I bestride the multiverse. In two places at once and, I admit, no small measure of discomfort. One self in my sprawling Edwardian monstrosity overlooking the golf course in Rickmansworth. It’s an incongruous location, but there’s a peculiar tranquility in the mundanity of suburban England that lends itself to reflection. My other self, my most real resides In-Between, the liminal realm connecting the chronyons that make up all of time and space, soon, I hope, my domain entire.

The pursuit of understanding, true understanding, is an act of supreme courage. It was always my intention at the University to push beyond the established boundaries of knowledge. But to be successful, one must embrace the possibility of calamity. Calamity, after all, is merely another term for unexpected data. I do not consider myself reckless; rather, I am a servant to curiosity, an architect of discovery. Those fools could never understand. They were all more interested in tenure, publishing, faculty dinners and student metrics. That environment was always too small a pond for me to swim in. A flotation collar strangling my ability and foresight. I’m glad I moved on. And yet, even I must concede that my recent efforts have produced consequences far greater than I had at first anticipated.

What, you may ask, can we deduce from this?

First, let us establish the parameters of the experiment in question. The Anchor, an artifact of unparalleled temporal engineering, was, when whole, a device of precision. Crafted in the distant epochs of a forgotten race, it was designed to stabilise the multiverse’s turbulent energy flows. A noble aim, but one that betrayed their naivety. Stabilisation, you see, is merely a form of control deferred. But who or what holds that control?

It can be shown, that the Anchor’s true potential lies not in mere regulation but in dominion. It has been in the domain of the Anchor as placed by some entity unknown and unknowable. To command time and space, one must master the currents that underlie their existence. The Anchor, paired with the Watch of Time, offers precisely this mastery. The Watch, in its simplicity, regulates the flow of moments; the Anchor provides the framework to dictate their paths. Together, they represent the ultimate key to the multiverse’s locked gates.

It was this realisation, that crashing, blinding light of clarity, that spurred my experiment. Might I, with careful calibration, synchronise the Watch with the Anchor and unlock its Dominion Mode? The answer, I believed, lay tantalisingly within reach.

I began, as you would, I’m sure expect, in the way all good, solid research does, with preparatory calculations. Hours, weeks, and months vanished into meticulous theorisation. Equations sprawled across the walls of my study, the ink mingling with the faint scent of aged paper. My students helped, of course, each of them chasing their paltry PhD’s and publications. Their bids for ‘career’ and ‘recognition’. Non-entities all of them. Although, some were a pleasant dalliance here and there! But I digress. Once I understood the Chronyon and hence the In-Between, it gave me the wherewithal to chase my hypotheses. It gave me access to the Anchor itself. The universities Time-Latches, whose purpose was unknown to all of those posturing dunderhead professors and deans, became my set of keys. Each variable was considered, each anomaly cataloged. To manipulate time itself required a precision bordering on the divine, and truly, who better than I to achieve it?

Might we pause in our dissertation to reflect on the peculiarities of the Anchor. While ostensibly a device, it exhibits qualities akin to sentience, adaptive mechanisms, reactive patterns, and an almost organic resistance to overreach. It is, in a word, and I claim wholly this discovery, temperamental. Thus, my task became not merely to wield it but to negotiate with it.

My experiment was conducted in, what I thought was the relative safety of the In-Between. A calculated risk, as the realm exists at the nexus of multiversal energies. What better laboratory for such an undertaking? The Watch had been calibrated at some distant time past, to emit a resonance pulse, aligning with the Anchor’s temporal frequencies. The process to alter it was delicate, requiring steady hands and a sharper mind, but a new frequency would alter all the timelines and understanding this frequencies would hand me control of all of time and space across the multiverse.

I tried a small shift. At first, the synchronisation appeared flawless. The Watch’s mechanisms hummed in harmony with the Anchor’s luminous core. A halo of light surrounded the device, its golden glow casting ethereal patterns on the walls of my sanctum. And then… came the rupture.

A surge of energy, immense, unrelenting, erupted from the Anchor. It was not a simple malfunction but a profound rejection, as if the device itself recoiled at the audacity of my endeavour. A glow intensified, shifting to a blinding white, and then shattered into a kaleidoscope of colours. The sound was indescribable: a symphony of cracking glass, roaring wind, and an ominous, low-frequency hum that seemed to reverberate through my very essence.

What, I hear you students of time cry, might we infer from this reaction?

The Anchor’s disintegration was not entirely random. It is my belief, no, my certainty, that the device acted with purpose. The components were scattered across the multiverse, each fragment seeking refuge and disguised in a location of temporal significance. This was not mere chaos but a calculated retreat, an attempt to deny me control.

Of course, the question arises: why? Why would the Anchor, an artefact of function and logic, resist my command? The simplest explanation is that it was not designed for such usage. The physics that constructed it included within its proofs safeguards to prevent precisely the kind of dominion I sought to achieve. Of course, one might posit some creative input, but truly such a thing is not needed, The device is an integral element of the Multiverse itself.

The aftermath of the experiment was… as all good scientists would agree, instructive. Temporal anomalies proliferated across the multiverse. Pockets of accelerated time, stasis fields, and paradoxical zones appeared seemingly at random, backwards and forwards through the Chronyons. Through time. It was, I admit, a satisfying confirmation of the Anchor’s power, albeit an inconvenient one. I also noted the destabilisation of certain realities, minor disruptions, to be sure, but indicative of the potential scale of influence.

And yet, amidst this chaos, an opportunity presented itself.

If the Anchor’s fragments are scattered, then they can be gathered. If they resist my hand, then another hand must serve. Enter Finn, the unwitting and hapless puppet. He seems to be strongly temporally influential, although he has no idea and his journey to recover the Anchor’s components is, at its core, a continuation of my experiment. He is my instruments, his movements guided by my subtle manipulations. I handed him the now malfunctioning watch and told him not to play with it. Of course, whether he played or not is immaterial, the damage is already done. Not that he would ever understand that.

It can be shown, therefore, that the failure of my initial experiment was not a failure at all but a necessary evolution of the process. Finn may believe he acts of his own volition, but his choices align with my needs, Which, the more astute among you will realise is no mere coincidence.

What, then, do I do now?

I wait. Waiting is, after all, an integral part of any experiment. While Finn traverses the multiverse, I refine my plans. The In-Between remains my place where I exist outside the constraints of time and space. Simultaneously, I reside on Earth, a quaint sphere of limited imagination but occasional charm. My house near the golf course in Rickmansworth provides a pleasant contrast to the abstract vastness of the In-Between.

It is a peculiar existence, this duality of being. To dwell in two places at once is a privilege few could endure, let alone master. Yet I find it invigorating, a testament to my singular nature.

What then are the conclusions we might draw from all of this? Finn may believe himself the hero of this tale. Let him. Let him blunder in the mud. The truth is far more complex, and in time, my time, it will be revealed.