Ten-Year-Old Me and the Time Machine

 It was 1989, Weymouth, Massachusetts; Ralph Talbot Elementary School. Ten Year Old Me was at recess wearing brown pants and an equally brown shirt with a stegosaurus on it. The shirt said “Save the dinosaurs.” I think I got it at the science museum, but my mother might have purchased it for me somewhere else. I don’t know if the brown-brown ensemble was her idea; the years have shown her to have better taste than that. I fear I had nobody else to blame for looking like a chubby, pale underage UPS employee.

Most ten-year-olds have a dream future: “I want to play for the Red Sox!” or “I want to be President!” or “I want to be Garfield!” Ten Year Old Me had a slightly different plan. He felt that time machine technology was most likely imminent, and would certainly be made available to a certain chromatically challenged dresser. And for some reason (perhaps the stability of the space-time continuum) only to him. Yes, the brainy lab-coat types would search for TYOM like wandering lamas looking for the reincarnation of their former master. Upon finding my third period class, or possibly waylaying me in the science section of the library behind the ‘Apple Iie’s, they would test me by asking how many planets there were (9, at the time) or what scale began with absolute zero (Kelvin of course).

One possible scenario.

Forthwith I would receive the prototype and be allowed to go home early for beta testing. Not that I knew what beta testing was at that point. Once safely in my parents’ basement I would reach into my Trapper-Keeper and take out the plans, written in front of a mirror ala da Vinci, and begin my plan for World Domination. Ten Year Old Me had a plan. I had read about the Silk Road and the race to find an easier path to the Orient for spices in the 15^th century in history class and remembered the bit about pepper being worth more than gold. I did the math. Mowing the lawn got me 5 bucks or so. Pepper was about a dollar or so per jar. All TYOM had to do was to tear a wormhole through the fourth dimension (or whatever sci-fi plot device I had in mind to explain the logistics) after setting the coordinates for 15^th century England. I picked England because I spoke English, of course. I was vaguely aware that English was different back then but since my best friend's parents were from Ireland and since I could mostly understand them I figured I was aces.

Once I had safely landed in ‘Merry Olde England’, I would seek out the nearest noble; perhaps the king or maybe that “Duke of Earl’ my father was always going on about. I would, of course, immediately be presented to said noble with a hand full of peppercorns. I would wait for him to push his eyes back into their sockets and then commence the negotiations. Now, you might ask, how was I to prevent him from simply taking the peppercorns and having me thrown in the dungeon? I had a camouflaged bag hidden in the woods full of many more, and could sell them at my leisure with the promise of copious peppercorns to keep the Duke of Earl honest. What if some peasant found my backpack? Easy, they had neither nylon nor camouflage at that point in history so it would have been basically invisible. The time machine would be kept on my person, of course, in case of emergencies.

 

OK, maybe I'd bring back a couple of 'princess babes' too.

After being rewarded with gold, land, and titles, I would spend my time between epochs. Concerned about a ten year old catastrophically wiping out life as we know it or creating a dystopian future where the Allies lost World War II and Rick Astley never rose to the top of the charts? Relax! Ten Year Old Me had seen Back to the Future, and was therefore aware of the perils of changing the past. I wouldn’t accidentally start courting my grand (to the power of n) mother or declare war on the Holy Roman Empire. I would only bring the gold to 1989 and buy a Game Boy and a James Bond villain hideout. And some astronaut ice cream, I loved that stuff. How would a ten year old defend himself in Renaissance England? I would have an Uzi, of course. Because if someone was dumb enough to give Ten Year Old Me a time Machine, why not an Uzi too?