I must be fucked in the head, even for my standards. I go out for a walk amongst the city crowd to enjoy the crisp winter air and all I can think of is the urge to murder somebody.
My fault entirely. I should have planned to go eat something or at least go shopping, buy something. Neither food or product interested me, instead, I came out for a walk and the fresh air. But without a hefty distraction… who knew how things would pan out?
I pass the little, skinny boy-like women with hand-drawn signposts selling massages. Nope. Gotta stay clear of that. Gotta stop daydreaming before I get smashed by traffic as I cross the road.
Fuck this urge.
A young punk with a pango as wide as his forearm approaches me. It says, I can’t ascertain its gender, “I don’t want your money, just your signature against slave labour, women’s rights….” How many of these empathy drunk creatures have I killed? I smile and act concerned…
…I should have come out with a plan.
This is how to time travel on the subway. Look at the platform and imagine it being the destination platform. Walk to where you imagine the exit location is, get as close to it as possible. Then board your train carriage at that location. It is the walking that makes the difference. Three minutes can be saved or lost, whether or not you choose to walk or stay dormant. I attempted this today but my whole time travel experience got foiled when I was forced to change carriage to avoid the smell of vomit, foot odour, and rolling water bottles. I lost half a minute of time travel.
Although I did experience another form of chrononautics. I sat next to a guy who looked familiar. I had to ask his name. Sure enough, it was a long lost childhood friend. Dangerous personality, always making dreams seem achievable. Too bad he sounded like he’d never amounted to anything. I asked him why he broke off contact all those years ago. He tried to answer but really didn’t satisfy my question, not in any meaningful way. I was however surprised he invited me home. Can’t work him out. Eventually, he admitted to me that he lead a wasted life and then tempted me to show him what I’ve achieved, but I was uneasy with this. What next? Do I kill him? Do I show him what I’ve been doing the past lifetime and a half? I backed away and treated him like the stranger he really was. What really made me uneasy was the fact I had an urge to show off. Not a good sign.