Opening my eyes, I realized the light wasn’t nearly as bright as I thought it was. What a weird dream. The day started out normal, with me taking a shower, eating a crappy microwave breakfast, and heading to work with a tired demeanor. It wasn’t exactly sunny out today, and there was more moisture in the air of the London streets than I would like. The morning sun ignited the red bricks of the various Victorian-style buildings that were either historical or built to match the aesthetic, as I walked… Though the sun happened to reflect perfectly off one of the distant glass-covered skyscrapers and straight into my eye like the bastard it is. Most of the shops had already opened for the bustling morning crowds that lined some of the shops' entrances for coffee. A mix of the salty moist smell of the English Channel, baked goods, and mild garbage wafted in the air. Cyclists, cars, buses, and lorries traversed the tarmac streets busily but it all felt like another day in London. Strangely, it wasn’t foggy this morning.

Cutting through Whitechapel on my way to work, as usual, I ducked through an alleyway. The only thing decorating the brick-lined alley was a single blue dumpster, but as I strode past it, I suddenly felt dizzy... and the dumpster behind me was gone. The alley was no longer tarmac, but was replaced with dirt and cobblestone. The buildings on either side were made of red bricks as they were before, but the brick shading was much darker, and was plastered in spots with dried-out dirt. As I turned back to where I came from, some wooden crates were suddenly stacked up where the dumpster had been, and hanging a story above me were some clothes, hung to dry. Was I going nuts? The drying clothes weren’t there before, and I could have sworn those crates weren’t there a second ago. Strangely, the buildings were not the same as they were before. Some of the Victorian replica brick buildings had completely changed in colour schemes, or entirely in layout, while some of the historical buildings looked relatively the same.

“What is going on?” I asked myself as I spun around to take in my surroundings. At the end of the alley, there were people traversing past, so I inched over to take a look. Maybe my mind was just playing tricks on me. While I observed the area, I felt around and realized I didn’t have either my phone or wallet. Did I leave them at home? Maybe… but I was positive that I’d put them in my pockets.

When I emerged from the alley, I was in utter shock. The glass building that blinded me was gone. Completely. The people waiting in line at the various shops had vanished and had been replaced by dust-ridden fog. Not only that, but the shops themselves had been utterly changed. What was once a coffee shop was now a tailor, and what was once a pub was… well, still a pub, but a shittier one. All the cyclists, cars, buses, and even the lorries had been replaced by horses and carts. What threw me off the most was that the people that were still there were now dressed like it was the late Victorian era. And there was dirt… there was dirt everywhere. Where the hell am I?

The bustling crowd didn’t seem to care that a man dressed completely differently from them appeared out of an alley. My clothes were just a black collared shirt and black dress pants. It wasn’t my style per se, but I had very few options since it was close to my laundry day. To be honest, I thought it looked a little too edgy. I wandered around the area, taking in everything I could. Vendors lined the street, unlike I had remembered. I assumed I was in some sort of marketplace, and everyone seemed to speak English... or at least some broken form of it. However, none of this was here yesterday, and I don’t remember hearing anyone setting anything up in the night.

“Excuse me, sir, what is going on here?” I ended up asking one of the vendors. He was sitting behind a large table surrounded by bags of grains and lentils.

“What? Are you a muttonhead? This is a market,” replied the man sitting behind the table. He was a shorter Indian-looking man, with muscles large enough to make his size irrelevant. On top of that, he had the facial expression of someone who was ready to beat the shit out of the next person to piss him off.

“I just came out of that alley, and I don’t remember ever seeing a market here before. Was this set up last night?” I asked as I looked around. The more sights I took in, the more I felt like I was part of some movie set.

“What are you talking about? This market has been going on for a long time. So bugger off if you’re not gonna buy anything.”

“Then maybe I’m lost. Could you tell me where I am?” I asked, even though I could feel him getting more annoyed.

“You’re in Whitechapel, London kid. You probably didn’t realize it because this is the only part of Whitechapel that isn’t littered with whores and beggars,” he replied with a click of his tongue.

