It is 1985. I’m here both as a 11 year old boy, and a man of 42. While I haven’t run into my younger self—and I don’t intend to. I know he’s here, because I am. It’s better if we don’t get mired in the minutiae of the moment. I’m here in this time, this moment for a specific purpose, and no. It’s not to avail my current self of future plans to make us rich, I’d already be rich if I were going to ever do it, I’d have already done it, and since my bank account isn’t overflowing I can safely assume I never do.
1985 what happens in 1985 that I need to re-witness. Oh, shit! I forgot to tell you about my life’s work, my job, if you can call it that. I don’t punch a clock, I mean they’re meaningless machines from my point of view, I digress. I’m a re-witnessing agent. I travel the time streams, and dimensional gates to document and record for prosperity any and all crimes in and of the timeline. I’m not talking about things like killing Hitler. No I don’t make those types of calls, I just record and report. We have scientists and analysts that handle all the important decisions. What to do, when, and why. I’m just a fancy tape recorder. Granted there are only a few of us, and we do sometimes have to act on decisions made that require presence at a specific moment.
So, yes! Why am I here, now, in 1985? Well, President Reagan is about to introduce a tax reform law that is intended to help the economy, but the future ramifications are much more dire. Depending on when you’re reading this you may be feeling the affects trickle down your neck or leg.
My job, witness, record and report. Now, how do I get into the White House?
To be continued…