Time machines were just a fad—never caught on like TVs, smartphones, or neural implants. The problem? There’s exactly one spacetime tapestry and every time jump is already woven in—no altering a single strand.
Sure, a lucky few got filthy rich, and we know with certainty who shot JFK. But there weren’t crowds of time tourists watching the crucifixion, and so never will be.
Perhaps those who resist foreknowledge’s temptation are better people. Perhaps ignorance truly is bliss. But I know my fate, how many times I’ll try, and fail, to save my beloved.
Only 1,379 attempts to go.
Jeff Currier works three jobs, so has little time to write. Hence, he writes little stories—like this one, or “The Foulest of Them All,” which we published last fall. Find links to more of his published stories at @jffcurrier on X or Jeff Currier Writes on Facebook.
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