The pain and sorrow are barely ameliorated by my certainty that Fluvium’s death is only fleeting—a shadow to be defeated by a brilliant shaft of light. What I have just experienced is not reality, but only one reality. Nevertheless, as soon as I am away from the prying eyes of the beasts, I will weep. Not for what is, but for what I now know could be.
Dearest husband, where is your cerebrum? Not with your body? Did you leave it hidden somewhere in Egypt?
Meanwhile, I’m building a machine. Crude, inefficient, and primitive. In its current configuration it should at least project into the future. After a successful test, I shall have to make the necessary modifications before I can contact Imperator.
It will disgust me. For the moment, I will accept his terms. Endure what I must. But there is no price I am unwilling to pay to ensure you do not become that desiccated thing.
I love you too much.
Then, together, he and I shall ensure that this branch of the timeline, this despicable planet is left nothing more than a featureless rock.