I did say that it almost threw me off the idea of doing anymore trips into the past. Having a wooden post rammed up your rectum until it bursts out of your chest is more than a wakeup call, it’s the universe telling you that you’ve been sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, and the irony is just too funny to be believed.
But it wasn’t going to be what stopped me, not by a long shot. I figured at that point that dying was what brought me back, so as long as I didn’t suck in a lungful of sea water and drown then I’d be okay. Of course my mind in its feverish and challenge-ready state didn’t factor in anything else. I mean, why would I? There was a chance to go back into the past and change history, perhaps for the better, and who was I to say no?
I’d heard all about the ripple effect and how it meant that if one thing changed that everything would change. But after getting out of the water each time and going online I found that my forays into the past hadn’t changed a single thing. So far as I knew there was no mention in the histories about a stranger dressed in strange clothing being at the sight of Caligula’s death, or at the battle that took the life of Vlad the Impaler.
To be honest it almost made me feel a little bit crazy since it brought the first sliver of real doubt into my mind. But upon looking at my wetsuit after the Vlad affair I saw that I couldn’t have possibly imagined it. The rips and tears in the suit were substantial and real, and the corresponding holes in the rectum area and the chest were enough to tell me that I wasn’t hallucinating. This was really happening. But history was turning a blind eye to my efforts so far.
So why not go for the gusto and see what would happen? If something went wrong I could always go back and change it again, right?
I think you can guess where this went after that.
(to be continued)