Primer rules?
I know, like where do we sign up?
What about pseudo-time travelers from another part of the multiverse? Even if one accepts that the traditional idea of someone going into the past violates causality and is impossible, what about someone from a related universe that is like ours only with a future date going into ours? From their perspective, it would be like going back in time, but any changes they would make would only affect our universe, not theirs.
This is how it works in William Gibson’s The Peripheral.
Disaster tourism is a thing…
I haven’t actually gotten around to reading that, but given that apparently the sequel is coming out next month maybe I’ll read it over Christmas.
- They’re not visiting your time period.
- They’re hiding in plain sight.
- You think they’re crazy.
- People experience the past without leaving their own time.
Forget “plain sight.” Why isn’t just “hiding” an option? Would a time traveler be compelled to announce themselves?
- They are all at the good parties you’re not invited to.
I’ll be there in a minute.
Is that the one where the Sphinx is a recurring character? If so, yup, totally underrated.
Maybe time travel explains this guy.
This
Milliways is built on the fragmented remains of an eventually ruined planet which is enclosed in a vast time bubble and projected forward in time to the precise moment of the End of the Universe. (Many would say this is impossible.)
Inside, guests take their places at tables and eat sumptuous meals while watching the whole of creation explode around them. (Many would say this is equally impossible.)
You can arrive for any sitting you like without prior reservation because you can book retrospectively, as it were, when you return to your own time. (Many would insist this is absolutely impossible.)
At the Restaurant you can meet and dine with a fascinating cross-section of the entire population of space and time. (This, it can be explained patiently, is also impossible.)
You can visit it as many times as you like and be sure of never meeting yourself, because of the embarrassment this usually causes. (According to the doubters, this is patently impossible, even if the rest were true, which it is not.)
All you have to do is deposit one penny in a savings account in your own era, and when you arrive at the End of Time the operation of compound interest means that the fabulous cost of your meal has been paid for. (Many claim that this is not merely impossible, but clearly insane.)
This is why the advertising executives of the star system of Bastablon came up with this slogan: “If you’ve done six impossible things this morning, why not round it off with breakfast at Milliways, the Restaurant at the End of the Universe.”
I’m right here!
Oh crap! The fuzz!
It is, that’s the one. He only ends up putting out a few a year now because they’ve gotten so very long and complex… I’m particularly fond of this one:
maybe traveling in time does not mean maintaining relative locus, but your exact one. set your machine for even one hour back, and you are left floating in space 515,000 miles from earth
I love how arrogantly everyone believes that they live in a timeframe that’s interesting enough to be worth visiting. If you have a time machine and could travel to anywhen in the last 14 billion years (or the next 14 billion,) why would you care about this narrow slice of existence, on this particular spinning rock?
Alternately, if you could time travel, you’d also have to account for the movement of the earth and solar system while you were gone. That means any experimenting time traveling scientists either have to have a really big rocket to get back to where earth is when they arrive, or they’re floating around in space where the earth used to be.
I shall have a re-read in a bit. That comic does have some absolute winning episodes. There’s a “who is normal?” one that I really liked.