Animal Crossing Tales: When It's Time

Chapter 1: Every Face Tells a Story

Time travel is an incredibly simple task.

The first step is to obtain an intimate understanding of the non-spatial continuum that is measured in terms of sequential events, quantifiable by rates of change in material reality or in the conscious experience.

The second step is to be a Crosser.

As far as Crossers go, Rover the Cat considered himself to be the quintessential example, right underneath the association's leader— the First. Some would call this a bit of an ego, but Rover was not one to brag; he was simply a bit of a teacher's pet, one may say, if "pet" were not an incredibly offensive insult. Well... considering that fact, then, animals WOULD call him a teacher's pet.

Rover, in the simplest words, was a cat of azure blue with a particularly acute sense of time. He liked to believe that was the reason— alongside his charismatic personality— that the first Crosser initiated him at all, and he never took that honor for granted. He accepted each assignment as if it would be his last and showed his appreciation in the tiniest things that he did. For example, he made sure to always arrive precisely five minutes early—not one second before or after—to every meeting, just like today.

Coming in from last week, the cat sat down on the creaky wooden stool designated to him in the silent conference room. In the pitch black emptiness, a golden spotlight flickered on above him, emitting a distant, soft buzzing sound to accompany him.

His red eyes swept along the large circle made of the twenty-three remaining birchwood stools; with no other Crossers to trigger spotlights, he could only make out the vague silhouette of them. He remembered a time when the gentle silence used to prickle anxiety along his fur, causing him to fidget and murmur to himself incessantly until someone else arrived. Now, approximately 3,346 days and 6 hours later, it soothed him.

Reaching into his pockets, Rover retrieved the cup of coffee he had ordered to-go just before arriving. It was from his favorite café, and he knew almost no better way to start an early morning meeting than with a "steaming cup of joe," as he liked to call it. Pleased, he swirled the contents around a bit, took a deep sip, and immediately spit it out in a noisy mess.

He had leaned nearly out of his chair, barely missing his jeans and boots with the projectile coffee. He hacked and coughed and aggressively wiped his tongue with the back of his free paw.

"Ugh! What the actual—?" Checking the date written on the cup's sleeve caused his eyes to widen in horror. 6/12. He bought it before the meeting, alright— one week before. He sighed. Fair enough. He was only a time traveler, not a genius.

Footsteps snatched his attention, and when Rover looked up, feet surrounded in chunks of moldy coffee, he found himself making direct eye contact with Sonny Resetti. The mole's eyes radiated raw disgust, almost as if he had been the one to drink it. Hm. I thought moles were blind.

Rover opened his mouth to explain himself, but Resetti shook his head and took his own seat three stools away. The cat awkwardly cleared his throat, feeling heat creep up his face. As he stuffed the traitorous cup into his pockets again, he discovered that one of his paws was still covered in the unfortunately lumpy substance. Not wanting to look like a fool, he quickly wiped it all off on his pants—instant regret. Now his jeans were smeared with the health violation, his paw was still sticky, and there was still a puddle of coffee at his feet.

Rover lifted his gaze. Resetti was now seven seats away, blatantly avoiding meeting the cat's eyes. Sitting up straight and placing his paws over the stains on his pants, Rover swallowed, forced on a big smile—though it looked more like a grimace—and croaked out: "Mornin'."

Receiving a silence that made him cringe as a response, Rover made the difficult decision to remain quiet until the meeting actually commenced. Look on the bright side: that went WAY better than last time.