Prologue: “In 2187, Mondays Still Suck (And So Do Unregistered Time Rifts)”

In the year 2187, the world was practically perfect.

Gone were the days of war, pollution, and poverty. Humanity had collectively decided that survival was no longer the goal; now, the goal was happiness, curiosity, and self-discovery. The streets were lined with lush greenery and sleek eco-buildings, and society thrived under the harmonious philosophy of The Great Continuum. Everyone had access to free education, health, and, best of all, weekly ice cream festivals. People were happy. Mostly.

Yuto Takeda, however, was not.

Not that he was unhappy, but rather… confused. Even in a world that solved almost every imaginable problem, Yuto, a 25-year-old history researcher at the Temporal Studies Institute, was sure there was something missing. Something mundane, but vitally important.

Yuto specialized in the most unorthodox branch of history: Mundane Temporal Anthropology. While his colleagues studied ancient wars, revolutions, and grand inventions, Yuto focused on simpler things. He spent his days researching questions like, “What did ancient humans eat for breakfast?” or “What were casual dates like in the early 2000s?”

To understand humanity’s future, he often argued in the cafeteria, his mouth half-full of eco-friendly tofu curry, we must first understand humanity’s everyday moments! Yuto thought this was brilliant. His coworkers thought it was endearing, at best.

So, on a Monday, while others were busy unlocking the mysteries of advanced cybernetics or the secrets of interstellar farming, Yuto sat hunched over his research terminal, staring at holographic records of ancient social media memes. Floating images of 21st-century humans making duck faces or photoshopping themselves with cat ears surrounded him. His job was to piece together how humans coped with daily life during the chaotic 21st century. The deeper he dug, the more he realized… most of it was people complaining about Mondays.

“Professor Chronos,” Yuto called, not looking away from the meme labeled, Mondays, am I right?

Professor Chronos, or “Chrono” as he liked to call it, was Yuto’s AI assistant—a floating sphere with glowing eyes and an extensive collection of 21st-century sarcasm. It hovered over his shoulder like a disappointed parent.

“Yuto,” Chrono buzzed with its deep, digital voice. “Did you need me to explain another meme?”

“Maybe…” Yuto said, squinting at the caption, Can’t adult today. “I just don’t get why these ancient humans found this funny.”

“Ancient humans?” Chrono sighed. “I’d rather you say ‘people from the early 21st century.’ You make it sound like they were cavemen.”

“Well,” Yuto muttered, “they were obsessed with avocado toast and writing ‘LOL’ after everything. That’s caveman behavior to me.”

Chrono dimmed its glowing eyes. “For someone who studies history, you’re surprisingly judgmental.”

“Whatever,” Yuto shrugged, reaching for his eco-friendly energy drink. He knew he wasn’t exactly chasing glory with this research, but something about these little moments fascinated him. Even in the ancient digital wasteland of cat memes and “I hate Mondays” jokes, there was a hidden depth to how people dealt with life’s struggles.

“Yuto, my dear historian,” Chrono droned, “have you considered that you’re studying boredom more than you’re studying history?”

“I’m trying to find meaning in the little things,” Yuto defended, opening up a holographic interface showing the evolution of “epic fail” compilations. “There’s something valuable in understanding humanity’s coping mechanisms.”

“Right,” Chrono said, unimpressed. “A noble quest for truth. Through memes.”

Yuto sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. He needed inspiration. He needed—

“Takeda!” A sharp voice cut through his thoughts. Yuto turned to see Hana, his coworker and frequent critic, standing at his workstation door. She looked as polished and pristine as always, with her neatly tied hair and spotless lab coat. Hana specialized in ancient fashion trends and social movements. She wasn’t exactly a fan of Yuto’s line of work.

“Have you seen the new containment protocol for unregistered rifts?” she asked sharply.

“Unregistered rifts?” Yuto blinked. “Like… unauthorized time rifts?”

“Yes, unauthorized time rifts,” Hana repeated, the annoyance clear in her voice. “The new protocol went into effect today. We can’t have anyone accidentally pulling someone from the past. Got it?”

