Time looped, whilst I remained immobile. Bolted to my laboratory floor, the temporal suit, my greatest invention, allowed its occupant to experience the universe as only a god should.
I had strapped myself in with the harness made from a horse’s reins; the leather worn but strong, then dared and double-dared my brain, who rebelled at the time, into adjusting that last lever. I had, of course, placed a self-explanatory note on the mantelpiece addressed to my dear Gwendolyn. Resting against the carriage clock we had purchased with our joint savings on first moving into our home, it symbolised our love. My wife, however, had not the same propensity for knowledge as I, instead, preferring happiness over the pursuit of answers. I could not be happy without knowing the answers, and so a stalemate was reached. She would never have truly understood.
My fingers grasped the mahogany lever carved from the leg of a favourite bureau; it felt real in a world that was not. A final glance to England’s monarch, Victoria staring out from her portrait like a doom-laden soothsayer, and I was ready. I pulled the lever.
To Be Continued…