Part 6: Lost in Time

I don't know exactly when I realized I was trapped. Maybe it was the day I tried to jump back to my own time, only to find myself right back where I started, in the neon-soaked streets of the 80s. Or maybe it was the moment I looked in the mirror and realized I hadn't aged a day, despite the months I had spent in the past. The Chronosynth had malfunctioned, and I was now a prisoner of time, doomed to wander the decade in an endless loop. At first, I was gripped by panic, by the fear of being trapped forever in a world that wasn't my own. But as the days stretched into weeks, I began to find a strange sort of comfort in my new reality. The 80s had become my home, the music my constant companion. And so, I kept playing, kept pushing the boundaries of what was possible with sound, even as the world around me remained frozen in time.