I just finished the first draft of a quick short story about time travel, and more specifically the aspects of time travel that I hate. There are a lot of things I hate about it, most of all it gives me headaches and produces awful train wrecks like Lost. That being said, I still wanted to give it a literary go, if for no other reason than to get one of these loose marbles out of my head so I can focus on other things.
Strikes against time travel…
So, let’s say I hate Hitler. It’s not much of a leap. Combine this with my immense knowledge of quantum physics (ok, this part is a bit of a leap) and suddenly you have me jumping back in time to kick Hitler’s dad in the junk so hard that the entire nation of Germany groans. No more Hitler right? Except, without Hitler to motivate me into roshamboing a more peaceful future, why do I go back in time? Strike one against time travel in my eyes.
Ok, so I ignore this paradox problem, wanting to consider some more practical concerns. I need to test my time machine. I really want to see some damn dinosaurs, but reason gets the better of me and I set my machine to put me ten minutes in the future. Queue psychedelic lights and synth music. Bam, I’m a glossy smear some distance into the Earth. Why? Well, ten minutes from now the entire planet is in a different place then when I started. I just phased into solid granite, or lava, or space for all I actually know. How fast is this mud ball moving? Oh yeah, fast. Strike two.
Both of these things are discussed, and possibly refuted (diffeomorphism invariance?), in a really nice run down on the good old wikipedia if you want to read more. Not that it matters, because if time travel existed in any time, we probably would have experienced it by now. You can’t tell me time traveling tourists wouldn’t want to come back to see the Jonas brothers. Strike three.