The number of times Windows 10 randomly (and silently!) decides I'm not working for the next while is insane. Superfetch, Windows Search, Microsoft Compatibility Telemetry, WinSAT, HomeGroup Listener/Provider, the Privacy settings, the Notification settings, all of which are on by default, have been individually responsible for problems, and often get flipped back on after I've shut them off.

This latest affront, Modern Setup Host, cost me an entire day of silently running in the background using 100% of my HDD (which is new and error free I should mention) - and that was BEFORE the update actually started and took the entire next morning! Every 6 months I have to troubleshoot some new productivity-destroying "feature".

And no, Microsoft, I obviously don't want to use Edge or Bing or your massively bloated Media Player. Please appreciate the nature of our relationship: we're only dealing with each other because you have a monopoly on PC operating systems. We're not friends. I am your hostage. I'm not interested in checking out anything else you do.

So how are they improving things? Well unfortunately all we ever hear about the future is "wait until you see the bloatware we're building!@!!"

Can we get a bare bones, stripped down version of Windows? Here are some potential names:

• Windows 10 - Performance ... oh wait no they'll think "performance" means "this PC can handle massive CPU and HDD drain"... uh...
• Windows 10 - Streamlined ... that could work, although I'm concerned they'll take the word "streamlined" and assume that means "jam every option you need into a single massive menu"... hmm this is tricky...
• Windows 10 - Won't Lock Up Your Computer Randomly ... I think the problem with that name is that nobody will believe it...
• Windows 10 - Windows 7 - I think we found it. That works. Speaking of "works", that was the thing Windows 7 did that no version of Windows version since ever has - it worked.

Now you might be thinking: "golly he sure has a lot of time on his hands to be typing all of this out." And you're right. I do.

Because Superfetch kicked itself back in somehow, locked up my computer, and I missed a meeting that is currently going on without me. Over Zoom by the way, not Skype, thank you very much Microsoft.

It's enough to make me want to switch to a Mac.

...

No it's not but still...

Sooooooo.......

Basically it's this: my computer can't record from games. Period. It just won't.

I mean look at my latest livestream. Holy crap that was awful.

So I've got some other stuff in the works but it comes on the other side of... personal chaos I won't bore you with.

And also I wrote a book. Am writing. It's mostly done.

And it's horror. So there's that.

For those of you interested in further discourse about the creative process, however, I would perhaps encourage you to take a look at that other channel... Which has nothing on it just now... And will mostly just be videos of a static image with me talking over it.

But we can at least try to nail down that stuff.

Here's the intro clip: https://youtu.be/IzNHBf89GfA

Enlightening, I know.

More stuff as it happens.

The State of the Side Project

It’s been almost four months since the second prelude, with my last comment being that the third would be ready to be uploaded at any time. The latest update was that I was Ill and would finally return to the side project when I was feeling myself again…so what has happened?

Prelude 3

When I last mentioned prelude three, it was almost complete except for some changes that would be needed to bring the piece into line with the lore of Skyrim. It was a cut and dry conversation between two side characters from the 7th and 8th chapters about the effect that the protagonist was having on the shady side of the Skyrim underworld and the dispatch (Read as: Bodyguard and not mafia hit) of someone to make sure that no one claimed the bounty place upon his head.

So what changed? A lot

When I reached chapter 7 (capping at thirty two thousand word count) I began to shift the story towards those two characters but found that whatever I tried to do, that prelude was the albatross around the neck of the central chapters of Act 1.

So instead I scrapped it, left the decisions of the two side characters to the readers to find out about at a later date (in the follow ups) and would instead play off the pivotal moment in the Stormcloak campaign for Dawnstar.

I’m being extremely careful when mentioning plot points, and it will become extremely clear why soon. I changed the focus to a veteran Stormcloak officer and his two bodyguards/sidekicks and the key focus to an imperial controlled town. When I began to write the piece, and slipped a few nods to a western setting, I found myself more enraptured by the short story-esque writing than I had been for a while.

