Consciousness.

Time: July 27th, 2058. 13:45:15 GMT. 2 months, 4 days off of my scheduled arrival here. Must protect… Almost too late.
Running now. Pain blooming in my mind.
From my foot… Broken Glass? Must keep going.
The boy must…. A van. Their colors. Agents, through the rear window…
Other way… Another one. Can’t… fight back.
Time Travelers selected for slightness. I can’t…

As the orderlies loaded the patient into the van, one of them commented: “What’s up with him?”

“He think’s he’s some sort of time-traveller. He’s been with us for years, absolutely looney.”

As the van drove off, a gunshot split the air.