"Anyone who fights for the future lives in it today.”
-Ayn Rand
"Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards."
-Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
The notion of testing the hands of time has
always captured man's imagination and continues to pervade science
fiction. In H.G. Wells' The
Time Machine, this idea takes center stage. Members of Generation
Hate might point to the Back to the Future or Bill and
Ted movies. By way of time dilation and other related phenomena,
humans hold a better opportunity in stepping forth as opposed to stumbling
rearward. The day, however, that man conceives and employs a contraption
capable of meeting all physical requirements forspacetime travel, he will literally launch into
the future. Here is the supreme example of defeating the failures of
what was with the rational hopes of working towards what is to
come.
Before
discussing the possibilities of pulling the strings of time in order to leap
into tomorrow, let me further explain why a plan to retrace yesterday
represents of course a scientific infeasibility,
but also a philosophically irrational conception. While it is
psychologically healthy to reflect on the past and academically proper to study
history, to strive to actually backpedal through the ages would ironically
diminish any endeavors to construct and utilize a viable, one-way machine.
To
explore the Mesozoic Era and before in "real time" or to pick
"the best of times" over the "worst of times" in mankind's
history would be a futile attempt. The existence of the universe -and
man's position in it- is far too extensive to just skip through the chapters to
find, mix and mash, and live through the "juicy bits" of
record. There is no room to try to realize in natural life an episode
concerning the fore-time from the television series Quantum
Leap. Dreams, therefore, of passing a Phillies Blunt to Shakespeare on a 1973 flight
to New York Rome
When
a religious movement of a given era fails to reign over the masses, through
nomenclature, exceptional men preserve the ghostly monikers and transform them
into innovations to serve their self-interests. For instance, men
inspired by a favorite deity have titled months, days of the week, planets,
space programs, an athletic shoes company, and even a certain Harlem theater
just to list a few. Worshippers of old sacrificed humans, animals and
other possessions in the name of a preferred god or goddess. Sadly, those
who have perished would never know that the name of the divinity to which they
probably surrendered their highest values would be used to sell sneakers.
In
modern times, the idea of a messiah in Jesus of Nazareth has gripped the minds
of the populace. People have allowed themselves to lift praises to
someone who Star says lived as "probably nothing more than a beautiful
poet." What's worse is the pile of corpses that continues to stack
ever higher in the name of the Ultimate Hater.
To
quell the raging forces of darkness, disaster, and reversion, a rational option
might be to use this principle of naming a succeeding product of man’s efforts
after a previous "holy being." Some of the most
"powerful" spirits have eventually lost any potential to be
reverenced. Men and women therefore might want to apply such a practice
to the poster boy of today's voodoo realm. The acknowledgement of Jesus' birth as noted in the Julian and
Gregorian calendars is insufficient. A mission to the future signifies
the occasion to transform a name which might suggest teachings and legends into
one that calls to mind achievement and prosperity.
A
physically sufficient device for spacetime travel will drive mankind forward
through phases never experienced. The craft designed for that journey as
well as the corresponding mission ought to be called Jesus 1. Again, any
attempts to settle a past debt or trek to some bygone eon to see up close how a
“live” pterodactyl flew are out of the question. To occasionally ponder,
though, about returning to antiquity with plans to offer reason to the mystics,
would soothe the mind during the trip.