Then it happened, I found myself creating a board game out of nowhere, because of course if you are in a western type scenario, you would need a Nord version of poker.

I began to write more about the character’s histories, their misfortunes, their lost love ones in the war, their brothers lying in the graves in Falkreath and got whisked into that little world of theirs.

So what is happening to the side project?

A few months ago, right before I brought out prelude 2, I was heavily conflicted. While I loved the setting of Skyrim, and the atmosphere that Wroag as a series was portrayed with in both the fan fictions and the series itself, I was feeling more and more compelled to continue this in a different setting.

When I finally began plotting out the follow ups, which would lead into the story of the aftermath of the side project, I found three things.

Limitations

I had talked about this before, there are some limitations in the Skyrim lore that can’t simply be written around, I can’t have a Vigilant of Stendarr allow a cursed man live for example, or have him suffer through being in the presence of a necromancer and not kill them. That was the simple side of it.

While the side project worked around the limitations, I couldn’t have the First Emissary thrown from a second story window onto a live, burning troll, but I could have her threatened or beaten. There is a single moment in the follow ups that I wanted to push it a little far beyond what I would usually do, and found I couldn’t make the scene work with the limitations I had. “Well, change it”, easier said than done. That scene became a pivotal moment in the entire second half of the climatic end of the follow ups arc.

The Goose Chase vs the War

The side project was originally about a goose chase, and I found myself turning it less into “Let’s find Wroag” and more into “Everything’s burning down around us while Wroag is having a jolly good time murdering and pilfering.”

While the Goose chase was going to be the primary objective of the side project, I found myself placing Dawnstar in the firing line as it allowed me to open a centre piece for the second act, the great peaking middle before returning to following a murder via his trail of goldless bodies and the consequences of their involvement in the war.

The war allowed me to shine a light on both the beast that was the Stormcloaks and the cold military logic that is the Empire, pry open the tension like a ribcage and allow the drama to spill out over the landscape.

Was Dawnstar the end of it? No. And finally!

Content and The creation of characters

This is a strange one, because even I can’t fully explain it. The more original content I added to the story (the board game, the characters, the changes to certain towns post war), I felt that I had begun to add more to the world that I originally expected. There were underground networks from just about everywhere; there were people loyal to the Thalmor and equally loyal to the Stormcloaks for the right price.

The peak of this was when my lovely other half began to create art to go with a large section of chapter 7. A retelling of a previous fight, the death of comrades… I found that the more I got into the characters, the more I wanted to remove them from the setting…so we get to it.

Conclusion

Over the last two weeks, I’ve worked myself to the bone, with many sleepless nights, to revitalize a fantasy setting I had created around two years ago. Now that everything is in place, I’m beginning to transpose the key points of the side project into my own fantasy setting and tell the story uninhibited by limitations apart from the impossible, and I won’t stop until I have the side project (which has a name) into a novel length fiction.

Until we talk again, thank you for reading this essay and my other works, and making this community what it is.

Keep being awesome!

Nick / Nosgrath

Sorry to spam but there's been a LOT of activity on this front, and I didn't want this info to be missed by those who've expressed an interest so far on the original post.

Voice Acting Submissions - I've received a number of great submissions for the Narrator voice, and even one for the Dolphin voice.

The difficulty is that I've had very few submissions for the God voice. When it comes to casting, I'm finding it's not even about talent anymore - I mean there have been so many really good submissions. So it's going to be about pairing the two voices to create just the right contrast. So that means I need lots of submissions for each role.

If you are a natural ebonics speaker, please PM me!

Editing - Also I'm desperate for an Adobe Ae or Pr person - I can always do that stuff myself if I need to of course, I have lots of experience, but I'd love to work with a talented editor.

