Mikayla and I had a great time on the virtual yacht out on the virtual Mediterranean Sea. Thanks to Vira, my wife and daughter would never even realize that I was gone. Controlling time has its advantages.
I knew that I was falling hard for Mikayla, and I was hoping I'd find a solution. One that would let me have what I wanted without anyone getting hurt. I was contemplating my choices when another critical question arose. Would I really desire Mikayla above all else for the rest of my life? Or, in my case, possible lives? Or was she just a phase that would burn out eventually?
Having learned about Vira's powers, which can erase someone's memory or embed new ones, gave me more options than ever. I wouldn't even have to hit the reset switch if I didn't want to. I could simply erase Mikayla's memories of our adventures. It wasn't something I wanted to do, but I could if I had to.
I needed some time to clear my head. I looked into Mikayla's eyes as I was about to give the command to return to my basement lab. It was at that moment that I telepathically gave Vira the command to freeze time for Mikayla.
"Time is frozen for Mikayla," Vira said.
"Now, send me somewhere," I said. "Somewhere I can clear my head. I don't even care where."
"Understood," Vira said.
Vira worked her magic, and in an instant, I was standing in a large hallway in the bowels of what appeared to be a large stadium. I could hear a buzzing noise that could only be the sound of tens of thousands of fans out in their seats.
"Where am I, Vira?" I asked.
"Dublin, Ireland," Vira replied in my head.
"Am I me?" I asked.
"I'd certainly hope so," the machine quipped.
"You know what I mean," I said. "What year is this?"
"2024," Vira said.
"Am I here for some kind of soccer match or something?" I asked.
"No, John," Vira said. "A concert."
"Interesting," I said as one of the doors close to me opened up, and a tall, leggy blonde appeared. She was wearing black yoga pants and a tight red tank top.
"What's interesting?" she asked, looking around to see who I'd been talking to.
"Sorry, I was talking to myself," I said as I looked into eyes. They were a stunning shade of blue.
"Better be careful. Someone might think you're crazy," she said with a smile. It was at that moment that I realized I was talking to Taylor Swift.
"I can assure you I'm quite sane. Though, I guess that's exactly what a crazy person might say, right?" I asked. "By the way, I'm John. John Stevens."
"Hello John, John Stevens," Taylor said. She looked down at the badge that was hanging from a lanyard around my neck. "I'm Taylor, Taylor Swift."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," I said, taking her in. "So, you're a smartass, huh?"
"I am! You have no idea," she laughed. "You're with the label?" she asked. She was quite beautiful and even warmer than the Taylor from the earlier simulation. All of Vira's vast capabilities started to run through my head.
"You own a large part of Universal Music," Vira said. Of course, only I could hear her.
"Yes, I am," I said. "I figured it was time for me to catch one of your shows. I've heard they are quite legendary."
"Thank you, John," Taylor said. "How have we never met before this?"
"Bad luck on my part, I guess," I said.
"I was on my way to stretch and get warmed up. Care to join me?" she asked, her blue eyes were intoxicating.
"Sure, why not? I'm sure I won't hurt myself too badly," I replied. The idea of spending some one-on-one time with Taylor Swift was surreal. Knowing Vira's bag of tricks, I believed I understood why she put me here.
Taylor led me down the hall and into a private room. The space was spacious yet cozy. It had a plush carpet and a few yoga mats laid out on the floor. A full-length mirror covered one wall.
Taylor dropped to the mat effortlessly. Her body moved with a grace that seemed almost ethereal. I joined her, albeit a bit less gracefully.
"So, what brings you to Dublin?" she asked, leaning forward to touch her toes.
"Mainly business," I said. "And the chance to see one of your shows, of course."
"Flattery will get you everywhere, John," she laughed softly.
"I aim to please," I said.
We continued stretching in silence for a few moments. I could feel the tension building inside me. I wondered which of Vira's powers I should use, if any. Taylor moved through a series of stretches with ease, and I did my best to keep up with her.
"So," she said after a while, looking at me through the mirror's reflection. "How long are you in town for?"
"A few days," I said.
"Same, the tour is here for three nights. Would you want to join me for dinner after the show tonight?" she asked casually. "I'd love to get to know more about the man behind the label."
