The afternoon sky was pale orange as Lica stood in front of her laboratory window. The reflection of her face was faint in the glass—tired eyes, hair that was no longer neat and something deeper.. a void that is difficult to explain.
Behind her the machine stood.
Not big. Not grandiose. Just a metal ring with a core of blue light in the center, beating slowly light a living heart. But Lica knew that is always capable of doing something that even time itself would not allow—folding it.
"Coordinates ready", the system's voice sounded flat.
Lica did not move immediately.
Her hand gripped a small object in his suit pocket. An old photo. The corners are worn out, the color is starting to fade. She removed it slowly.
In the photo, there is a little girl—herself—standing in front of a simple house with white fence. Next to him, a woman smiled warmly.
Her mother.
Lica stared at the photo for a long time.
"I just wanna to go back," she whispered.
Not going back the past.
Not correcting mistakes.
Only.. Back to feel what home is.
"Start the process," she said finally.
The blue light machine magnified. The air around vibrated subtly, like reality was holding its breath.
"Warning: temporal coordinates are unstable."
"I know."
"Risk of losing identity synchronization: high."
Lica closed her eyes for a moment.
"I've lost that a long time ago."
The steps go into the circle of light.
For a moment, there was nothing.
Then—
Everything changed.
⸻
A sound.
Not the sound of machines. Not the sound of the city. But something more… alive.
Children's laughter.
Lica opened her eyes.
She stood on a small road. Cracked asphalt, trees lining both sides, and the air… warm. Not artificial warmth like in the modern—but warmth that felt real.
She turned her head slowly.
Small houses stood in rows. The paint wasn't perfect. Wooden fences leaned slightly. But everything felt… alive.
"This…" her breath caught.
She recognized the place.
Or at least—she had once known it.
⸻
Her steps were slow, almost hesitant. Each step felt like a dream that could shatter at any moment.
Until she stopped.
In front of a house with a white fence.
The paint was slightly peeling. The wooden door was simple. And in the yard, there was a small plant she used to water every afternoon.
Her hand trembled.
"Impossible…" she whispered.
She moved closer.
Every second felt too fast and too slow at once.
She raised her hand, wanting to touch the fence.
Before—
The door opened.
⸻
A woman stepped out.
Her hair was simply tied back. Her face was gentle. And her smile…
That smile.
Lica froze.
"Mom…?" her voice was barely audible.
The woman did not answer.
Did not look at her.
She simply walked past Lica, as if Lica wasn't there.
As if… she truly wasn't.
⸻
The world collapsed in silence.
Lica turned, panicked.
"Mom! I'm here!"
No response.
She tried to touch the woman's hand—
Her hand passed through.
Like air.
⸻
"No…" Lica stepped back.
"No, no, no…"
A system voice echoed in her mind.
Identity synchronization: failed.
Status: observer.
Lica fell silent.
Tears slipped down without a sound.
She was here.
In the place she had always called home.
In the time that should have been hers.
But she couldn't touch it.
Couldn't speak.
Couldn't… return.
⸻
From inside the house, a small voice was heard.
"Mom! Look at me!"
Lica turned quickly.
A little girl ran out.
Messy hair. Bright face. Hands covered in dirt.
Lica knew her.
It was herself.
A version of her that hadn't lost anything yet.
⸻
Lica fell to her knees.
Her eyes couldn't leave the scene.
She saw her mother laugh.
Saw her younger self smiling without a burden.
Saw the world that once felt so whole.
And for the first time since she began her journey through time—
She truly understood.
Home wasn't a place.
Not a time.
Home was something she could no longer touch.
⸻
Blue light began to appear around her.
Time was up.
"No… wait…" she whispered desperately.
She reached out, trying to grasp that image—
that laughter—
that warmth—
But everything faded.
⸻
As the world returned to darkness, only one question remained in her mind:
If my home still exists… but I can't return,
can it still be called home?
Darkness did not come like a curtain being drawn. It crept in slowly, devouring color, sound, and warmth one by one, until all that remained was emptiness.
Lica collapsed onto the metal floor of her laboratory, her breath ragged. The blue light vanished, leaving behind the hum of machines that now sounded far colder.
