Lance gazed down at his notebook in Physics 201, Dr. Whitlock''s lecture fading into a distant murmur as he retraced the familiar diagram for the third time. The overhead fluorescent lights buzzed steadily, their rhythm subtly matching the relentless sweep of the wall clock''s second hand. All morning, his thoughts had been trapped in a spiral, endlessly following the contours of yesterday''s art class.


    A few rows ahead, Cade Westbrook sat alone, scrolling through articles on campus news, not being a nuisance for once.


    Dr. Whitlock''s chalk scratched across the board, bringing Lance''s attention back to the present. "The observer effect fundamentally alters what we measure. By observing a system, we inevitably interact with it," the professor explained. His silver hair caught the morning light as he turned, glasses glinting. "In quantum mechanics, this principle becomes even more intriguing when applied to temporal mechanics."


    Lance''s pen halted. The words resonated with his recent experiences, stirring a familiar unease. He leaned forward, suddenly alert, as Dr. Whitlock continued.


    "Consider this: what if consciousness itself influences temporal flow? What if, by observing time, we actually affect its behavior?" The professor''s intense gaze swept over the lecture hall, pausing briefly on Lance before moving on.


    The fluorescent bulb overhead sputtered.


    Lance felt a jolt. The chalk seemed to hover in mid-air, suspended as dust danced motionlessly in the golden light. His vision blurred, and the sounds around him muted. He felt disconnected, as if out of sync with time itself.


    Reality snapped back.


    "Consider this: what if consciousness itself influences temporal flow?" Dr. Whitlock repeated, his voice unchanged. The chalk made the same mark on the board as before.


    Lance’s heart hammered. His hands trembled as he gripped his pen tighter. Not here. Not now. He steadied his breath, each inhale measured against his frantic pulse. The repeat lasted mere seconds but left him disoriented and uneasy.


    As Dr. Whitlock moved on to discuss relativistic time dilation, Lance''s notes became increasingly detailed. He documented everything that might explain his experiences: observer effect, quantum entanglement, temporal mechanics principles. His normally neat handwriting grew rushed and cramped as he filled page after page.


    "Time isn''t rigid," Dr. Whitlock continued, pacing before the chalkboard. "Einstein showed us it''s malleable, relative to the observer''s frame of reference. But what if there''s more? What if our understanding of causality itself is fundamentally flawed?"


    A student two rows ahead raised her hand. "But wouldn''t that violate causality? Cause has to precede effect."


    "Does it?" Dr. Whitlock smiled, an expression that hinted he knew far more than he was sharing. "That''s our classical understanding, yes. But quantum mechanics has revealed a universe far stranger than we imagined. Time may not be the arrow we''ve always assumed it to be."


    Lance''s pen moved frantically, capturing every word. The theory aligned too perfectly with his experiences to be a coincidence. As he wrote, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen: a text from Chris Walker. *"Hey Lance! Haven''t talked in a few days with all the moving and stuff. Let’s play some games online soon! – Chris"*. A small smile touched his lips before he refocused on the lecture. He already missed his best friend dearly.


    His noticed his phone showed 1:47, but the wall clock read 1:52. The discrepancy made his temple throb.


    When class ended, Lance lingered, gathering his materials slowly as other students filed out. Dr. Whitlock erased the board with methodical precision, each stroke eliminating equations that might hold answers to Lance''s questions.


    As he approached the front, Lance noticed Cade lingering outside near the door, watching Dr. Whitlock intently. Cade glanced at Lance, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.


    "Professor?" Lance called, clutching his notebook. "I had some questions about the observer effect and its relationship to temporal mechanics."


    Dr. Whitlock turned, studying Lance with that same intense gaze. "Ah, Mr. Weaver. I noticed you taking particularly detailed notes today." He set down the eraser, chalk dust coating his fingers. "What''s on your mind?"The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Lance hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "You mentioned consciousness affecting temporal flow. Could that manifest in observable ways? Like experiencing moments multiple times or noticing inconsistencies in how time passes?"


    The professor''s expression shifted subtly, interest flickering behind his wire-rimmed glasses. "Fascinating question. Are you speaking theoretically or from personal observation?"


    Before Lance could respond, the classroom door opened. Cade strode in, his presence immediately filling the space with tension. "Dr. Whitlock, about the research assistant position—" He stopped short, seeing Lance. "Oh. Didn''t realize you were busy."


    Lance felt the familiar pressure building behind his eyes, the sensation that preceded a temporal shift, but nothing happened. Time continued its steady march forward, leaving him trapped in the awkward silence.


