“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
OMG, I want a "Hydra Wind" so badly I could scream! I'd want it fitted out a little differently, of course; the one they show is way too "expensive cosmetic surgery clinic waiting room" for my tastes. But otherwise? How about a mashup of these people and these for an amphibious, ecologically sensitive RV experience? I would never pay rent again!
ReplyDeleteI just need a couple million dollars. Hmmm.
I think you should bag one of those XV truckies, and then drive through someone else's doublewide, usurping their location, annexing it into your own mobile kingdom, in the tradition of our RV-based ancestors.
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