My senses are now telling me the same things they always have, but the route those signals travel is rather apparently different from what it was, and if I pay attention I can hear a kind of Dopplering as they go and come back. My brain hasn’t entirely adjusted to the shift in functional synchrony, so there’s an echo inside me, a susurrus of disconnected conversation: this moment, a few moments before, yesterday. I can feel myself acclimatising, weeding out what is irrelevant, discarding duplication. The brain, individually or in a network, is very good at taking on new feeds. As I do there’s a weird side benefit, a sort of apotheotic déjà vu: part of me really does already know the answers to my questions, because it lives in a place where I’ve already heard them. Sometimes, as I sit very still, information reaches me from the future before I uncover it in the present. I am literally getting ahead of myself.