[ WP ] You possess a magic button that allows you to travel back in time to a moment that you predetermine , allowing you to commit many crimes . If you get in to trouble , you simply push the button . While pulling off your latest crime , the button suddenly stops working .

Left hand up, middle finger outstretched. Right hand hovering over the small red button flush with the flesh in my left forearm. I brushed the long, matted hair away from my eyes and smiled at the group charging my way. This was my favorite position to be in. I liked to imagine their thoughts before and after what I was about to do. My smile grew - the stolen Incan gold capping my teeth gleamed in the bright sun. 
 
 `` Drop the briefcase,'' yelled a quivering man in front of the group, about a hundred feet in front of me. I had been avoiding stealing things from people that had weapons and liked to use them. Sure, the bullet holes, stab wounds and bludgeoned bones had always healed when I traveled through time, but it still hurt like a bitch. Going back just to piss of Ghengis Khan was the turning point. I think I insulted his sister or something in his native tongue. It was worth it just to see the look on his face. But then there was the look on my face that I saw in the reflection of the giant sword he swung down to lop my arm off. I had to squirm on the ground and push the button before he lopped my head off. Close call, and for what? 
 
 Now I steal things. Valuable things, usually, but some just to have. My home office, a safe house, is on prehistoric earth deep within a vast caves. Mountains of stolen items filled the area. Picassos, Van Goghs, Beethoven's symphonies, Beach Boys gold records, da Vinci sketches and the like - souvenirs from nearly every period of human history, and some before ( Dodo skeleton ), adorned the flame-flickering stone walls. 
 
 Some items are n't as historically important, such as this one in my hand: the playbook of Vince Lombardi. Hey, I'm a Packers fan, what can I say. It's amazing what you covet when you can literally have anything. 
 
 Out of the small group of men approaching him down the hallway, a small black figure emerged. I was n't sure at first what was peculiar about the figure. It was n't the lack of a face other than two glowing circles where his eyes should have been. I was n't even that it floated inches above the carpet. Maybe it was that he was wearing golden football cleats. That was probably it. 
 
 The figure smiled without a mouth. I'm not sure how he did it, but I swear he did. 
 
 I then realized that I had been mashing the button when I looked down to see my finger doing it. The action of pressing it had become something of a subconscious response to my brain's request. 
 
 Nothing happened. The world behind me did n't evaporate. I did n't hear my laughs echo around the developing void. It was n't working. 
 
 The world went black. 
 
 I heard drips far away and the crackle and popping of fire wood. 
 
 I was home. 
 
 I opened my eyes and smiled again as I took in the pewter plate I had recently taken from the Last Supper. It sat on my table built from pilfered wood from the Santa Maria. Remnants from my mac and cheese meal from the night before crusted its surface. 
 
 `` Hello,'' said a voice, sing-song and quiet. 
 
 I froze. 
 
 `` Hello,'' I said. 
 
 `` Nice to finally meet you. I've been on your tail for the last thousands of years or so. I have to say, I thought your collection would be more impressive,'' the silky voice traveled around the enclosure and gently entered my ears. 
 
 Ego conquered logic in my response. `` Yeah, well I have n't started the decoration process. I'm finishing up my most recent round of collecting.'' 
 
 I then turned to find the figure suspended in the air, upside down, floating up my pile of artwork. 
 
 `` Do you know who I am?'' 
 
 `` Some sort of Time Cop?'' 
 
 `` No.'' 
 
 `` Another time-travelling thief?'' 
 
 The figure laughed. A common laugh, surprisingly. More of a giggle. 
 
 `` No. I am simply a librarian.'' 
 
 `` A... librarian?'' 
 
 `` Yes, you have an overdo book of mine.'' 
 
 My mind raced across my resume of crimes. 
 
 `` On Sphere-Making, by Archimedes,'' said the voice, before I could answer. 
 
 `` Ahh, from the Library of Alexandria,'' I said. 
 
 `` Yes, said the voice. It is currently 315,493 years, 234 days overdue.'' 
 
 I waited for the figure to continue. It did n't. 
 
 `` What's the fee?'' 
 
 `` There is no fee for the theft of human knowledge.'' 
 
 `` Oh,'' I said. `` Now what?'' 
 
 `` Now I send you somewhere where this will not happen again.'' 
 
 The figure flew at me with great speed. I jerked backwards. Out of the black, ill-defined shape extended a long skeleton bone of a finger that gently tapped the time button in my arm. 
 
 The cavern around me began to fade. His laugh careened around me. The last thing I saw was the button disappear. 