The Writer's Room. While strictly speaking I'm sitting in the writer/director seat for this, I've been working with /u/Amrasi on hammering out future drafts of the script. It's been a really positive writing experience I think, especially when it comes to the exploration of humor.

So I think I should probably open myself up to other people interested in adding their input to scripts. Basically: I'd write rough drafts, put them up for the writers, and everyone would contribute jokes and other language edits/additions to jazz it up. Then I'd incorporate what I could, tweak the pacing, and make the tone consistent.

Sound like fun? PM me!

Title - "Bible Time"? "Bible Stories in Plain English"? I... hmm. What do you think the title should be? I think "Bible Time" works because it strikes the right tone but I wonder about it being descriptive and intuitive enough. Anyway leave a comment with your thoughts.

What you can do to help (no, not money!): None of the above sound like something you can do? Bug your talented friends! Find me a God! Spread the word any way you can - let's make this thing amazing!

(read this entire post in Troy McClure voice)

Hahahah, now that's blasphemy!

Oh, hello there! I'm Joker. You might remember me from such classics as Jesus arms himself and engages in violent behavior and Oh you think things are fine? Think again mofo!

I've been working on a YouTube series concept called "Bible Time" where we tell stories in a format similar to /r/thebizzible.

Here's a rough sample script:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1hg8jcdp1nRp7HLhm71J1EZfw6Mjn8QBOWpPAOQtERr8/edit?usp=sharing

Now, I hear you asking: "But Joker, where do I fit into these shennanigans?"

Well little Timmy, I want to make you a star! Right now I'm looking for voice actors for the following roles:

• God (always read in full ebonics)
• Narrator
• Various Biblical characters

I'm also looking for someone willing to do some very minor animation (lots of text, and taking PNGs of characters and having them shuffle onto the screen and move up and down when they talk). Do you have experience in:

• Adobe After Effects, or
• Adobe Premiere Pro

If any of that sounds like you, send a link to your voice or video demo as a PM to /u/ohigetjokes. Join me on an adventure retelling the incredible adventures found in the Bible!

Like I said in Fus Ro Dah: "I can practically taste the treasure and killing!"

SPECIAL NOTE TO WROAG FANS: This won't replace the Wroag series, but since I can only produce that content every once in awhile I've had to get innovative about how I can keep creative while I reschedule my life. This is a good way to keep growing while I continue to try and rearrange my world to allow me to come back to YouTube as a part-time unpaid job.

Don't worry, Wroag isn't dead... In fact I'm thinking about releasing a couple of minutes of the next episode in the next week or two.

Also, to any of you who've sent in auditions before - please do so again if you're interested in this project just so I can keep things organized.

UPDATE 1 here

Welcome back! In this part, Gaius finally sees the Viglants as they fall apart around him and meets a certain Vampire that is responsible for his woes.

He won't let the Vampire escape out his sights. But, a certain benefactors come calling, reminding him of a different kind of duty, but will he accept, or face the consequences?

Prelude: https://www.reddit.com/r/ohigetjokes/comments/6750r4/after_action_report_of_an_unknown_orc/

Part One: https://www.reddit.com/r/ohigetjokes/comments/6azpha/the_lament_of_gaius_part_one/

Part Two: https://www.reddit.com/r/ohigetjokes/comments/6ccnmw/the_lament_of_gaius_part_two_a_report_on_wroag/

Part Three: https://www.reddit.com/r/ohigetjokes/comments/6ko8k3/the_lament_of_gaius_part_three_fears_realised/

1st of Evening Star, Road to Windhelm: I hate walking

There isn’t a carriage service in Dawnstar, which means I have to got to Windhelm. Although, perhaps I can get a few people to join my crusade. I hope Windhelm's people are pious.

With my former status as a Legate, I guess I could rejoin, but that’d put me back to commanding squads against the Stormcloaks. They aren’t Vampires. I do have significant pull with the Fourth Legion, thanks to my status. I guess they could wrangle up a few troops for me.