“So I am where I thought I was,” I thought out loud. I was even more confused by his description of the place, but maybe he was just messing with me.

“Just get out of here,” he glowered at me. If this was really Whitechapel, why did it look so different? Was it a historical reenactment festival or something? No, there’s no way that Whitechapel would host something like that during this time of year. Maybe…

“Is there a festival going on?” I asked myself aloud before heading for work. It wasn’t that far from here, so maybe my coworkers could tell me what was going on.

Upon getting to my workplace, I found that it was not the same. My coworkers had been replaced by other people. What was originally an office building was now a cobbler filled with shoes. I couldn’t believe what I saw. What exactly was going on? Was I still dreaming? At the corner, I saw a young boy dressed in the same late Victorian-style clothing that everyone seemed to be wearing. However, he was holding a large paper with the current news on it. On it also read the date. Though, the date itself didn’t matter much to me. What mattered was the year. 1888 is what it read. Then the realization struck.

I stood frozen. Everything lined up in my head, as I had either time-traveled or gone crazy. Either way, I was in such a shock that I meandered my way back to the alleyway that I had ducked through before ending up in this timeline. Once I was there, I slumped against the side of the building and thought. For what felt like hours, I sat there, thinking. What was going on? What was I going to do?

I don’t have any money. No one is going to believe I am from the future, so what can I do? I do know that no matter where you go, you need money, so my first priority is that. Another thing is that I need shelter, and my other priority is getting some clothes that don’t stand out. I can’t exactly change, but I did see that most men in the market wore long coats. Most of which would cover up my clothes enough to make them look normal. Plus, I was feeling a bit chilly, unlike earlier.

Looking up at the drying clothes hanging above me, sure enough, there was a long coat. It was a worn grey coat with several holes, but it could work. Pushing some crates in the alley underneath the clothesline, I used them to climb up and grab the coat. Once I had it, I climbed down and threw it on. It was still a bit damp, but it wasn’t as if I couldn’t put up with it. Damn it, now I look even edgier than before. Whatever… it would be fine for now. It’s not like beggars can be choosers.

Speaking of beggars, it was probably best for me if I got some money first, and I didn't have any clue how much money was worth during this time period. I swear… If I got sent to this time period by some outside force, then they should have at least given me some kind of ability, damn it. This was hopeless. I had no clue how I was going to get any money. Perhaps I could try begging on the corner? Wait, that vendor said there were tons of them here, so I don’t think this is a charitable area.

I wandered around before passing shops with semi-reflective glass windows. I looked at my reflection and noticed that my body had changed. My hair was no longer a dirty blonde but instead a darkened shade of grey. I looked even edgier. Was this timeline trying to make me an edgelord or something? My face was still clean-shaven, and I still had a mole under the right side of my chin. The pupils I had were severely dilated, and my eye colour had changed from brown to grey, with a yellow ring around the pupil.

No matter what timeline it was, though, the bags under my eyes were still there from so many night shifts. My chin, which I wish was more chiseled, was rather rough, and my hair was still cut to be no longer than eight centimeters. Although that wasn’t my choice either. I had wanted to grow my hair out, but I had to look presentable at work. The more I thought about it the more I realized I hated my job, so much that I don’t even want to talk about what it was.

Enough focusing on the past, or future… It doesn’t matter. I guess I better figure out how I am going to get some money. There seemed to be a lot of people wandering around, so there must be jobs that even I could do. I could read, write, and was educated enough, so it shouldn’t be hard, right? Nope, I don’t even know where to start. Though staying here with a stolen coat wasn’t gonna get me a job, so I began roaming around.

The city of London wasn’t much different than the one I knew in terms of layout. As for its style, well… It was far less pleasant. There were more dirt and cobblestone streets than before, and it wasn’t very bright out due to a low-hanging smog-like fog that reeked of coal, tobacco, and hot iron, along with a far more distinct sulfuric smell from the English channel. Various shop windows looked slightly tinted due to the smog, and more than a few people were having coughing fits. Beggars throughout the streets groaned and coughed as they stood around on the streets and slept in alleys. Others drudged around the less crowded streets, going about their business dressed in mainly dirty work attire. Most of them sported a cigarette in their mouths, freshly lit, to add to the morning smog. The sights and smell didn’t bode well with me at all, but I kept on my way.

