If you see me standing in line at the market, or in any line for that matter, and I have a spaced out look, chances are this is my thought:
Not only do I never have enough time to write, but my reading list is growing like a geometric progression. I have to figure out how to slow time, build a time machine, or read faster and organize my time better.
Of course, what’s the easiest of those options? Hint: it’s not the last one.
Let’s say that someone went into the local ice cream parlor and left the keys in the ignition:
Sweet. Just make sure the time computer isn’t set to 1955. Now you can read as much as you want. Ignore the world.
“Wait, wait, wait,” you say, “You can’t reset the past. That’s not how the DeLorean works.”
“Right, right. Wrong time machine.”
I would have to go back in time, kill my former self, take over his role and that’s how I would reset time.
Or, would going back in time alter the threads of time, maybe creating a new one where I die on the timeline at the exact moment I appear in the past thus keeping continuity?
OK, OK, this is why time travel gives people headaches.
This is the idea I like the most. Let’s say I could exist outside of time? Something similar to an Alcubierre Warp Bubble (not science fiction, by the way). I would still need an energy source, but let’s ignore that plot-breaking problem. Then I could exist outside of time. I could read and write for as long as I want while the world around me is paused.
But, but, but then I would age. My wife and children might notice when I suddenly appear as:
Back to the Beginning
Looks like I need an even more improbable confluence of events: a cure to aging and the ability to freeze time. Now there’s an interesting premise for a story.
Back to organizing my life. Or, rather, back to spacing out.