    "Mr. Westbrook, perfect timing," Dr. Whitlock said, though his tone suggested otherwise. "Mr. Weaver and I were just discussing some intriguing theories about temporal mechanics. Perhaps you''d like to join the conversation?"


    Cade''s expression soured slightly. "Actually, I wanted to discuss the RA position. My father mentioned he spoke with you at last month''s physics conference?"


    Lance took the hint, gathering his things. "Thanks, Professor. I''ll email you my questions instead." He headed for the door, feeling Cade''s dismissive gaze on his back.


    The hallway outside felt cooler, the chatter muted as Lance checked his phone—2:03 PM. His watch still read 1:47, frozen in its own moment. Through the Gothic windows, the clock tower''s faces showed different times, as if reality couldn''t agree on the present.


    Crossing the quad toward his next class, Lance spotted Reid striding over from the direction of the tennis courts, still in his practice gear. Reid had slowed to a brisk walk, his gaze flicking down to a sports highlight reel playing on his phone. The video occasionally skipped or repeated frames, mirroring Lance''s own temporal disturbances.


    "Hey!" Reid called out, falling into step beside him. "How was physics?"


    "Interesting," Lance replied carefully. He felt a pang of longing for the normalcy Reid represented. "We covered some complex stuff about time and observation."


    Reid studied him for a moment, concern crossing his features. "You okay? You seem kind of off. More than just new-school stress."


    Lance forced a laugh that sounded hollow. "Just adjusting, I guess. Everything feels a bit... unstable sometimes." He immediately regretted the word choice, feeling the weight of his hidden turmoil.


    "Unstable how?" Reid pressed, his natural enthusiasm dampened by genuine worry.


    Before Lance could formulate a response, he saw Maya crossing their path, her blue-streaked hair catching the sunlight. Their eyes met briefly, and he saw recognition there—not just of him, but of something deeper. Had she experienced something too?


    "Lance?" Reid''s voice pulled him back.


    "Sorry, just..." Lance gestured vaguely. "There''s a lot to process here. The classes are intense, and some of the concepts we''re covering hit pretty close to home."


    Reid nodded, though his expression suggested he wasn''t entirely convinced. "Well, hey, if you need to talk or just want to hit some tennis balls to clear your head, let me know. Sometimes physical activity helps ground you, you know?"


    The word "ground" struck Lance ironically. He did feel ungrounded, adrift in time''s uncertain current. "Thanks, Reid. I might take you up on that."


    They parted ways at the student center, Reid heading to his economics class while Lance found a quiet corner to review his physics notes. The diagrams and equations stared back at him, both revealing and concealing the truth he sought to understand.


    As he settled into the quiet of the library, his phone buzzed again. Another text from Chris: "Game night tonight? Let me know when you''re free! – Chris". Lance typed a quick reply: "Sounds good. Might need a break from all this." He put the phone aside, a small sense of normalcy amidst the chaos.


    The rest of the day passed without incident, though Lance remained hyper-aware of every clock he encountered, every temporal discrepancy flickering at the edge of his perception. By evening, his notebook was filled with observations, theories, and questions, each page an attempt to make sense of his increasingly unstable reality.


    Back in their room, Lance sat at his desk while Reid played a racing game, the digital cars occasionally glitching or reversing, reflecting the time distortions Lance was experiencing. The rhythmic clicking of the radiator contrasted with the chaos in his mind.


    "What is wrong with this game?" Reid said suddenly, pausing his game. "You’d think a prestigious university would have better internet. I keep rubber-banding or something."


    Lance''s hand froze over his notebook. "Yeah?" he managed, trying to keep his voice casual.


    "Probably just congestion," Reid shrugged, resuming his game. "Lots of new students. But still, it''s kind of freaky, right?"


    Lance nodded, unable to trust his voice. Was he not alone in this? Were others experiencing similar phenomena but dismissing them as stress or happenstance? Was it actually just stress or happenstance?


    The clock tower chimed nine times, though Lance''s phone showed 8:43 PM. He was learning to live with these discrepancies, these temporal hiccups that seemed to define life at Greylock University. But understanding them—that was proving to be a far more complex challenge.


    As he prepared for bed that night, Lance reviewed his notes one last time. Dr. Whitlock''s words echoed in his mind: "What if our understanding of causality itself is fundamentally flawed?" The question felt less theoretical now, more like a key to a door he wasn''t sure he wanted to open.