If you're new here and want to read this whole time machine saga (?) in order, you should start here, and read forward from that point on. Of course, you may have better things to do with your time, and i recognize that.
Hope you got some good boxing day deals, if you are into (shudder) shopping. I bought a couple of items from Browser's Den of Magic - the were having a 23% off sale on pretty much everything in the shop.
Other than that, relax and eat leftovers!
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Friday, December 25, 2009
Letter part 3
Continued of course from part 2...and a Merry Christmas to you all.
Of course, it takes weeks for us to arrive. Months, even. I told myself that I would not keep track of the days - a temporalnaut learns that time is virtually meaningless. But I have been a temporalnaut without a vehicle for so long that it seems counting days is all I do.
The journey at sea goes fairly well. We do hit a few spells of bad weather, but nothing catastrophic. I was worried for much of the trip, because Tristan da Cunha is often impossible to get to. You can get within sight of the island only to be turned back due to inclement weather. Ships have many times been dashed upon its craggy shores, splintered and lost. Though I am desperate to get there, I do not wish that fate upon myself, the captain or crew.
Speaking of the crew, I had worried a little about my time with them. Many stories that I had read (and watched so long ago) portray a ship's crew as insular and unwelcoming. Nothing could be further from the truth. The first thing that the deck hands did was to invite me to their nightly dice & card games. I did not fare so well financially, but was able to win them over by performing card sleights & tricks. After allowing the captain to "cut to the aces" from a completely shuffled pack*, I was cheered and accepted as one of their own. Night after night we shared rum & stories, and if you have not heard a boson or galley mate recount tales of sailing to Fiji and the like, then you have not a tale told well.
So it was that I was a bit saddened when our ship set down anchor in the harbour, though my weary old bones (and liver) certainly could not take much more of life at sea. The sun & brisk wind quickly served to raise my spirits, though. We journeyed to shore in a smaller boat, and then waded in to shore. It was there that I was greeted by various members of the families. I was surprised to find that Captain Glass was in fact a native Tristanian. He had given up life on the island for the calling of the seas, but still enjoyed returning home to see his sister Sarah and her family. In fact, Sarah and her husband William immediately offered to put me up & feed me for the duration of my visit, and for a very fair price. I can truly say that their hospitality, though basic & simple, was better than any I received in any fancy, ritzy hotel, and you can take that to the bank.
What saddened me, though, was this: I could not relate my true reasons for coming to this island. I had explained that I was a natural historian of sorts, and a writer, but that was as far as my explanations had gone. How could I expect the inhabitants of Tristan da Cunha to buy into my true story - that I was not a historian, but rather a time traveler, marooned in this era for decades, putting all my hopes on a whim & a hunch, attempting to rescue my 11 year old self from my 23 year old self?! Who on God's green Earth would even begin to believe such a ludicrous story?
And so I kept the true nature of my excursion to myself. I made excuses for my treks - perhaps I was interested in a bit of flora here, or fauna there - and I began to search the island for the machine. Though not large and measuring less than 100 square kilometres, the island is difficult in many places, especially at my age - I am not so young as I once was. I decided, for example, to forgo the climbing of Queen Mary's Peak. I began trekking around different areas of the island, hoping to find a sign that I had in fact visited the island at some earlier date.
A few weeks went by, and there was no sign that I had ever been here before.
I continued searching. Each day I would rise with the sun, and go out walking. I carried a lunch with me, and sometimes carried a rucksack with a tent & pegs. I spent nights out and about in the wilder parts of the island, but still found nothing.
After 3 months of this, I was despondent. I had walked as much as I could, and searched as much as I could. I had found absolutely nothing. No sign of anything. Though the Tristanians had treated me well, I felt that perhaps it was time to go home. I mentioned this to Sarah Glass, and she explained that her brother was in fact due to return from the mainland within the month, and that I would be able to return home with him.
From this point, I gave up my search and spent the next month working where ever I could - as a farmhand here, and a fishery worker there. Though not skilled in these areas, I was given small tasks to do that I actually found quite fulfilling. Captain Glass and crew eventually showed up in the harbour, and announced that we would be leaving within a few days.
