I’m living in my own private Tanelorn

It’s been a rough week at the Day Job, and tonight will be dedicated to roasting up pumpkin seeds collected from highly discounted Jack-o-Lanterns left over from Halloween. (The secret to successful collection and roasting will be shared soon enough, but let’s just say it involves gloves, a very sharp machete, and the phrase the doctor used when I got my vasectomy a few years back: “Hassan…CHOP!”) In the meantime, consider an example of priorities. Let’s say that you had access to cheap and effective time travel, where you could travel to any time in the past or future and return home without worrying about paradoxes or the Morphail Effect. Say that you had a week, subjective time, in your chosen chronal journey, and you could return a second after you left. Where would you go?

Okay, the rest of you can go catch Woodstock and try to stop whoever it was who framed Lee Harvey Oswald. Me, I’m going back about 50 million years ago. I understand that the Gamburtsev Mountains of Antarctica were pretty impressive about then, and I think I need a weeklong vacation in a good forest full of Wollemi pines.

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