Zoë

Prologue

Hi.

My name is Zoë. 

Yes, the annoying kind of "Zoë" with the two dot thingies above the "e". Don't ask me why. My parents' motivations for the double-dots remain a mystery of Lost-like proportions.

So, yeah.

You may be asking yourself why it is that you're sat (or possibly stood) there, reading the ramblings of some girl who has a weird dislike of the aesthetics of her own name.

To answer that question, I have to divulge a somewhat important fact about the world as you know it:

Time travel is possible.

And here's another somewhat important fact, this time about how I fit into this world as you know it:

I know time travel is possible...because I have the ability to do it...

***

OK, I realise that that's a pretty heady way to start things off.

I mean, we only just met, and I've not really told you anything about myself.

After all, how are you supposed to give a shit about anything that happens in my story if you don't know anything - and by extension, don't care - about Me, your humble (and increasingly obviously inadequate) Narrator?

Storytelling 101, and all that.

Of course, since I brought the quaint little subject of "time travel" up, perhaps there are some of you who'd prefer to skip past these pleasantries, and go straight to the sci-fi/action hijinks. 

And to those who that applies to, allow me to just say:

YOU ARE THE REASON MICHAEL BAY KEEPS MAKING MOVIES, AND THAT IS NOT COOL, MAN!

To all the other readers left over:

Welcome!

I hope you enjoy this jaunt through my life of weirdness and wonder and...um...wombats?

Nope, never mind, I'm sorry you had to see that brainfart happen right before your eyes. I tried to think of a third "w" word, and...look, I fucked up, it happens. A lot.

(Believe me, you'll see for yourself how often it occurs soon enough.)

Moving swiftly along:

I hope you won't mind if I backtrack a bit to show you what my life was like before the whole time travel thing decided to invade my life with as much welcome as a free U2 album.

(N.B. - Topical humour is a skill that's increasingly slippery for me to grasp, considering how screwed up my perception of the "Present" has become. The price you pay, and all that.)

It's worth noting here, though, that If you've seen as many TV shows as I have, then you probably also hate that thing they do where they open an episode with something exciting and random going on, and then they cut to black, and a little title card comes up saying "X-amount-of-hours/days/weeks/months/years earlier", and you just want to dropkick throttle the person that created this stupid trope in the first place.

But hey, guess what?

That's exactly the trope I'm going to use right now!

(Please don't throttle me...)