Do Not Attempt

Credibility:
Good morning, Charlie Deemers. You receive this letter Saturday morning March 23 1989 8:24 am. My name is Lola Henderson. I found a special device in a car wreck whilst hiking unsupervised in the mountains of Arizona and now my mind travels. While I am biologically 7 years old, I have been doing this for over 400 years perfecting my life. You shudder, choke your drink and switch off The Getalong Gang, then spill your Mountain Dew because I knew you would choke and turn off the Getalong Gang at the exact moment you read that sentence of this sealed letter written two weeks ago. I know because you told me later this week, and I snowballed from reaction to reaction, starting with the fact that my anachronistic existence is a familiar plight that I included in the first version of this letter. Another one of you told me your dreams are too big and long to be dreams, and you actually managed to cause disbelief in a time traveling 200 year-old little girl. You always tell me that you spend a year in that world every night, and feel like your forgetting something important. You never told anyone those things in this timeline for fear of being institutionalized, but as far as meeting me in person, you are more intrigued than afraid. You read forward.

General Exposition:
I met you in 1988 preventing you from a series of deaths resulting from either your depression or clumsiness, and I can guess which since in the timelines when we're married you don't have the same problem. When I first married you in 1998, you made me promise to keep in touch regardless of whether other versions of you like me. It's practical because your actions are anomolously a tad more in flux, and I need to isolate and utilize you personally for my foresight not to get all butterfly effect'd. However, a lot of versions of you like to get dumped by that Heather girl. What with expendable timelines, I was able to pressure her for her true feelings and she really likes your friend Ben Crosby. I cut my legs off in front of her for want of a better truth serum, and every time I do, everyday, it's the same answer. I tell you tomorrow every time we meet for the first time, but you rarely listen.

Stakes:
I had to abandon my previous lifetime because I couldn't stop 8-27-1993 (infamous coordinated bombing of Washington DC, Berlin, London, and Tokyo) simply by hiring thugs to scare airports, tipping security people off, or even buying the airlines with my vast wealth in stocks. You will also have to buy me things a few years from now for similar preventative measures, but generally I will be making a lot of phone calls calling in murders before they happen, and I need your help making me look supervised so I don't have to repeatedly ditch payphones when cops ask where my parents are. There's a timeline where I have the legs of a Kenyan, it's exhausting! I can't count the number of lives I save working with you. But back to 8-27, that can probably be stopped by preventing the conception of Adam "Amskray" Amzi so La Lega Di Macerie is never assembled. Shouldn't be hard once we find his dad. I know from experience that you can merely bump into someone on the street to make it astronomically improbable for the same child to happen. That being said, I already lost two sons and some awesome versions of you to erased timelines, and I'm not in the mood for more huge reboots, so try not to mess up.

Also, what?:
Once when we were scouting around the middle east, You told me "We'll see Timothy again when we're done with this world". I don't know what you thought you knew (since obviously it wasn't a timeline When our son existed, but and people don't usually lie with a chest full of shrapnel. So try to remember whatever you can from your "dreams." I have pain from more lifetimes than you can fit in a phone booth, and it doesn't help that at your current age, you look just like Hector, our "youngest". So let me make this as clear as possible to an 80's version of you: "one thing to remember is that I have feelings too. I surely would have walked away if I had known the real you." Stop humming Information Society and keep reading! I may disregard what I do per erased timelines enough to always dissect myself before bio exams and repeatedly murder Pauly Shore in different hilarious ways, but I don't 'experience' promises, I make them. And as long my lives with you are burned into my noggin, were family and you have to deal with that one way or another. Also, the version of you that actually marries Beth (a fully informed version, mind you) gets drowned in a lake for an insurance scam, and the single version overdoses on twinkies before I can get to you on time from my counter-terrorist errands. I'm not the kindest person you'll meet, but think hard about what you want here: A murderous gold digger or a murderous gold digger who can change her mind after the fact?