Even though he had every gift he possibly wanted, Sterling Castro found himself to be a cursed man. He had the ability to travel backward and forward in time, as well as visit parallel realities. It was nothing he had to exert any real effort to achieve, it was just something he could do, traverse the fourth dimension, as naturally as you cross a street.
That being said, there were rules and restrictions that he had to follow, and even though by nature these things meant nothing to him (it was very rare for a person to have such ready access to 4D; usually special training equipment and training were required, and barring that, the right connections), Sterling found himself bound by them. He found himself frequently depressed, suicidal. It wasn't the ability that was denied him, but rather the full potential of it. Yes, he could be happy taking small trips, stealing away for moments at a time. That was not the issue. He saw that there was so much he could do if he was simply allowed to, things most people could not even begin to imagine. Even explaining in some tiny example would be useless. People had plenty of examples. They had more reasons to retain their apathy toward others.
He considered the ironies, sometimes. Suppose someone might one day vist him, except if he were dead, they couldn't, could they? They might choose an earlier moment, or simply choose an alternate Sterling Castro, but he himself would never know, would he? Suppose, if he held out, he might find his way made easier, whether through his own efforts, or if the current regime was ever finally overturned, not just questioned or sidetracked or rivaled, but really, completely rebuked, not by some worse entity, but for the better.
For the better...It could happen. That was the gift of tomorrow, and the curse. It was the future, which Sterling knew, but could not embrace. The past was one long example of the oppression he faced every day. What could he possibly do? Who really cared? More and more, he found himself spending his time with these thoughts. Wasting it?