Entry body
Information travels. Matter does not.
The governing law of The Narrator is brutally simple: physical bodies do not cross time, but messages, signals, and recorded information can.
The central cosmology of this world rejects the fantasy that time travel begins with a vehicle. No ship, door, or body goes first. What moves first is information: signals, transmissions, images, instructions, fragments of human intention carried by devices that remain bound to their own histories.
That rule makes old tools newly dangerous. A fax machine, a printed page, a phone line, a database, or an article can become a threshold if there is something on the other side capable of sending and something on this side capable of receiving. The machine does not have to understand the story; it only has to hold the signal long enough for consciousness to do the rest.
This law is why the world feels intimate instead of cosmic. The future does not arrive as a starship in the sky. It arrives through systems that already touch the hand, the eye, the nervous system, and the paperwork of everyday life.