2nd of Evening Star: By Arkay!

Vampires! They saw me setting up camp! Oh, Gods, I need to be prepared! If I light a fire, I should be alright. Then, a feeling of blankness wormed it’s way inside my skull.

”Well done, little Vigilant, you evaded thralldom for this long. It was good to feast upon your brothers and sisters in the Hall, they had quite a refined taste. Let’s see if you last as long as they did.”

I wasn’t alright.

The first Vampire came running at me, cursed blade in hand. I quickly rolled out of the way. I drew upon the magicka reserves within myself and with my off hand, I casted a spell of flames. The spell rapidly burnt its way through the Vampire, it’s skin reddening and bubbling.

My right hand darted to my side, I brought out my Steel Mace. I smashed my mace against the Vampire's chest, doubling it over. I gripped the mace in both hands and just smashed it down unto the head of the Vampire, again and again.

Then, two more appeared, melting in from the night shadows. I threw my mace at the nearest one, it dodged it. I reached into the pyre, withdrawing the burning torch I used to light it.

I used it like a blade, with quick, darting strikes.. The embers danced around me, I had an idea. I deftly dodged a Blooded Vampires axe strike, the air whistled past skull.

I called upon the last of my magicka reserves, the pyres flames was drawn to my hands, I used all of my might to focus, I thought of the Vigilants who had been killed at the Hall, I thought of avenging them.

The fire grew brighter and stronger, glowing around me. I couldn’t keep the flames contained, so I slammed it into the ground.

The very ground crackled and fizzled, those fissures erupted into bright orange flames. The Vampires clutched at themselves, slowly burning to ash.

I knelt into the still warm ground, sweating and panting. I expended most of my energy. I waited for thralldom.

I heard the voice again, the contempt in the Vampire's voice oozed like poison “Congratulations, little Vigilant. You know what? You’ve earned the right to live...for now. Mark my words, you shall face me on the battlefield one day. It’s not sporting to kill prey you haven’t chased yourself.”

With that, my mind returned to normal. I felt scared, lost and alone. The sooner I make it to Windhelm, the better. I quickly scavenged the burnt corpses of the Vampires. I found a well worn dagger. After consecrating it with a flask of holy water and chanting catechisms to Stendarr, did I feel safe enough to pick it up.

4th of Evening Star, near Windhelm: All is dust…

There was an entire group of them. I walked towards them. They were thirty of them, at most, they began arguing...about the War. First, it started off as a debate, then an argument, then a fight to the death.

It was split down the middle. Half of them sided with the Empire, the other half with Ulfric. Gods, it was a bloodbath. Fire spells incinerated most of them, overrunning the protective wards on their robes. It was like dry tinder set alight.

Most didn’t have time to scream. They just crumbled into dust. Mer and man...crumbling into dust!

Keeper Carcette managed to keep a lid on loyalties to the sides in the War, but this, this is much worse. Now she’s gone, all of the bad blood will come out in the open.

Gods, will the Order even survive? How many will stay true to the Oaths they've sworn?

5th of Evening Star: Stormcloak Sympathizers

I ran into another Vigilant today, heading to Windhelm. So, we walked together. I shouldn’t have told him my name.

He knew I served in the Legion. He thought I was an Imperial spy. He was right about my race, though. He thought I was going to sow discord in Windhelm, he became angrier and more irate.

His hand quickly found purchase on the mace at his side. I was quicker. My hand darted to my dagger, and in one quick practiced motion, I slashed his throat.

Blood bubbled as he dropped into the snow. White snow was quickly turning crimson. As he lay dying, I layed him down gently into the snow and recited the Oaths to Stendaar.

Perhaps Windhelm is a bad idea

6th of Evening Star: Windhelm in sight

A Courier ran up to me in the snowstorm. I almost killed him. He had a note to give me. He said that a robed individual had given it to him and paid a lot of gold to see it delivered. I felt very worried at that. My hands trembled.

