Threads Of Time

[Caesar of Bread]

A new story by me is going to be based on the Many Worlds theorem. Let's begin!

Chapter I: Prologue - Frederick Rutant
Frederick Rutant is a 14-year-old living in Lutetia, New Jersey (a coastal city). Every day he goes to school, goes through the whole list of classes, does track, and finally, goes home at 4. He usually just does his homework, but this day, something weird happened.

It was a package, normal size, and it could probably hold 30 pounds. Frederick was at the house by himself (his parents were off working) and he decided it would be best to open this package. No UPS or FedEx truck had come by, which seemed a bit suspicious, but Rutant was going to take a look before having the Friday night to himself and continuing his Civilization round as Russia while watching the hit movie Groundhog Day (and eating Smores).

Frederick went to his bedroom on the second floor to open it. When he took the item out of the box, Rutant was astounded. It was a phone. My dad finally let me have a phone? Frederick squealed in joy. But, there was only one app on the phone. The app opened up. "Please type in 1 to 9 numbers. Frederick just hit the number "2". What happened next is the good part.

 

[Caesar of Bread]

Chapter I: This Time For Real
Rutant found himself in the center of a city. It looked like today's Berlin, but something was off. The central colossus of a building was at least 400 feet tall, with two banners drooping at the front. On each one was a swastika and in the center lay a portrait of Hitler, gleaming his malicious and horrifying eyes to Frederick. "No. No. No! The Nazis couldn't have won! How in Christ's name could that have happened? Why? Why!" Frederick shouted. Was there something wrong with the device? Frederick Rutant thought to himself hard. No way could the Nazis have won.
"Are you okay, herr?" asked a man. Frederick knew from the fiendish grin and dastardly uniform that the man was probably the Fuhrer of Nazi Germany. Worse, the mustache. "I am Adolf Hitler, commander of the Third Reich." the old man grinned at his name. "American or English, I suppose. What's your name?" Frederick shuddered. He had always hated the fascists. "Fred...Frederick Rutant. Nice to meet you, Mr. Fuhrer." replied Frederick. He wanted to grab the gun that old Hitler had in his pocket. "Come to Olympia. There I will get you a quarter."