Richard Rice was playing with his company's new AI tool.
"Jesus Christ...it really works," he said in dawning horror. Most of what they did at SurgeSoft was compatibility work, making sure old libraries, dependencies, and legacy code didn't break when the software was updated. It wasn't very creative; in fact, it was downright boring, but it was a paycheck.
"Debra, are you seeing this?" he asked his work wife, his only wife since the divorce.
She leaned over, a hand resting casually on his shoulder while she examined the open file in his developer environment. Rich wanted to lean into her touch, but reminded himself she was still married. "Seamless," she said breathily. Debra pointed out a few lines at the bottom. "See how it autogenerates unit tests? We're going to be out of a job soon."
The dull fear burning in his stomach like indigestion told him she was right. He and Debra were dinosaurs now.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. Richard did everything right. After he got out of the military, he went to college and got a computer science degree, graduating with no student loan debt and money in the bank. Three years later, he'd burned out working at a Silicon Valley startup and failed his one and only FAANG interview. From there, he decided to pull back, go for safety and security. Enterprise Java at some boring old company nobody had ever heard of was his ticket to the middle class. The only good thing that came of his time in California was meeting his ex-wife, and look how that turned out.
Richard was done with Silicon Valley, but Silicon Valley wasn't done with him. SurgeSoft's new CTO was all-in on AI and looking to cut costs. Feeling threatened, Richard even voluntarily returned to in-person work at the office, thinking it would make him less likely to be fired.
He was writing manual tests, trying to catch the AI in an edge case it hadn't accounted for, anything to justify his employment. Then he saw a notification that he had a meeting with HR.
Debra locked eyes with him, knowing very well what that meant. The sudden hug made him gasp. A woman that short had no business being that strong. "Text me sometime," she said in a brittle voice. They both knew he wouldn't.
"Bye, Debbie." He slid his chair out from under his desk and went to meet his executioner.
While he walked to the meeting, Rich noticed there were nothing but young people in their twenties working at SurgeSoft. Gradually, without noticing it, he'd become the old man of the office. At thirty-seven years old, he was ancient in coding years.
"Mr. Rice, good morning. Please sit down," the woman from HR said when he entered the office around the corner. Richard didn't recognize her and he supposed that was for the best. "We want you to know that SurgeSoft values your contributions here, as well as-" she trailed off, checking something, "-your military service. Employing veterans is a key company value. But..."
"Can we just get this over with?" he muttered insolently. "We both know why I'm here."
The woman's face fell. "Fine. While we value your contributions, the company has had to restructure to adapt to the current market climate. To that end, our relationship will have to come to an end. We wish you luck in your future endeavors. Please gather your things." She stood up abruptly.
Taking that for dismissal, Rich left and returned to his desk. A man from security was already there, watching him for sudden moves. He looked around for Debra, hoping to say goodbye one last time, maybe get another hug, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Just my luck.
The man from security took his work laptop and stood over his shoulder while he gathered up his personal belongings, which weren't much. He didn't even have a picture of his wife anymore, just a water bottle and a little notebook where he sometimes wrote out problems on physical paper to visualize them better.
Once he was done, security escorted Rich out of the building like a criminal on a perp walk. For a while, he just stood there by the entrance, stunned, listless, not knowing where to go or what to do. Eventually, he found himself in his car, driving nowhere in particular. It was almost lunchtime.
He was driving slowly in the downtown traffic. A sign etched in chalk caught his eye. "Lunch Special-Two Drinks for the price of One!" it read.
Yeah, I could use a drink, he thought, or maybe two. Rich looped around looking for a parking spot and walked in once he found one.
Besides the bartender, there was only one other guy in there. Rich treated it like urinal rules and sidled up to the bar at an appropriate distance. He wasn't in the mood to talk. The other guy was, though, and moved to sit right next to him.
"What're you drinking, buddy? It's two for one; I'll have one with you." The man was buff and bald, looking like Mr. Clean or Johnny Sins. It's awful I know who that is, Richard thought in shame. He'd been "taking care of himself" a lot since the divorce and was starting to recognize faces and names.
"Uh, Tecate, if you have it," he said uneasily.
The bartender's eyes lit up. "We just got that on draft for Cinco de Mayo! Coming right up," he said cheerfully, and returned with two glasses, putting one in front of him.
