“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
Actually, I'd say it's a little better than you think. I'm well and fully down with the Wu (as, at base, we all are... I'm pretty sure that, eventually, war will cease when we all realize that the Wu Tang Clan's so big that it encompasses all of humanity), but I was a bit dubious about the Dixieland thing being anything more than a bit of random jokey jackery.
ReplyDeleteI should've known better. This is, after all, DJ BC. The album made me shake my booty so hard I sprained it.
- Sean