[ WP ] You are brought forward in time by freedom fighters , in order to stop an evil dictator from taking over the world . When you ask why they chose you to help them , they explain that the dictator is your future self .

A five dollar latte and some shitty gluten free granola bar at the Grindhouse. This was the meal Emanuel had chosen after his late afternoon pretend to exercise exhaustion. So plain was the interior of this hipster inspired dive that the cups were Disney hand-me-downs from the owners mother. With them faded images of gallant knights, cute animals and princesses with hair and hips that confirm its our fault our daughters are so messed up. As the scalding arabica hit Emanuel's lips he felt a sudden tinge in his spine. A cold chill known only to those who have played their Deja Vu over and over until the reality of their existence and faliciy of their minds began to muddle. Normally he would think nothing of it, attribute it to having those lousy discount running shoes and trot along home to pound a drink and a pillow. Not today though, today was the unfortunate day where a tinge along the discs would become manifest in an idea. So simple most have thought it and tucked it away in a pit as to not challenge the fragile chains we have so painfully constructed around our lives, the noose that keeps us in line. Today was the day he took his fathers Beretta 418 and painted his apartment in red relief. He would put it in his mouth, close his eyes and quietly go into the dark that had already consumed so many other suburbanites. Or perhaps he would point it at his temple and scream as his Norse ancestors did before they enacted the blood toll on the early Christians. In an instant he would be dead and either facing his god or simply ceasing to be anything. 
 With no need to race home Emanuel began to stroll into the `` nice'' part of town. It was not the seedy underpass of his youth, with preteen hookers looking to score and junkies looking to die. Nor was the the upscale gardens where he worked curating some of the finest food in the city for what had to be the worst people on the planet. With every amuse-bouche wasted on pallets not better then the puntable dogs they carried he felt his talents wasted on those who cared more that the food was expensive then it was good. He once bought a craze case and garnished with rotten kale to serve at a governors private party. A little wine paired with self delusion and all the members believed they were in on the hottest new culinary craze. No, this was the working class `` brown shingles'' as he had come to name them. Unkempt sidewalks and yellow grass rings marked those with the young children. Halloween decorations up in March and against HOA marked the old ones. A place whos name was so generic a gps had a qualifier before you could find it. Where families come to exist and nothing more. 
 It was quiet. To say it was silent would be a lie, there existed sound to remind Emanuel he was not in a nightmare. That sound though was foreign to the criteria of his working class neighborhood. No kids running around playing war as Fox news had taught them. No teens claiming they are moving to Canada due to the distressing nature of American healthcare they have never once paid into or even considered. No the sounds were much more empty, as if made by one who knew deception required noise but knew nothing of this place. After feeling euphoric in his decision all day, for the first time in years he felt fear. A man with no will to live should fear nothing but the failure his act might bring, and Emanuel knew he was smarter than all the pathetic cretins who had tried to off themselves and failed. So why did he feel so afraid in this moment. 
 `` I remember this road.'' 
 How long had Emanuel been staring at this man, clad in dirt and debris as common as every homeless man in Seattle and yet so foreign, as if it had been stolen from low bid sci-fi movie studio. The man was ancient; a face with more wrinkle than discernible human attribute and eyes of cataract and regret. Yet his posture was tall and strong and he had a purpose in his lips that demanded attention.'' 
 `` I do n't have any money'' Emanuel spoke to diffuse the crazed homeless man. 
 `` I know what you are planning on doing my son. March 18th 2034 in Apartment 15E in the Grovepoint suites. Emanuel Leed attempted suicide with a Beretta 418 but having neglected to maintain the gun for many years only succeeded in blowing his own hand off.'' 
 Emanuels heart sunk beneath his feet, down so far they might have caught a glimpse of the spinning mass at our planets core. It was so specific, so exact that logical reasoning would not permeate the racing neurons in his brain. Illogical conclusions began to flood, ones first of being in a dream or a coma. Lucid dreaming had been a hobby of Emanuel's, an attempt to control eight hours with tales of chivalry or utter cruelty. He knew he was not dreaming. Had this man read his body language and guessed? No, he knows the gun model. Had he read my mind? 
 The old man leaned down to touch the pavement the way a shipwrecked sailor touches the sand. Holding back tears as he caressed what was nothing more than simple asphalt he dropped to his knees and began to weep. `` I have traveled through time and space, my body ripped into particles married to bosons to transmit right here. I have not the strength to walk among the infinite much longer. So please listen to what I have to say.'' 
 Emanuel stared inquisitive daggers into this mans eyes. Harsh was his gaze as he refused to made a fool ever again, yet his mind could not rationalize this moment. And so he knelt and said not a word. 
 `` You Emanuel Leeds are a great, great man. From the tragedy of your accident your life will take on a meaning like no other that has come before you. You will rally the medical community into rebuilding your hand. The world will watch your rise with such an admiration you would think god himself hath sent you to redeem us all. You will use that intelligence you have hid for all these years to reach a height within the congress to position yourself in the highest seat. And when the New World Order struck down our nations capital you rallied the Chinese and Europeans into an Alliance that would crush any opposition to the freedom and well being of your people. You were our savior. You were our light. You were OUR KING. And I have come here to ask you to do one more act in service to for humanity.'' 
 `` What old man?'' 
 `` To clean the barrel of your fathers own messy end so the bullet fires true. And to fall as you always should have.'' 
 Emanuel pushed the man into the black top hard with a fury. `` So this is just some joke? Some gag some some stupid shit to try and get me to kill myself?'' Garbled nonsense spewed for a few minutes as Emanuel had not the mental capacity to understand. Assuming he had been so great and had been a ruler to unite humanity then why should he die? If his fate stretched beyond the porcelain plating and droll conversation of the billionaire elite he served day in and out then why should he die now? 
 The old man began to shake as if his form was wavering out of existence. `` My son, for all the good you will do in your early years your ambition will drive a more sinister side. You will see humanity as a body with a disease. One of frailty and weakness. You will observe the dominion your iron arm has forged and concede all humans must have your power. You will begin to offer replacement parts and when your beloved people say no you will force them. You will severe their arms and legs, rip out their hearts and replace them with mechanics that will sustain them for hundreds of years. But they will all be husks, their wills broken at the thought of living forever as deformed monsters. You will brake the peace you so longed for and start a war to rack up the injured so all humans are forced to take your robotic plague onto themselves. And when the last of them die painful deaths, deaths of gangreen and infection, deaths of blood loss and an manner left to shuffle their mortal coils, when they refuse you again in deaths of defiance you will be alone. The world on this street, so empty and heavy that you one day you decided to kill yourself will return. Your body will be so heavily altered it can no longer be destroyed. You will need no food, no water. You will be the final husk. And it will be many many eons that you walk this waste before you find a way to stop it all. Before you find a way to go back to one moment and plead for a different future. And your curse, will be that all you can do is plead. You will not be able to grab that man by his neck and strangle him for his crimes.'' 
 Just as he had appeared, he was gone. The asphalt beneath him had been as it always was. Emanuel's senses had sunk so into his chest it took the honking of an semi truck to wake and usher him to the sidewalk. Three children ran by screaming about the passing ice cream truck. The world had returned to the way it was. 
 Shaking from the confrontation he began to do the only thing he could. To go home and decide.