Richard took a sip, enjoying the crisp, bold flavor. "Ah, the only drinkable beer," he said out loud. Despite everything, Tecate was still Tecate. It would never fail him.
His anonymous benefactor chuckled. "That good, huh? I'm always happy to give people what they want. You're a software engineer? At SurgeSoft, right?"
Rich looked up in alarm. "How do you know that?"
Mr. Clean, or Johnny Sins, or whoever he was, smiled knowingly. He reached for Richard's neck. "You're still wearing your lanyard," he pointed out, holding it up in front of him.
For a long moment, Rich didn't answer. "Yeah, I guess I am," he confirmed. Mr. Clean didn't let go.
"I heard there were layoffs," he said lightly.
Who the hell is this guy? Rich wondered, then he sighed. "You heard right. I'm unemployed, as of today."
"How old are you?" probed the man.
The question hit Rich like a slap. He was still in good shape and had all his hair, so he liked to pretend he was younger than he was. Just then, though, some deep instinct told him the bald man could tell if he was lying. "Thirty-seven," he admitted tightly.
"Thirty-seven," the man who bought him a drink repeated before taking a sip of his own. "You're right, Tecate is good." He let the silence hang just long enough to be uncomfortable. There was a boxing match on the bar TV, but the sound was off. Rich watched just to have something to do with his eyes that wasn't looking at the creepy bald guy. He resolved to finish his beer and go home. One beer should be fine to drive, right?
"You ever seen a forty-year-old software engineer?" the man asked, but didn't wait for a reply. "That's right, you've never seen it! Software is a young man's game. Most transition to management around mid-career, spend more time with their families, you know. You have a family, Rich?"
Richard's wince answered for him. He had a family, once. His ex-wife even talked about having a kid, but it just never happened for them. Maybe...maybe that was for the best. Going home and facing his wife after getting fired was his own personal idea of hell.
The bald man grunted in arrogant certainty like he knew it all. "That's just what I thought, Richard Rice. You don't have anything. No job, no family, nothing tying you down. So I've got an offer for you." He pulled out a small box and opened it.
It was beautiful, an elegant heart-shaped amethyst set in a golden band, the kind of thing he'd have wanted to buy as a present for his ex-wife in happier times. Rich reached for it without conscious thought...
The bald man snapped the box shut and withdrew his treasure. "You can have the ring, but only if you follow me, and agree to certain...conditions."
Richard's heart, cold and closed for so long, burned in desperate longing. He'd do anything to have that ring! In one long pull, he finished his beer. "Lead on, Johnny Sins!"
The man's face fell. "Right." Johnny paid for their drinks, and Rich followed him out without a word.
"So where are you parked?" Rich asked.
"We're in walking distance, young hero, just keep up!"
Young hero? Nobody had called Rich young in years. Even so, the pull of the ring drove him on. Whatever it was, Rich was game. After all, what did he have to lose?
"Right this way," the bald man swiped a keycard at the entrance of a warehouse and disappeared inside. Richard paused at the threshold. A feeling that this was the point of no return hit him like a bucket of ice water. Indecision stopped his feet and quickened his heart. Could he really do this?
No! The ring! He must have the ring! Rich slapped his thighs like a sumo wrestler and crossed into the unknown dark. The door slammed shut behind him.
"Took you long enough!" the man said shortly. Mr. Clean turned and looked at Rich. Without warning, the bald man's eyes went wide, as if in pain or surprise. The color, all the color, bled away until they were purely white, white so bright it hurt to look at in the dark room. He collapsed bonelessly, falling to the ground like an inanimate object that just had the power switched off.
"No, Johnny Sins, don't die!" Rich rushed forward, preparing to do CPR. Only Johnny's body was already cold. How was that possible?
One by one, lights flicked on, revealing consoles and machines Richard didn't recognize. The interior of the warehouse looked like a NASA command center or Star Trek set. Everything was arranged around a single focal point: a pillar of glass that glowed like heaven.
Rich stood transfixed, watching as motes of light blinked on one after another and congealed into a certain likeness within the pillar of glass. It was the bald man, cast in white! It looked like...
"Zordon!" Rich blurted out in sudden recognition. Man, that was a name he hadn't said since he was a kid.
"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" boomed the white head. The deep resonance shook Richard down to the bones. "That would violate copyright law, young hero! You may address me as Byakku, or the Pale Emmisary!"
