It has been long past time to get time on our side. We all know too well that ancient specter who has been hitherto marching mercilessly forward with death her shadow, decay her footsteps. Well, now what can time do for us when we keep turning oranges into agents and mushrooms into clouds? In fact she does it now. Time is revolting. Yes, in the face of faceless futures we urge time to her task. Proceed! “I’ll give you what you want: to be unborn. In truth, I could not now go on. No, no longer.” She turns her back on future void and races to the womb. Reverse, undo, untie, make naught. Pulling all pasts with her into singularity.