The machine is ridiculous looking – a conglomerate of stereotypes like that stir-fry bronze satellite dish from the 1960 movie adaptation of the H.G. Wells novel, or the upright booth structure with a whirling apparatus on top like in that Rugrats episode, and then to the side there’s a picture for emptying your milkshakes and hamburger wrappers into the fuel tank.
“Ah, but don’t mind all of this,” the salesman tells you as he steps into the machine and pulls out a folded purple shirt and pants, an outfit made of thin, rubbery spandex. “The packaging is just for show. This uniform is the real time machine. If one were to travel inside of his own electrons, the visit would have the temporal advantages of visiting a black hole – all points in time may be accessed under the right circumstances. The suit provides a sort of electronic biofeedback so your body can become its own time machine.”
The explanation seems logical enough…and the suit is so tempting because you know it’s going to make you feel like you’re one of the Challengers of the Unknown.
If you choose to sift your molecules in the general direction of the past, turn to page 156.
If you choose to direct yourself towards the future, turn to page 74.
If you’re feeling crazy and try to experience the past and the future simultaneously, turn to page 17.
(Back to Index of Pages)