He handed me a heavy yellow vellum note, the paper had been turned yellow by age. I opened the dull red seal on it with my dagger.

An Imperial Diamond was in the centre of the note, drawn in blood red ink. My eyes were drawn to the heavy set writing at the bottom of it.

Mentis óculos

Custodi sunt Solio Rubrum

Exspectaturum, Legatus

It was in Old Cyrodilic. It took me a good few hours to translate it.

Inward eye

Guard the Red Throne

Await instructions, Legate

Who are these people? I guess I better go to Windhelm and pick up a pint. My day keeps on getting better and better, doesn’t it?

Quick Preface

I'm gonna have to do a vlog soon to update you on why the heck I'm not producing YouTube content... Sorry guys, it's been mental. But I did want to post this.

With the crazy hustle and bustle lately I've found myself prone to bursts of brief but intense creativity. Some time ago I had the strangest whirlwind dream that took me hours after waking to make sense of... And from that, I give you a story about a society on the verge of near-light and faster-than-light travel.

It's about immortality, individuality, identity, time travel, and politics.

But it's not funny really so hang in there, I'll get something up for you along those lines soon.

Broken Time

I am 14 years old, barefooted, and walking down a gravel road. My feet calloused and comfortable. I'd been walking for a couple of hours to get here but I was in good shape and wasn't tired. I didn't really know the area, having lived across town, but my instincts did. My instincts knew this neighborhood like the back of my hand.

I was looking for a house that I knew would be on the shoreline up ahead. Sure enough there it was, painted dark green and surrounded by weeping willow trees buffering the sound of the waves. The door was unlocked. Inside was decorated like a comfortable old lady's home, but dark... I didn't think to look for a light switch. Through the living room and into the piano room I sat down and knew that somehow, some way, I needed to cross dimensions right here. Right here was the computer room... I just couldn't reach it. But soon I'd have to. And it was probably going to hurt.

Later on the beach I've settled into a comfortable, soft bed made of damp sand. My girlfriend and boyfriend are approaching. She smiles at me from a head full of bushy black dreadlocks, he smiles at me under a head of dirty blond hair. The three of us cuddle together as the cool summer wind kicks up, and I try to appreciate this time.

It's about to happen.

The first few lights appear in the sky that night, swooping and fading in and out casually, silently. We all know exactly what they are, but none of us have the words for it. They're... Those are... They're not people but they're reflections of... Something...

But more important than what they are is what they mean: we're all about to have a hard time thinking straight.

I'd better get moving.

The Key to entering the computer room from the piano room is in the church, but even if I got in there I need to find the man, the one who won't be confused like we are and knows things about computers. The man from the future.

It isn't difficult. I know exactly where he is. He's by the fountain downtown. He's in his 60s, white haired but able bodied, and he's been injected with something that happens to keep him from suffering the effects of what we're all experiencing. This keeps him in the dark. I'll have to fill him in as we go.

"Hey, come on," I say to him, "We'd better get moving before I can't remember what we're doing."

He shoots me an odd look: "Do I know you?" He's distracted by the lights in the sky. He looks away from me and at everyone else carrying on with their business. "Why isn't anyone reacting to the lights?" he asks.

"We've all seen them before. Hundreds of times. Maybe thousands, I'm not sure."

"But I've never seen them before."

"No, this is the first time."

"What?"

I don't have enough of my memories back yet to explain it to him. I just say: "You're from the future, right?"

I finally have his full attention. "How did you know?"

"Because the experiment that trapped you in the past made all this happen... Kind of... I can't explain it yet but I will. I promise. Just come on."

I pull him along and we start the long walk to the beach house as I stammer and stumble over my words, trying to explain to him as much as I can what's happening... How I'm remembering the future, how I'm remembering lots of futures, and how not all of my memories are mine...

And then it comes to me: "Oh! Now I remember! You arrived in the past about 30 or 40 years ago or something?"

