Time

I am a history professor. Last night I had a strange dream. The government had invented a time machine, but there was a problem—it could not bring people back to the present: a one-way ticket to the past. The world was on the brink of World War Three and oblivion. The plan was to send me back to the Garden of Eden and to tell Adam and Eve of the horrors of the world so they could warn future generations. A few seconds later I appeared in Eden standing next to Eve. She was beautiful and perfectly formed, but Adam was a few feet away and hadn’t fully evolved. He was half ape, half man, and had not yet learned to speak. I took Eve aside and told her of humanities dark future. I told her of Jesus and the crucifixion, and of the murder and pillage in the centuries to follow. I told her of the reign of Mussolini and Hitler, and the destruction caused by the atom bomb. She listened carefully and a worried frown appeared on her brow. She looked so beautiful I asked her to be mine. Eve thought long and hard, and every second felt like eternity. Finally she looked up at me and told me she could not love me because I was from the future, and mixing our blood and his- tory might cause problems with our children. She put her arm around my shoulder and said that she knew Adam was a bit dumb, but she liked dark and silent men anyway. She told me we could still be friends; it wasn’t the end of the world. I felt an intense and unbearable longing.