Ok... So it's one year later. We've been transported somehow one year into the future. Now, I'm no scientist, but I have seen some sci-fi shows and movies and if we meet ourselves, it ain't gonna be pretty... but then, everyone thinks I'm dead, so maybe there IS no "future me". I have no idea how the president thinks I'm gonna do to stop a war... hell, my singing may even make things worse. But if this is my new gig, I guess I'm gonna hafta toe the line. Hell, maybe this won't be so bad, living on the government's dime. At least I don't hafta worry about thugs comin' around wanting their money!