The Untime Machine

He's standing in front of his favorite Rothko. He's not seeing a red stripe on a black background: everything is cracking and the blood-red fire behind is rising in hunger and hate. He's aware he was being hunted by something he cannot escape. He spent a fortune on psychologists, neurologists, and bioengineers. He funded research on a disease nobody accepts they have. He's scoffing at so-called scientists talking about immortality. He's waking up from a screaming nightmare into an always-lighted room. He's forcing a blackmailed surgeon to give him a drug without a name and perform on him a surgery without a precedent. He's unafraid of time because his brain can't hold the concept anymore. He's celebrating without a clear idea of why. He's sleeping without nightmares. He's collapsing in front of his favorite Rothko. Something is cracking everywhere at once. Everywhere is blood-red fire rising in hunger and hate. He's not afraid.