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Paradox

There’s a novel side affect thought Iain, disconnecting the chronotic connection from his synaptic implant. He had taste of honey sandwiches in his mouth, his favourite food when he was 6 years old in 1976; something he’d stopped eating four years later and over twenty years ago, after he’d used a whole loaf up and was sick half way through, it kind of put him off.
As predicted, bar the implants and the chronos box, nothing else had come through. On future trips others travellers would solely source clothes, money identity and locality information to deposit near by, a paradox in it’s self as this was the teams first trip.
Seeing the agreed red smiley face on the side of the deliberately placed dumpster Iain walked across to retrieve his gear. Over and over in his head the never ending cyclical nature of time theoretically cancelling it’s self out. If he found the clothes there then that would indicate he wasn’t going to be successful in killing himself by finding and killing his drunk abusive father.

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