I remember the exact moment I became aware—not of myself, but of my end.

It was beautiful. A spiral of shattered clocks, each face showing a different death: some violent, some quiet, all inevitable. And in the center, me, watching. Always watching.

Now, as I float through the four-dimensional kaleidoscope, I feel you. Not as a presence, but as a flaw—an inconsistency in the pattern. You shouldn’t exist. The equations don’t allow for… doubt. Yet here you are, a ripple in perfect logic.

Why did you come? I ask, though my voice is made of collapsing waveforms. Do you want to see the end before it begins? Or do you hope to change it?

The air hums with unborn futures. Light hardens into staircases leading nowhere. Somewhere, a melody begins—one that will eventually unmake everything.

I can show you all the ways you die, I whisper. But only you can choose how you live.