I see that you’ve transported yourself back 50 years.
Now what are you going to do?
Remember that your money and credit cards aren’t going to be any good.
You’re dressed funny but if you hide the digital watch you can probably pass for a local.
The time machine put you in the same location, so many of you will start out in the country.
We’re not too sure about the space-time continuum stuff, so we’d recommend against going back to see close relatives. You might cease to exist if you disrupt your own creation.
Try to earn a little money doing some casual labour somewhere or other then buy some stocks in, I dunno, IBM or something (in my father’s name); am I allowed to bring the certificates back with me in the time machine or must I hide them somewhere? If I have to hide them somewhere then I’d probably choose an existing grave in a churchyard, simply because it’s already marked and reasonably unlikely to be disturbed, alternatively, I could locate the oak sapling that is now a mature tree in my garden and bury it (deeply) next to that. I’d need to work out a way of sealing it up securely so that water doesn’t get in.
Can I stay and watch time go by? Just think of the things I could do…
1963-Attempt to tell Mr. Kennedy not to visit Dallas, or, if he does, to be very careful. He probably won’t listen to me, but what the heck.
1968-More attempts to stop assassinations. Martin Luther King, watch out! Don’t go to the hotel, Bobby!
1969-Watch man walk on the moon. Go to Woodstock.
1976-Watch Bicentennial celebrations
1980-Yet another assassination I’ll attempt to stop. Don’t sign your record for that fan, Mr. Lennon! That guy’s gonna kill you!
1985-Invest all my money in a little energy company in Texas that just went public called “Enron.” Also, see myself being born.
1989-Try to get the drunk off the Exxon Valdez.
Late 2000, Early 2001 or so-sell all the Enron stock at its high of $90. Become fancifully rich before all that scandal hits.
Late 2001-Forge a CIA report regarding Islamic terrorists’ plans for September 11, and attempt to bring it to President Bush. He’ll probably ignore it, though.
August 1, 2002-I am now 67 years old. The portal opens, sending me 50 years into the past, and it starts all over again…
Hah! I grabbed the stash of circa-1935 silver certificates from my collection before I jumped through the portal. Not much, but about $50 worth, so I have some spending cash. . .
I’d probably spend the day hitting Automobile Row in town, test driving Packards, Studebakers and the like. I mean, I’ve driven cars of that era before, but to drive them as new cars? It’d be a thrill.
Then I’d just wander around town, taking in the sights and maybe going to the movies or something.
This is clearly not the only instance of the occurence of an August 1, 1952. In the other one I know about, I wasn’t even present as an embryo. So this is a ‘new’ timeline; the future is up for grabs. Who knows about November 22, 1963 - it may be a totally forgettable day this time. Maybe Nixon will beat Kennedy in 1960. Maybe Kennedy won’t even get the Dem nomination. Maybe Ike will dump Nixon from the ticket before he has the opportunity to give his ‘Checkers’ speech, then lose to Adlai Stevenson this fall.
I’d still buy some IBM, though, once I earned a few bucks.
First, I’d pee. I’d be standing in a field in the middle of what will eventually be Los Colinas, so no one will see. Except for that farmer over there. Hey, I wonder if he has a daughter.
What to do now?
Well, I guess I’ll just settle down in this area with the farmer’s daugher for a spell. Help out on the farm, maybe come up with some innovative ways to do things. Don’t know what, but I’m sure they’ll hit me as I go along. As the family biz grows, I can begin snatching up prime real estate. I figure if I’d like to come back in about a year and own most of Plano & Frisco.
Okay, so the first thing to do on my checklist is fall 15 stories to my death. But assuming, I do appear on solid ground, I am pretty much in the heart of downtown Atlanta, although a much smaller town it currently is.
Since I have no money and no ID, I get myself out to the country, which isn’t all that far away. I hire myself out as a jack of all trades on a farm to get some cash. I work for a while, basically spend nothing, and then when I have enough money I start buying land that is located about 30 miles from Atlanta. No one really lives there and no towns or roads really exist in that area. But, 50 years from that point, they will be considered as much a part of Atlanta as downtown is so I have now made a killing by selling unused and unwanted land that cost virtually nothing for a very tidy profit.