And the, the Tristanians prepared a party for my departure! This was quite exciting for me. They knew that I would be sad to go, and Mrs. Glass told me that we would in fact have a large community meal to send me off. It was held at the church, and many of the families that I had come to know attended. Each family brought something to eat, as a sort of potluck. There was even beer, bless their souls! We had singing & even a little dancing. It was at this point that one of the townsfolk asked if I would perform any feats of prestidigitation. Of course I was willing to comply! I performed one or two of the scant few coin tricks that I know, utilizing some old English copper coins (which I handed to the children to keep afterwords). I then pulled out a pack of cards and proceeded to perform various tricks from my repertoire. I finished with an impromptu version of the cups & balls. The Tristanians were a polite and receptive audience.
The night, sadly, had drawn to a close. I knew that we were to leave in the morning, and set sail for Cape Town. I felt sad as I drew the covers up over the bed that night, and wondered what I would do for the rest of my life.
Morning came. I dressed and took my bags and began to walk to the shore. I was greeted by the Captain and a surprising number of the locals. The Island council was also there to send me off. I began to say my goodbyes, but the head of the council held up his hand, and spoke.
He asked me this: "I am going to ask you a question, and regardless of how you perceive the answer might be received, I want you to answer me truthfully. You have not lied to any of us, and in fact have been a model guest citizen of our home, but I know that you have been withholding something from us. So please, tell us all this: why did you come to our island?"
I began to explain that I was simply a historian in search of native flora and fauna, but then stopped. They deserved better than this. These people who had so little, who worked so hard every day of their lives had taken me in as one of their own. They had fed me, told me stories and treated me as family. It did not matter how ludicrous my story would sound. They deserved the truth.
And so I told them everything. Everything. After the first few minutes, we decided to move back to the church where it was warmer and more comfortable. For the next 3 hours, I told them about the time machine. I told them about my travels. I explained that something had gone wrong, and that I needed to find a way to rescue myself. Afterwords, I was not sure what they would say. There was silence for a few moments, and then one of the members of the council spoke.
"We know precisely who you are, and in fact, we know exactly why you are here. We have known this since before you even arrived. To be truthful, we have been expecting you. I cannot tell you how we know this, but I can tell you why. We were told that one day, a stranger would show up. We were given descriptions of various personality traits, and told to watch for such a person. And, in fact we were warned: if such a person fitting such a description ever lands on the island, and if such a person asks outright for the location of the temporal machine, then take that person & lock him in irons, and if you have the stomach for it, throw him to the bottom of the sea."
A throat was cleared, and the council member continued on.
"However, Mr. Herbert, you did no such thing. You came to our island and did not harass any of our community over any such points. You treated us well, and worked along side us. Through your actions during your stay here, you have shown yourself to be a just, fair person. It is to that end, then that we now show you this."
He then pulled a strange looking device out of his pocket. Clearly, with its glowing metallic surface, it was not of this era and quite out of place in this plain, wooden church. He paused, and then said:
"This was given to my father's father, and passed on to me. And now that you have proven yourself, I will do as I was instructed."
He twisted the device, pushed a sequence of buttons, and the object began to glow brighter.
There was a bang, and a flash, and there it stood.
The time machine, glowing and humming, unlocked from where ever it had been hidden.
Tears filled my eyes. I walked around the room and embraced each and every person there. I thanked them for keeping it safe all of these years.
All these years, all these decades, and all of the guilt that I'd carried around vanished. I now had a means to make things right.
I stepped on to the platform, fired up the chronometric stabilizers
and
in a flash,
was gone.
* though I could thank E.Marlo for this, I believe it more appropriate to tip my cap to A.S.Wimhurst for this feat of legerdemain - which I would be more than happy to perform for any readers.
Of course, it takes weeks for us to arrive. Months, even. I told myself that I would not keep track of the days - a temporalnaut learns that time is virtually meaningless. But I have been a temporalnaut without a vehicle for so long that it seems counting days is all I do.
The journey at sea goes fairly well. We do hit a few spells of bad weather, but nothing catastrophic. I was worried for much of the trip, because Tristan da Cunha is often impossible to get to. You can get within sight of the island only to be turned back due to inclement weather. Ships have many times been dashed upon its craggy shores, splintered and lost. Though I am desperate to get there, I do not wish that fate upon myself, the captain or crew.
