Copyright 2016 Richards Hall and e.
Published by Richards Hall and e. at Shakespir
The Negative of E (squared)
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No one could run and hide like Jules Iffen. Not run and hide as a continuation, mind you, run and/or hide. Then again, why not as a continuation? Indeed, why not? It wasn’t like someone could refute it. Or him. Not if you couldn’t catch or find him.
Yes, the subject once again is time travel. It’s always the subject once again. It just won’t quit. If people didn’t deny their obsession with it, we wouldn’t be here.
I’m not complaining. It works for me.
Once Jules isolated the three necessary ingredients, he went with it. Error one would have been to go against it. Going with it wasn’t sexy, of course, which was the best thing going for it from Jule’s perspective.
|Rude, rude, rude zone. Hope it doesn’t spring a leak.|*
(Actually, that’s a false alarm. Or a working one. Due to time and content we move forward within progress.)
and they’re both going to conveniently die and the flying monkey is going to slip in place to forestall losing the next election by using armed resistance and not letting it happen.
Do you know what the opposite of altruism is? Hatred. The goofy thing is, if you do altruism right, you don’t have to be altruistic. Educating two children isn’t much more expensive than educating only the one that’s yours, although I don’t know why you would be altruistic on that thing’s behalf. Teach a Mexican English and you don’t have to force Spanish on your kids, as we bend over backwards abandoning our language to invaders, accommodating them. Cumbaya, all cozy and warm. It may be time to get a little imperialistic and annex Mexico before they annex us. Make English their language, after making it ours again.
And elect a flying monkey President and if you get teed off you’re going to get peed on.
We now return to warm and fuzzy static joy. Trust me, one can’t be all negative. Not possible. Nor positive. As should be self-evident.
Of all the crazy things that happened and were happening to Peter Strand, the craziest was probably not Danny Bronbrit coming to him for help finding Jules Iffen. For the uninitiated, Pete’s ongoing job, on the clock legitimate employment, with coordinated salary and benefits on a regular basis, with a bit of mandatory overtime now and then, was to find Danny, all day, every day. As I said, some mandatory overtime now and then. And then again, and then some more, sometimes.
Here’s a thoughtful aside, when the end of times comes, will that leave us with one time? And a bunch of ends? Like left over carrot greens? And no more multiplication tables? If that sounds puzzling, have I mentioned crazy? Pete, so it seemed, had become a magnet of crazy. By now he was un-phase-able.
Which is again, then, as this is futuristic fiction. Somehow, then still doesn’t seem to work somehow. Or somehow not.
There are worse curses happening and waiting to happen.
Curses will, of course, of curse, get you thinking about witches and wishes. Vouchers. The last voucher. The one you need to request more vouchers. “You understand what I’m saying?” asked Danny.
“No,” said Pete. Considering Danny’s background with math and science, and Pete’s not background with them, they practically spoke different languages.
“Do you understand extremes?”
“Not if you’re going to put it that way,” said Pete.
It’s not you, this doesn’t make a lot of sense, yet, not that I’m saying it will.
That’s the point.
That’s what happens.
That’s what’s happening.
“Jules Iffen is an extreme,” Danny explained. “Got me?”
“Okay,” said Pete, “I get that, and you. Two things.”
Danny paused to think. “Not necessarily.”
“Try and think slower,” said Danny, trying to be soothing.
Pete started thinking all the faster. Could he get in trouble for speaking with Danny? They weren’t being out in the open about it.
“I have a theory about you, my friend,” said Danny.
That slowed Pete’s thinking. Maybe jumbled it. Then stopped it. “Thank you?” he said, questioningly.
“Jules Iffen is either the fastest or slowest man alive.”
That did not compute. “What does that have to do with any theory of me?” asked Pete.
Is the game afoot? A foot? It’s helpful when running a race, almost indispensable, leaving you, if in need of a win, perhaps needing to cheat to win if you’re simply always too slow afoot. For the record, some people are infused to only think of winning, they’re called turkeys, others accept they should sometimes win, carrying the attitude in advance that it might not be their day today, while others simply don’t expect to win and play for the fun or joy it. Play, race, war, all a little similar. Maybe just a little. I’m leaving it open ended, because, well, because it’s open ended. A better sort of end come to think of it.
So is it cheating to just seek someone slower to race? Is it all about the race? The race to where? Surely not the finish line.
Here’s the thing, the finish line is already coming for you. It’s just a thing, thought I’d mention it so you can’t say I didn’t, even if you can still say I didn’t.
See how hard it is?
Jules believed one should absolutely be absolute sometimes. He was absolute about freedom, usually. Are you more likely to tread on me if I don’t tread on you, or if I do? Is your idea of freedom being able to tread on who you want to tread on? Who’s to say? It’s a question of definition, not behavior, right?
Yes, I do think it is. Here’s a better idea, let’s go watch the big game. GO RED! GO BLUE! GO MOON!
Yes, we’re talking about time travel, and it’s hard to tread on something on the move, in order to slow or stop that something from traveling. Woe the traveler who doesn’t see that game played against them when they’re playing something else. Then again, the faster you move the easier to collide. It is. That can be bothersome.
