The Warning

Before anything else, I should explain how I got here.

My name is Krzysztof.

I was born in Poland in 2079.

In 2126 I was living in a small town called Bromyard in the United Kingdom.

I was working in the loft of my house on a temporal displacement device.

A time machine.

Privately.

And illegally.

Very illegally.

To build one legally, I would have needed:

• a Temporal Engineering Licence;
• a Domestic Chronological Equipment Permit;
• a Residential Causality Assessment;
• a Temporal Environmental Impact Certificate;
• an approved paradox containment plan;
• two psychological assessments;
• authorisation from the Office for Chronological Responsibility;
• proof that no protected historical event would be disturbed.

I had none of those.

I had tools.

A laptop.

A loft.

And unreasonable confidence.

It turned out to be enough.

The machine worked.

I arrived in 2026.

That part was excellent.

Then I tried to go back.

That part was less excellent.

The primary temporal stabiliser failed during the return sequence and damaged three components that will not be commercially manufactured for another several decades.

So now I am stuck.

In 2026.

In Bromyard.

With a broken time machine in the loft.

Apparently my word is not enough.

Since arriving in 2026, I have been repeatedly informed that claiming to be from the future without evidence is considered insufficient.

This seems reasonable.

Unfortunately, most of the useful evidence is still in 2126.

I do, however, have a small collection of surviving personal records, photographs and administrative documents.

I need parts.

Some components can theoretically be reproduced using technology available in 2026.

Unfortunately, theoretical compatibility and affordable compatibility are two entirely different things.

The materials are expensive.

Precision machining is expensive.

Custom electronics are expensive.

And apparently nobody on eBay lists “temporal stabiliser, used, good condition”.

I tried contacting people who might have the resources to help.

Wealthy people.

Important people.

People with rockets.

I sent messages to Elon Musk.

More than one.

I explained the situation.

I explained that I was from 2126.

I explained that I had a damaged temporal displacement device in a loft in Bromyard.

I even tried to make it sound professional.

Nothing.

No reply.

No engineer.

No crate of experimental components.

Not even a polite: “please stop contacting us”.

Fair enough.

So I discovered something called Buy Me a Coffee.

In 2026, strangers on the internet can voluntarily give another stranger money because they enjoyed something that person created.

I like this system.

It involves no biometric licence.

No atmospheric declaration.

No twelve-page donor classification questionnaire.

Beautiful.

Until I repair the machine, I am here.

So I decided to do something useful.

I rebuilt the Registry.

The strange thing is that nobody planned any of this.

There was no secret government meeting.

Nobody stood in front of a screen and said:

That would have been easier to stop.

Instead, it happened gradually.

A real problem appeared.

Someone wrote a regulation.

The regulation was mostly sensible.

Then someone discovered an edge case.

So they added an exception.

Then the exception caused ambiguity.

So they published guidance.

The guidance contradicted another piece of guidance.

So a clarification was issued.

The clarification required a declaration.

The declaration required evidence.

The evidence required verification.

Verification required a certified provider.

Certified providers required regulation.

Their regulators required oversight.

Oversight required an independent commission.

The commission eventually required its own compliance office.

Nobody ever deleted the first regulation.

Coffee explains it better than politics.

Coffee is hot.

Somebody burns themselves.

A rule is introduced requiring a warning.

Sensible.

Then someone asks why tea is excluded.

Tea is added.

Then hot chocolate.

Then soup.

Then mulled drinks.

Then legally the government has to define what “hot” means.

So an official temperature threshold is introduced.

Businesses now need thermometers.

But an inaccurate thermometer could create liability.

So thermometers must be certified.

Certified thermometers must be recalibrated.

Recalibration must be recorded.

Records must be retained for seven years.

Retention creates a data-protection obligation.

So now the customer needs a privacy notice.

The privacy notice makes the cup crowded.

So another rule specifies minimum notice spacing.

Someone then complains that the warning text is too small.

Minimum font size is introduced.

Someone else points out that colour-blind customers may not see the warning clearly.

Approved contrast ratios are introduced.

Then digital accessibility rules require a QR code.

