But today, I faced a mysterious enemy who had managed, somehow, to poison me. I woke, retching and vomiting, and with such blinding pain that I saw in negative.
|The view from my window this morning|
|I think it smells vaguely like Limburger, but my partner says that's just because|
I go in without shoes on.
Throughout the evening I kept a tight grip on my weapons, only passing out once from the pain. Despite the cramp and sweats, I knew that at any moment the insidious villain who had attempted to murder me would appear, and I was keen to pay them back in kind. Yet as the night wore on, I realised with a growing horror that my would-be assassin was not from the Dark Brotherhood, nor a jilted lover, nor even my colleagues playing their humorous jokes.
|REAL FUNNY, CARL. He knows I hate adjusting my seat.|
No, it was me. I watched my Past Self betray me, pouring down his neck a toxin that inhibits brain and motor function and had inevitably lead to my condition. I shook my head and raised my weapon, wondering if taking my own life would be a better fate than this agony.
My communicator howled. My partner had prepared hot soup and a warm bath, and in exchange for a blood sacrifice my cat would keep me company as I rested. I looked back at my Past Self, his intent to poison me becoming clearer and clearer, and lowered my arm. Seeking out the kitchen and flashing my badge, I stepped back through the vortex.
As I drank the nourishing soup, I watched my partner humming as they tidied away the detritus my Past Self had inflicted on the little dwelling we shared. With her help, I had defeated my would-be assassin; perhaps in ways I did not know I had helped her defeat her own Past Self.
In fact, we are all faced with our Past Selves, and we must fight them or flee them as best we can. At this time of year, it is wonderful to be reminded that we do not always have to do it alone. Or, as our local radio host once said: