Excerpt from the Preface to A Past Outside of Time
I suppose this ought to be called history; but since all I can rely on is my memory, it lacks the rigor of history.
It’s not even accurate to call it the past, for the events related in these pages didn’t occur in the past, aren’t taking place now, and will not happen in the future.
I don’t want to record the details. Only a frame, for a history or an account of the past. The details that have been preserved are already abundant. Sealed in floating bottles, they will hopefully reach the new universe and endure there.
So I’ve written only a frame; someday, the frame may make it easier to fill in all the specifics. Of course, that task won’t fall to us. I just hope such a day will come for someone.
I regret that day didn’t exist in the past, doesn’t exist in the present, and will not exist in the future.
I move the sun to the west, and as the angle of the light shifts, the dewdrops on the seedlings in the field glisten like countless eyes suddenly popping open. I dim the sun so that dusk arrives earlier; then I stare at the silhouette of myself on the distant horizon, in front of the setting sun.
I wave at the silhouette; the silhouette waves back. Looking at the shadow of myself, I feel young again. This is a lovely time, just right for remembering.
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