This was definitely not what Richard was expecting today. "What about him?" Rich pointed at the body on the floor. "He's cold like he's been dead for hours. What gives?"
Zordon, or whatever his name was, looked down on Richard contemplatively. "A necessary deception, young hero. My avatar is not alive as a human would understand it. Suffice to say, I was controlling him the whole time. Once he brought you hence, the energy necessary to maintain the animated avatar was returned to the source. But soft! Time is of the essence!"
"Is this about the ring?" Rich questioned.
"Indeed!" confirmed the, uh, Pale Emmisary a bit louder than was comfortable to Rich's ears. "This world is cooked, young hero! A solution must be found!"
No way. This had to be some kind of elaborate prank. Or maybe not. The sudden attraction the ring had to him couldn't be faked. That purple stone felt like love and belonging and every fantasy he ever had. A regular rock, no matter how pretty, couldn't do that.
"Young hero, huh? So that's it? You're going to give me powers, and I'm going to save the world? Like a sentai or kamen rid-"
"Say not that word! The power to henshin, to transform, shall be granted to you, but copyright law forbids the use of that term. You shall be a Non-Copyright Henshin Hero!"
Non-Copyright Henshin Hero. Rich wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but couldn't find any reason to doubt what was right in front of his face. "I guess I just have to put on the ring? Then what? I transform and fight evil? Who's my opponent?" Every Kamen Rider fought a villainous organization. If this were real, there must be something like that on Earth.
"Not here, young hero! As I said, this world is cooked! The ring has just enough Pureheart Power to send you back twenty years. Hopefully, you'll be able to prevent the evil ones from implementing their dastardly plan!"
Not a lot to go on, Rich observed. Still, he couldn't keep a smile off his face. He loved those stories where the protagonist went back in time with future knowledge. "Do I get my old body back?" he asked.
"Indeed! You will be seventeen years old again, just as you were! Do you accept the challenge?" The Pale Emmisary looked troubled for a moment. "Once you go back, you are on your own. I won't be able to contact you. I am sorry, but there are rules that bind even beings such as myself when it comes to time. The future depends on you, young hero! What say you?"
Richard bent down and fished the ring box out of Android Johnny Sins' pocket. He opened it and put the ring on his right ring finger. "Do you even have to ask?"
"Bravo, young hero! Farewell, and may the Purehearts guide you!"
Zordon's command center faded as purple light from the ring suffused his body, the beams vibrating like the strings of a cosmic instrument. Higher and higher the pitch went until he was cut out of time, leaving nothing.
***
"Rich," a voice said softly. "Rich, Earth to Rich! We're going to be late."
"Oh, sorry," he said thickly. He didn't recognize the voice but decided it was best to play along.
"Geez, my space cadet son," the person, a woman, complained good-naturedly. "Come on, we're meeting your dad and sister at Blockbuster." She got into a car Richard didn't recognize and started it.
The disorientation of time travel must've been getting to him. Did she say "son"? That wasn't his mom! Still, he couldn't think of anything better to do than go along with this. Rich slid into the shotgun seat without a word and buckled his seatbelt. From there, he observed.
The interior of the car definitely looked like it was from 2005. There was no touchscreen, just buttons and knobs, charmingly analog. There was even a CD player!
"That's a pretty ring," the woman said. She held out her hand. "May I?" Rich offered his hand automatically, and she took it. "Wow. So my mollygirl son is finally starting to take an interest in boyish things, took you long enough."
Mollygirl? Rich wasn't familiar with that term. And why would a ring be boyish? Something was off here.
"Did a girl give it to you?" the woman demanded, her voice dropping an octave, dripping with menace. "You know girls only want one thing, right?"
Richard was too stunned to reply. His mind was furiously making connections, trying to resolve the incongruity. Then he realized the truth.
This is a reverse world.
In a reverse world, men acted like women and women acted like men. This woman wasn't his mom, but a genderbent version of his dad! Looking closely, he could see it. The general face shape matched, the blonde hair and blue eyes, unmistakably what his dad would look like if born as a woman.
Damn you, Zordon! You didn't tell me the full story!
Not only was he supposed to be a Kamen Rider, ahem, Non-Copyright Henshin Hero, but he would have to do it in a reverse world. It wasn't going to be nearly as simple as just reliving his old life. Everything would be different, in subtle, unpredictable ways. Hopefully, it wasn't one of those reverse worlds.