Speaking of the crew, I had worried a little about my time with them. Many stories that I had read (and watched so long ago) portray a ship's crew as insular and unwelcoming. Nothing could be further from the truth. The first thing that the deck hands did was to invite me to their nightly dice & card games. I did not fare so well financially, but was able to win them over by performing card sleights & tricks. After allowing the captain to "cut to the aces" from a completely shuffled pack*, I was cheered and accepted as one of their own. Night after night we shared rum & stories, and if you have not heard a boson or galley mate recount tales of sailing to Fiji and the like, then you have not a tale told well.
So it was that I was a bit saddened when our ship set down anchor in the harbour, though my weary old bones (and liver) certainly could not take much more of life at sea. The sun & brisk wind quickly served to raise my spirits, though. We journeyed to shore in a smaller boat, and then waded in to shore. It was there that I was greeted by various members of the families. I was surprised to find that Captain Glass was in fact a native Tristanian. He had given up life on the island for the calling of the seas, but still enjoyed returning home to see his sister Sarah and her family. In fact, Sarah and her husband William immediately offered to put me up & feed me for the duration of my visit, and for a very fair price. I can truly say that their hospitality, though basic & simple, was better than any I received in any fancy, ritzy hotel, and you can take that to the bank.
What saddened me, though, was this: I could not relate my true reasons for coming to this island. I had explained that I was a natural historian of sorts, and a writer, but that was as far as my explanations had gone. How could I expect the inhabitants of Tristan da Cunha to buy into my true story - that I was not a historian, but rather a time traveler, marooned in this era for decades, putting all my hopes on a whim & a hunch, attempting to rescue my 11 year old self from my 23 year old self?! Who on God's green Earth would even begin to believe such a ludicrous story?
And so I kept the true nature of my excursion to myself. I made excuses for my treks - perhaps I was interested in a bit of flora here, or fauna there - and I began to search the island for the machine. Though not large and measuring less than 100 square kilometres, the island is difficult in many places, especially at my age - I am not so young as I once was. I decided, for example, to forgo the climbing of Queen Mary's Peak. I began trekking around different areas of the island, hoping to find a sign that I had in fact visited the island at some earlier date.
A few weeks went by, and there was no sign that I had ever been here before.
I continued searching. Each day I would rise with the sun, and go out walking. I carried a lunch with me, and sometimes carried a rucksack with a tent & pegs. I spent nights out and about in the wilder parts of the island, but still found nothing.
After 3 months of this, I was despondent. I had walked as much as I could, and searched as much as I could. I had found absolutely nothing. No sign of anything. Though the Tristanians had treated me well, I felt that perhaps it was time to go home. I mentioned this to Sarah Glass, and she explained that her brother was in fact due to return from the mainland within the month, and that I would be able to return home with him.
From this point, I gave up my search and spent the next month working where ever I could - as a farmhand here, and a fishery worker there. Though not skilled in these areas, I was given small tasks to do that I actually found quite fulfilling. Captain Glass and crew eventually showed up in the harbour, and announced that we would be leaving within a few days.
And the, the Tristanians prepared a party for my departure! This was quite exciting for me. They knew that I would be sad to go, and Mrs. Glass told me that we would in fact have a large community meal to send me off. It was held at the church, and many of the families that I had come to know attended. Each family brought something to eat, as a sort of potluck. There was even beer, bless their souls! We had singing & even a little dancing. It was at this point that one of the townsfolk asked if I would perform any feats of prestidigitation. Of course I was willing to comply! I performed one or two of the scant few coin tricks that I know, utilizing some old English copper coins (which I handed to the children to keep afterwords). I then pulled out a pack of cards and proceeded to perform various tricks from my repertoire. I finished with an impromptu version of the cups & balls. The Tristanians were a polite and receptive audience.
The night, sadly, had drawn to a close. I knew that we were to leave in the morning, and set sail for Cape Town. I felt sad as I drew the covers up over the bed that night, and wondered what I would do for the rest of my life.
Morning came. I dressed and took my bags and began to walk to the shore. I was greeted by the Captain and a surprising number of the locals. The Island council was also there to send me off. I began to say my goodbyes, but the head of the council held up his hand, and spoke.
He asked me this: "I am going to ask you a question, and regardless of how you perceive the answer might be received, I want you to answer me truthfully. You have not lied to any of us, and in fact have been a model guest citizen of our home, but I know that you have been withholding something from us. So please, tell us all this: why did you come to our island?"
I began to explain that I was simply a historian in search of native flora and fauna, but then stopped. They deserved better than this. These people who had so little, who worked so hard every day of their lives had taken me in as one of their own. They had fed me, told me stories and treated me as family. It did not matter how ludicrous my story would sound. They deserved the truth.
