I am neither a scientist, nor an engineer by trade, so if my description here or elsewhere is remiss in any empirical manner from reality the fault is mine alone. I can only describe what my senses tell me, or what those more learned than I have attempted to clarify for me.
How then do I speak of such things even in my limited manner? I speak from experience. I do not yet know how or why I have been given the ability, but I can and have made the transition between worlds on several occasions. What follows is my attempt to record for posterity what I have seen and done so far. Not because I am in any way special for my abilities, but so that someday when the bridge or bridges between worlds become easier to cross, my simple musings might help those in an undertaking of far more significance than my own wanderings.
In any event, the places and events described herein are as I remember them. If my memory is faulty, or fades with time, I offer, now, my humble apologies.
My story begins long ago. As I saw the last of the Great War veterans of this Earth pass on, their names trickling into obscurity, I cannot help but regret that although I was there my name shall not be counted among them.
I am an amnesiac. I do not know who my parents were, or remember anything but bits of my childhood, adolescence, or early adulthood. My limited recollection even after so many years is frustrating, but I have lived so much since my awakening that I cannot complain overmuch.
My military record lists my name as John Smith, a name assigned as an alternative when too many John Doe’s were present at the morgue or in my case, luckily, the hospital. It has been my name, thanks to my Canadian nurse, since June 18th, 1918 when I awoke with no prior memories in a U.S. Military Base Hospital on the outskirts of Paris, France with a bandage wrapped around my head. I learned neither of the battle of Beleau Wood, nor that I had been found wandering that battlefield wounded and naked, for days after.
I am of average height and build, if a little on the athletic side. My brown hair becomes quite unruly if left long, and in keeping with longstanding military traditions I keep it shorn short, and my face clean shaven when practical. For those concerned with such things, my eyes are either blue or gray, depending on the light, or some say, my mood.