Author : Duncan Shields, Staff Writer

Infinite branching universes exist. What a drag.

The first time I went back in time to change the story of my life, I was really happy. I knew that I’d be able to go back in time, tell my younger self to make better decisions, and then my own life would be awesome once I got back to the temporal hangar.

Nothing. I went back, talked to the younger me, and he enthusiastically pledged to do what I told him to do. When I came back to the temporal hangar, I walked out of the time bay with the same memories I’d always had. My life was completely unchanged.

Now, how would I know that? That was the question. Maybe my life had changed for the better but I had just retained the same feeling of unease and sadness that I’ve always had, no matter the timeline.

Nope. I checked my diary from the timesafe. The list of changes I was supposed to make are there plain as day. Those changes haven’t been made.

I was angry.

I went back in time again. I set the dials for ten years later than the first time I went back to spy on my younger self.

I’m here now in a café across the street from him. He’s handsome, healthy, and happy. His lovely wife is buckling their sleeping child into the car seat of their brand new car.

It’s not me. It’s not my life. This universe is branched off from our own as a result of the changes he made based on my advice.

This was a worry. The theories about time travel predicted that this might happen.

When I go back to my time, I’ll have my same stupid life. I can’t imagine anything more depressing.

I feel jealous of my younger self benefiting from my advice but I can’t really be that angry. I mean, at least one of us is having a better timestream.

I pack up my stuff, pay for my coffee and head for the pickup co-ordinates in a basement half a block away.

What a drag.


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