"Time is what you make it. Never feel like you're going to break it, because if you feel that you might--well, then you might. But if you don't feel that you might, then you never will. And we hate having to go in and clean up after broken time. It's inevitable, I suppose, with us teaching you young ones how to take care of it, but that doesn't mean it's any fun. Sometimes there are human casualties, and there are *always* causality casualties. All of you will be volunteered to help with a time collapse before you're passed through. It's important to learn what we're trying to avoid, here. And yes, there are natural time collapses, and yes, they can be real buggers about it because they're not as naturally limited in scope as ones caused by kids screwing up something minor. Yes, I'm talking about you. Yes, I know that most of you have degrees and all of you are over the age of majority--like any responsible parent would sign off on a minor--and--yes, you have a question?" "More of a statement, really," he said calmly. "I'm fifteen. Just thought you'd like to know." "Well, yes--what?!--who passed you thorough?" "It was less of a passing and more of a necessity. I was found in one of these disaster zones, and my parents--don't exist anymore. I can hardly remember them, since I was only a toddler. I've been in a special exclusion zone ever since, but they decided that was no longer safe enough for those around me. So they decided to train me instead of kill me." He hesitated. "I think. I suppose it's possible I'll die here or that the killing will still end up being the only option, but they decided to give me a chance first."


Inspiration: "Until the Morning" - Thievery Corporation
Story potential: High.
Notes: I'm giving this story bonus points because it's a possible time-travel/paradox-related story that I actually like. Though I think I'd probably treat it as fantasy instead of SF, if only because time travel is...not very much S, really.

It wasn't until she found herself doing things ten years ahead of time that she noticed she had a problem. And then her assistant came rushing in with the figures for that projection, and she realized that she wasn't the only one. Then she flipped the TV to a news program and found them discussing what people should be doing to prepare for ten years in the future, and she realized that *everybody* had a problem. That was when she went from mild irritation at herself for wasting her time--to fear about why this was happening. She went outside, in the middle of spring, and found animals building dens for winter (she couldn't ask them, but she was sure that if she'd been able to, they'd have said it was for winter 10 years from now). She found mothers calmly buying clothes for children ten years older than their own. She found farmers looking really serious about how they were worried the giant granaries they'd been maintaining would hold up.

Inspiration: Thinking about preparing things ahead of time (dinner, actually--wondering about writing a book called "cooking for later" about slow-cooking and other prepare-ahead-of-time-type cooking).
Story Potential: High.
Notes: Not sure why everyone is preparing ahead of time, but it could be an interesting twist on any number of tropes.

The date changed and nobody noticed until they found themselves cast astray upon th calendar of days. It was a dying time, a birthing time, and a time of catastrophic social change. Nobody knew what to do with a Wednesday. The millennium of Tuesday had cemented them firmly in their routes, and they knew what was, and what was not, a Tuesday thing. Wednesday? They had no idea. Going to the library was an everyday, any day thing, and so they still had the records from Monday--enough to know that the changes they might have to make could be severe. They huddled in their homes and some pretended to be sick, that first Wednesday. It was risky pretending to be sick on a Tuesday, but they had no idea what--

Inspiration: Looking at my day calendar, realizing the day was wrong.
Story Potential: Medium.
Notes: Alien experiment? Weird magic realism world? Who knows!

The cruise ship sailed into the night, beneath the lunar eclipse, and all the people danced on the deck. They danced and they laughed and they drank and they gossiped. They admired their shining bits, they admired the famous ones that they recognized, they admired the way the reddish moonlight made the waves glow. They ate and they laughed and they danced. They chatted. They strayed off to sit in little groups and have long conversations or recite poetry to each other. They ate and danced and stared at the moon. They wondered why the phase wasn't changing. The dancing became more disjointed, with one partner or another frequently glancing up to check on the position of the moon. They ate, but it was nervous nibbling as the buffet slowly became destroyed. They--

Inspiration: Current cloudscudding LJ theme, plus the lunar eclipse tonight (which I am too lazy/cold/injured to go outside and look at, which makes me a loser).
Story Potential: Not sure. I am confused. Medium?
Notes: Thing is, I don't think this would really go anywhere, but I like this. This bit, right here. I like it. Not to expand, just as it is.

The fox slipped over the border of midnight and wound up in early morning. It stood still for a minute, its ears flicking forward and back as it paused just beneath the crest of the hill, high enough to spot for guards but low enough to keep from presenting a profile. It glanced over its shoulder at the wall of gloom behind it, the realm of eternal midnight, and flicked its tail. Then it trotted cautiously around the edge of the hill. Midnight might seem more oppressive, but from what the fox had heard, it was early morning and late afternoon that were truly where the evilest creatures lay in wait--

Inspiration: Um, updating my Firefox themes.
Story Potential: Medium.
Notes: Not low because I dislike the idea, but low because it's too similar to things currently out. Heck, I'll make it medium.