I’d be in the middle of an old clearcut piece of land in Mukilteo, WA. Amoco owns it in 1952, having purchased it before World War II as a possible refinery site for Alaskan oil. After wandering out of the blackberry brambles, I’m way out in the suburbs of Seattle in an area that had some fishing cabins.
What I do from here depends on my confidence on the time machine getting me back to 2002. If the old TM is as reliable as the Straight Dope Message Board, I might have to try a couple of times but would get back eventually. If I cover it and go off for the day, I’d want to call my parents to give them a few tips on their two-year-old – but that long-distance call would cost money which I have not. Maybe it would have to be done via a letter. Luckily, I know their address. No zip codes to worry about.
I’d probably waste my whole day getting them some helpful information about the future. And worrying about whether or not it would be any help.
Sent back 50 years permanently is a more intricate set of problems.
I’d better lose this Oshkosh 2000 sweatshirt or they’ll think that I’m a witch. Or the 1950s version: if I don’t get a local identity established quickly, people will treat me as a Communist infiltrator. That probably means getting a birth certificate for someone who’s deceased – but about my age. And a driver’s license. Why don’t they have these mundane problems in the movies?
The first concerns are for daily routines:
· Find a quick day job using one of the skills that I carry back from the future. At least I know how to drive a vehicle with a clutch; use a typewriter; fly an airplane (“I learned it during the war . . .”); do accounting; operate a soldering gun; speak a couple of languages. Need job to get cash to establish an identity.
· Set up a household. Without a microwave oven, I see a lot of toasted cheese in my future.
· This is like life-after-college: okay I got the first job, now what am I going to do for the rest of my life? I’ve got an education that’s unverifiable in 1952, so I’ll have to pick a field where the expertise is in the process of development . . . statistical analysis; aviation; telecommunications; computers. Scratch the last area – I’d be too frustrated by the low level of technical development – working with key punch machines and mainframes with 32K of memory?
· It would be tempting to bet on some sporting events. . . but what can I remember back to 1952???
Once established, I’ll worry more about the philosophy of being in an earlier time. Is there a safe experiment to see what impact I’d have on the space-time continuum?
I’m already born . . . but I could go influence the appearance of the brother-to-be. Should I head for Cleveland and act as an invisible hand of development as I grow up? Stay here and find a way to act remotely? Do I know enough of my parents’ lives to be of any real help?
Oh man! Oh my! I guess my degrees are no good either so back to school! Rent a little back room up in Manoa, finally learn to surf (since we just got our first TV station and it’ll be years before I have access to the internet) In two years I will hunt down a certain Italian school teacher and track her every move till I can find out who my grandfather was. You know what, I think this time I’ll become a math teacher at a nice little community college.
Ooh ooh, I got a great one. In the mid-1970s I shall hustle off to Lucas way, befriend him, offer to invest money in his films (I am rich what with the better and such) and ask for a part in the movie, maybe Red Leader?
As for all the moral action and money making I think it’s all pretty obvious what’s to be done, or at least so long it would require its own thread.
I’d start stocking up on all the comic books I know will become extremely valuable over the next 50 years, probably buying 2 copies of everything. I’d keep a hopeful eye out for the first issues of Fantastic Four, Avengers, Amazing Spider-Man, X-Men, and so forth. Then I’d store them in a bank vault until the late 80’s, when I’d sell everything before the big comics collapse of 1992.
I’d also keep an eye on the stock market, and pick up shares of Apple, Microsoft, Yahoo, Starbucks, and whatever else comes to mind.
My sports memory isn’t great, but I’d at least plunk all my money on the 1981 Philadelphia Phillies.
Hell…I could find some chronic gamblers and bet on everything.
Me in 1977: “Betcha $5000 the next Pope is Polish.”
Bookie: (grinning) “You’re on.”