"I'd like that," I said. Even knowing I had Vira's powers, I was still excited at the thought of spending some time with the beautiful pop superstar.
Taylor finished her stretches and stood up, extending a hand to help me to my feet. Her grip was firm yet gentle.
"I should get ready for the show," she said, her eyes lingering. "You're a bit taller than Travis."
"Just by an inch or so," I said. Taylor cocked her head to one side and looked at me quizzically. "Sorry, I know way too many football stats," I laughed awkwardly. "Fantasy football is an addiction."
"You're an interesting one," she smiled and then headed towards the door. "See you later, John. Don't stand me up!"
As she walked away, I couldn't help but marvel at how quickly Vira had once again turned my life into something out of a fantasy. It occurred to me that I hadn't thought about Mikayla once over the past half hour. It felt good. I resolved myself to continue enjoying the moment. The future could wait. I put my faith in Vira and believed that this adventure was to teach me something that I needed to know.
I stood there for a moment longer and looked at myself in the mirror before heading back into the corridor. There were a lot of people mulling around, getting ready for the show. I walked out into the stands. The atmosphere was electric. I walked up closer to the stage to take it all in.
A guy around my age wearing a tour shirt walked up to me. He looked down at the badge on the lanyard around my neck. "Hi, I'm Mark," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Taylor's tour manager. You want to hang backstage, or I can have someone take you up to the box," he said, pointing to one of the luxury suites.
"Nice to meet you, Mark, I'm John," I said. "The suite sounds great. I won't get into anyone's way up there."
"Get in the way all you want," he smiled. He grabbed the walkie-talkie on his belt and clicked the button on the side, "Hey, Emma. I have a VIP here for you to take up to the suite."
"Oh, I'm sure I can find my way," I said.
"Emma will be happy to escort you," Mark said as a young woman appeared. "Emma, this is Mr. Stevens. Take good care of him!"
"Thanks, Mark," I said and shook his hand.
"Hi, Mr. Stevens," Emma said with a bright smile. She was stunning. She was about 5'8" and slender. Her long dark hair framed her cute face perfectly. It cascaded in soft waves that accentuated her high cheekbones. Her green eyes sparkled with a vibrant energy.
"Please, call me John," I replied.
"All right, John. Follow me," she said, her tone confident as she turned and led the way.
I followed without a word, not because I had to, but because I wanted to. Emma moved with the kind of confidence that didn't ask for attention but commanded it anyway. Her black pencil skirt hugged her hips like a second skin, each step measured and smooth. The crisp white blouse she wore clung just enough to hint at her shape beneath, buttoned high enough to maintain a professional appearance but low enough to keep it interesting.
Her heels clicked against the concrete stairs, sharp and rhythmic, with each step echoing through the narrow corridor like a countdown. Behind us, the sound of the crowd surged louder, a living, breathing thing that pulsed through the walls and floor. You could feel it building. It was the kind of excitement that meant the show was minutes away from detonation.
Backstage was organized chaos, a hive of movement and noise where everyone had a role and no one needed to be told twice. Technicians hovered over control panels, eyes locked in concentration as they fine-tuned the gear. Roadies moved like ghosts, slipping between shadows with cables over their shoulders and flight cases in tow. Dancers lined the far wall, stretching, bouncing in place, their bodies already synced to a beat the rest of us hadn't caught yet.
Even when she wasn't in the room, Taylor's presence reverberated through the walls. Every mic check, every whisper through a headset, every second of backstage tension seemed to orbit around her. It wasn't just prep; it was devotion. Every movement, every adjustment, every person here was playing a part in her storm.
And Emma moved through it like she belonged to the rhythm. She was not a bystander. She didn't flinch, didn't hesitate. She walked with purpose, knowing exactly where to go, who to nod at, and how to get my attention.
I watched her, not just because she looked good doing it, but because there was something magnetic about how seamlessly she fit into the current. A different kind of power. Less spotlight and more control room.
She turned just before we reached the final hallway, glancing back over her shoulder. A stage light caught the edge of her dark hair, lighting it up like a halo with sharp edges. Her eyes locked on mine.
