Fast forward to the future. It is 1983, the human race is racing. A clock still hangs above the door, where it has for many years, in an old farm house in Oregon. Tick tick tick tick tick tick. “My grandfather bought that clock! That’s a grandfathers clock!” He chuckled boisterously, turning to his guests, spilling his wine in the process. “What ho! bring on the wine!” He cried, and the party cheered, not understanding his poetic reference, but expressing what was written therein. It was twelve minutes to midnight. His mind wandered back, back to the time before the war, before his childhood. His mind wandered on. Then, everyone in the room began chanting, “EIGHT…. SEVEN…. SIX…. FIVE…. FOUR…. THREE…. TWO…. ONE….” midnight 1984.
But this is not the future…
“You ever think about, you know.”
“Try not to.”
Nope, not this future either…
Present: 31 December 1923
It was a bright day in outer space, as Blorg stood absolutely still, trying to remember how to maneuver itself outside of spacetime. It heard the words of Blorg-omi-Blorg in its mind, “You have to enter and exit spacetime carefully. It requires one to move from being, to non-being, to being, with just the right causality. If you fault in your causality, it could be catastrophic. The circumstances you experience will unveil your false intent. Do not travel the stars until you are absolutely sure of your intent.” Blorg chuckled to itself. Blorg was Blorg-omi-Blorgs star pupil. Blorg could master every magic and every blessing, but it could not understand the words of its master. “Why Anything of course!” Blorg shouted, half chuckling. It skipped thrice, rubbed its belly four times, pulled on its ear, and stuck its finger in its nose, “YAZOOOOOO.!” Shouted Blorg, the echo of Its call disappearing the moment Blorg no longer existed.
On a farm, next to a little river in central Oregon, you could hear the cries of a new born baby. “YAAAAAAAAA-ZOO!”