When we weren't working or researching, they were teaching me how to fit into this world. Most of our little lessons took place in between our research, or during our lunch breaks at work. We tackled the more obvious things first, and worked our way down to the more subtle ones, gradually helping me to blend in more with the crowds of this strange world, despite their insistence that it really wasn't all that important whether I stood out or not.

At the beginning though, it was rather slow.

"A lot of people stand out in this time." Ayer had said when I first began asking them to help me. "Most places are pretty diverse, there's always new groups popping up, new ways of doing things. And you've seen the crowds, none of those people have the time to notice if you're acting strangely or doing something weird."

I just shook my head at them. "Just show me what I can do." I said. "I can't risk anyone else knowing where I'm from."

They sighed. "I can try." They thought for a second. "I guess what makes you stand out the most is your personality. You're so... I dunno, closed off. Cold. You don't talk to people much, you just seem to avoid them."

I nodded. That's who Io was. "I can't be the only person in the world who prefers to be left alone. Is it really that strange?"

They looked at me, and for a moment said nothing.

"No..." they said slowly. "I guess it's not. You don't have to change it."

I sighed, frustrated. "Then what do I change? What about me do I need to fix?"

"Why are you so certain you need to fix something? Why can't you just be fine?"

For the first time in a while, anger began to rise in my mind. "I can't be just fine." I whisper-snapped. "There can't be anyone who knows I'm from a thousand years ago. I hate it enough that even you know, I can't let anyone else figure it out too."

They frowned. "Why is it so bad that I know? I'm not gonna... no ones gonna... what do you think people are gonna do? Bother you about it?"

I wanted to walk out of the room right then, and maybe I really should have. Bother me? What, annoy me even? People would kill me to find out how I traveled through time. And why wouldn't they!! I traveled forward through time a thousand years. There are people who'd tear me to pieces to find out how that'd happened, and the amount that could be gained from having an ability like that under their control would make it more than worth it.

If they knew I existed, they'd try to find me. I wouldn't just be hiding anymore, I'd be actively running, actively fleeing something that would be constantly hunting me down. What would they do to find me? What bribes would they offer people to turn me in? Would they put a bounty on my head? Would they use corrupt government schemes to force anyone who knows about me to reveal where I was?

God, they acted like the world was sunshine and rainbows. Like there weren't people out there who were willing to betray and hurt others for their own gains. Like there weren't corrupt governments that only care about power, like there weren't monopolizing companies that only care about their own profits.

I don't care how many hundreds of years have passed. That's just human nature. And they were entirely oblivious to it.

"No one would bother you about it. I promise." They said. Even now I wonder, did they really believe that? Did they really think that not only they themselves, but everyone in their entire 12-planet world would be immune to corruption? Immune to manipulation?

"I don't care." I snapped at them. "Nobody can know. Nobody." I sat down and snatched my papers back up, but was unable to read a word they said for several minutes.

They didn't say anything after that. I thought maybe I'd gotten through to them. Maybe now they'd realize just how cruel the world could be. How in the world someone like them was able to survive in a world like this was beyond me.

It must have been difficult for them. Even before they had to deal with me, snapping and defensive. How could I get mad at them, after all they did to help?

Within minutes, my anger cooled, as it always did. Enough to feel guilty about my sudden angry outburst. Enough to realize that what I did was wrong, stupid. I was supposed to be better than that, wasn't I? I was supposed to think I was trying, at least.

"I'm sorry." I finally said, after the empty silence had stretched out for a fair few minutes. "It's just... you said I seemed odd. You made it sound as if you knew already that I was different. As if it were obvious. How did you know?"

They put their papers down. "I don't know... it's just you I guess." They shook their head. "Sorry, I'll be more specific. You just... a lot of the time, you just seem... unhappy. Unthinking. You talk and you do things, but it just feels like you don't hear anything. Don't feel anything. Like you're... acting. Physically. But you're not really being... you're not really being, you know? Like you're not really there all the time."

I think they were right on that one. There are so many conversations, so many hours, where I can't remember a thing that happened. That was my autopilot. That was when I sat back, and let Io do her thing. But I was supposed to be Io, wasn't I? I guess I was just doing it wrong. I should have known better.

"I guess it's just easier to be numb sometimes." I said aloud, but inside I was taking note of what they had said, making sure to keep it in mind for later.