"Uh, Mom," he tried to get her attention, sounding uncomfortable. Her grip on his hand was starting to hurt.
"Oh, sorry." She released him. "I know I'm being overprotective, but you're getting to be that age. Girls will come sniffing around, maybe not all of them, but a tall, muscular mollygirl like you will definitely be popular at your new school. I just don't want you to be taken advantage of, Sweetie."
Mollygirl. Rich ruminated on the word. Tomboy equivalent? That must be it. So he was this world's equivalent of a tomboy. He'd have to be, with the muscles he built playing high school football and lifting weights every day. God, he was so jacked at this age. His body felt incredible.
His dad/mom/whatever put on the radio, and all doubts that he was in 2005 evaporated. Rock music that sounded like the soundtrack to a Need For Speed game as sung by a woman blared through the car's speakers. Rich really liked it, actually. It was better than mumble rap, anyway. Nostalgic.
"Mom," he asked hesitantly. "What would you say is the male-to-female ratio in the world?"
"About fifty-fifty, Sweetheart," she said patronizingly.
Oh thank god...
"Don't worry. You're my pretty little son. I won't let any of those horny bitches take advantage of you."
Well, if they tried, he could just transform and kick their ass, hopefully. Rich looked down at his ring, trying to feel it as if it were a person. There was something there for sure, but he didn't know what. Would the ring explain to him how to use it when the time came? Ugh, he probably should've asked Zordon more questions.
They pulled into the parking lot of a busy-looking Blockbuster. It looked exactly like, no, it was the exact Blockbuster he remembered from his childhood in Plano, Texas.
"Mom, why are we still in Plano?" Rich asked.
Mom sighed. "Baby, I told you. Your dad and I are getting back together. We're not divorced, only separated. We agreed to try and work things out. I know it's a big change, but don't you want to be a family again?"
That never happened in his world! Rich's parents got divorced and stayed divorced! More things were different than he realized. He'd have to be careful. They walked in together. The slight nostalgia of before was now an absolute flood. God, he missed this place. People were walking around, outside, in public, talking about what movies they liked, sometimes with strangers. Not one person was on their phone. Call him a boomer. Call him an unc. Richard didn't care. This was an objectively better time to be alive.
"Remember the rule, you and Rebecca can each pick out one thing, a movie or video game," Mom said.
Rebecca. He had a sister in this world, weird. Rich wondered what she'd be like. "Who's older?" he asked. It was probably better to get the weird questions out of the way before he met his dad and sister.
Mom chuckled as they browsed the new releases along the perimeter. "You two always fight over that. Well, I can tell you, conclusively, that my son Richard is fifteen minutes older than my daughter Rebecca."
THEY WERE TWINS! Was he about to meet a genderbent version of...himself? This was now objectively insane.
Rich tried to take his mind off the insanity by browsing the movies. They were the same, but somehow not the same. A movie set in ancient Greece with a gorgeous blonde on the cover caught his eye.
Mom waggled her eyebrows. "Troy? Good choice. You like blonde women just like dear old mom, right? Do I look like Brenda Pitt?"
"Uh, yeah, sure," Rich stammered. Reverse world, twins, it was all too much.
Rich did, in fact, choose Troy, picking it up while keeping his eyes peeled for a genderbent version of his mom or himself. Then the sound of broken glass shocked him out of his reverie.
"Everyone get on the ground!" yelled an aggressive woman's voice. "This is a raid! Stinger Sieg!"
"Stinger Sieg!" echoed several more women together.
Mom's light, jokey demeanor instantly evaporated. "Stinger, shit." She pushed Rich down and dragged him behind a display of Lady of the Rings DVDs. "Hush," she whispered. "Mommy will protect you, just stay quiet."
"Who the hell is Stinger?" Rich asked in a panic. He tried to rise, but his mom pulled him right back down.
"Bad women who take advantage of cute boys like you," his mom whispered roughly. "Now stay down!"
There was the sound of something, well, a lot of things, falling. Displays were kicked over. Popcorn went flying. Children were crying. Parents were begging. Rough boots thudded past them. Mom covered his body with her own. "Play dead and pretend to be a girl," she commanded softly.
Stinger. That sure as hell sounded like the evil organization he was sent back in time to fight. Richard looked at his ring. "Henshin," he said aloud. Nothing happened.
What the fuck? He shook his hand and tried again. No response.
"Shut up," his mom rasped urgently.
