Twice upon
a time, there was Déjà Armetis, a young French woman from Texas in the 18th
century who was a scientist who had made a discovery of a wormhole in her
research. Being of a curious nature (and having spent an unusual amount of time
with cats) she decided to explore the wormhole herself.
Now this
was a big mistake, because patriarchy.
However,
she was a feminist, unfortunately for her, the wormhole was not (who knows, but
the unfolding events certainly prove that it was not a feminist….but let’s not
anthropomorphize wormholes just yet).
As she
entered the wormhole it took her forward in time and then back to exactly where
she left off; now strange are the ways of fate, the wormhole took a fancy to
her and decided to keep crossing paths with her and every few days or months,
it would just keep merging with her, showing her the future and then taking her
back to the past.
Now one
would argue this was a good thing and Deja should have immediately gone to the
race tracks and waited for the wormhole, except the wormhole having been in existence
for millennia and having been cheated upon by a black hole (who was a Scorpio
rising) would always give her amnesia after she travelled through.
Having been
a woman of some fortitude, she would still manage to remember details, except the
details were foggy and inconsequential. She went to a Vietnamese doctor and
told him of the symptoms: foggy recollection of the future, having been there
and done that. The doctor’s interest was peaked, he was interested in the
metaphysical having been part of a séance that had blown his mind (or maybe it
was the acid he ingested) that he decided to contact all his like-minded fellows
across the world for more information on this phenomenon.
Having been
terrible at séance and once having had invited the spirit of a dead cricket to
his home (oh the chirping, the endless chirping) he used telegrams instead. To
his surprise, this was not an unknown phenomenon, but it had not yet been
documented by the scientific community.
This was a
great opportunity to be famous. He immediately called Madam Deja and asked if
she was interested in publishing an article on this. Being a scientist, of
course, not to mention since her cats had eaten her other research (it smelt of
tuna) she needed a way to make money. She also had suitors at her door, she was
turning 23 and would be called a spinster soon, and filthy lucre would keep
her safe (and maybe even happy). She agreed and then they began to publish the
paper.
This took
weeks and weeks (the paper was written in 15 minutes, they just argued about
who should get the lead on the paper name). It was finally agreed after much wrangling
that Madam Deja would get dibs on the paper (this was because she had fallen to
the communists and the good doctor was not going to cross her). And finally, the
paper was published all over the world with their names; and that is how we get
the name Déjà Vu.
