Diary of a Teenage Time Traveler

Diary Entry: February 10, 2066

February 10, 2066

Mom thinks I should keep a diary of my thoughts after a time trip. I told her I already recorded the trip log, but she said that's not what she meant. She used that easy-peasy voice too--the one for making me think her idea is really my idea. Okay, so maybe it's not such a bad idea. I mean, most fourteen-year-olds don't get to bounce back and forth between time strings. But I've been doing it since I was ten, so I know the drill. Well, kinda. I've seen Dad pilot the time-craft at least fifty times. Mom's better with the customers, so she's been teaching me how to be all kiss-ass with hoity-toity people. I hate that part. But if I'm gonna run the biz myself someday, I gotta learn to pucker up. That's what Dad says.

Anyway, so we just got back from Mexico City in the year 2080. We only had a four hour time window. Dad doesn't like messing around in the future for more than a few hours at a time. Says it's always dangerously close of initiating a paradox, since we don't know what the future holds. That's why we visit places far away. He and Mom like visiting the past more. But I love seeing what the future holds! I was talking about it with Kayla earlier on my palm-com device (she's my best friend,) and we were thinking how wild it'd be if I met a guy in a future time-string, then looked him up in my present time string when he's just a baby. LOL. Now that'd be wacky-weird on so many different levels.

The fashion in Mexico really tricked up my brain. Nobody was wearing color. In the year 2080, everything's blah and brown. Dad says it's because of the moondust everywhere. People will give up on being colorful. It really was a mess-thick layers of filmy residue covered everything like leftover clay from a pottery kiln. The Great Asteroid Disaster happened a year before, and the little we know about it is that it takes years to clean up. I mean, to think a chunk of the moon will one day splatter over North America seems as believable as me winning the Miss Congeniality Award from Teen Today.

But I did see something cool! This one lady at the Aztec Festival had a big fat star tattoo right on her cheek. I swear it even dilated. Full on magic! I told Mom and Dad I want one. They didn't look happy.

Dad says I can't trip again til next month 'cause of something about pubescent bodies adjusting to age disruptions in time strings. Yawn. He's been drilling me on protocol: time-craft operations and piloting verbiage. Says if I learn it now, my certification will be a breeze once I turn 18. But I know I'll be answering phones first. Mom can't wait for me to take over the client time trip bookings so she can spend more time mapping time ports. That's her favorite thing. Yawn again. Me? I like working on the time-craft. Dad showed me how to redo the shocks last week. It was ... shocking! Uh-oh, his bad puns are starting to rub off on me.

Well, I've been writing now for ten minutes and I don't feel any different than when I started, so I don't know what Mom's talking about. I'm saving this to my palm-com and maybe I'll try speak-text next time. Feels weird talking to myself on a machine though. Maybe I'll stick to holo-typing.

BTW Dad's taking me to see my first live concert for my fifteenth birthday in a few months. Mom won't wanna go. She can't stand Frozen Solstice. But I can't wait!!!

Signing off for now.

Bianca