And so I told them everything. Everything. After the first few minutes, we decided to move back to the church where it was warmer and more comfortable. For the next 3 hours, I told them about the time machine. I told them about my travels. I explained that something had gone wrong, and that I needed to find a way to rescue myself. Afterwords, I was not sure what they would say. There was silence for a few moments, and then one of the members of the council spoke.
"We know precisely who you are, and in fact, we know exactly why you are here. We have known this since before you even arrived. To be truthful, we have been expecting you. I cannot tell you how we know this, but I can tell you why. We were told that one day, a stranger would show up. We were given descriptions of various personality traits, and told to watch for such a person. And, in fact we were warned: if such a person fitting such a description ever lands on the island, and if such a person asks outright for the location of the temporal machine, then take that person & lock him in irons, and if you have the stomach for it, throw him to the bottom of the sea."
A throat was cleared, and the council member continued on.
"However, Mr. Herbert, you did no such thing. You came to our island and did not harass any of our community over any such points. You treated us well, and worked along side us. Through your actions during your stay here, you have shown yourself to be a just, fair person. It is to that end, then that we now show you this."
He then pulled a strange looking device out of his pocket. Clearly, with its glowing metallic surface, it was not of this era and quite out of place in this plain, wooden church. He paused, and then said:
"This was given to my father's father, and passed on to me. And now that you have proven yourself, I will do as I was instructed."
He twisted the device, pushed a sequence of buttons, and the object began to glow brighter.
There was a bang, and a flash, and there it stood.
The time machine, glowing and humming, unlocked from where ever it had been hidden.
Tears filled my eyes. I walked around the room and embraced each and every person there. I thanked them for keeping it safe all of these years.
All these years, all these decades, and all of the guilt that I'd carried around vanished. I now had a means to make things right.
I stepped on to the platform, fired up the chronometric stabilizers
and
in a flash,
was gone.
* though I could thank E.Marlo for this, I believe it more appropriate to tip my cap to A.S.Wimhurst for this feat of legerdemain - which I would be more than happy to perform for any readers.
Happy Holidays
The editors would like to take the time to wish you a happy holiday season, and hope that you are doing well. Though it is clearly possible to manipulate time & space, it seems that there is never enough time to be with all of those people you wish to see. So if we do not see you over these few short days, all the best to you & yours. And stay tuned. A conclusion is in the works.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Letter Part 2
Continued from here, the 2nd letter found in the book a few short days ago.
Always have a plan. I am hoping that I do.
I have donated or sold nearly all of my personal possessions. My house has been donated to local charity. I am preparing to take a trip, and a very long one at that. The difficult part is that all of this is nothing more than a leap of faith. I am hoping that 23 has overlooked the obvious.
It is of course entirely possible. We have all done this. Any one of us has believed that he or she has accounted for all possible variables, only to be tripped up by the most obvious of circumstances. My hope is that 23 has been so obsessed with whatever is driving him that he will not in fact realize where the most obvious place in the world would be to hide a time machine as an emergency procedure.
Who would have thought to hide a time machine somewhere in the world? I can only hope that a version of myself somewhere in time will have realized that this could be a necessity. Always have a plan.
And now, you ask - where would the most obvious place in the world be to hide the contraption?
I can tell you that it would have to be somewhere off the beaten path. Somewhere away from the common traffic, the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Somewhere remote, yet blatantly obvious.
Somewhere that would be obvious.
Tristan da Cunha.
At a first glance, it should be partially obvious as to why this choice would be so...obvious. But there is indeed more to it than that.
It is often thought to be the most remote inhabited island in the world. Until fairly recently in history, the island had no indigenous population. It would have been virtually inaccessible to nearly every person in the world. In this century, however, I am fortunate. It is feasible, yet difficult to get there - but certainly not impossible. To that end, I have rid myself of nearly all my worldly goods and have taken steps to book passage.
I have traveled halfway around the globe to Cape Town. I have become acquainted with some of the locals, in particular with Constable Charles Harbottle. We share a love of fine conversation and even finer bourbon. Truly, I do not think that I could fault any man with a fondness for that particular spirit! The good constable has been instrumental in helping me to secure passage aboard a ship that will take me to the island of Tristan da Cunha. I am to travel aboard the Hermes, a supply ship commanded by one Captain Glass. I have paid him in gold for the journey. I actually requested that I only pay for the journey over, and he balked at this, saying, "How on God's green earth do you expect to take a one way trip to da Cunha? You surely do not expect to stay on such a God forsaken place?!". I explained that when I decided to come home, I would certainly hire him to take me back if need be. He appeared puzzled, but shrugged and went about his duties.