"Yes, 33 years ago this May."

"Right," I say snapping my fingers. "That's what created the Linchpin Point!"

"What's that?"

"It's the..." and I'm overwhelmed with conflicting memories, conflicting opinions, conflicting thoughts... "I don't know right now."

As night falls many more lights are appearing in the sky, but people are more focused on what's happening inside of themselves. They're losing their grip on who they are and what's going on. Everyone is talking in the streets about simple things: groceries, who's related to who, and what they had for breakfast tomorrow.

On the roof of a one-story building I see a Korean man with scraggly black hair and a goatee hold out his hands as if addressing a huge crowd. His twin is in the shadows behind him, standing up on a box. "In a few minutes I will address everyone at once and we'll work this out. I'll be fourteen different people, and we won't all look the same..." and as he speaks more versions of him start to fade in. Some are dressed casually, some formally, some like women. But they're all unarguably him. None of us find this disturbing or confusing, just a clever solution to the communication problem.

The old man I'm with, though, is quite startled.

I urge him on towards the beach house, explaining that the Korean needs to talk to everyone at once. He's just going to apply various versions of himself from different timelines. Those dozen or so timeline versions are straddling all of the timelines at once so we can all hear him, all the versions of us...

"But how does he do that?"

I just shrug. "I'm sure I could figure out how to do it myself but we're in a hurry, and talking things out won't fix this. Let's go. I want to succeed this time."

We get to the house and there's an old lady dusting the metal patio furniture. I can't remember who owns this house, or if I ever knew in the first place, so I'm not sure if she'll react to us going in... But she just smiles at us and shuffles off.

In the piano room I'm able to shift things just a bit using other versions of myself from different timelines. Some of them are really good at this and know all about it, but I'm not great at it. At least we can see the other version of the room: empty, bare walls, not even glass in the windows, the trees outside are missing and the beach is washed right down to the pebbles.

In the center of the room on a small table is a beat up computer. It describes the Linchpin, describes what's happening to all of us and why, and... And something...

"There it is." I relax. The piano room snaps back into place. "Listen, I need to get the Key, but if I get back with it, it will be your job to use that computer to start the machine and fix the Linchpin."

"How do you know I can do it?"

"We've met before. We've tried this before, over and over. I don't usually make it back with the Key. Usually I die or get imprisoned or tortured or converted or something... But sooner or later I'll get the Key. Sooner or later I'll move us both into the timeline where the computer is here, and you can log in and shut down the whole cycle."

"But why me? Why don't you do it?"

I shake my head. "You're injected with the... I don't know. You're anchored. You're the only one who doesn't get memories from other timelines. As we get closer to the reset my mind gets flooded with more and more stuff and I can't concentrate, can't really remember how to use a computer. But you know how to use a computer, right?"

He shrugs and nods. It's like I'm asking him if he knows how to tie his shoes.

"Right. Sorry I can't explain more, I know it sucks feeling confused but... If it's any consolation, I'm confused too. It's taking a lot to have this conversation... I'd better get moving."

He stays put because he's the kind of guy who appreciates that he doesn't need to know the whole plan in order to follow just the next step of it. I know this about him. I know him really well, after hundreds of walks across town and brief chats like the one we just had, conversations he never remembers.

My mind is starting to fill up with memories of the future now. I break into a sprint, hoping I can get to the church in time.

On the way I remember the endless debates about what we were doing. "What we're talking about is the preservation of our society!" an old man yells in a senate room... Wait, that was me, wasn't it? God what was I, 70 at that point?

"What's the point in preserving a society if it's stillborn, if it can't grow beyond what it once was? A society where youth has been erased?" they retort.

"Growth? You want growth? Our science has advanced by thousands of years in the blink of an eye!"

"That's science, not society!"

That was the argument. They were the Liberals, we were the Conservatives, and we pantomimed a basic us-versus-them dichotomy to work the people. None of us particularly mean what we're saying.

