I haven't slept in three days. Every time I close my eyes they roll around in my head while I agonize, analyze and reject possibilities. Time travel as we know it is possible, and has been around as long as life on this planet. Since organisms could move, and observers could watch them move, time has been relative. According to Einstein, and his theory of Special Relativity, a man in a car moving somewhere near the speed of light will age, to an observer not moving at all, at a much slower rate. Time would appear to have slowed down, and yet the man in the car would notice nothing out of the ordinary. He'd tie his shoe and half a century would go by, all of the people he knew growing older and dying, being replaced by their reproductions. In essence, it's already possible to travel to the future. But there's no going back.

Yet.

I rip open another protein bar and the wrapper flutters to the floor, joining its many brothers. A light on the outside of the Mead blinks; I have a message. I chew and swallow, not moving from my spot on the bed.

I know time travel exists. Unless I'm crazy, (and based on the way I look right now you might be able to convince me I am) and I don't think I am; I saw a man from the future, one who claimed to be a relation to me. And I saw him disappear, blipping out of existance with my last beer. So it's possible. You can travel to the past. Why am I bothering, if I know it happens in the future? I have proof, certainty. Things none of these philosphers or physicists had. Someone discovers time travel.

So why can't it be me?