Zack's mind whirled with possibilities. He'd fantasized about this sort of thing-escaping his wretched life somehow, some way, for years. While it would be a misnomer to say he had a plan (because who could plan for such a thing as this), he certainly had given thought to how he'd change his life.
“No one will ever notice how much or how little things have changed to match my truth,” he said to himself. “For them, it will either seem to be how things have always been, or it will be as though they learned something new. Their minds never contradict my words, no matter how different things were even seconds earlier.”
Zach noticed that someone on the street had spotted him talking to himself. They didn't say a word, but their furtive glances toward him made it clear they saw it, and had reacted the same way most people would if they caught someone having a conversation with themselves.
“No one notices me talking to myself,” he said, realizing he'd actually done a very good ad-lib on the spot. “No one notices when I use my powers at all, actually. They never realize it's me playing God with the fabric of reality.”
“I'm six feet, two inches tall,” Zach declared, feeling the unusual sensation of his bones stretching slowly as his perspective rose by eight inches. It hurt like hell until he said “This doesn't hurt.”
With a smug look, he noticed his clothes barely fit now, as his body had conformed to normal dimensions for his height. His shirt rode up slightly, and his jeans now were only covering to mid-calf. They constricted his waist as well. “My clothes fit perfectly.” Another smile; he'd managed to fix that easily enough.
He was nearing his house, and he paused apprehensively. He didn't want to get the lecture from his mother, nor did he want to deal with his brother or his father. A boiling hatred seized up inside of him.
“Every member of my family is dead.” New memories crashed into his mind-there'd been a house fire a few years ago. His mother had fallen asleep with a cigarette after going on the nod from heroin. He'd only barely escaped before flames had reached his room. He could still hear their screams in his mind as they burned to death. Zack trembled. He'd just killed his family. No two ways about it-he'd killed them with his newfound power. He clutched his head, unsure of what to do. He could bring them back with a sentence. It was on his lips. He had to utter it to make it true. “It doesn't bother me.” The guilt went away.
Of course, now there was the problem of where he'd live. Another smile came across his lips. “I'm 21. My ID reflects this. I live in a condominium by the river in a gated community. I'm independently wealthy from the life insurance policy my father had taken out on them both a few months before the fire, along with the gambling winnings I've made from the lottery.” Again, new memories flooded in, enticing him to heights of almost giddy laughter as he saw the things that had never been and now were. Women flocked to him for his wealth, and now that his body had morphed into its six-two version, he didn't look nearly so awkward. He'd actually aged well, proving what a well-meaning woman had said to him-it really HAD simply been an unfortunate phase. He DID grow up to be handsome. So..was he always going to eventually grow to six two, or did that happen because he made it? He pondered for a moment if he had made the world change on his own, or if it was predestined, at least to an extent. “This doesn't concern me right now,” he said, smiling at how easily he could dismiss guilt or worry with just a simple statement.
He meandered slowly toward his house, knowing full well that he could easily simply say “I am home,” and it would be true, but instead, he enjoyed the simple pleasure of knowing how truly free he was. It took around forty five minutes for him to walk to his neighborhood and punch in the security code at the front gate.
“Hi Zack,” said the security guard with a friendly wave. Zack was at first a bit surprised they were on a first name basis, but then his mind filled with the memory of a day a year or two previous, when he'd had a heart attack and Zack had managed to perform life-saving CPR on him. Since then, they'd been quite friendly, the man rather indebted to Zack. Zack smiled and waved hello, and was inwardly relieved that even in a past that had barely existed for an hour, he was still the same nice guy. He was slightly surprised that his CPR training (he'd gotten it in school during mandatory health classes) had paid off. He didn't expect that at all.
He walked expertly to his home, even though he'd never been there. Well, he'd been there, but HE hadn't. Things started to get foggy in his mind as his memories conflicted. “While I may be aware of the changes I make, I have no issues with timeline overlap,” he said confidently. Once again, the troubles faded.
He let himself in to the house-it was a modest enough condominium on the outside, but on the inside, marble floors greeted him. Deep plush microfiber couches ran the length of the living room. The kitchen gleamed spotlessly. “I have every electronic convenience I want,” he said, watching as subtle changes happened around him. A static energy seemed to fill the air, and he noticed the television stretched to a massive 80 inch, 4K flatscreen display-the absolute, top of the line model.
On the wall next to him was the touchscreen display for all the lighting, security, and sound in the house, along with the thermostat controls. With a few deft touches, he queued up some Apocalyptica, a cello quartet that played heavy metal, and it echoed flawlessly through the house.
A glance out the French double doors to the back yard revealed an Olympic sized pool (with a bar) along with a massive hot tub-one that easily could fit a dozen people. More memories flooded in of parties and conquests. He debated taking a dip, but instead sat down on his couch, flipping channels out of mild boredom. What was he to do NOW?