"Too late," a woman said. As he lay on the ground, Richard saw combat boots walk right up to his face."Get up, both of you. I want all the hostages in one place."
The women were dressed like nazi bikers. They looked ridiculous. One smiled evilly down at him. "Oh, this one's a boy, a very handsome boy! I think we can have a lot of fun with him," she cooed menacingly.
"Stay away from my son!" Mom rose to her feet, shielding Rich with her body.
"Stand aside, woman. We're not going to do any permanent harm to him. I promise!" She held up three fingers. "Stinger honor!"
"Stinger doesn't have any honor!" There was a tussle where Mom wrestled with the nazi biker chicks, trying to interpose herself between them and Richard.
"Henshin! Henshin!" Rich said again and again. "Fuck, Zordon, how do I henshin?"
"End this," one of the Stinger soldiers, probably the leader, said in a bored voice. There was a glint of steel. Mom screamed and fell.
"Mom, no!" Richard rushed to her side. This was his mom now. He knew it in his soul. Mom was clutching her stomach, breathing with difficulty. "Mom, please don't die!" he begged.
She wasn't looking at him. She wasn't looking at anything. "I'm sorry...Richard." Every word sounded like it cost her great pain. The Stinger soldiers were all around them, laughing like it was the funniest thing they'd ever seen. "I'm...sorry...I wasn't a better...mother to you. Please, live for your dad and sister. I...love...you..."
Richard's mother trailed off and stilled. He knew she was gone.
"Now we can have our fun!" the one who stabbed her said gleefully. His mother's blood was still visible on the knife in her hand.
IT HURT! IT HURT! IT HURT! I KNEW HER FOR AN HOUR AND I LOVED HER!
Richard sobbed in agony, clutching his mother's limp, bloody body. He noticed his ring was glowing. He knew what to do.
"Hey, what the hell is that?" one of the Stinger soldiers asked uneasily.
"Payback time," Rich said darkly, rising to his feet. He posed, holding his ring to the sky. The words came to him from his very soul:
"From a future dark
To a post not set,
Stinger hasn't won just yet,
With Pureheart Power, a noble mission,
Come forth! Future Hero! Henshin!"
Purple light spread out from the ring, rippling down his skin like water. The armor, what he knew to be the Endram Armor, spread across his body like a second skin. He was strong. He was fast. He was Future Hero!
The Stinger soldiers tensed up for a fight. Some part of them must have known what was about to happen. Future Hero didn't give them time to get ready. They were slow; he closed the gap easily.
BAM! He put one down with a right cross. She crumpled like an accordion. The one who stabbed Mom tried to flee but bumped into the horror DVD aisle. Future Hero grabbed her wrist and twisted it till it broke. She screamed like a banshee until he silenced her with a kick to the temple while she was on the ground. Was she dead? Future Hero didn't care!
Realizing their danger at last, the other Stinger soldiers backed away, stealing glances at their leader for guidance.
"Don't just stand there, you fools. Surround him and attack all at once! Stinger Sieg!" the leader cried.
Brave again after hearing their battle cry, the Stinger soldiers tried to mob Future Hero. "Singer Sieg!" they yelled as one.
"Come on!" Future Hero taunted viciously. He easily dodged their slow-as-molasses punches and kicks and slipped out of their attempts to grab him without any effort at all. Returning fire with deadly accuracy, Future Hero focused his shots for maximum pain, kicking in kneecaps, punches to the liver and kidneys, and chops to the neck. No technique was necessary other than blunt force trauma. The Endram Armor made him as strong as ten women!
At last, only the leader remained. "You're strong," she said in grudging acknowledgement. They circled one another, looking for an opening. "But Stinger is stronger! Stinger Sieg!" The leader rushed him, dagger in hand.
Richard didn't know if a knife could pierce the Endram Armor, and felt no need to test such a thing in combat. He sidestepped her attack and ran her right into a vicious palm strike that sent her sprawling to the floor. Once that threat was eliminated, he sank back into a fighting stance and searched the surrounding area for hostiles. Future Hero found none, only a crowd of civilians looking like they'd seen something impossible.
"He fought Stinger! A man fought Stinger and won!" They shouted and clapped and cheered. Were they so strong that nobody had ever stood up to them before?
Whatever the case may be, Richard had a purpose now. He was Future Hero, and Stinger definitely wouldn't win!