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by Ryan Roe
“So… what you’re saying is, you’re me from ten years in the future.”
“Yes. That’s what I’m saying. You have to believe me.”
“You… don’t really look like me.”
“Of course I don’t. I’m ten years older!”
“But you kind of look about the same age as me.”
“Listen… It would be impossible for me to explain future science in terms you would understand with your less-advanced brain, because you’re from the present. I’m from the future—and I’ve traveled here on very urgent business.”
“Really?”
“Yes. If this conversation I’m having with you right now goes the wrong way, it could lead to disaster. Are you ready to hear what I’m about to say?”
“I guess so.”
“All right. Now, it is vital… that you… loan me fifty bucks. Right now.”
“Loan y—why?”
“I can’t tell you why, because then you would know about what happens in the future, and that would create a paradox. You would implode. And guess what? If you implode here in the present, I no longer exist, because I’m the later version of you. And that would cause another paradox. It would be a double paradox! Do you see how serious this is?”
“Oh. I… whoa. Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”
“So. I need fifty dollars. Your future depends on it.”
“Oh. But fifty dollars is kind of a lot of money. Are you… are you going to return it?”
“Yes I am, but not in the way you’re thinking. See, I was you ten years ago. Ten years from now, you’ll be me. So when I borrow the money from you, I’m really borrowing it from myself. And when you give me the money, you’re really me giving it back to myself. The fifty bucks you’re giving up now, you’ll see again—”
“In ten years?”
“Exactly. You’re really catching on to the science of time travel. No wonder you’ll become me someday.”
“Wow. Time travel. Well... okay. Here."
“Thank you. Or should I say, thank me. You will not regret this. Believe me… I know.”
“Huh. Hey, can I ask you something about the future? What happens when—”
“Oh! I just remembered something!”
“What? What?”
“It’s very important.”
“What is it?”
“To ensure your existence, before I leave to return to my future time, it is imperative…”
“Yeah? What?”
“It is imperative that you… buy me a burrito.” Comments on this post are closed. |
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Heh. That's amusing.
I laughed. |
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| You should at least charge yourself interest. |
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| Hey, I'm a time traveler too, and I'm you in 20 years, so would you lend me $100?--or actually, would you lend yourself $100? You see, the future involves gender changes, but if I tell you more, you'd implode, and we don't want that. |
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| Hmm...If you charged yourself 10% interest compounded annually, you'd owe yourself $129.69 in ten years. If only you had a way to pay yourself interest. |
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Or you could just deposit $19.28 in the bank, and with 10% interest compounded annually, the future you should be able to withdraw $50!
Actually, he should withdraw it right before he goes back in time and deposit the whole $69.28. Then he'd be able to withdraw $179.69 to take back with him. Then he'd be able to withdraw $516.08 to take back with him.
Sooo... I think once you've decided to withdraw all your money and go back in time and deposit it, you should instantly have a balance of infinity! |
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I was thinking about that, too, Mike, but you'd need to find some old currency in the future in order for it to work.
If we ever perfect synthetic diamonds (which will be great for the semiconductor industry and terrible for the jewelry industry), they would probably be the best way to transfer your money back in time.
I will have to think about this some more before I finish my time machine. |
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Yeah, the need for a time-neutral exchange medium would probably limit your ability to take back infinity money. And at some point, the world would have so much of its wealth tied up in your bank account that it could never afford to fund research into time travel, so you wouldn't be able to go back in time in the first place. So it never would have happened. So it would have happened. At which point, I assume God will kill the process and have a look at the source code.
Way to go, John Titor. |
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| I find all this discussion amusing, especially because my original intention in the story was that the guy asking for the $50 was not, in fact, a time traveler, but a liar. I mean... I think that was my intention. I guess I'd have to go back in time and ask my past self right after he finished writing it. |
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I don't know why he'd lie to himself.
I'd like to think I'd be able to tell when I was not telling the truth.
Or did I miss your point entirely? |
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| He wasn't really his future self at all.... he was just a liar asking for money. |
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