"You shouldn't..." they started. "You shouldn't have to want to be numb. It shouldn't be like that."

I shrugged. "That's just how it is in this world. It'll be alright though. When I get back, it'll all be alright again."

They nodded. "Yea. We'll get you back to where you were. Whatever it takes."

Looking back now, they'd always been an optimist. To the point of being foolish. There was a time, I remember now, when we were walking across one of the bridges higher up. Someone had come up to us, holding a sign, an advertisement.

"Hello! We're looking for small investors for our new business start-up. Would you be interested in helping us out?" They asked, holding out a paper. "Every little bit counts, and you'll be repaid in full no matter the success."

I shook my head at them, and started to walk away, but Ayer stopped.

"I've got a few I can spare, got a transfer?"

"What are you doing?" I ask, turning back around.

"This business idea looks interesting, figured I'd support it a bit."

I frowned. "It's... come on, we have to go."

"But I-"

"Just come on. I'm sorry, we have somewhere to be." I said to the advertiser, and pulled Ayer away.

"Did you not like the idea?"

"That was obviously a scam." I said irritably. "Didn't you notice?"

"A scam?"

"They wouldn't have paid you back." I said. "Just would have taken your money and ran with it. Willing to bet they even stole that idea from somewhere else."

"Willing to bet? What does, wait, why wouldn't they pay me back? They said they would."

"They said they- you know what, nevermind. Just don't give out your money to people you don't know and expect to get it back, okay?"

"I... alright, I guess."

We walked a few seconds more in silence, only broken when they asked, "What does nevermind mean?"

"It's..." I thought for a second. "It means, ignore what I just said, or, forget about it, or, just drop it."

They nodded. "I think I know what you mean. Here we say, 'don't give it past'. Don't give it a past, a history, I think it's based on. Don't give it a place in your memories. Nevermind sounds nicer though. Never give it mind? Is that what it's from?"

I shook my head. "To be honest, I don't really know." They said it was alright. They could just find it out somewhere else, probably.

What a simple question it was. How basic, how mundane, and still I didn't have an answer. I couldn't even give them that.

They helped me a lot, in those days, and what did I do in return? I couldn't even tell them where "nevermind" was from. They deserved better. After all they did, they deserved so much better.

Once, there was a day when my stomach pains were so bad, I was forced to skip work.

I was woken up that morning by the typical sharp, sudden pains that I'd had a few times by then, accompanied by a violent headache and bouts of nausea. For a while before, I had thought my sickness was fading, but that day it all came back full force, maybe even worse than before. It hurt so much I couldn't even get off the bed, just barely able to hang my head over the side so that when I was sick it would get on the floor and not all over myself.

By the time it had begun to ease away slightly, and the waves of sickness had drawn back a bit, I was far too late for work to have any point in getting up. The vehicle had left and risen to a higher level at least a half-hour before, and even if I did make the journey by foot and elevator, I still felt too sick to do more than shamble around the room for many hours afterwards.

I was exhausted, but slowly managed to clean up my mess, then crawled back into bed, shivering and sweating.

I slept on and off a bit, wishing for an Advil or a Tylenol or something to help with the headaches, but I knew there wasn't any of that anymore. I wondered if there were any future-y painkillers that existed. I brushed the idea off though. I would have no idea where to find something like that, I'm sure it would have been expensive. And besides, I wasn't going to trust some future pharmaceutical company, who knows the kinds of things they could put in their medicines that I'd have no idea of. It was better not to risk it.

So I turned back and forth in my bed, covered and uncovered myself with the blankets, waiting for whatever it was to pass, wondering if I was just going to die there, wondering if I was just being dramatic. I was.

A few hours passed, and by around the time work had ended, I was able to get up from my bed and clean up a little more. I hadn't even noticed that I really hadn't done all that much cleaning in my first attempts. Most of it was still there. I was halfway through cleaning the rest of it up when, of course, I heard a knock at the door.

They always worried for me. I disappeared from work for one day, and that same day Ayer came over to my apartment to see if I was okay. They worried for nothing. I was entirely better the next day, they had no need to check in on me, no need to help me clean my mess, no need to make something and get me to eat it.

But I had no need to open the door. I could have just as easily fallen silent, pretended I was out, or asleep, or just didn't want to see them. But I opened the door. And I let them in. And I fell back asleep while they were cleaning up the mess that I'd made, and only woke up again when they nudged me awake to eat the something they'd made.

