The (mostly) true story of a time traveler
In one of those interesting ironies that present themselves to us every now and then, a portion of the story I was working on last night – well, early this morning, actually – relates to a post I just stumbled across at The World History Blog, called Time Travel and Fidelity.
Miland Brown brings up the subject of fidelity independent of chronology. In other words, if a time traveler travels beyond the period of his or her nuptials, is he still bound by them? One commenter suggests the concept as book fodder, and others cite The Time Traveler’s Wife and Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series and their takes on the concept.
In short, the arguments as I see them are:
Just finished “The Road Not Taken.” Obviously, the title of the chapter was inspired by a line from the Robert Fost poem. This particular analysis of the poem, I think, directly relates to my experience. Read into it what you will
I think “The Road Not Taken” is the longest chapter of the story yet, and I know it is the most enlightening.
I knew it had to happen sooner or later, and that it was sooner was no surprise to me at all.
Middle of the night two nights ago. I woke suddenly, a strange feeling of vertigo washing over me as I snapped out of sleep. It was dark, and my wife was sleeping beside me. Taking a deep breath, I willed the vertigo away and stood, holding my arms out to steady my balance, which wasn’t all there. Suddenly I was glad I’d worn a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt to be last night, because what I was afraid was coming…was here.
