My father is a promiscuous bastard, Wait! I’m the bastard. That’s how this works. He had all the fun. I am living out the consequences. Things wouldn’t be so bad except my father is a time traveler. He disappeared four days after meeting mama. He knew he couldn’t stay. I don’t know if it crossed his mind to tell her. If he did, he’d have to tell mama he couldn’t take her with him.
Everyone receives a time signature from the time they’re born in.
My parents carry different time signatures. Time brands a temporal code into you sometime between birth and conception. Some like to say this is God acknowledging us. I don’t know, but this mark becomes part of your essential self.
The essential you is a single vibrating string. It’s vibration pattern carries all the information of who you are including the signature of the time when you were born. Time travel is limited by the dissonance of time signatures between the time traveler and the world he or she visits. The further you travel, the greater the dissonance.
Now, you can visit other times, but, you don’t belong there and you can’t stay. The further you travel, the less time you have. My father lives 10,000 years in the future. He could only stay about four days. That was just long enough for he and mama to meet. Then, the moment they call “crisis” came, when time dissonance is no longer sustainable, and my father snapped back to his native time. Time attachment is stronger than love and her caractures.
Time and matter are constantly changing on a quantum level.
Just as the universe is expanding, matter and time are changing. We can’t see or measure it. Any instrument we might use to detect these subtle changes would be made of the same matter we’re trying to measure, and would itself be changing. Theoretically, you could bring an instrument from the future, made of matter from the future, to measure matter of the past, except no one has figured out how to transport matter through time.
It wasn’t until our children were able to directly detect a string’s vibration, and decipher its code, that they were able to detect a person’s time signature. When our children compared the time signatures of populations from their native time with the time signatures of time travelers, they were able to clarify the time code and its rate of change through time. What I don’t understand is how time brands its temporal signature into us. It’s beautiful to consider that while time and matter change, the signature from a specific time, that would otherwise be lost, is preserved in us.
What happens if your father is from the future and half of your DNA comes from him? Usually, it doesn’t work out. The woman never conceives or the baby is still born. For some reason, I made it through term and mama gave birth to a healthy child. I am the only mixed time signature baby ever known to survive. That sounds great but its been hell. You would not believe.
My father is epic. He’s a hero draped in prophecies.
My father, Max Hope, lives In the year 12,016, exactly 10,000 years in the future. The simple act of traveling through time is tearing meaning to shreds. It turns out, time travel paradoxes are real and effect the lives of everyday people. People are literally dying of existential angst. The future is an age when our children cannot take meaning for granted.
My father is a hero. He did some brave things and there were these prophecies surrounding his birth, and some very recently; just before my last visit. He was supposed to fix the existential angst problem. Then, he met mama and they became romantically involved, something strictly forbidden.
The authorities found out and imprisoned my father, Max, and banned him from time travel. When I survived, everyone was happy and took it as a good sign until they learned my name there is Les Hope. They released my father from prison but still ban him from traveling through time.
In mama’s world, I’m Les Trials.
Mama named me Les after my grandfather. My family name on my mother’s side is Trials. Since no one in this world knows my father, I take my mother’s family name. I’m Les Trials in this world. Pretty cool, huh? Who wouldn’t want fewer trials. My father’s name is Max Hope. When I’m with my father in his world, my first name carries with me, but I take my father’s family name. In my father’s world, I’m Les Hope, son of Max hope. Seeing that my father is epic and so much hope was vested in him, my name is disappointing. That’s unfortunate but that’s not the hell I go through.
My time signature comes from this world. However, I have an ancillary attachment to my father’s time. It’s like having dual citizenship. I never knew this until – vooshhh-POP! I was just three years old and suddenly found myself in a reconstitution chamber in a strange world. If I had exited that worm hole anywhere else, my material escapades would have ended then and there.
I’m a dual citizen. I go back and forth through time and can never stop.
I never know exactly when I’ll snap out of this world. I’m here for about three years before snapping over to my father’s world. Then, I’m there for about six months. I can do nothing to lengthen or shorten the amount of time I spend in either world. I go back and forth like that and it won’t stop.
When it first happened, mama had no idea what happened. She thought I was kidnapped. About six months later I just reappeared. A nurse from the future with black hair, named Raven, followed me here and explained everything to mama. I think she also gave her some stock picks and career advice. Raven disappeared in four days. I think that’s the longest you can visit when you’re 10,000 years away. I don’t think mama really believed her until those stocks started making money. We never struggled financially after that.
Each time it happens, I get a little more pissed off.
The hell I go through is not from uncertainty, lack of continuity, or from having a name that provokes and ridicules the hopes of an entire world. My hell is the unimaginable pain I feel just before being sucked through a quantum worm hole. It happens instantly but seems to last forever. It’s what I feel when my flesh and blood and bone are stripped away from my essential self. My father’s world calls this reduction. The first time it happened, I was three. Each time it happens, I get a little more pissed off!