We set sail early tomorrow. I will write more regarding the journey on the ship and on my eventual arrival on this strange, remote island. I am excited yet nervous to see what happens.
Always have a plan. I am hoping that I do.
I have donated or sold nearly all of my personal possessions. My house has been donated to local charity. I am preparing to take a trip, and a very long one at that. The difficult part is that all of this is nothing more than a leap of faith. I am hoping that 23 has overlooked the obvious.
It is of course entirely possible. We have all done this. Any one of us has believed that he or she has accounted for all possible variables, only to be tripped up by the most obvious of circumstances. My hope is that 23 has been so obsessed with whatever is driving him that he will not in fact realize where the most obvious place in the world would be to hide a time machine as an emergency procedure.
Who would have thought to hide a time machine somewhere in the world? I can only hope that a version of myself somewhere in time will have realized that this could be a necessity. Always have a plan.
And now, you ask - where would the most obvious place in the world be to hide the contraption?
I can tell you that it would have to be somewhere off the beaten path. Somewhere away from the common traffic, the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Somewhere remote, yet blatantly obvious.
Somewhere that would be obvious.
Tristan da Cunha.
At a first glance, it should be partially obvious as to why this choice would be so...obvious. But there is indeed more to it than that.
It is often thought to be the most remote inhabited island in the world. Until fairly recently in history, the island had no indigenous population. It would have been virtually inaccessible to nearly every person in the world. In this century, however, I am fortunate. It is feasible, yet difficult to get there - but certainly not impossible. To that end, I have rid myself of nearly all my worldly goods and have taken steps to book passage.
I have traveled halfway around the globe to Cape Town. I have become acquainted with some of the locals, in particular with Constable Charles Harbottle. We share a love of fine conversation and even finer bourbon. Truly, I do not think that I could fault any man with a fondness for that particular spirit! The good constable has been instrumental in helping me to secure passage aboard a ship that will take me to the island of Tristan da Cunha. I am to travel aboard the Hermes, a supply ship commanded by one Captain Glass. I have paid him in gold for the journey. I actually requested that I only pay for the journey over, and he balked at this, saying, "How on God's green earth do you expect to take a one way trip to da Cunha? You surely do not expect to stay on such a God forsaken place?!". I explained that when I decided to come home, I would certainly hire him to take me back if need be. He appeared puzzled, but shrugged and went about his duties.
We set sail early tomorrow. I will write more regarding the journey on the ship and on my eventual arrival on this strange, remote island. I am excited yet nervous to see what happens.
Friday, December 11, 2009
23 - Manifesto
As taken from the Temporal Manifesto, penned by 23
The first thing that you need to know is that I am not crazy. Reports to the contrary are inconclusive at best. You need to take it from the source.
I imagine that I shall be perceived as the villain in this tale. It is, after all, a villain who would kidnap an 11 year old child (regardless of the fact that you actually can't kidnap yourself, at least legally speaking). It is a villain who would seek to reorder the universe and indeed time/space. But is it villainous to do something that you perceive to be wholly, morally correct? Is it not more criminal to go against what you believe to be right? That, to me, is a far worse thing.
Yes, there are steps that I have had to take that even I have found distasteful. And while I am in fact capable of literally going back and fixing my mistakes, you have to understand that this is a dead road to travel on. I have, in fact spent decades jumping back and forth throughout time, attempting to fix things. I am 23, but I have lived much longer than that.
Much longer.
Think about it. If you give a time machine to an old man, what’s he going to do? He’s going to get nostalgic and go back and visit those people and places he’s already seen.
If you give a time machine to a teenaged boy, he’s going to try to figure out how he can use it to impress a girl (or boy, 10% of the time).
But...if you give the machine to an idealistic, fresh out of university, ready to change the world 23 year old...well. That’s different. Because he is going to use it for the most hazardous, nebulous purpose possible.
