Ouroborosaurus

The Space Man

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Kennith Broderick set the trajectory on the ship computer so it could precalculate the points to ignite the guiding jet bursts and at what point to engage the warp drive once they were in orbit around the black hole.  He couldn't explain it even after the dissertation and endless lectures on the subject, but apparently this experiment was centuries in the making, and only practical now with the advent of near light speed.  Something about going around an event horizon at even 98% light speed made the universe screw up and make the vessel spiral back in time or something.  

All he knew was how to fly the ship and maintain the various installations and computer systems.  With pay this good, even if he never made it back to an Earth controlled system, his loved ones for generations to come would be well off, all because he followed orders given by a computer.  He checked the graphic on the control screen for the satisfying yellow loop around the real time image of the black hole.  In only a matter of months, theoretically speaking, he’d be millions of years in the past, when the earth was still forming.  A few months later, thanks to relativity at near light speed and the distance between earth and this black hole, he'd be back at earth ready to land, take samples and snapshots of the ancient beasts that roamed before man, and after a quick trip at near light speed out and back again he’d be back around the horn and in the year he left, all within the span of a subjective decade.  He adjusted the temperature of his suit, a fully self-contained habitation control suit.  He loved modern technology.

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Henry dumped the sugar shaker into his Colombian light roast coffee while his colleague Professor Earl Langsan sat across from him.  Earl held a copy of the paper Henry had sent him, crisp and neatly paperclipped at the corner.  They had already placed their orders.  Earl was more eager for his huevos rancheros with a short stack and slice of bacon on the side than he was about giving Henry his decision.  Still, he held the paper at the ready, as though the conversation had paused while the sugar hissed from the container in Henry's hand, falling into the hot, dark liquid below.  When Henry righted the shaker to put it back, Earl started, but was cut off by Henry's indifference as he then reached for the creamer powder in a similar container and the hissing resumed a few seconds longer.  Henry took the initiative this time as he looked into his coffee while he stirred it.  “I think I made my point clear with the new protocols I outlined.  It's an important step towards site protection and preventing contamination from future involvement.” By “future involvement” he hadn’t meant “involvement with sites in the future”, though he wasn’t entirely certain Earl had picked up on it or not.  “Like I've said before, someone else can deal with the ramifications of the human race being preyed upon, I'm only interested in preserving paleontological sites.” He didn't like the look Earl was giving him.  It likely meant he still hadn’t found academic support.  

Earl finally put the paper down on the table.  He'd been holding it as a token that would give him the strength to jump in and tell Henry what he really thought, and what he really thought was that Henry couldn't be serious.  His tone had dispelled the last of Earl’s hope for a sane conversation over breakfast and he dropped the paper onto the table with a sigh.  “Henry, you’re acting like I can believe any of this, like you didn't go on tv and make yourself a laughingstock.  Do you think any of those so-called lectures and that publicity stunt on live television didn't hurt your credibility?  I looked at your evidence and I tried to suspend my disbelief because of the respect I had for you, but I just can't get behind it.  What you're asking for is ridiculous.” At that Henry’s tension snapped and he slammed the table in frustration.  “Of course I know that!” He stopped to clean the spilled coffee with a napkin and to get control of himself again.  “Yes, I know it's ridiculous.  I've been thinking that and fighting the thought despite the mockery and indifference.  But can you put yourself in my shoes for just a moment?” The waitress had come back with some plates, so Henry awkwardly canned his passion and the three of them smiled as she served their breakfast before walking back for the second trip.  

Earl now had his eggs and Henry his waffle he had ordered half-heartedly.  All that was left was the bacon and pancakes.  Henry watched as Earl seasoned his food.  It was his turn to wait for Earl’s assessment.  The waitress was already coming back, so Earl took a bite and Henry ignored his waffle.  The waitress, in a surge of customer service, asked them if they needed anything else. Earl declined and Henry made a display of buttering his waffle until she smiled and walked away. Earl gave up trying to cut a particularly tough part of his meal with the side of his fork, obviously struggling with where to start on his assessment.  “I want to ask what you’re trying to prevent contamination from, but I'm afraid I think I know.  You present your argument very rigidly.  You want to start a… movement? To prevent research into time travel.” Henry looked to start, but Earl held out his hand to stop him.  “It's a pipe dream, Henry.  You want to stop a technology that doesn't exist because you think you have evidence from the past of it existing in the future.  Barring the innate confusion that, I assure you, will not penetrate John Q.  Public’s realm of understanding, how do you expect anyone to take your anti-time-travel rhetoric seriously?” He folded a fried egg and stuffed it in his mouth.  After some belabored activity, he continued, “One, we don't know how time travel could work, so we don't know what we're stopping.  Two, have you heard of climate change?”