The QR code itself requires an explanation.

That explanation requires another label.

By 2048 a standard takeaway coffee cup carried more statutory wording than ingredient information.

Nobody intended to create a regulatory ecosystem around a cappuccino.

They simply solved each new problem created by solving the previous problem.

Eventually normal people could no longer understand the rules.

So digital civic assistants were introduced.

Their purpose was to simplify government.

This lasted approximately eleven months.

Then there were too many regulations for one assistant to interpret reliably.

So specialist assistants appeared.

Tax Assistant.

Environmental Assistant.

Food Compliance Assistant.

Travel Assistant.

Housing Assistant.

Digital Identity Assistant.

Biological Data Assistant.

Eventually citizens did not know which assistant they were supposed to ask.

So the government introduced an Assistant Selection Assistant.

It selected the appropriate assistant.

Most of the time.

When two assistants disagreed, an Assistant Conflict Resolution Assistant was required.

When that assistant could not decide, the case was sent to a Supervisory Administrative Intelligence.

Citizens with complex obligations began using private Assistant Management Assistants.

Wealthier citizens employed permanent assistant coordinators to communicate with their assistants.

Then regulation was introduced to govern private assistant coordinators.

Naturally, the regulator provided its own assistant.

Cash was next.

By 2063 very few people still used physical money.

The arguments for removing it were excellent.

Cash was inefficient.

Expensive to produce.

Expensive to transport.

Easy to steal.

Useful for tax evasion.

Useful for organised crime.

Difficult to trace.

Dirty.

Environmentally unnecessary.

Almost every argument was true.

So physical currency was withdrawn from circulation.

People barely protested.

Most of them had not used cash for years.

The digital system was easier.

It paid bills automatically.

Calculated taxes automatically.

Issued refunds automatically.

Distributed benefits automatically.

Collected fines automatically.

Recovered debt automatically.

Then somebody realised that because all lawful purchases were digital, almost every purchase could be analysed.

What you bought.

When.

Where.

How often.

What you probably consumed.

Which household member probably consumed it.

By the time I was born, nobody thought this was unusual.

Then came the fart registry.

The first Personal Gaseous Emission Register became mandatory in 2091.

People laughed.

Of course they laughed.

The legislation referred to it as the Personal Biological Atmospheric Contribution Register.

Nobody called it that.

Everyone called it the Fart Registry.

The original justification was environmental consistency.

Industrial methane was measured.

Agricultural methane was measured.

Waste methane was measured.

Transport emissions were measured.

A committee therefore concluded that excluding individual human biological emissions created:

That was enough.

Initially people only had to estimate total daily emissions.

Then researchers complained that estimates were inaccurate.

So individual events had to be recorded.

Then people forgot.

So reminder systems were introduced.

Then people lied.

So detection systems were introduced.

Then people blamed other people.

So location correlation was added.

Then they blamed dogs.

So the Domestic Animal Attribution Unit was created.

Then people said they were asleep.

The government agreed that requiring a sleeping person to manually file an emission report would be unreasonable.

The problem was solved sensibly.

Certified nocturnal fart recorders became mandatory.

The cheap ones attached directly to the rear.

Wealthier people bought contactless bedroom systems.

Couples needed multi-source attribution.

Families with pets needed animal exclusion.

Manufacturers then required certification.

Certification required testing.

Testing required calibration laboratories.

Calibration laboratories required inspectors.

Inspectors required annual recertification.

By 2104 the nocturnal recorder industry employed more people than several national rail networks.

At first, people still tried to beat it.

They opened windows.

They left lifts immediately.

They sprayed air freshener.

They switched bedroom recorders off.

They wrapped sensors in towels.

They blamed dogs.

They blamed babies.

They blamed ventilation systems.

One man successfully blamed a malfunctioning office chair for eleven months.

Then manufacturers were ordered to certify chairs against false gaseous attribution.

The chair industry was furious.

Eventually it stopped working.

Not the chairs.

The cheating.

Too many systems were connected.

The building knew where you were.

Transport systems knew where you sat.

The Civic Wallet knew what you purchased.

