pixelated. VID_20140527_000856.3gp
In the video, a hand—his hand—reached out toward the shimmer. Just as his fingertips touched the distortion, the video froze. The timestamp at the bottom read . Elias frowned
The hard drive was covered in a thick layer of dust, tucked inside a shoebox labeled "2014." When Elias finally got the old interface to boot up, the screen flickered with a sea of cryptic filenames. His eyes stopped on one: . In the reflection of the rift, he didn't see the pasture