The Erasable World

I remember how excited I was all those years ago when I first heard rumours of a film studio.
It didn't take long for me to despise this place after it opened. Of course it was run by the Londoners. London refugees had flooded the place and took all the jobs with their London CVs and education.

They gave crumbs out to us. A wee day here, and a wee day there. They acted generous giving local fresh uni students (from elsewhere) the opportunities.

Society was divided into two, and they were comfortable with their place. As a "have not" or government listed "financially unstable" I could not get employment other than temporary cleaning work.

Science had stopped progressing in the country, but I never stopped my research. If I couldn't beat these bastards I could at the very least outlive them. I never shared my research because I didn't want these warped mind humans to keep passing on their false ideals.
Eventually I moved from slowing down the ageing process, to cellular rejuvenation, but abroad something else was tingling.
A bottom quark singularity event gave the way for transportation through time.

Time was against me. The shitebags might not have been able to outlive me, but they could undo me before I was born. I had no choice but to act first, throwing all my body and time into it. I didn't have resources to actually send matter, not like they had, but that wasn't my plan. I wasn't a middle class tourist.

I sent my mind back after memorising all the information I would need.. It took time to slowly seep in. I started to see things before they happened. The closer I got to the cataclysm the more I could see. I realised I hadn't just sent information back. I had entangled my future to my past. I was neither here nor there. I wasn't living in the present.
I went through countless loops trying to get it right (this would be the last).
I tried to keep myself centered with the 8th path fold, but eventually I found myself just going through the motions of "right thought" "right action", completely numb to the erasable world.

@RiskDebonair
Irish Writer, Poet, & Lover