A Leap into the Unknown

Thought for the day: Time is but a stream I go a-fishing in. I drink at it, but while I drink, I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is. Its thin current slips away, but eternity remains. [Henry David Thoreau]

In honor of Einstein's birthday, participants in today's bloghop have a free round-trip ticket through a wormhole. To anyplace. Any time. All we had to do is figure out where (and when) we wanted to go. Into the past to observe, or perhaps alter history... somewhere into the future... or maybe somewhere... in between? Oh so many possibilities to consider.

What I came up with is probably gonna be a little different from most. And as for the 100 words, more or less, I picked more. (Sorry.)  First, a little background filler: this story takes place on the Georgia Tech campus, shortly before the monthly amateur radio testing session. Volunteer Examiners, such as my hubby Smarticus and I, administer and grade these tests so applicants can (hopefully) earn their FCC-issued amateur radio licenses. When the story opens, Smarticus and I have arrived early for the test session, and so far, are the only ones there. OK, get the picture? Here goes:

[Wikipedia]

"You can go on in if you'd like," Smarticus said. "I'm gonna stay out here until I finish this smoke."

Yeah, right. The way I figured, it'd be more like two or three smokes, so I gave him a peck on the cheek and a pat on the butt, and headed for the classroom by myself. As usual, the room felt like an airless sauna, so as soon as I got there, I cranked the super-duper-sized turbo-prop floor fan all the way up to what we liked to call the wind tunnel setting.

The fan roared to life, and created an instant gale force blast that whipped the cover up and away from a never-before-seen whatchamacallit (Please forgive the technical jargon.) sitting in the corner of the room. I, never one to stick my nose where it doesn't belong, immediately walked over to the behemoth to investigate.

The industrial gray contraption... rather generic-looking, if you asked me...  boasted knobs, buttons, and dials galore, and a metal plate that said, BEWARE: Wormhole Generator.  I, never one to fiddle with unknown knobs and dials, immediately  fingered the Cosmic Positioning System doohicky with one hand, while leafing through the latitude and longitude guidebook lying beside it with the other.

I took a quick peek at my watch. Oh good, I had at least five minutes. Plenty of time to change the world. Phooey on the Butterfly Theory. Nerts to worrying about a paradox. I was gonna go kill Hitler with my — my — never mind; I'd worry about that when I got there.

I punched my destination date, latitude and longitude into the CPS keyboard, took a deep breath, and then used both hands to pull the giant knife switch down. The air shimmered like a heat mirage, and then settled into place, forming what looked like the gaping undulating mouth of a dark tunnel. I, never one to venture half-cocked into any kind of adventure, immediately took a flying leap into it.

I'm so dizzy, my head is spinning...

Before my stomach had the opportunity to purge its contents, the spinning slowed, and came to a gradual stop. On wobbly legs, I emerged into a vaguely familiar room.

I looked around, noting the familiar arrangement of desks and computers, and the roar of the turbo-prop fan. A picture of Governor Max Cleland on the wall, next to another of President Hillary Clinton. And a calendar, telling me the year was 2013, and the day, the same as when I'd stepped into the tunnel. The generator that delivered me to this parallel universe was no longer there, but a different machine — a cute one —  stood in its place. It looked like a big red apple, detailed with an adorable smiley-faced worm emerging from a hole, and fanciful lettering that identified it as Einstein's Bridge to Everywhere. On the wall beside it hung a portrait... a portrait of me, identified as Susan Flett...  oh my God!... the bridge's inventor!? Oh, crap. Well, if I invented this thing, maybe I could figure out to get back home. To the right home, the place where I belonged...

"Anybody here to take the test yet?" Smarticus asked, as he entered the room.

I stared at him. Clearly, it was him. Same voice, same grin, same scent of cigarette smoke and sunshine emanating from him. But aside from an obvious upgrade in clothing, there was something else different about him, too. Something — intriguing. Time seemed to stand still as I continued to gawk.

"Um, no," I said, unsure of who we were to each other in this new reality. For all I knew, we could be nothing more than passing acquaintances.

"Tell you what, hot rod," he said, stroking my cheek, and making my toes tingle in the process. "After we get done here, let's stop at The Italian Stallion on the way home. I'll get you some chianti and something to eat that has all the garlic and mushrooms your little heart desires. With the grandkids all coming in tomorrow, you deserve some relaxation and a special treat today. Maybe a foot rub when we get home?"

I, never one to act without considering the consequences of my decisions, immediately smiled.  "Sounds good to me, babe. There's no place like home."

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[source]

Isn't the idea of parallel universes intriguing?

Anyhow, thanks so much to the brains behind this bloghop, our delightful hosts Luanne, Laura, and Stephen. It's been fun. If you'd like to check out the other entries for this bloghop, just click on the badge in the sidebar, and it'll whisk you away...

Speaking of whisking away, if you aren't participating in this bloghop already, where would you want to go through that wormhole?

