' I'm not dead,' is his first thought upon waking. His next thought, after opening his eyes and seeing the mold-blackened ceiling of his childhood bedroom, is, 'What the bloody—' He touches his neck. It's whole, slender – like a child's throat – and just as smooth. His third, and final thought before the banging at his door starts, is: 'Did any of it happen at all? ' Time-Travel.