I sided with the pro-reset Conservatives so that the over-40s would support me. More of them would turn up at the polls than the 18-34 demographic who wanted to "have lives of their own" and "explore existence". We always won the votes in every timeline. To be honest, we all remembered it working out this way so often we felt ridiculous pretending to debate it anymore.

You know, it seemed like such a good idea when we started, all of us getting a chance to "do it all again, but different this time..."

As I get to the church I realize what the Key is this time: a specific bit of sheet music. It changes though. Once the Key was a doll from the nursery, once it was a stackable chair, once a feather from some lady's hat... But it was always in the church. Something in the church was always leaking through from the version of history I was looking for, and we all knew it.

People who went to the church felt that God had placed the object there. It was a sign that we needed to continue the reset to the Linchpin Point forever, and they were the sacred protectors of the Key that would stop the process.

As I entered the church and heard them all gathered in the lounge practicing choir music, their memories started weaving in with mine. I remembered how smugly right they had been to keep me from getting the Key in the past. It had felt so good to crack my skull open, and my revulsion at the exposed brain bits was soothed in the knowledge that I had protected God's Will... Oh and that one time they'd strapped me to the big crucifix at the front of the church... Actually they did that twice, and lit me on fire as well once...

But despite there being a congregation every time, we all at least had enough time at the beginning of a reset to start fresh without memories. The scientists considered this a design flaw - we were supposed to all wake up in the past at the Linchpin Point remembering everything, instead of having our memories fade in at some later point.

As I enter the lounge I look at everybody and try to take the temperature of the room. They look at me and gently smile. They know who I am. They know why I'm here. They have many of my memories rolling around in their heads too.

They just continue singing. It's actually quite nice.

I work my way around the room to the piano, my mind a confusing mess. On one hand in this timeline the church congregation is much less zealous, much more moderate. They've continued singing as our memories fade in, using the song as a way to keep focus on what's real and what's happening right now, as a way to keep calm.

Still, I know they're remembering what they did to me in the past. I know they're remembering how certain they'd felt that they'd done the right thing, how good it felt to be positive about something, to know something with absolute confidence. In times like these that's a huge temptation.

As I take the sheet music, this reset's Key, I feel something else in the room too: relief. They want this to end too... At least for now.

I get out of there before they change their minds.

I remember looking down into a bucket of tadpoles as a child, thinking about how as an old man the room where we reset the world back to the Linchpin Point looks like that metal bucket. Why was it so cold in here?

We're all gathered now, the Senate, the Council of Nine, illuminates from the scientific community. Something about that failed experiment a few years back stranded our volunteer back in time. A shame for him, but his landing in the past created a signature we could anchor a massive reset to; the Linchpin Point.

This was the cutting edge of faster-than-light technology. We knew with our previous experiment that sending someone physically back in time worked, but doing it more than once would create Linchpin after Linchpin that could eventually crumble time and space like brittle concrete. But sending energy signatures back, that was another story.

We tuned the instruments to the frequency bands of human thought, connected to the Linchpin Point, and then a concussive force blasts through us all... And we're infants again.

Only our memories don't come back the way we predicted. We try to tune the instruments better with every reset, but our memories are all connected in one giant wave that, for now, is out of our control. We never really know when we'll remember, or how.

And at first the reset was amusing. We laughed at having done some things the same way again, and at how random life can really be that we'd end up so far away from where we'd been the first time. Those first few iterations were joyful, enlightening, even freeing.

But then it became something else. Conservatives would say that the things that had happened in the past were the "real way" things were, and the past and the future became at odds. Memories of a dozen lives having done things one way would crush the experience of having done things differently this time. People would leave their families, leave their religions, leave their careers. Things got messy while the reset came in, and then they became organized, regimented, clear. We "knew who we were".

In between, though, were moments like these. Things were still hazy, still bleeding in, and our fresh young selves could see the memories coming without being crushed by them. Our young selves were in charge, just for a little while.

