T-XYZ

Like in a post-apocalyptic disaster movie, the air has become poisonous and I am sporting a gas mask, running from one safe spot to another. My vision is hindered and I feel my friends are always far away. Time, probably bored with always going in a straight line, has decided to change the rules and now I’m forced to wait until the rising sun in both past and future. The present, has been decreed, is not invited. It’s like the White Queen’s rule of ‘jam to-morrow and jam yesterday’ which dreadfully confused poor little Alice. From a scientific point of view, Time has to work together with the three spatial dimensions but is in itself one-dimensional. So, if it doesn’t flow in a line, there are seemingly infinite moments, a bunch of paths that you can move along from this moment to the next. All of a sudden, Time is starting to look very much like a tree. Was the Queen wrong? Maybe I can have jam always and never at the same time? It is not me who will read these words later, it will not be my eyes. It’s not even me anymore writing these words. It is not my reality that caused me to write this.
“What are you on about?” the Phantom Ape asks. If Time was so fickle, could it not be manipulated? Maybe I could shake the tree, switch a branch, map out a more agreeable future for myself.
“Blavatsky said to wait,” the Phantom Ape sounds more desperate now, “you promised her.” She and her divine spark can both suck it. How sick I am of waiting. I’m six years old now, cleaning up toys together with my mother. I get into a trance and remember playing with a blue electric light for more than an hour which engulfed the entire room. It was one of the most magical events in my entire life. In reality, according to my mum, I stared at a piece of lego for about ten minutes and then she told me to quit fooling around and put it in the damn box. Time is a tree and reality a most personal experience. Last week I kissed someone and the blue electric light came back, but this time it was inside of me, spreading out of my pores as if my body was too small. As before, I was told to put it back in a box. In a way, it should stay contained. One moment traded for another, 22 years in one bright blue flash.
"You're crazier than you think I think you are."
You know I believe in killing your darlings, and if you turn out to be one, my little monkey, I'll cut you up. You've been useless in this text, utterly useless.