Where are all the time travelers?
Where are all the time travelers? Chances are you’ve seen or spoken to one at least once. They might even have told you. I know one well, actually. He doesn’t travel to watch the titanic sink, or see dinosaurs, or get to know his great great great great great grandmother when she was his age. He frequents libraries, roller rinks, places where time doesn’t pass. Places that haven’t changed in decades and won’t change for a few more. He doesn’t like being outside during the day, where you can watch the sun rise and set like a gargantuan hour hand reminding him of his felony. Chrononauts are fugitives, and Change isn’t a person you can run from. So they hide. Hide and hold their breath and hope that Change doesn’t reach between the couch cushions. The freshest air is warm July nights of new moons and the same seven pop hits on the radio. In, out, he breathes, repeating to himself that he feels alive. It’s a necessary lie. He knows who’s looking under tables and opening closets ready ...