“Rearing food for a good start. Sera Raffy Baby-Gran is the rearing food consisting of a carefully manufactured granules (sic) for young carnivorous reptiles such as small terrapins”
He unreads it. Eyes saccading right to left. Word forgetting. Synapses disconnecting. Ideas leaving his brain-mind. He puts the container back on the shelf and begins to move backwards down the aisle of the pet food store. Slow. Not looking where he is going, yet confident, without being so, that there is no-one behind him. Not seeing. A strange sense of knowing.
His arm reaches out towards the trolley and a blanket rises towards it. Hand grips and arm withdraws clutching the object.
Are you bored? Is this like watching reversed videos on YouTube? Better this than making food from the mouth *the author thinks* and better by far than a description of the trick performed at the other end of the alimentary canal.
He brings the blanket close to his face and huffs down his nose towards it. Expelling the lavender-fresh scent. Reject that thing. Put it back on the shelf. He does. Who’d want a dog to be lying on something as fragrant as that!
Time speeds. Fast-backwards. Trotting down the aisles in that confident, never looking manner; popping things back on the shelves. No money to be got from these good deeds. The real wage-earners will come along sooner, remove those boxes from the shelves, seal them up and load them into the warehouse out back; waiting for the big trucks to take them away.
Lorries swooshing backwards down the highways as terrifying speeds considering that no-one’s looking where they’re going, aside from a quick glance in the mirror every now and again. No fear to be had when collisions reverse.
People lie on the roads for a while and then, without warning, hurl themselves from the asphalt and thread themselves neatly through a convenient hole in the windshield of some nearby car. The hole seals itself magically. Mangled cars spring apart and become whole, like mad Transformers twisting in the air.
Darkness rises and falls. The sun performs its usual trick. Only life notices the difference. Only minds care. And even then, they don’t. Man, along with all the other critters, is a habit formed from the usual thing happening over and over. Flip the switch. Reverse the direction. It doesn’t matter.
When time reverses, so does the mind. It’s all embedded. No-one notices. Except maybe a watcher from afar. Snorting down whatever passes for a nose it taps or clicks or pushes a button or switch or icon and … and what? Gravity reverses? We fly off into space along with our houses, cars and Amazon Echo, still boxed because it’s new and fangled and …
All of the things we take as given. Everything we rely on. It all ends. Or begins. And not necessarily in that order. Give it all up. Move to the moon and take everything with you. Try explaining freedom to rocks.