“Time travel ruins everything. There can be no narrative tension if the protagonists can just go back and alter past events. Once a fictional milieu uses time travel even once, it is dead to me”
“All right. What are you going to do about it?”
“I’m going to go back and kill ol’ Herb’s grandpa before he ever has any children!”
The doorbell rang. The FedEx girl handed me a box. Inside the box was a dented and stained cardboard carton. Inside that a wooden cigar box. Inside that an envelope. Inside, a handwritten letter. “My Dear Alice, I hope this message finds you well. I have successfully averted the conception of H. G. Wells (you won’t recognize the name, but an author of note in some circumstances). Alas my means of return has ceased to exist. Please arrange publication of the attached manuscript, which I hope will restore my ability to travel home.”.
“What’s all that?”, my spouse asked.
“Nothing, love, just some kind of weird Nigerian Letter scam”