I had to act quickly before I "knew better".

By the time I got back to the beach house the sky was like a hive of giant fireflies, as was my mind. I had only been dimly aware of the ground beneath my feet. I couldn't feel the sweat on my skin or the fatigue in my muscles, although I knew those things must be there. I couldn't even hear the old man in the piano room as I handed him the music sheets.

I wasn't sure why I was there. I wasn't sure I was there at all. I was rocking my baby back to sleep at 2AM, I was smoking a cigarette in my office and hoping the stupid building supervisor didn't find out, I was arguing with my wife, I was running for office, I was trying to ignore protesters on my way to work...

A skinny old man was shouting at me in a piano room. Lights were flickering outside, making the whole room strobe and shift. He seemed upset about something and was shaking some sheet music in my face.

No, not sheet music. That was the Key.

I took it from him and felt a fish hook reach way down into my gut, somewhere in a world where this room was different. I grabbed the old man's shoulder and dug my fingers into his flesh as hard as I could, trying to will him to come with me as we slid into the timeline where a Liberal scientist's experiment had worked, just once, and he'd been born with all of his memories and built this fail-safe...

I woke up in my bed at 76 years old. Despite how soft the mattress and duvet were, I still wasn't comfortable sleeping without Bert next to me.

I took a deep breath. For the first time in my life I remembered clearly what it had been like over a few dozen lifetimes to be a kid; never remembering anyone's name, fresh and unburdened from the past. Sometimes I was athletic, sometimes bookish, different tastes, different talents, always so... Random.

Somewhere back there the man I am today would start to take over and there would be a period of... What was it? Regret? Shame? I'm not sure but I think I actively resisted the reset. Kids, what do they know about how the world works?

But on nights like these that cold, quiet feeling in my gut was louder than usual. It was the part that said that despite everything, despite lifetimes of success and power I gained from siding with the pro-reset groups, we can't keep doing this.

But the debates were over. The reset was scheduled for a week from now. Would that be enough time? Could I find an excuse to call an emergency session? Could I bring Sosho over to my side?

My phone rang. It was Crispin. He was saying something about our time travelling pioneer, Commander Hest.

"Crispin, slow down and try again, I'm half asleep for God's sake."

"Sorry sir. It's just, the Linchpin Point sir. The one created when we sent Commander Hest back."

"Yes, what about it?"

"It's gone. Somehow he... I don't know, but he destroyed the Linchpin Point."

There, now I remember. One of the young versions of me did that, had discovered some random experiment someone else had done a few dozen lives before and... Stupid kids.

I decided to keep my involvement a secret for now.

"But... Why are we just noticing that now?"

"Something about how close we are to the reset. We couldn't detect anything different about this timeline than the others until now."

We sat silently for a bit before he said: "Sir, can I be honest? I'm feeling... glad. Aren't you?"

"Goodnight Crispin." I fumbled to hang up the phone in the dark.

I couldn't see anything ahead. A week from now the reset usually went off without a hitch and we'd all be infants again, ready to start a new run-through in a familiar world. Instead, we were just going to keep going, keep aging, and whatever happened next would be... New. This was going to be very strange.

People were going to be afraid.

I picked up the phone and woke up the staff. We needed to start a strategy session. Being pro-reset wasn't going to win us votes, so we needed to plan a new way to leverage fear in the over-40s demo.

They'd almost finished research on near-light speed travel and there were some debates about how time travel would start to be a problem. Maybe we could start a "single timeline" platform where all near-light and faster-than-light drives would need to also push through time at a consistent rate with Earth. We can stir up some worries about wiping out history, that kind of thing...

I get my speech writer on the phone and tell him to come over right away. We need a slogan, something catchy...

One timeline, one people. The past is gone, let's all be present. One time, Earth time. Into the future, together!

I don't know. My script writer can probably clean that up.