As I was passing through an alley, two burly men who were sparsely dressed in cover-alls and long shirts left a back alley bar absolutely drunk. Not only that, but they reeked of alcohol, fish guts, and tar. In order to avoid them I strayed towards the right side of the alley, but one of them decided to drift in front of me. Because of the alley's size, I stepped away from the wall to avoid him, but he meandered his way in front of me again. When I finally reached where he and his friend were, I tried to step around, but the boar of a man held his arm out in front of me.

“I’m sorry. I’ll head the other way,” I said, trying to avoid trouble. The two men seemed to find this rather amusing, as they began to chuckle. I started to back away, right as the man spoke in a humoured but threatening tone.

“No, you’ll be handing over all you’ve got. We’ll beat you otherwise,” the man said. His buddy, still drunk as could be, stepped behind me to block my exit.

“I don’t want any trouble. I am new to this area and have already lost all my money,” I replied honestly.

“Don’t be given us ex’uses,” the man said, before throwing a very slow, drunken punch. I easily dodged it and attempted to punch him in the face. However, his friend grabbed me from behind before I could. I squirmed and kicked out to keep the other one from approaching. This only encouraged the grizzly man more, as he came toward me and his friend. Tucking down like a wrestler preparing to tackle his opponent, the man got close enough that I was able to accurately place the sole of my boot on his forehead in a downward kick. The drunken slob of a man’s chin slammed into the dirt and cobblestone below with a loud crack.

Recognizing his friend being hurt, the man who held me from behind, angrily slammed me into the alley wall. The hard brick abrasively cut away at my face as he slammed me into the wall twice, before being thrown to the ground. I quickly and desperately scrambled toward the opposing alley wall as the drunken man started coming at me again. This may be it. My last moments will be filled with the foul stench of fish and sweat-covered drunkards. As I thought this, I felt my hand rub against a loose stone, which I quickly lifted up and chucked at the man who was less than half a meter from me. It slammed into his shoulder before falling on his foot, causing him to yelp in pain as he fell over awkwardly and hit his head against the wall. Since both were now unconscious, I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Adrenaline caused my whole body to shake with every heavy breath.

Since they had caused me so much trouble, I had an idea. Albeit, not a just one. Though I could probably justify it as compensation for my pain. My self-justification gave me enough reason to go through the men's pockets and raid their wallets with a smug but morally inquisitive look. Upon finding nothing of value, I slowly continued with my business before I heard the sound of an old man laughing. Sitting at the end of the alleyway was an old man dressed in a business suit with his tie loosened and some bread in his hand. He seemed to be laughing at me for some reason. Did he find me fighting for my life amusing? Was this normal entertainment in this era? No, it couldn’t be.

“Why are you laughing, old man?” I asked, shaky and annoyed.

“Because that was the most entertaining fight I have ever seen in this alley, and there are quite a few of them, innit,” he said between his giggles.

“Well, I aim to please. I am Lou Barrett,” I said with a cocky bow.

“I am Harold Lewak. Now, come and sit. If I got my ass kicked like that then I would be hungry. The bread will calm your nerves.” he said, gesturing at his loaf of bread beside him.

“Thank you.” I said before sitting down and accepting his kind offering.

Although the bread the old man had given me was stale, it was far better than anything I had at the moment. The old man had a certain air to him that seemed to welcome me in. To be honest, though, he seemed a bit strange. He was dressed far better than I as he was wearing a full suit with his collar unbuttoned like that of a politician after getting home from work. Yet, here he was eating stale bread and sitting in alleyways.

“If I may ask, why are you in this alley, where so many angry drunks frequent?” I asked him in an attempt at sounding like I was from this era, or as a butler from a British drama because that's the only reference I had.