Technically

“Not in a particularly useful sense, no,” he answers, “I can technically travel through time, and I have been to the distant future and the distant past relative to now…” he pauses, “...but it's not really under control: I can't control when I ‘land’. So I can't zip to next week, get the winning lottery numbers, and come back to give them to you. I can't go back and provide a rubber for Hitler's father before he sires the abominable man.” He pauses, “It's an emergency exit, more or less.”

“Still…” you say, “Time travel.”

“Much more useful in theory than practice,” the Dragon chuckles, “Anyway: I'd like you to leave the building at speed. Just get back to your… umm… what form of transportation did you use to get here?”

You pause, “My mom's car. And I don't match my driver's license.”

The ring pauses for a moment, "Right, because you just turned eighteen. Still in high school?”

“Yes,” you confirm.

Another pause, “Well… you need some schooling on the limitations of your chosen powers anyway. Your address is… about ten miles away, as I recall?”

“Moogle Maps had it at nine point four, yes,” you consider, “...why?”

“‘Go back to base and fetch the thing we need right now’ is a pretty common task speedsters are expected to perform,” wait… why does that sound so ominous? “So: First order of business is to get home. I'll cover cab fare for your father when we get there so he can pick up the car.”

“Umm…” you pause, “I don't feel all that super yet…”

“Oh, you'll do fine,” the ring chuckles, “you should be able to support the next tick up for short bursts, even without charging the bracelet. A walk at the ten times tick will keep up with residential road speeds, a good jog should get highway speeds. The next notch up and you can walk home in two minutes.”

“Or I could just…” you try switching to your male form… and suddenly feel dizzy, sitting down to avoid falling. “What?”

“That would be what ‘not enough magic’ feels like,” the ring chuckles, “I set the ‘weight’ to a touch over what you were using to hold onto your male form. That's more than the ten speed cost, and less than the hundred. But trying your alternative form while ‘weighted’... well, what happens when a weightlifter suddenly doubles the amount on the press he's been using for years?”

“He doesn't move the thing,” you pause, “So I can't be a guy.”

“Not while weighted, and you need that bracelet for your super powers,” your ring confirms. “Now get moving!”

You shake your head to clear it, getting back up, and climbing the ladder. You can feel the difference in the tension, but otherwise everything seems normal. “Did the bracelet spoil in storage or something?”

“It did not,” the ring chuckles, “just keep going.”

You climb out, and put things back behind you, the fluorescent ceiling lights blinking on and off a few times a second when you're out, giving you a mild headache, "What's up with the lights?” You wonder.

The dragon just chuckles.

It's not until you pass the guard that things make more sense: He's moving in slow motion. “Oh. Umm… why aren't I having any issues walking? Gravity is a distance over time, and I am in fast time… shouldn't I be bounding like I'm on the moon?” You hop experimentally, and it's normal: You land in a fraction of a second of your time.

“Gravity is a function of the curvature of space,” the ring sounds amused, “your personal time applies to gravity that affects you. It's part of what makes it easier for beginners than the planning type: You don't need to learn to walk all over again.”

“And don't go jumping off buildings…” you nod as you pick up a pen off the guards desk, drop it, and watch it float lazily down. “Where's the line?”

“Your skin,” the dragon on your hand replies immediately, “if you try to tie someone up at speed, you're liable to break bones the first couple times. Be careful with doors, too. You'll eventually be able to control that, and merge people and objects partly in your altered timestream to be able to work with them safely, but the bracelet can't do that. It includes you, itself, and it recognizes me enough to give me the option of supplying myself - I built it for exactly this, after all - but that's it. Context-sensitivity sufficient to tell whether you want to punch through the door or knock on it requires an intelligence it just doesn't have… but you'll learn once you no longer need the device.”

You nod, “Umm… are you going to charge me for wrecked doors?”

“I'm not, no,” the doctor snorts, “but you probably won't wreck these at a ten factor anyway: They're pretty solid. Household doors will seem like balsa wood, but they're not mine.”

So wordy, but… “Great,” you smile, and begin jogging out of the building, passing everyone like they're stuck in molasses. You pull your phone from your pocket… takes forever to load… and then pulling up Moogle Maps, ugh… why's it so… oh, right. It's not impossibly slow. You're just that fast. It's a fun thing to think about as the directions finally come up, and you get started heading home, jogging. Passing cars on residential streets is fun, but soon you're winded and slow down to a walk.

As you go, your teacher speaks up, “Okay, now, you should be able to manage the next notch up in short bursts. I'd like you to try it.”

You shrug, and reach for the knob, twisting it again….