You pour the yellow vial into the blue and gently mix them
until the substance is a bright green colour. You cautiously sip it and wait.
You feel nothing and turn to see the other people in the
room, Their faces are still hidden, at first, but then they appear, out of the
haze of the gloom. They are smiling and laughing, though kind of in reverse,
like when you rewind a video, you think, wondering when was the last time you
ever rewound a video. Like is streaming in through the doorway you first came through,
bright, almost painful in it’s power. You can feel it deep inside your soul. It
warms you. You swear you can feel your feet lifting off the ground.
You put your hand in your pocket and get out your phone. It
looks huge in your hands, which now seem incredibly small. You notice it isn’t
a phone at all, but a TV remote that has huge fast forward and rewind buttons
on it.
It dawns on you that time is not linear, but as a being condemned to live it’s existence in the third dimension, you have no power over the fourth, and time passes you by, day after day after day, like a video tape.
Where there was darkness in the room is now only pure white
light. In your other hand is the Long Division Programme. The names lift off
the page and float around you, like stars in distant nebulae. It looks pretty
cool.
You reckon, with considered use of this remote control
thing, you’ll be able to fling yourself back and forth through space and time.
But the question is, where to? You look around and certain names flicker
amongst the constellations. Which do you pick?
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