“I came back for my own purposes,” said the Time Traveler, looking around my booklined study. “I chose you to talk to because it was . . . convenient. And I don’t want you to do a goddamned thing. There’s nothing you can do. But relax . . . we’re not going to be talking about personal things. Such as, say, the year, day, and hour of your death. I don’t even know that sort of trivial information, although I could look it up quickly enough. You can release that white-knuckled grip you have on the edge of your desk.” I tried to relax. “What do you want to talk about?” I said. “The Century War,” said the Time Traveler. I blinked and tried to remember some history. “You mean the Hundred Year War? Fifteenth Century? Fourteenth? Sometime around there. Between . . . France and England? Henry V? Kenneth Branagh? Or was it . . .” “I mean the Century War with Islam,” interrupted the Time Traveler. “Your future. Everyone’s.” He was no longer smiling. Without asking, or offering to pour me any, he
Perhaps you are being mind-controlled by the Greys? HmmmmMMMM?!
ReplyDeleteI might do so. Blogger feed does not support RSS in comments. I could go back to HaloScan, but somehow I broke the format last time I tried it. Is it worth it?
ReplyDeleteI'll put it to the readers. I'd almost rather see a maillist or something. I haven't brought up much discussion-targeted stuff here in a while; that has largely been done in my LiveJournal for the last 6 months or so, because of the ability to limit viewings.
ReplyDeleteI also play with the idea of linking all my web-presences through this blog, but am not sure I want to broadcast who I am wherever I am. Wait. Pronoun trouble.