It can all be bothersome.
I am nothing but.
So what happens when your movement isn’t as quick as it needs to be, or just not as quick as you want it to be, even if you’re not all that racy, and you sort of don’t want to cheat, at least not yet? Assuming you’re not the tread-er-er, or maybe even if you are. You find a second move. At least that’s one theory, and maybe a good one depending on how well and how long the first move worked. Movement.
Oops. What if you’re already on your second movement, or millionth, yes you, and it wasn’t as good as the first, because the first move was just so damned good? If your mind is elsewhere it better be on symphonies. Do you try a third move? Millionth and one? Do you try another move while you think of an alternative? To buy time?
As I said,
And I am telling you, children, it is time to become adults.
“I need a confidant,” Danny explained.
Pete furtively looked left and right, and leaned in. “Buddy, I half think I’m your enemy.”
“Buddy,” Danny said back, fully upright, “I half think you’re not.”
That was nothing but twisting. Do two half thoughts make one whole thought? There you go! Yes!!! Bent and broken? Perhaps. Do two half rights make a right?
“What are your thoughts on time travel?” asked Danny.
Pete did a quick search and found none. Is that rude? “Non-existent?”
“Despite my limited information, I can concur with that,” said Danny.
Was that a sign of head way, Pete wondered. Probably not. “What are your thoughts on it?”
“I am so glad you asked,” said Danny. Finally, someone asked. “It’s the cause and effect conundrum.”
“It’s not about making it happen. It will happen when there is cause for it to happen.” Pete seemed to take that well, so Danny continued. “It’s like that child in church wondering about GOD and threatening not to believe if he doesn’t get a damned good sign.”
“What child?” asked Pete.
“That’s your take-away?” asked Danny.
“No,” Pete lied. “Are you putting time travel on a pedestal with GOD?”
“Do you put GOD on a pedestal?” asked Danny.
“No,” said Pete. “I don’t much think about GOD. GOD goes without saying.”
Oh no no no. GOD must be explained by his higher-ups. The one’s who get what GOD’s up to and keep GOD in check. My theory? We’re here to protect and save GOD, not vice versa. Or an EARTH that thinks it’s GOD, sheesh. A GOD? A sub-GOD? Pre-GOD? Save and protect if only from asteroids, but I would expect worse, even if just random circumstance.
Not possible? So what’s the reason we can’t understand it all . . .?
We’re all sort of stupid. Stephen Hawking looks like stupidity squared – is that rude, squared? Oops, the zone sprung a leak. Gonna need some more lead.
Shaking the tree.
It’s a flaw, an obstacle to overcome. And giving up thinking and behavior to machines and robots certainly accommodates a certain type of invader. Any invader. Even another country. Although moronic gangs of criminal politicians unlikely have the intelli-juice to think up that sort of invasion.
I’d expect worse. It’s been a long time coming.
Alternatives. Had someone mentioned ingredients? There are a lot of ways to go with this, and nothing goes more ways better than a ball. An imperfect ball, if you’re looking for more ways to go, and less predictable ways to go.
Yes, no, the issue isn’t just time travel, it’s the finish line, and avoiding being tread upon, unless you’re a tread-er of course, and let’s not overlook a collision with the finish line. If the finish line must be met, and maybe it must, let’s vote to do it without collision, doing it on one’s own terms. If a good old fashioned collision happens to be your ideal terms, just go away already.
GO AWAY. Yes, I am stuffing the ballot box without collide-rs. Might even shove in some collision insurance. Absolutely.
It probably goes without saying you can stop reading at any time. Maybe you already have. Be warned, if you have, you’re going to get talked about behind your back, and you might never know.
M’WAH ha ha ha haaaa . . . !
Did I spell that right? It should keep going either way. Might it even bypass the finish line? If so, I call that a win, even if not a right.
“If my calculations are correct,” said Danny, “it’s happening.”
Pete held his breath and guessed. “Time travel?”
“Time travel. I think the ingredients are out there.”
“Uh,” said Pete, and exhaled, not so much trying to put two and two together, or even one and one, just instead trying not to lose himself trying to comprehend what Danny was talking about even though clearly labeled as time travel. “Really?”
“It’s a lot less crazy than you think,” said Danny.
“How can you possibly know how crazy I think it is? What if I don’t?”
“Could I even hope?”
Pete took a deep breath.
I don’t understand my sudden obsession with breathing.
He did think it was crazy, but crazy with an off switch. “Well, you mention calculations and ingredients. Is that what you’re going on? It sounds sort of like faith, although I don’t know that I would think that.”
“Good point,” said Danny. “Do I have proof?”
“Yes,” said Pete.
“Wait a minute, who’s taking what side here?”
It seems entropy is all about problems, with every one the biggest. Seriously. If you don’t think your personal, fairly undeserved confrontation with armageddon isn’t a biggest problem, well, la di da, neither do I. My own that is. So sad about yours.
Snarkily we roll along.
Of the biggest problems that isn’t inflammatory, although inflammation can be, is temporary proof. Here today, gone tomorrow.
The faster you can add, the faster you have to add.
Forward and back, forward and back.
WTF? Where did all those words come from?
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