He’s going to try to change the world. He’s going to try to fix things that have gone wrong. Try to prevent bad things from happening to good people. Initially, he’ll start small. Try to prevent, say, someone from getting beaten at a party back in 1988. Then maybe he’ll recall a murder that happened in, say, 1995. He’ll travel back and prevent that. From there, it only gets bigger. Preventing riots. Uprisings. Wars.
There’s a problem, of course. If time is in fact like a river (which it isn’t), there’s only so long you can divert and dam the flow. Eventually, like water, the events that occur throughout time will simply find another way to occur. So, you prevent a murder here, but then it leads to another one further down the line. You stop a small uprising here, but it morphs into a genocide later.
Good and evil exist. They are not as abstract as we like to think. They are also not as oppositional as we think. What one person considers good may be considered evil by another. The universe operates the same way. There’s a balance that must be maintained. The universe knows this.
Of course, these may just be the ramblings of a confused 23 year old who has been alive for centuries. Or they may be the words of a prophet. All I know is that in order to save us all, harsh things must be done. I cannot justify my actions to anyone - I don’t mean I won’t justify them. I truly mean that I cannot.
As I put my plans into action, I cannot help but wonder: will history judge me to be a hero, or a madman?
Time will only tell.
Or not.
The first thing that you need to know is that I am not crazy. Reports to the contrary are inconclusive at best. You need to take it from the source.
I imagine that I shall be perceived as the villain in this tale. It is, after all, a villain who would kidnap an 11 year old child (regardless of the fact that you actually can't kidnap yourself, at least legally speaking). It is a villain who would seek to reorder the universe and indeed time/space. But is it villainous to do something that you perceive to be wholly, morally correct? Is it not more criminal to go against what you believe to be right? That, to me, is a far worse thing.
Yes, there are steps that I have had to take that even I have found distasteful. And while I am in fact capable of literally going back and fixing my mistakes, you have to understand that this is a dead road to travel on. I have, in fact spent decades jumping back and forth throughout time, attempting to fix things. I am 23, but I have lived much longer than that.
Much longer.
Think about it. If you give a time machine to an old man, what’s he going to do? He’s going to get nostalgic and go back and visit those people and places he’s already seen.
If you give a time machine to a teenaged boy, he’s going to try to figure out how he can use it to impress a girl (or boy, 10% of the time).
But...if you give the machine to an idealistic, fresh out of university, ready to change the world 23 year old...well. That’s different. Because he is going to use it for the most hazardous, nebulous purpose possible.
He’s going to try to change the world. He’s going to try to fix things that have gone wrong. Try to prevent bad things from happening to good people. Initially, he’ll start small. Try to prevent, say, someone from getting beaten at a party back in 1988. Then maybe he’ll recall a murder that happened in, say, 1995. He’ll travel back and prevent that. From there, it only gets bigger. Preventing riots. Uprisings. Wars.
There’s a problem, of course. If time is in fact like a river (which it isn’t), there’s only so long you can divert and dam the flow. Eventually, like water, the events that occur throughout time will simply find another way to occur. So, you prevent a murder here, but then it leads to another one further down the line. You stop a small uprising here, but it morphs into a genocide later.
Good and evil exist. They are not as abstract as we like to think. They are also not as oppositional as we think. What one person considers good may be considered evil by another. The universe operates the same way. There’s a balance that must be maintained. The universe knows this.
Of course, these may just be the ramblings of a confused 23 year old who has been alive for centuries. Or they may be the words of a prophet. All I know is that in order to save us all, harsh things must be done. I cannot justify my actions to anyone - I don’t mean I won’t justify them. I truly mean that I cannot.
As I put my plans into action, I cannot help but wonder: will history judge me to be a hero, or a madman?
Time will only tell.
Or not.
Thursday, December 03, 2009
Eleven.
The story begins as told by my 11 year old self, having just been kidnapped by my insane 23 year old self, who in fact had just shot my 64 year old self in the year 1870.
I don’t understand what is happening. None of this makes sense.
I was back in 1870 hanging out with the Granpa version of me. We were there collecting copper and doing all kinds of neat junk like going to plays riding horses and pretending to be from 1870. It was pretty cool
I have been able to see all sorts of good stuff this year. I am not allowed to have a time machine - the grown up me who first showed up in our backyard one night explained that i could not get my temporal license until i turned 20. But the good news is that grown up me said that i could go on supervised journeys with him and other older versions of myself. Kind of like a class trip but only with 1 kid. Of course I didn’t even need a permission form from my parents because really, of course I was going with an adult and that adult was me. So that is safe.
