My time machine looks like a beat-up old motor cycle from the 1960s, in the days when such bikes were shiny and chromey. I call it my Time-Glider and have never told anyone about it. You see, no one believes that time travel is possible. Invented time travel? That's even more unbelievable. So I just keep it to myself and keep it safe. Tonight I'm on my way to the old slate mine in West Virginia where I met one of the most beautiful women in the world.
I know where she'll be. She doesn't move very often, but when she does, the results are dramatically obvious. So I go and find her every time she reappears. That's why I'm here now.
She's out of her time machine, as always, stretching and turning to look back at it. It's like she wants to reassure herself that it's there with her. From what I've seen, this is the first time that she and her time machine have been separated in the last million years-and won't be again for at least another million years. This must be the first time they've ever been apart--a million generations have to end sometime.
She's pronounced by her time machine. I pass her a few times, and she acts as if she hasn't noticed me. But I know she has. I know that she's waiting for me to come by and pick her up. When I do, I hold out my arms to her and she walks into them; and then she's there, and she's holding on tightly, and we're both smiling. She's beautiful. Twice as tall as me, with long, black hair and deep, green eyes that look right into my soul.
We didn't exchange names on our first meeting, but I've spent the last few years looking forward to seeing her again, so I just keep calling her by the same name, until she tells me to stop. I'm already thinking of some more names to call her.
I love her. No, not because of how she looks. Her looks are just the skin that covers the most wonderful, beautiful creature you've ever met. The thing that makes her so special is her personality. She's strong and brave, and kind and generous. She's as caring and sensitive as the sunrise, and as wonderful as the moon at night.
Whoever she is and wherever she's going, I know she's the most important thing in the whole universe.
"Time for a new name," I say.
She smiles. "If you wish."
"Let's break with tradition. Your name's going to be Dawn. You've been rising all day every day, and now you're with me. It's a beginning."
Her smile widens and becomes a laugh. Then she gives me a what-do-you-think-I-am-smile?
"Let's talk about worlds without feeling the need to apologize for them."
Fine with me. You're my damsel in distress. I'm the one to save you. I keep forgetting that.
"We are human beings," I remind her. "All the other animals and plants around us are just there to make the place more interesting. It's us that should be staying together."
She grins. "You were named after your father. I don't think he'd mind, though. He'd approve of you."
I nod so evasively I don't know whether I'm agreeing or disagreeing. I don't want to become a father. I'm still too young. And I know that she's older than me, by a long shot. But I've always wanted to have a family of my own. It's not a good idea. She always comes and shows up in the past after she creates me. That means that I have to be born, then disappear through the time machine to make room for her. There's never a time when I'm not. If the place I come from is around, then it's not her place. She always follows me there, ready to help me make it my place. But I always go, making it her next one. The total is one place every time, so there are a lot of times in which I've already been born and can't come back as a boy.
It's almost eighteen years since she's saved me, and I have to admit that it's amazing to see how much we've developed as a couple in the meantime. Our relationship is always about something more than just a fixed point in space and time. It's not a walk-through-time romance. There's always a present time for me at the moment in history that she finds a way to save me from. If I'm to stay with her, if I'm to grow old and have children and a family of my own, I have to find a place for us to live. I have to make it the right place. It's one problem. It's been that for years.
She always knows me better than I do. I should never have expected anything else.
"You can't go home again," she laughs. I know her laugh. It's a laugh that says that's one time when you never gave up trying. I always used to think that she was just looking for an explanation for why I never found a place where we could settle down. Now I know that she wasn't looking for an explanation. She was just looking for me.
"It's not possible," I answer.
"Why not?"
"In your time, I can't exist. It's always a place with you."
"You have to realize," she says, "that you're not here to go on being born. You're a man. You make your own history. You are a human being who lives in a time different from everyone else's. You're living in a minute that no longer exists for the people who used to live there. You are not just a part of your time, you're the time. Maybe you are all of time. Do you think there could be a time without you? A time without you? You're all of time. It's only a matter of remembering the right place, of finding a way to time travel together."
It's hard to believe that this is the same woman who taught me that it's not possible! It's because of her that I don't believe it anymore. Without her, I would never have believed in it at all.
"Time travel together?" I ask her.
She shrugs.
"Trying to do away with me will do away with time travel. You're not going to be able to visit the past to see what you lost when you went with me. You're not going to have time to have gone away to any place with me. You're going to have to go with me."
She laughs. "I'm not going anywhere."
I shake my head and bite my lip.
"I'm not here to cross over," I tell her. "I always say this, but I've never understood why. You're still not going to die."
She shrugs. "True. I'm not temporal, so I'm not going to die, either."
She laughs again, like I'm a little kid, but I insist.
"You can't live forever in one place."
"Why not?"
"Because you're not here. Even if you stay in one place, your time machine moves on. It changes place. You can't live in the same place at the same time as your time machine. It's not possible."
She shakes her head. "That's your time machine. It's not mine."
I stare at her, wishing that I was a better listener. She shrugs again.
"It's not your time machine. It's never been time machine. It's my time machine."
She just looks at me, like I'm crazy.
"Don't you work in a building called the Temporal Research section?" she asks. I nod. "You'll accept time travel. You'll accept time machines, but you're hung up on the time machine's name?"
Because I never thought that I would have to worry about it. I always thought that, in the end, I'd be doing what she was doing--making my own history, maybe going off to visit the past on occasion, and coming back to find a new place to live. But the idea that we should travel through time together is a little hard to accept.
