They Call Him The Wizard: Chapter 8 – The Case of the Shifting Realities

They Call Him The Wizard: Chapter 8 – The Case of the Shifting Realities The Wizard had seen a lot in his time—more than most people would even dream of. Time travel, parallel realities, encounters with extraterrestrial beings, and of course, the occasional near-death experience. But lately, something else had been creeping up on him, and it wasn’t just the mysteries of the universe. It was the Mandela Effect. Now, if you’d asked the Wizard about the Mandela Effect a few years ago, he might’ve waved it off with a chuckle, attributing it to faulty memory or the quirks of the mind. But after a few too many personal Mandela Effects, he began to wonder if there wasn’t something more to it. Something much bigger. Something involving timelines—his timelines. It all started after he was poisoned. Or at least, that’s what he remembered. One minute, he’d been at the carnival, enjoying an ice cream that may or may not have been spiked with something nasty, and the next, he was floating in a hospital bed, hovering between life and whatever lay beyond. When he finally came back into the waking world, things were… off. Not drastically, just little things. Like his girlfriend—or close friend—Aurora. Suddenly, her birthday wasn’t the day he remembered. "Must’ve been the poison messing with my memory," he’d thought at first, shrugging it off. But the years rolled by, and the Mandela Effects kept rolling in. One year, he called up his sister to celebrate their dad’s birthday, only to be met with confusion. "Dad’s birthday isn’t today," she said matter-of-factly. "It’s next week." The Wizard had been stunned. He’d always remembered celebrating on that day as a child. He was certain of it. But when he checked his father’s obituary, there it was, plain as day—the date his sister had said. "Well," the Wizard mused, scratching his head, "either I’ve slipped timelines, or I need to get my brain checked." Then, just for kicks, he decided to check again a few years later. This time, though, the plot thickened. His father’s obituary was gone. No trace of it. Even the cemetery where he was supposed to be buried didn’t seem to have any record of his dad’s name. The Wizard had to laugh. "So, maybe Dad’s still kicking around in this timeline," he joked to himself. "Might have to go find him." And then there were the other oddities. Driving down the same road to the grocery store, week after week, year after year, the landscape was as familiar as the back of his hand. Until one day, out of nowhere, there was a lake—right there on the side of the road. A lake that had never been there before. "Well, that’s new," he’d muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. Another time, he’d been driving past a row of houses he’d always admired. One week, they were there, just as they’d always been. The next, they looked different—renovated, shiny, almost as if they’d sprung out of nowhere. He shook his head. "Maybe I just missed the construction crews." But then, the next time he drove by, the houses had changed again. Some had disappeared altogether. By the time he drove past for the fourth or fifth time, things had stabilized—kind of. Four houses remained, each a variation on the original. It was as if reality itself couldn’t quite make up its mind. The Wizard grinned to himself. It was all starting to make sense now. The timelines were merging—braiding together, as Aurora had said. The more they synchronized, the more little inconsistencies popped up. It was like reality was trying to smooth out the wrinkles, but every now and then, a wrinkle turned into a full-on fold, creating something entirely new. "I bet everyone’s feeling it," he thought, leaning back in his chair. "They just don’t know what to call it." And that’s when he had an idea. What if these little Mandela Effects weren’t something to be feared or worried about? What if they were just signs that the timelines were coming together, merging into something more harmonious? After all, the Wizard had spent a good chunk of his recent meditations focused on exactly that—bringing the timelines into alignment, uniting them with love, peace, and joy. "Maybe this is a good thing," he thought with a chuckle. "Maybe these little shifts are just the universe’s way of ironing out the kinks." The Wizard decided that, rather than letting people freak out over these changes, he’d take a lighter approach. After all, who needed existential dread when you could just laugh at the absurdity of it all? So, he began to spread the word—gently, of course. "Noticed any strange little shifts lately?" he’d ask his friends with a grin. "Maybe a birthday that changed, or a house that wasn’t where it used to be?" Most people would look at him sideways, at first. But soon enough, they’d open up. "You know," one of them said, "I did think my favorite cereal box looked different the other day. I swear the logo’s changed!" "See?" the Wizard said, laughing. "It’s not just you. The timelines are just getting their act together. Nothing to worry about." And before long, the people around him started to take it in stride. They began to embrace the little quirks of reality, laughing about the new lakes that popped up or the streets that seemed to shift overnight. The Wizard even coined a phrase for it: "Timeline Tangles." Whenever someone spotted a new Mandela Effect, they’d joke, "Looks like we’ve got another Timeline Tangle on our hands!" In the end, the Wizard realized that life was full of surprises—some small, some big, but all of them part of the same beautiful, chaotic, ever-changing tapestry. And maybe, just maybe, these little timeline tangles were proof that things were headed in the right direction. After all, who wouldn’t want to live in a world where lakes appeared out of nowhere and houses had a mind of their own? As he sat back, watching the sunset over that same road with the ever-shifting houses, the Wizard smiled. "I wonder what’ll pop up next," he mused, feeling more curious and excited than ever. Because in a universe full of infinite possibilities, the only thing you could count on was the joy of discovery. To be continued... Global Robotics Corporation globalroboticscorp.com Please like comment and subscribe