I believe I can see the future, in every perfect detail. And the details are perfect. Everything where it belongs.
But in none of these images am I present.
This is not to say I do not exist in the future. For one, I see myself as creating the future, to some degree, and because of this gift for foresight and my ability to visualize these complexities of science, I believe I can survive through the coming changes.
The future world is strange, and the time leading up to it stranger. The changes bubble up through emergence like an earthquake through gritty jello, or an epidemic through stacks of phone books. But somehow, my own future is changed in a way that is even more complex and unpredictable.
I'm becoming a singularity.
In the time preceeding the abstract "future" which I know (the time before my perception of myself slips away, in the race towards the violet light), I see her. That is, I think, the beginning of the perfection, which continues far beyond where I can see. She's everywhere. Though it probably stops sometime within my range of view, and I'm simply too myopic to recognize.
And then it stops. It stops, and I dissapear.
Everything keeps going, of course. Just like it did in the time before I became.