What I Shall Say to My Son…
By David Macpherson
What I shall say to my son if I discovered he was going to travel back through time to the age of the dinosaurs for the sole purpose of stepping on a Jurassic Era butterfly so that all of history from that point on would be altered and he would get out of the calculus homework he was finding so difficult.
The first thing I will try to convey to him is my unwavering pride I have for him. because usually people contemplating time travel in order to destroy all of recorded history suffer from low self esteem and this seems to be a good moment to bolster his self image. Also, I will question how poorly he is at calculus if he can utilize the very fabric of time to aid in his plan. Einstein, Schroedinger, Hawkins. None of them could travel back in time to squash a long ago butterfly. I will tell him that, “You, my son, can do what these giants could not and you should not worry about your calculus grade.”
If that does not suffice, I will point out the basic fallacy of such an intense interpretation of Chaos Theory. I will remind him that the world is large and time is long and it would take an immense disturbance to make even the tiniest ripple on the ocean of time. No matter how pretty the butterfly is, it is just an insignificant butterfly and its absence would change nothing. I will tell my son that even if he killed Hitler in 1930, the ever moving tides of history and human nature would create another despot to create the very same Nazi Germany. All the same, only with slightly different color markings on its wings.
But if he insists even then with his plans, what shall I do? Shall I lie to him? Shall I inform him he does not have a working time machine strapped to his back, but the latest Dysen Vacuum Cleaner model? Shall I tell him the Time Authorities, lead by their captain, Jean Claude Can Damme, will stop him with a flying round house kick? Shall I insist he stop this nonsense or I will have no choice but to call his mother, and he knows how much she disapproves of deliberate time anomalies?
No. I shall be his father and tell him truth. I shall tell him he should not travel back in time to step on a butterfly, because he does not know that back then butterflies were humungous, carnivorous, sharp-toothed monsters with twelve foot wing spans. That they were so vicious, they were the cause of the end of the Age of the Dinosaurs. It was no simple asteroid that did it, it was butterflies. I will say, “My son, as high stepping you believe you are with your Converse All-Stars, you will never step high enough to crush those insidious creatures.”
And I am sure he will know that I am speaking true and surrender his plan. I will tell him I love him and I am gravely disappointed by his calculus grade. We will embrace, but only for a second, and then we will stand about awkwardly unsure of how to proceed into this new and very familiar future.
- - -
David is a writer living in Central Massachusetts with his wife Heather and son George.
By David Macpherson
What I shall say to my son if I discovered he was going to travel back through time to the age of the dinosaurs for the sole purpose of stepping on a Jurassic Era butterfly so that all of history from that point on would be altered and he would get out of the calculus homework he was finding so difficult.
The first thing I will try to convey to him is my unwavering pride I have for him. because usually people contemplating time travel in order to destroy all of recorded history suffer from low self esteem and this seems to be a good moment to bolster his self image. Also, I will question how poorly he is at calculus if he can utilize the very fabric of time to aid in his plan. Einstein, Schroedinger, Hawkins. None of them could travel back in time to squash a long ago butterfly. I will tell him that, “You, my son, can do what these giants could not and you should not worry about your calculus grade.”
If that does not suffice, I will point out the basic fallacy of such an intense interpretation of Chaos Theory. I will remind him that the world is large and time is long and it would take an immense disturbance to make even the tiniest ripple on the ocean of time. No matter how pretty the butterfly is, it is just an insignificant butterfly and its absence would change nothing. I will tell my son that even if he killed Hitler in 1930, the ever moving tides of history and human nature would create another despot to create the very same Nazi Germany. All the same, only with slightly different color markings on its wings.
But if he insists even then with his plans, what shall I do? Shall I lie to him? Shall I inform him he does not have a working time machine strapped to his back, but the latest Dysen Vacuum Cleaner model? Shall I tell him the Time Authorities, lead by their captain, Jean Claude Can Damme, will stop him with a flying round house kick? Shall I insist he stop this nonsense or I will have no choice but to call his mother, and he knows how much she disapproves of deliberate time anomalies?
No. I shall be his father and tell him truth. I shall tell him he should not travel back in time to step on a butterfly, because he does not know that back then butterflies were humungous, carnivorous, sharp-toothed monsters with twelve foot wing spans. That they were so vicious, they were the cause of the end of the Age of the Dinosaurs. It was no simple asteroid that did it, it was butterflies. I will say, “My son, as high stepping you believe you are with your Converse All-Stars, you will never step high enough to crush those insidious creatures.”
And I am sure he will know that I am speaking true and surrender his plan. I will tell him I love him and I am gravely disappointed by his calculus grade. We will embrace, but only for a second, and then we will stand about awkwardly unsure of how to proceed into this new and very familiar future.
- - -
David is a writer living in Central Massachusetts with his wife Heather and son George.
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