A Call from the Past

Sometime between 2006 and 2007, I wrote this story note, later to be used as a bookmark in a book set aside in January 2008. It resurfaced in the wee hours of March 9, 2021, when I'd finally returned to that book (Albion, if you wondered):

Fun, certainly. Finding it while watching an episode of 12 Monkeys that introduces the idea of a character being born to a time traveler who's living a century earlier than their real time? Well.

Maybe To Say Nothing of the Dog, that life-changing read of late 2002, was the pivotal moment of time travel for my imagination, but I was a fan before--Doomsday Book, Quantum Leap. Still, it must be acknowledged; Leap Years and its variations (Time's Fool came first, I believe) emerged in 2003 for a reason. So since then the world and its rules have served as a minor framework for my own life, actual and creative. These are the tropes of paradox to be avoided. Here is the career agita to invest with more impact.

But I was sidetracked a decade ago, the "real" world of sports--of a sort--overtaking the faculties. Then so much worse; when the small minds and conflicts of media personalities become a source of routine entertainment, the plot's been badly lost.

The silliest thing, of course, was watching Suits from a combination of need for a show to watch, mild interest in the premise, and Markle curiosity. It was weak enough that I set it aside for months between late seasons. Still, one good character; liked her well enough to remember another show she'd done, one a very early friend from that sports fandom had loved, blogged about. 12 Monkeys, time travel; may as well give it a shot.

And a month and a half on, there it is. The emotional investment, the unabashed shipping, the need to know each step, puzzle over clues. It's the disorienting experience of watching a show designed to be discussed six years post its debut; there's no way to communicate the thrill with contemporaneous fans (mustn't catch spoilers in the all-purpose single discussion thread still out there!), no way to speculate without having questions answered before I can even ask them. I'm left to bleat my thoughts on Twitter, keenly feeling the loss of the olde television communities.

And there are the peculiar echoes of Leap Years and novel ideas, the notions I floated a decade and a half ago. A child born out of time. A person brought ahead centuries to the future (now). Modern medicine used to treat a woman who ought to die. Etc. No claims laid to these ideas; it's the funny little itch in the brain is all. It's enough to inspire a challenge of difference. What are my team's goals and dilemmas? Where does my science differ?

And so I revisit the old notes, the messages to myself half-forgotten in meaning, the phrases and songs that once meant a good deal. Even logging into the YouTube account associated with this alias is like journeying to a superior time; video recs are five, seven, twelve years old, from accounts dedicated to long-retired figure skaters, Belle & Sebastian, millennial indie darlings. What was the old timeline meant to become? Or can it be reformed, transfigured, by the now?