If everything went well, I'm back in safe, familiar 2020, and across from me in this slowly forming room, in the center of all these people awaiting my arrival, is twenty-one-years-young me .
But if it is a stricture to suggest that apophasis-ridden SF texts are time-wasters (I do mean to suggest that), then Wilson and Gregory are exempt.
Alternately, to breathe through gills, no need / of blasted lungs, would be a mercy. But / I would not like to be a ghost, for that / is close to what I am.
