[ WP ] You have to team up with you , you , and you to take down yourself ... time travel is weird .

It all works like a tree, great roots springing from one source, an origin we really can not comprehend. To understand where we come from, where it all springs from, you must go back, way back and beyond the past. The place I'm talking about is beyond time. It's the genesis of time. We all are there. You are there. From there, everything springs, moving forward and backwards and staying in the present. It's a bit hard to wrap your head around, I know. But know that that's where it all comes from. And I think I was a good man back there. 
 
 
 Does it matter when I discovered time travel? At some point I did. And so at all points I did. In the present for you, I was probably old, or maybe young. Maybe I'm dead or still living. Who knows? But I can tell you I was bad. The research was a means to an end. I wanted to see how far I could push science. How far could I push the limits of the human experience. 
 
 
 I had the breakthrough and nothing was linear. Nothing was moral. It is hard to keep track of your heart when everything flows all ways at once. I did experiments in Rome. I killed in the future. The present was hell. I am not even sure why I did it all. There were alternate realities; ever decision we make splits the realities. There were just so much to do. So many test environments. So many opportunities. 
 
 
 Do n't think that I was not spared myself. It was not some emotional evil that led me on my rampage. I was clinical. I am clinical. I killed myself to see what would happen. Doctor Solomon died from murder, from suicide and from still birth. I did not see a perceptible difference in conciousness, even with the suicide. I guess it is like the roots of the trees. When one dies, the others continue without interruption. Perhaps I simply switched realities? I can not say. 
 
 
 But I was evil. I suppose you wonder why I keep saying that if I claim to be so clinical? I guess it is because I am human as well. Some things go beyond one reality. Some things are universal. Suffering, pain and hurt all look the same. The eyes of victims haunt even the most clinical of men. The fact that I did not stay my hand, not even once, makes me evil. 
 
 
 And so it continued forever as time was meaningless. My results bore no fruition of course. I was really no scientist then. I continued with my fun until it was all interrupted. Maybe the tree finally gets sick of all its poison. Maybe there is some grander design. Your guess is as good as mines. 
 
 
 But there was something. All the realities of existence, the very creation of time, springs from the place way back. Beyond the reckoning of the universe, maybe the Big Bang or some creation, there was the seed for it all. The seed for all possibilities. We all exist there. The potential for what we will become, it begins there in that timeless expanse. And I think it was that that saved me. My potential there saved your reality. 
 
 
 More and more of me came. How could they come? How could they know who I was. There should have been millions of Solomons like me. There should have been millions like them. It should have been equal. It should have been pointless. 
 
 
 It was n't of course. They all came at all the right times. I was killed. I was destroyed. In the grey skies of a war torn world I was shot by machine gun. In the familiar halls of the lab I was stabbed as the machines moved with apathy. Sometimes I saw it. Sometimes it just came. It's impossible to wrap my head around. I died often and all the realities where I would become who I became, were severed for good. 
 
 
 My life now is only one of disbelief and remembrance. I have never studied hard. I have never fathomed the secrets of time. I am an ancestor of a great hero and a great evil. All those memories are like stories out of a book and I lead a normal life now. Time goes in one direction and I am haunted by figmants of a timeless massacre. How can I process it all? How does it all fit? 
 
 
 My tree of realities must be wounded, dying from insanity. Some days I feel myself slipping and I descend into brief madness. I suppose I deserve it. It serves me right, whoever'me' is. I try to lead a simple life now, as it is. I try to move forward, slowly as I can and doing no harm. All of the bad things, I would rather leave to the past. This is my reality. And this is my life. I will get used to it or I will go mad. That's another question I ca n't answer. But that's okay. I'll find out eventually. Give it time.