In honor of Einstein's birthday, I'm thinking instead of a birthday cake, we should all have ... pi. After all, tomorrow is 3-14, ya know. Make mine lemon meringue.

Woo-HOO! LATE BREAKING NEWS:  Carol Kilgore has completed her random drawing for the winner of a signed copy of her book In Name Only, and the lucky winner is (Insert drum roll here.) Keith, AKA the Optimistic Existentialist. Congratulations, Keith!

                                 Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.


Perhaps home is not a place, but an irrevocable condition.  [James Baldwin]

Friends For All Time

Thought for the day:  Your time is your life. That is why the greatest gift you can give someone is your time.  [Rich Warren]

Here we are. It's that time... time for the much-anticipated Back from the Future bloghop, the brainchild of those three blogging beauties Suze, Nicki, and Mary, who were obviously determined to make us think. Thanks, ladies. It was quite a challenge, but it was also fun.

Okay, so here's the set-up:

You're up before dawn on a Saturday when the doorbell rings. You haven't brewed your coffee so you wonder if you imagined the sound. Plonking the half-filled carafe in the sink, you go to the front door and cautiously swing it open. No one there. As you cast your eyes to the ground, you see a parcel addressed to you... from you.

You scoop it up and haul it inside, sensing something legitimate despite the extreme oddness of the situation. Carefully, you pry it open. Inside is a shoebox — sent from ten years in the future — and it's filled with items you have sent yourself.

What's in it?

(See. I told ya it was thought-provoking.) And here's where my thoughts led ...

I slowly lift the lid, and tentatively touch the rose lying at the top of the box to see if it's real. When I stroke the velvety petal, it releases a heady sweet scent.

My hand shakes as I pick up the flower, and uncover a fading photo of Gale and me from my wedding day. We're slightly tipsy, and smiling from ear to ear. She's holding a bouquet of yellow roses —  symbolic of friendship, according to the florist. The perfect flowers for my best friend, and maid of honor. I smile back at the picture and set it aside.

Then I pull a round tuit from the box, and smile again. So silly. It looks just like the one I gave Gale when we were college roommates. We exchanged them as a reminder to always make time for each other.

Tears fill my eyes as I stare at the last item in the box. I don't want to open it. I don't want to, but I must. My hand is trembling, but I reach for the memorial card...

... and there it is, her name, printed in unforgiving black script lettering. Date of death: March 1, 2023. Tucked inside the card is a note obviously written by my hand: You're running out of time.  Her mind is slipping. 

I close my eyes, and let the tears fall. Then I blow my nose and reach for the telephone.

"Hey, stranger," I say when she answers. "It's been way too long. How about if I drive down and pick you up for lunch?"



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Much may be done in those little shreds and patches of time which every day produces, and which most men throw away.  [Charles Caleb Colton]

Don't wait. The time will never be just right.  [Napolean Hill]

The bad news is time flies. The good new is you're the pilot.  [Michael Altshuler]

                                     So, what might be in YOUR box?

                       Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

A Niche in Time

Thought for the day:  Time travel used to be thought of as just science fiction, but Einstein's general theory of relativity allows for the possibility that we could warp space-time so much that you could go off in a rocket and return before you set out.  [Stephen Hawking]

If you could step into a time machine and zip through time and space to anywhere you wanted to go, would you venture fearlessly  into the future... or would you blast into the past? Is there a moment in history you'd like to experience, an historical figure you'd like to meet... or would you rather have the unique opportunity of talking face-to-face with your great great great great grandchild?

I don't suppose I'm as fearless as I used to be, because I'm not too psyched at the idea of zipping into the unknown future. Lord knows, time is already zooming in that direction way too fast, so why rush it? I'll get there when I get there. And I don't want some buttinsky fortune teller telling me what to expect, either. That'd be like peeking at a book's last page before reading its first. Thanks, but no thanks. I'd rather enjoy life's mystery as it unfolds.

On the other hand, going back... for a brief, a VERY brief visit...  might not be so bad. Just think: you could relive some of the greatest moments in history. Find your special niche. Where would you want to go?   Maybe you could meet your own grandparents and parents when they were children. Meet some of your heroes. Observe some of the brightest minds and greatest humanitarians of all time in action. That would be pretty darned exciting, don't you think?

 So, come on. Climb in. Where's it gonna be? Where would you like to go? Um, would you mind driving? I have a tendency to get lost.










Just kidding. Sorry.

Alas, I can't actually transport you through time, but this video comes pretty darned close. Better yet? This is a come-as-you-are trip. Whatever you have on right now is just dandy, and you don't have to worry about the silly flux capacitor going belly up and stranding you somewhere, either. So, ready? Grab your favorite beverage, and get good and comfy, because this virtual time machine is ready to take off, baby. Destination: the good old days. How well I remember them ... do you?

                                   Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.