Food systems knew what was delivered.

Health models estimated digestive response.

Environmental sensors measured atmospheric changes.

Algorithms compared the results.

Orbital monitoring filled in missing geographic data.

The Registry did not need one machine that knew everything.

It had thousands of machines that each knew something.

Together, they knew enough.

Eventually the joke stopped being funny.

At first there were warnings.

Then fines.

Then penalty points.

Then restricted status.

Then mandatory compliance courses.

Then civic debt.

Then custodial administrative sentences.

Thousands of people now enter detention every year because of accumulated regulatory offences.

Most did not rob anyone.

Most did not attack anyone.

They simply accumulated too many unresolved obligations.

Unpaid penalties.

Repeated non-compliance.

Failed identity verification.

Interference with monitoring systems.

Administrative debt beyond the permitted threshold.

Those unable to clear their debt may be assigned to compulsory public work programmes.

Officially this is not forced labour.

The official term is:

The distinction is explained in a 214-page guidance document.

I have read it.

The main difference appears to be the heading.

Then somebody realised that people owned valuable spare parts.

Medicine improved.

Transplantation became safer.

Artificial support systems improved.

Organ shortages remained.

So compensated voluntary donation was legalised.

It sounded reasonable.

Then compensation values were standardised.

Then those values were integrated into the Civic Wallet.

Then administrative debt could be reduced through approved biological contribution.

Kidney.

Partial liver donation.

Bone marrow.

Selected tissue categories.

All with official settlement values.

So yes.

Technically, nobody is forced to sell an organ.

They can work six years instead.

The legal department is extremely proud of this distinction.

And now they are working on replacing money with time.

Apparently Global Credit Units are still too complicated.

The International Settlement Reform Commission is studying a system where verified biological lifetime becomes the underlying settlement asset.

Work adds time.

Purchases remove time.

Taxes remove time.

Fines remove time.

Debt becomes negative lifetime balance.

They call it:

Nobody calls it that either.

People call it the clock.

There was an old film from 2011 called In Time.

It imagined a society where time itself became currency.

The film was prohibited from public distribution in 2110.

The official reason was:

Copies still exist.

I watched one.

The most disturbing thing is not that somebody imagined this system in 2011.

The disturbing thing is that a century later an international commission appears to have watched the same film and concluded:

Why does this website say “satire”?

Temporal Communication Regulation 2098/17 prohibits time travellers from presenting future regulatory systems as current legislation.

Historical material transmitted into an earlier period must be classified as fictional, speculative or satirical.

Therefore I am legally required to tell you that this reconstruction is satire.

So:

Completely fictional.

Obviously.

I do not make the rules.

Well...

technically, neither do you.

If you are laughing, that is the correct response.

A government fart registry is ridiculous.

A certified fart counter attached to your backside while you sleep is ridiculous.

A department investigating whether a dog was falsely accused is ridiculous.

A satellite calculating whether Jessica farted in seat 18C is ridiculous.

Selling a kidney to clear administrative debt is ridiculous.

Losing seven minutes of your life because you failed to submit a form is ridiculous.

But ridiculous systems rarely begin with the ridiculous part.

They begin with something sensible.

A warning label.

A safety requirement.

A useful database.

A convenient digital payment system.

A temporary reporting obligation.

A helpful assistant.

Then another assistant.

Then an assistant that explains which assistant you need.

Then a regulation governing that assistant.

Then an office governing the regulation governing the assistant that selects the assistant.

And everybody laughs.

Then everybody adapts.

Then children are born into it.

And eventually nobody remembers that things were ever done differently.

I am not telling you that all regulation is bad.

That would be stupid.

Some rules protect people.

Some rules are necessary.

Some rules genuinely make life better.

The problem begins when the existence of one rule becomes justification for another.

And another.

And another.

Until the original problem is smaller than the system created to solve it.

So laugh at this website.

You are supposed to.

Then look around.

Look at every new form.

Every new permission.

Every new account.

Every new mandatory label.

Every database connected to another database.

Every system introduced to simplify the previous system.

And occasionally ask:

Ask while you still do not need permission to ask.