It's
About Time.
"Everywhere is walking distance if you
have the time."
- Steven Wright
 I loathe stories which use time machines, or the manipulation
of time, to weave a tale. I find it lazy writing, akin to
the "And then she woke up" genre of fantasy.
That being said, the development of a working time machine
might have some benefits. We could always use it toss garbage into black holes
or attach miniscule time machines to each exhaust pipe
of every car and let it zap the carbon emissions to the 2000th
century. We'll deal with it when we get there.
Of course, the development of a time machine would be the
end of the universe as we know it. Here's what I mean....
You start with a copy of Our Bodies, Ourselves and
a time machine. You send yourself and the book back in time
one-half
hour.
Now you
have
two books. Advance to the future 31 minutes with both books.
Repeat this process, going a little farther back and a little
farther forward each time, doubling the total number of books
with each trip, until the universe is composed of nothing
but books about feminine
sexual health.
This should occur relatively instantaneously.
Yes, I realize this simplistic idea is full of all kinds
of faulty Gordian logic, like the fact it would require the
type of gi-NOR-mous amounts of energy that have up to now
been entirely theoretical, but it points out
the nonsensical nature of such
a fiction.
So, please, no more time-travel stories.
Unless there's nudity.
=mike=
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