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Hejerked his mouse over towards the cross in the corner, commited toclosing the page and wanting to end his self inflcited suffering, fortonight at least. As he did his finger bumped into a small plasticobject. His eyes gazed down on a tube of mascara his mum had left on thecomputer desk before she had left for work that morning. Art stared atthe tube, for longer than he had indended to. The black and gold of themake up glinted in the cold light of the computer. On the screen theeyes of Jessica Munroe still stared out. Art looked back up and met themone last time. Slowly he closed the page, shut off the computer and wentto bed.The next afternoon Art sat with his friends at lunch. He had been quietand reserved all day, his brow furrowed and his mind elsewhere. He hadfound himself gazing into the bathroom mirrors more often than heusually did, examining the countors of his face. He didn't engage withthe conversations his friends were having, as he purposefuly ate hisfood. He didn't. If only I had been faster to react, I made a promise to myself I would make this up to him.Then I looked at the cat, I had no need for food but the child did. Plus, perhaps, I could skin it for clothing. Walking over to the cat I called up my specifications on the tools I had. They gave me several options: I had cutting instruments including a low yield laser, and several weapons system; all could be used to dispose of the cat and process it.I was a walking Swiss army knife. I examined the cat, it was unlike anything I had seen, it looked like a saber tooth. Damn, that really complicates things, I had hoped I was in a remote part of the world. I glanced back at the boy, his skull looked different too, perhaps Neanderthal?Shit, either I am in another dimension or somehow the wormhole had jumped me back in time. Wormhole travel had been around for 20 years now and we had never experienced a time jump, it had been theorized bet never achieved."Yippee, if I wait around 20,000 years maybe.
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