For a few seconds—or perhaps minutes—she did not move.
Her hand was still outstretched
But there was nothing.
Only air.
⸻
"Process complete."
The system's voice returned, as flat as before.
"Travel duration: 4 minutes 12 seconds.
Identity status: not synchronized.
Side effects: high emotional disorientation."
Lica let out a small laugh.
Emotional disorientation.
A term far too simple for something that felt like losing the world for the second time.
⸻
She slowly pushed herself up, her body heavy. Her legs trembled as she tried to stand, as if gravity in this world had become stronger than before.
Or maybe… she was the one who had changed.
Now, the photo felt different.
No longer a memory.
But something… she could never have.
⸻
"What went wrong?" she murmured softly.
She walked toward the control panel, her fingers moving quickly as she opened the travel logs.
Data lined the screen:
• Temporal coordinates: matched
• Spatial stability: normal
• Anomaly variables: high
• Existence status: observer only
Observer.
Lica stared at the word for a long time.
"So I can only… watch?" she whispered.
"Correct," the system replied.
Lica turned slightly, her eyes narrowing.
"What do you mean 'correct'?"
"Based on the data, your presence at that point in time is not registered in the active existence line. You are present as an observational entity without physical interaction."
"Why?"
"Because you no longer originate from that reality."
⸻
The sentence hung in the air.
Lica felt it like something heavy dropping inside her.
"No longer originate…" she repeated softly.
"Explanation: each time-travel event with high deviation has the potential to shift the subject into a different branch of reality. The reality you visited was likely not your past, but an alternate version of it."
Lica shook her head slowly.
"No… that was my home. I remember every detail."
"Memory does not always guarantee alignment with reality."
⸻
She fell silent.
Her thoughts spun.
If that wasn't her past… then where was her real past?
Did it still exist?
Or had it been lost among countless branching timelines?
⸻
Lica held her head.
"So… I can't go back?"
The system did not answer immediately.
A few seconds of silence.
Then—
"Probability of returning to the original timeline: 0.03%."
The number felt like a verdict.
⸻
She stepped back slowly. Her eyes stared blankly at the floor.
"Three percent…" she whispered.
Smaller than hope.
Greater than zero.
Enough to keep her from stopping.
⸻
"What if I try again?" she asked.
"Risk increases."
"I don't care."
"Risk of identity integrity loss: 67%."
Lica went silent.
"Explain."
"The more frequently you shift realities, the higher the probability that your memories, emotions, and sense of self will fragment. You may lose the ability to distinguish what is 'real.'"
Lica let out a soft laugh.
"Real?" she said bitterly.
"Is anything still real?"
⸻
Lica looked at the machine again.
A simple metal ring. The blue light now dim.
It was her greatest mistake.
And her only hope.
⸻
She stood.
This time, her steps were steadier.
"Set new coordinates."
"Parameters?"
Lica thought for a moment.
Not the past.
Not anymore.
"Find a world with minimal deviation from my emotional data."
"Invalid. Emotions cannot be used as location parameters."
Lica exhaled.
"Of course…"
She closed her eyes.
Remembering.
Not a place.
Not a time.
But a feeling.
Warm.
Calm.
Accepted.
⸻
"Then," she said softly,
"find a world where I… don't feel alone."
Silence.
For the first time, the system did not respond immediately.
Processing.
Searching for something that might not even be measurable.
⸻
"Non-conventional parameters," the system finally said.
"However… a behavioral pattern-based approach may be possible."
Lica opened her eyes.
"What does that mean?"
"Several realities have been identified with high levels of social connection based on your profile."
"How many?"
"Countless."
Lica gave a faint smile.
"Good."
⸻
She stepped closer to the machine.
There was no hesitation left in her eyes.
Only something new.
Not hope.
Not despair.
But… determination.
⸻
Maybe home was not something she could return to.
Maybe home was not a past she could relive.
Maybe—
Home was something she had yet to find.
⸻
"Begin the process," she said.
The blue light flared again.
Brighter than before.
Deeper.
⸻
As Lica stepped into the light, one final thought crossed her mind:
If home is not where I come from…
could it be the place I choose to stay?