POV: Time Variance Authority

Late-night city lights shimmered against Elias's window, painting silhouettes across the living room where Gavin rested, a half-smoked cigarette hanging from his lips. He jabbed it in Elias's direction, plumes of grayish smoke curling upward.

"Listen," Gavin said, voice low but urgent, "if Argentina really does beat France via penalty shootout, then we cannot bet on a straight-up Argentina win. The proper soccer bet is on a draw at full time."

Elias, perched on a stool by the coffee table, cocked his head in confusion. "Why?"

Gavin gestured animatedly, flailing one arm as if clutching an invisible ball. "Look, soccer has three phases: regular time, extra time, and then penalties if it's still tied. If the final only ends in the penalty shootout, that means, after regular time—and likely after extra time—it's a draw. And see—" he paused for emphasis "—the official betting result for win/loss/draw is judged solely by the score at the end of normal time. If your dream says it goes to penalties, that means the full-time result is definitely a draw."

Elias's eyes brightened with dawning realization.

"Got it. So if I were gambling, I'd stake everything on a draw at 90 minutes—since that's how it's officially listed—rather than an outright Argentina victory."

"Exactly!" Gavin shot him a thumbs-up. "Kid, you've got a talent for this," he teased. "Now c'mon, just place a wager for fun—I'll cover any losses. After all, your dream netted me a small fortune these past matches."

Elias reluctantly let himself be dragged into the betting shop, emerging moments later with a 3,000-dollar ticket on "draw," thanks to Gavin's pushy enthusiasm. Gavin himself went "all in" with 6,000 on the draw—once again, everything riding on Elias's predictions. The payoff could be immense.

***

At 3 a.m., the two huddled in front of the TV, ready to witness the final showdown. The match roared to life, and despite Elias's yawns, Gavin was all nerves, chain-smoking as Argentina stormed to a 2–0 lead by the 80th minute.

"Ah—this isn't good!" Gavin groaned, dabbing sweat from his brow. "We need a tie!"

But in a sudden turn of fate, France's star forward, Mbappé, scored not just once but twice in a matter of seconds. A stadium's worth of shock and elation reverberated through the broadcast.

"YES!" Gavin howled, thrashing around on the floor, a wild grin on his face. "They're pulling level!"

The camera cut to frantic shots of the sidelines, the scoreboard gleaming 2–2. Elias, blinking away his own surprise, realized everything was unfolding exactly like that tiny footnote he'd read in the dream's children's book: it would be drawn at full time. Eventually, the match rolled into extra time, and then, as foretold, into a penalty shootout.

Argentina emerged triumphant. Messi hoisted the long-coveted World Cup trophy, tears of joy streaming down his face—just as Elias's dream had foreshadowed.

Gavin, meanwhile, wielded his winning tickets like some personal holy grail. He lunged at Elias, enveloping him in a bear hug.

"We did it!" he crowed. "We're millionaires, dude!"

Elias wriggled away. "Cut it out."

The game concluded, dawn light creeping through the curtains, and Gavin finally settled from his euphoric rampage, gazing intently at Elias.

"You do realize, right, that this is beyond normal? You didn't just call one match result. You got the method of victory right—penalties—which is crazy precise."

Elias folded his arms, feeling a knot in his stomach. "Yeah, I know. It… lines up perfectly with what my dream showed. But does that prove the dream is a real future timeline? That might be jumping too far."

Gavin tapped a finger on his chin. "I can't say for sure. Even if you nailed three consecutive soccer predictions, you could label it 'luck.' Statistically unlikely, sure, but not impossible. There are people out there who claim to have hot streaks in sports betting all the time."

"Exactly," Elias agreed with a grim nod. "And my dream still has so many inconsistencies. If it's truly six hundred years in the future, why does it remain stuck in the same day, looped endlessly?! Or why does its tech level mirror 2022 instead of something advanced? It's contradictory."

Gavin heaved a sigh, tangling fingers in his hair.

"Everything about it's contradictory," he grumbled, turning away. "No more talk today. It's too much for my head."

***

A moment later, Gavin bolted upright, stepping into Elias's bedroom to retrieve a pad of blank paper and a pen. "Let's do it systematically," he declared. "Jot down every 'unrealistic' or 'contradictory' element you've ever noticed in that dream. Then we'll examine them one by one."

Elias's eyes flickered with a cautious hope. "Reverse-engineer it. If the dream world can't stand up to logical scrutiny—then it's just a dream. Right?"

Gavin nodded vigorously. "Yes. If all the puzzle pieces remain contradictory, we'll know it's not an actual timeline—just some bizarre subconscious creation. Let's put it all in black and white."

Elias took the paper and pen, drawing a bold header:

"Irregularities in the Dream World"

Sitting at his desk, he hunched forward, pen poised. He realized he had a long list to write.

Then, tapping the pen thoughtfully, he began writing. All those times he'd ignored the oddities, simply accepting them because "it's just a dream," now had to be confronted if he even wanted to consider that this might be a genuine future world.