I didn't need to open the door. But I did. And poor Ayer had to deal with a sick idiot who couldn't handle a little stomach bug for just a day.

"Io, are you in there? Hello?"

"What happened, are you sick? Woah, put that down, go sit down, let me take that, you shouldn't be walking around."

"Hey, wake up. Come on. I made you something to eat, you gotta eat it, it'll make you feel better. Come on, just a bit."

"I based it off of this... never mind. I'm sure you recognize it. At least, I think you should, I might have gotten my decades wrong..."

"I know, I know, no medicines. You need to eat though, right? Come on, just a bit."

"How long have you been sick for? Were you sick yesterday too?"

"Several times, why haven't you said anything? I could have... no, no, I'm sorry. Just rest. You go back to sleep now. You'll feel better soon."

All that worry, all that work, all that effort, and I woke up the next day entirely fine. Like I'd barely even been sick in the first place. There was no need for all of that. They should never have come, all they did was worry unnecessarily, wasting their time on me when they could have been doing anything else. It faded on its own. It would have been better if they'd never even known I was sick at all.

When I woke up later that day and got out of bed, I found Ayer in the kitchen, reading a book with a half-eaten bread-looking thing on a plate next to them. They put it down when they saw me, and reached into a bag I hadn't noticed they'd brought with them.

"You feeling better?" They asked, handing me one of the purple bread-things they were eating. "I'd gone out while you were asleep, brought some of these, they're good for... when you get sick a lot. Your stomach. They should help with the vomiting."

I took the plate from them, and sat down. I stared at it. I looked up at them.

"I'm sorry." I said, and my throat hurt a fair bit when I said it. It didn't matter, it needed to be said, and I said it again. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry for being sick? That's not something you can help, you shouldn't be sorry for that, it just... well I guess it just happens, er, yea. Just randomly. Not your fault."

I shook my head. "You didn't have to-" I coughed, throat sharp with pain, and when I opened my mouth again Ayer cut me off.

"Eat that first. It'll help your throat, it'll make it feel better."

"But I-"

"Io, just eat it."

"I need t-"

"You can say whatever after you eat it."

"I-"

"Please, Io, just please. Please just do it for me."

I stopped. I opened my mouth to say I'm sorry. I closed it. I opened it. Again and again. I needed to apologize, I needed to say sorry, I needed to make it up to them, all of it.

I ate the bread. I didn't taste it, but I ate it. When I was done, I started again. It really did hurt a lot less.

"I'm sorry." I said again. Before I could say more, they shook their head.

"People don't do that anymore."

"Do what? Get sick?"

"Well, they don't do that either, but what I meant was they don't do that... apologizing for receiving help. Especially help offered."

So that's how it was. You don't say that you're sorry here, you just show it.

"I'll make it up to you." I said. "I'll... I don't know what I'll do, but I'll do something."

"No, no, that's not what I, you don't gotta pay me back. I just, people just, well, there's not too much to it. It really wasn't all that much, you were sick, and you're my friend, of course I'm going to help you out if I can. You don't gotta pay me back, not in the slightest."

I nodded, but inside I was already wondering what I could do in return. How determined I was then, but when offered the chance on a silver platter, what did I do? Threw it away, of course. At the time, though, I really did hope to try and make it up to them.

I faded out a bit, trying to think of something, when I noticed them stand up from the table.

"What pieces do you have around here? I wanna show you how to make this." They said, picking up one of the leftover bread things. "Like I said, they're good for upset stomachs, and will help your throat and insides recover from the acid and such. They're pretty easy to make, and you can eat them whenever too, don't have to just eat them when you're sick."

"I don't have anything." I said, watching them look around in the kitchen. "I've just been eating take-out this whole time. I don't... know how to make anything. Here, at least." I knew how to make a fair few things at home, but none of the same ingredients were still around as far as I'd been able to see, so I hadn't spent much time in the kitchen.

"I'll go grab some, then I'll show you how to make it. I'll be right back."

"You don't need to-"

"Come on, it'll be fun. I haven't done much baking recently, it'll be cool to get back into it."

"Alright then." I said, staring at the bread in my hand. I'd never been a fan of baking, but if it could be a start to making it all up to them, then I'd do it.

I thought I could do it.

I guess that made me the optimist, didn't it?

How strange to think of, now.