11/4/2023 0 Comments Round o clock near meAnd did she have a favourite? Yes, she said - and described one. As the beer took hold I plucked up the courage to ask her if she had read any other stories of mine. I hadn’t thought of that, and realized that it opened up whole new possibilities. You need to consider all these story elements from the past as different, divergent, time lines - so each one is still valid into the future. “I disagree, and you are thinking about time all wrong. It turned out that there was no tsunami in the Bay Area in 2018, so I guess that devalues the story …” She laughed, but shook her head. “I wrote that one about 15 years ago, and set it a decade in the future - so events have rather overtaken it. Read more science fiction from Nature FuturesĪfter choking briefly, I turned and introduced myself - then apologized. I listened in while wrestling with the last of my noodles, then realized with a jolt that she was describing one of mine … Over ramen noodles, California rolls and much beer we continued our final debate - which boiled down to ‘Can physical time travel exist?’ Opinions, naturally, varied to a chaotic degree, but eventually the writer next to me at the table began describing a relevant story she had read. The clientele were nearly all young and mostly just drinking, so when we placed our food order the old guy in the paper hat at the counter sighed, folded his racing news, and began his fancy knife work. One of the local postgrads, who’d been helping to organize the event, made a suggestion: “Hey, I know a really great place for cheap sushi …” Although it wasn’t a description that inspired huge confidence, the restaurant turned out to be only a couple of streets away. We started thinking about food, and beer. It was about 6 o’clock and a warm breeze blew through the trees along the street, the sound of the moving leaves merging with the slow evening traffic. It had been an exceptional event, corralling a bunch of science-fiction writers - most of whom had never met in person before - in a wood-panelled room to debate, dissect and dispute their favourite SF tropes. Outside in the hall, the building superintendent was loudly emptying the recycling bins in a universally recognized sign that it was time to make our exit.Ī few folk said their goodbyes and headed purposefully away, but about a dozen of us hung around on the sidewalk outside, swapping contact details and unwilling to break the magic of the day. We had overstayed our time in the elegant borrowed office and, reluctantly, the meeting was beginning to wind up. The afternoon sun was beginning to strike in through the windows above University Avenue, the line of light creeping slowly across the oak boardroom table.
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