"Chuck had ambitions. He doesn't know how he ended up as the creepy 43 year old guy with the drugs, or the guy who's too old to be at the party doing everyone else's drugs, but if it ain't broke ... Well, he manages to make it to work at the dwarf whale distributor every day. He may hate that his dearly seedy San Francisco has become overrun with Starbucks, startups, and Lululemon moms, but he makes due every month for the rent-controlled apartment he shares with roommates he never sees. It's not perfect, but it's livable. In the end, though, every addict has that one special vice that can tip them from relatively functional to completely unhinged. For Chuck, it's a new drug that doesn't even have a name yet; it's just a smokable, everlasting gobstopperof mellow high. But when chunks of time begin to disappear and rearrange themselves altogether, he wonders if this really is just another life-ruining drug, or if it's something straight out of a Philip K. Dick universe. Word on the street is that this little black marble is actually altering users' timelines, but that's impossible, right? That's just something the schizophrenic homeless guy on Guerrero screamed at customers outside Tartine, isn't it? Isn't it?!"--