My Future Self Is Ruining My Life!

Michael took a quick look around the area, slightly stunned. The area boasted an ultra-minimalist, streamlined aesthetic, with stark white covering the other three walls apart from a set of opaque black glass double doors directly behind him. A desk made of a similar black glass stretched almost the length of the room on one side, and the opposite side of the room, nestled between Michael and his benefactor, was a recessed pit with two white couches facing each other with a long black glass coffee table in between. The charcoal grey floor completed the décor, which Michael quickly began walking across to join his benefactor after the latter made a motion towards the couches.

"First of all, can I offer you a drink?", the bald, bearded man said. Without waiting for a response, two circular holes appeared in the glass, and two steaming cups of what looked and smelled like green tea rose up from inside the table. The man quickly took the cup and brought it to his lips, his eyes never leaving the young man in front of him.

Michael hesitated for a moment, and then took the offered drink as well. Despite his indifference to the beverage, he seemed to have found himself being led to drink it more than once recently. After a sip, where the man opposite just continued to stare at him, Michael broke the silence. "What should I call you? Calling you 'Me' or 'Michael' or even 'Old Michael' doesn't seem to be... right?", he stumbled to finish.

The man smirked, leaned back, and continued to look at the boy with the same ȧssessing stare. Finally, seeming to decide something, he set down his teacup. "You can call me Prometheus. I'm sure we'll have more of these chats as you continue to progress, and when we do I'll try to provide a bit more guidance, within the confines of what I'm allowed to do. The first piece of guidance I'll provide is that the impatient are very often the first to lose. Getting a proper sense of timing, in all things, is crucial. That means knowing when to move, and knowing when to wait. You're young, but that's no excuse for a lack of patience."

Michael struggled to continue listening despite the growing list of questions as 'Prometheus' continued to speak. Once the man had finished, Michael sat there for a moment, processing his words and the multiple potential implications.

Soon, he had his questions in order, and began to speak. "Ok, fir--"

"The next piece of advice is that nothing is free, especially information. When you ask a question, be reasonably confident that you're in a position to receive an answer. Otherwise, all you're doing is volunteering more information - what you don't know, and what you want to know. So, before you ask your question, tell me - why do you think you're in a position to receive an answer?"

Michael paused, stymied. He frowned and rubbed his forehead.

"I think I'm in a position to receive an answer because I ȧssume that we're on the same side - that we're allies, or that you're coaching me. Otherwise, you wouldn't have done everything you have so far, or brought me here now. Actually, why did you bring me here?", Michael asked.

'Prometheus' grinned. "A better question than the one you were going to ask. I brought you here for a couple of reasons, one of which was to begin teaching you some crucial skills you may not be able to learn elsewhere. Academic critical thinking skills are one thing, but the real world applications of such skills - for example, in negotiations, or transactions - are another matter entirely. So I'll be working on teaching you such skills, periodically. You recently reached a minor milestone which afforded us a little time together. Now, you've asked two questions, and I've asked one. You'll find many scenarios will follow a form of equivalent exchange, and we'll do so here. So, my next question. Why do YOU think I'm calling myself Prometheus?"

Michael thought back on everything he knew about the mythical figure before beginning. "Prometheus was a Greek titan of fire. He was said to have created humanity from clay, tricked Zeus, and then stole fire from the gods to give to humanity, before being sentenced to eternal torment by Zeus. Later, he would be freed by Hercules, under the instruction of Zeus.

"As to why you're calling yourself that... well, you did give me the System. Sometimes the System calls you the author, so I'm guessing you created it? Although that doesn't completely fit, I've read that Prometheus giving fire is analogous to the founding of civilization. Maybe there's something there? Unless you stole it," Michael finished, jokingly.

'Prometheus' smiled. "You're in the general area of an answer. What's your next question?"

Michael went back over his list from before, considering the questions carefully. Finally, he asked. "You mentioned the confines of what you were allowed to do. Allowed by whom?"

The man's smile grew into a grin. "An excellent question, though it would have been better to ask 'what' instead of 'whom'. Sadly, answering that is one of the things I'm unable to do. What I can say is that it's nothing you need to worry about - there is no danger to you, and the implications are minimal in general, and completely inconsequential to the current you. While that might not be the most satisfying answer, it's what I can offer right now. In exchange, I'll let you ask another question."

Michael grunted in dissatisfaction, thought for a moment, and then asked his question. "You said you had a couple of reasons for bringing me here - what was the second?"

'Prometheus nodded, his wide grin continuing. "Good. A very good question. The other reason I brought you here was to give you this," he finished, tapping on the glass. A square hole slid open, and a square black lacquer box rose up from inside the table.

"Go ahead - open it."