So I have a story to tell, although I don’t know why.  It’s a response to an impulse from a higher dimension.  It’s true that in my last life I wanted to be a famous novelist, and the war cut my career short, but honestly I don’t care anymore about literature and all that nonsense.  Who wants to be an artist in a society as ugly and crappy as this one?  It’s all ending anyway.  Linear time is dissolving, the collective memory of humanity is fading away.  No one takes this place seriously anymore.

But perhaps if it can help me feel closer to Jody, it will be worth it.