My name is Kolin Pope. I am the savior of the future. Like most with the title of savior, I never went out looking for it. No, adventure found me.

It began on a very unremarkable evening in August 2003. I was nineteen at the time and in my room, when the evening silence was suddenly broken by the sound of my dog barking from downstairs. Moments later, my Mom strolled in, telling me calmly,“There’s someone at the door for you. He says he’s from the future.”

Confused yet intrigued, I hurried downstairs to find a man of about twenty that I had never seen before in my life standing on my front porch. He offered me his hand and said, “Hello, my name is Zane Figiam. I am from the future. This is a package for you.”

Playing along, I replied, “Is this plans for a time machine?”

“No,” he responded, with a tone in his voice suggesting that I was the one making ridiculous statements. He held up his package; a small, flat object wrapped in newspaper. I pondered it for a moment, then put on my best “important face” and told him, “I accept the responsibility of the future.” Zane shook my hand as he hurriedly handed off the package. He said a quick goodbye, turned, then fled out my front gate and out of sight.

a mysterious package!

I rushed back upstairs, eager to discover the contents of the package. Peeling back the newspaper, plastic gemstones and glitter sparkled as I fished a scrapbook out of the makeshift wrapping paper. Ornate decoration surrounded the title, “Gem Missile: A Tribute to Velocity Gnome”. I was startled by its contents as I flipped through the pages. It seemed to be an entire scrapbook devoted to my internet alias “Velocity Gnome”, as well as my friends, family, and dealings in cyberspace. As I delved further, I realized some of the information contained within was nearly half a year old, proving the scrapbook wasn’t thrown together overnight as its look would have you believe. The final oddity was a paper CD sleeve affixed to the back cover. “Open in case of future” was written on it, which I blatantly disobeyed. Track after track of unfamiliar 80s music from the CD played as I spent the rest of the night thumbing through the book.

No clues had been hinted at, no explanations left. The ordeal was effectively open and shut with no information on why I had been chosen for such a thing. I answered questions here and there about it for the next few weeks, and as things began to calm down, the entire incident slowly slipped from memory.