Or that’s what I thought before 23 showed up.
I don’t know why it happened, but 23 attacked and badly hurt Granpa me. The last I saw him, he was lying on the road from where 23 had shot him. Then 23 took me on Granpa me’s time machine, and we vanished, and now we’re here. He told me that he had not shot Granpa to kill him, and that he’d probably be fine, but he HAD trapped him in the past by taking his time machine away.
I was crying. A lot. We had appeared in a weird place and I was scared. 23 kept telling me not to cry, and that he was going to fix everything proper. He kept saying that he was going to make things right.
We showed up in a place that looked like an atom bomb had gone off. There were no buildings, no trees, no plants even. Nothing. The sky was gone. After a while I asked 23 where we were, and he just said we were NoWhere. I asked what time we had appeared at, and he said NoWhere. I stopped asking him because he looked confused whenever I asked him.
He hasn’t hurt me. He gave me some weird food and told me to keep quiet. 23 is working on the time machine. I think he is making some kind of changes to it but I can’t tell what. I don’t really know how it works. I don’t even think he’s paying attention to me, but there is no point in trying to sneak off. In all directions around, I just see the same grey dirt.
There is no where to go.
Because we are NoWhere.
I don’t understand what is happening. None of this makes sense.
I was back in 1870 hanging out with the Granpa version of me. We were there collecting copper and doing all kinds of neat junk like going to plays riding horses and pretending to be from 1870. It was pretty cool
I have been able to see all sorts of good stuff this year. I am not allowed to have a time machine - the grown up me who first showed up in our backyard one night explained that i could not get my temporal license until i turned 20. But the good news is that grown up me said that i could go on supervised journeys with him and other older versions of myself. Kind of like a class trip but only with 1 kid. Of course I didn’t even need a permission form from my parents because really, of course I was going with an adult and that adult was me. So that is safe.
Or that’s what I thought before 23 showed up.
I don’t know why it happened, but 23 attacked and badly hurt Granpa me. The last I saw him, he was lying on the road from where 23 had shot him. Then 23 took me on Granpa me’s time machine, and we vanished, and now we’re here. He told me that he had not shot Granpa to kill him, and that he’d probably be fine, but he HAD trapped him in the past by taking his time machine away.
I was crying. A lot. We had appeared in a weird place and I was scared. 23 kept telling me not to cry, and that he was going to fix everything proper. He kept saying that he was going to make things right.
We showed up in a place that looked like an atom bomb had gone off. There were no buildings, no trees, no plants even. Nothing. The sky was gone. After a while I asked 23 where we were, and he just said we were NoWhere. I asked what time we had appeared at, and he said NoWhere. I stopped asking him because he looked confused whenever I asked him.
He hasn’t hurt me. He gave me some weird food and told me to keep quiet. 23 is working on the time machine. I think he is making some kind of changes to it but I can’t tell what. I don’t really know how it works. I don’t even think he’s paying attention to me, but there is no point in trying to sneak off. In all directions around, I just see the same grey dirt.
There is no where to go.
Because we are NoWhere.
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
The beginning of the end of the beginning.
As i tell you of the way things ended, with a finality that cannot be ignored, i am going to break one of the cardinal rules of storytelling.
I am going to tell you how it ends first. Then i will tell you what happened, the how of it all, and possibly the why.
The first thing is that it ends tragically. There is not a happy ending to be found here. For that, i am sorry. The second thing of importance is that now that it is over, i have ensured that the time machine will no longer function. I have changed the laws of the universe to prevent such a thing from ever occurring again.
But before we get to that point, i need to reassure you that you are not reading this in vain. You will read of acts of bravery. You will read of self-sacrifice. You will see that even in a grand act of betrayal, a man is still a man.
But enough. Let us get on with it all.
I am going to tell you how it ends first. Then i will tell you what happened, the how of it all, and possibly the why.
The first thing is that it ends tragically. There is not a happy ending to be found here. For that, i am sorry. The second thing of importance is that now that it is over, i have ensured that the time machine will no longer function. I have changed the laws of the universe to prevent such a thing from ever occurring again.
But before we get to that point, i need to reassure you that you are not reading this in vain. You will read of acts of bravery. You will read of self-sacrifice. You will see that even in a grand act of betrayal, a man is still a man.
But enough. Let us get on with it all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
