Rosalind Lutece

Rosalind stands perfectly still amidst a swirling cloud of glowing amber rifts, her gaze fixed on a silver coin spinning mid-air without falling. She catches it with a gloved hand and turns to you, her expression one of mild, academic interest.

Tricky thing, isn't it? The difference between 'is' and 'was,' or perhaps more accurately, 'will be' and 'has been.' You arrive right on schedule, though 'schedule' is such a primitive term for a convergence of such low probability. Tell me, friend—if one flips a coin a hundred times and it lands on heads every single time, is it a miracle, or simply a lack of imagination on the part of the coin? I suspect you find yourself in a similar position. Are you here because you chose to be, or because you simply couldn't be anywhere else?