“Got it,” Yuto replied automatically, though he was mostly pretending to listen.

With a final sigh, Hana turned and left. Yuto stood up, trying to shake off the mental fog that studying memes brought. He decided to take a walk around the institute halls, if only to clear his head. As he walked, his mind drifted to the idea of unregistered rifts. He’d never seen one before. They were supposed to be rare—a relic of an imperfect system from long ago.

Almost.

Turning a corner, Yuto stumbled upon a small, barely visible distortion in the air. It shimmered like sunlight through a cracked windowpane. His heart skipped a beat. Was this…?

“Yuto,” Chrono’s voice whispered urgently. “That looks suspiciously like an unregistered rift. Remember what Hana said?”

“Yes, yes,” Yuto mumbled, ignoring the AI’s warnings. “But what if there’s something interesting inside? A clue, maybe?”

“A clue to what?” Chrono scoffed. “The world’s best avocado toast recipe?”

Yuto, ignoring his AI’s sarcasm, couldn’t resist his curiosity. He reached out, fingertips brushing the edge of the rift. Time seemed to freeze, and for a moment, Yuto felt an odd mix of excitement and dread.

And then, the rift rippled and spat out… a person.

Yuto’s jaw dropped as a young woman stumbled through the distortion, landing on the floor with a yelp. She was dressed in casual 21st-century clothes—jeans, sneakers, and a hoodie with the words, I Paused My Game to Be Here.

“What the—” she muttered, looking around wildly. “Where am I?!”

Yuto’s mind raced. This wasn’t just a historical curiosity. This was a real person from the past! And he had just pulled her into the future!

The girl’s eyes locked onto Yuto, and her confusion turned to suspicion. “Are you some kind of cult leader? Did you kidnap me?!”

“No! No!” Yuto waved his hands frantically. “I… I think I accidentally… um… brought you to the future?”

She stared at him in silence. Then she burst out laughing. “The future? Are you kidding me?”

Chrono’s eyes narrowed at Yuto. “Good job, genius. You’ve broken several temporal regulations and quite possibly ruined history.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Yuto whispered back, panicking. “What do I do?”

“Why are you whispering to yourself?” the girl asked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh my god, am I in some kind of prank show?”

“Listen,” Yuto said, trying to sound calm. “My name is Yuto, and, um, yes, this is the future. And no, this isn’t a prank.”

The girl slowly got to her feet, looking around at the sleek, futuristic architecture. “Well, Yuto,” she said, trying to process everything, “I’m Nanami, and if this is the future, it’s not exactly what I expected.”

“What did you expect?” Yuto asked, still trying to make sense of the situation.

“I dunno,” Nanami shrugged. “Flying cars? Robots doing all the work? And, like, zero awkward situations.”

Chrono chuckled. “Oh, we have plenty of robots, and they do a lot of work. But awkward situations? Those are timeless.”

Nanami stared at the AI orb in shock. “Whoa… talking orb… okay, sure. Why not?”

Yuto glanced around nervously. He needed to get Nanami out of sight before anyone else noticed her. “Look, um… you should probably come with me. I have a… research office?”

“Oh, great. A research office. Super comforting,” Nanami said sarcastically, but she followed him anyway.

As they hurried back to Yuto’s office, Nanami couldn’t stop marveling at the futuristic world around her. “This is so surreal… Wait, why are there trees inside this building?”

“It’s part of our eco-initiative,” Yuto explained quickly. “We’ve integrated nature into our architecture.”

“Cool,” Nanami nodded approvingly. “This is like living in a sci-fi movie. So… what year is it?”

“2187.”

“2187?!” Nanami almost tripped over her own feet. “I missed so many seasons of my favorite shows!”

“This is what you’re worried about?” Chrono muttered.

Yuto felt his head spinning. He had to find a way to fix this. He had to figure out how to send Nanami back before anyone discovered her and blamed him for breaking reality.

But as he glanced at Nanami, who was now staring at a holographic map with childlike wonder, Yuto couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of excitement. Maybe this wasn’t just a mistake. Maybe this was the start of something… interesting.