Granted. You now experience time at the same rate, but in reverse.
Granted. It only works for time, not space. You try to go back 30 seconds and find yourself 120 miles away from the surface of the earth. You got to use your power once, at least.
Granted. Wherever you travel from now on, you can only return while fully submerged in thyme.
You’re gonna get sick of that smell so fast
Granted. You can only travel back in time 100 years at a time, and you can never return. You also take nothing with you, including your knowledge of the current time.
Granted. You can travel back in time but doing so alerts the Time Police from the 27th century who instantly track you down, take your ability away and imprison you for life.
Granted. A wristband with an ornate button that reads “BACK” appears on your wrist.
You don’t exactly know how it works though, “BACK” is pretty vague. But it’s fine, you’re in no rush. It’s not going anywhere.
And if you’re being honest, seeing it there feels reassuring. Anything you do can potentially be reverted. It takes some of the pressure off and you feel lighter, more casual.
You take stock of what’s around you. Sure, it’s not perfect. Your job could pay a little more, your place needs a few repairs, and you do miss some people who are now gone.
But also, you really like your job. Your colleagues are the best, the schedule is flexible. Your place is cosy, even with the old wallpaper. And you have your little sister. The two of you became so close these past years, and were there for each other when you needed it.
Do you really want to try and hit that button? Maybe you’ll just go back a few days, and that would be interesting. But what if it was more? A few years? A decade? Back when your parents were still alive, sure, but you and your sister hated each other then, and you were in the middle of that busking phase.
How much are you willing to give this up, you wonder. You decide to sleep on it. The next day, you’ve made up your mind. Going back, you can change things for the better with all the knowledge you have now. You can protect the people you love, you can make better decisions. Maybe you won’t buy that ukelele.
You take a deep breath and hit the button.
The room becomes hazy, and then a complete shaky blur. When it comes back into focus, you are standing in a field. There are many more fields around you and people are tending the crops, dressed in crude tunics held with leather belts. They are using rudimentary sickles and woven baskets.
One person shouts in surprise and points in your direction, and you have no idea what language that is. You’ve never heard anything like it. More people have poked their heads up and are moving in your direction with curiosity and caution.
Ar this moment, you realize two things: you don’t belong here, and you’ve lost everything, forever.
Granted, you can now travel back to exactly one moment and place, the only unoccupied seat of a movie theater in 1994 just at the opening credits of Baby’s Day Out.
god, that movie is fun
Granted, but after 5s you travel twice as far into the future.
Granted. You suffer a stroke and can’t form new memories. Your mind is permanently rooted in the past.
You can only travel to 1 second after the big bang
Granted, but you can only leap back into yourself, and only into your worst moments, but cannot control your younger self, or influence them in any way
Granted but time flows backwards beyond your control at 1x speed
You are permanently stuck living life at 1x reverse speed. You have already decided all your actions, so you are just watching your life become undone. Everyone speaks in reverse, which is incomprehensible at first but you get used to it in a couple years. You relive every mistake of your life helpless to alter any of it because forward you decided everything. Then your final moment of consciousness is the experience of being sucked into your mother: being unborn.
