Extracts from The Diaries of 'Professor' Cornelius Crane
May 22nd, 1968

WithoutFreddy Harris, the bully, around to terrorize me anymore, I had thought that mytime at school might be more pleasant. But although, recess and similar suchtimes outside the classroom are marginally bearable, the actual class is aliving nightmare.

I was once aresearch professor dealing with intricate scientific formulae that would havehad most heads spinning. I was also one of the country’s most renowned reverseengineers in both electronics and biological matter. I built, albeit with theindispensable assistance of my very good friend and partner Steve Ferran, themost sophisticated Bio-Scanner capable of mapping the human brain in detailnever before imagined or even considered possible. And together we then alsoconstructed the device that most would believe to be the unachievable fancy ofeither madmen or science fiction - the Consciousness Projector.

It was thatsame device that saved my life by projecting my fifty five-year-old consciousnessback through the very fabric of time and into the mind of my formersix-year-old self.

With all thatin mind, one cannot even begin to understand the extent of my frustration whenhaving to pretend that I am now a naïve juvenile still in the stages oflearning to read properly and do simple basic arithmetic.

Gettingthrough a school day has become near overwhelming. I don’t know how much more Ican take before I…snap. Yes, I sometimes think I’m going insane…on the verge ofa nervous breakdown. Sometimes in the middle of a lesson I feel a tremendousurge to stand up and yell and rip the hair from my scalp. How much more can Itake? How much longer will I be able to endure before I scream the truth to theworld?

No! I mustpersist! I have to persevere! It would be foolish and extremely dangerous notto. It is absolutely necessary for me to keep up this charade in order toprotect my secret. I must be sure that none ever suspect the true nature behindthe innocent youthful appearance of Cornelius Crane. For I know only too wellthat if the truth were ever to be revealed, there are scores of people outthere who would consider me a hazard far more lethal than a thousand weapons ofmass destruction.

Many wouldconsider me a fly in the ointment of life; a foreign body in the crystal-clearstream of time. I would be killed, or even worse - locked away forever in asecret facility to be studied like a lab rat; interrogated like some superterrorist criminal. My knowledge of the future is power – a power that too manywould want to possess.