Linear

He was the last one hanging onto linear time. It was hard to say when the others left. One day there were there, and the next, it was as if they had never been there at all. He remembered both viewpoints simultaneously.

There were echos of them, something his mind sorted into a narrative that fit Newtonian logic. When they didn't fit, he was still aware of them at another level – there, but only as a vague feeling, a message in an instant, or a waking dream.

For them, causality was an ocean to swim through, for him, it was a downward skydive. From their perspective, choices were of little consequence – it was all determined by intent. Multiple, sometimes conflicting, outcomes were within their awareness. Paradoxes were simply knots, a bit of rubble in the landscape. Something to avoid if one had little experience with, but eventually a source of amusement.

Still, he was an anchor. One that they thought they didn't need, but was still there underpinning everything. A point of reference that everything could refract through. He wasn't sure that he would ever 'catch up' to them. They were somewhen else. Consciousnesses that had shapes that ballooned through space-time like a dye in water.

What they didn't know, was the he had already been to the outermost limits. He was what helped provide definition to where they now resided. He didn't want to move, since, from his perspective – there was nowhere to move to.