“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
I am, as mckenzee, as usual.
ReplyDeleteAh. Yeah, thanks! We're already friended there. I didn't know you followed this blog; thanks for the Comment.
ReplyDeleteBlue Indri.
ReplyDeleteHi, Indri.
ReplyDeleteI can't see a "Blue Indri" at Flickr, and clicking through the names with "Indri" in them, it isn't clear which one you are. Can you re-check your username for me?
the other michael (with my gmail address)
ReplyDeletebut I don't use it much. who knows. may change.
Oliver was a contact of mine, but that has since vanished?
Who is Oliver?
ReplyDelete