[ WP ] You receive an email dated April 25th , 2033 with a single word in the subject line . Before you can open it , you receive a sharp knock on your door .

Jerry Harrison prided himself for many things. Many things, such as surviving an entire day without breakfast or lunch. Or maybe having too much of the letter `` r'' in his name. Nonetheless, he found himself to be `` quite the dude''. However, this one fateful day, this one otherwise unimportant day to anyone else, Jerry pretty much turned his whole world upside down. You see, it was a regular day for Jerry. Waking up quite earlier than anyone else, stepping out of his ratty old bed to brush his teeth. After he was done, he gave his floppy brown hair one comb-through and strode into the kitchen, fetching leftovers from the fridge and putting them in his microwave. 
 
 10 minutes should do it... 
 
 He set the corresponding number and went over to the counter, opening up his laptop and seating himself in one of his squeaky old chair that no doubt drove the neighbors downstairs crazy. Jerry lived in an apartment, you see. It was n't really a fashionable one, or one of those `` modern'' ones you see nowadays. No... This was your run of the mill, poor-man's apartment. And Jerry's neighbors... Oh, Jerry's neighbors. The ones downstairs were fine enough... Sometimes he was even invited to their dinners. To the right of Jerry's room, however, lived a man who loved to shout obscenities and derogatory terms very loudly at night. Jerry could not guess what the man-to-the-right does for a living, but he always hears the rapid clicking of a mouse accompanying his shouting. The woman-to-the-left was quieter, but Jerry was thoroughly convinced that she practiced witchcraft, so unfortunately they did n't really hang out all that often. However, this is not a story about Jerry's neighbors. No, this is a story abou- 
 
 `` What the hell?'' 
 
 Jerry had been in the middle of checking his private email and saw one notification indicating that there was new mail. Once he clicked on it, confusion flashed across his face at the date; April 25th, 2033. The subject reads, `` Wait.'' 
 
 What is this? Some sort of Nigerian Prince click bait? 
 
 As Jerry went to click the email to read it, there was a knock on his door. Well, at least, what could be constituted as a knock. It sounded a bit more like someone stumbling into his door. Nonetheless, Jerry stood up from his chair and went to the door, looking through the peephole. All he saw was a slightly middle-aged man with a thick beard and mousy hair, rubbing his head which had a intricate helmet on it, and holding a box wrapped in a blanket. Jerry opened the door hesitantly. 
 
 Before the man could speak, Jerry interrupted, `` If they're puppies or kittens, I ca n't have'em. My neighbors will get pissed.'' 
 
 The man blinked, as if confused, then shook his head. `` No no, just... You know what, here.'' The middle-aged man shoved the box in Jerry's arms. 
 
 `` Hey! What the he-'' 
 
 `` Listen to me. In there is a time machine. It's preset to the date April 19th, 2033. I need you to go back in time and be my wingman, got it? The location is already set too. Just put on the helmet and press the button. Oh! And when you get there, and I get the girl, say to me,'The code is 2-8-4-9-2-8', got it? Say that I'll understand later.'' This was when the man hurriedly checked his watch. 
 
 Meanwhile, Jerry just looked at the man with a dumbfounded look, wondering if he had gotten some mentally insane neighbor recently without his knowing. Suddenly, the helmet on the man's head began to whir and beep. 
 
 `` Alright,'' he began. `` Just remember! 2-8-4-9-2-8, be my wingman, and...'' The man looked Jerry up down as his helmet began to beep more frantically. `` Put something remotely sensible on, for God's sake.'' 
 
 And with that, the man vanished with a high-pitched beep and a flash of light, leaving no evidence that he was here other than the box that Jerry now held. Mouth hanging open, Jerry quickly stepped back inside, closing his door a little too loudly, causing some groaning from downstairs, and locking the chain lock. Jerry's leftovers were done, and his laptop sat unattended, but Jerry was beyond it all at that point. He hurried into his room, setting the box down on his bed and began to unwrap the blanket. Inside was a helmet very similar in design to the one the man was wearing before, except this one had a small remote attached with a button and a screen. The screen read, `` 04 19 2033: COUNTRYSIDE BAR''. 
 
 Putting on the helmet, Jerry saw a slip of paper at the bottom of the box. He picked it up with shaky hands and read it. 
 
 `` Please do n't screw this up.'' 
 
 Jerry merely let out an unimpressed `` pssssh'' and tossed the slip on the ground. Remembering what the man said, Jerry headed to his closet and put on his most sensible attire: A t-shirt with the pattern of a tuxedo and some dress pants his mother sent him. Perfect. Ready and slightly curious, Jerry made sure one last time that this was in fact not just a prank. Convinced that it was not, Jerry held up the remote and read the date one more time. He then pressed the button, tensing up.
