The Time Traveller

Build a Time Machine to actually meet some Aliens... They are all around you, but were invisible until now

Nasa Peer Reviewed Time Travel Article Titled "Warp Field Mechanics 101", By Harold "Sonny" White, (an actual rocket scientist)

Seated in coach, This trip to Mars will be the literal worst fucking flight anyone has ever booked. And that's well before you actually land, and see just how lame your hotel room is.  Now considering your carry-on... What do you bring for a raucous good time on Mars? A Euchre deck, and perhaps some edibles? A couple dozen Go-Gurt? Bad fucking ideas abound in the brains of senseless billionaires.
Science fiction does shape all sorts of fascinating ideas into real objects, but if a nuclear warhead weren't the poster-boy example of bad ideas... We've actually invented huge dick-shaped rockets which burn ludicrous money, taking humanity nowhere, but closer to it's burnt end... Often Sci-Fi can be rather silly. Bad Ideas often leave us waking up naked, and afraid, with a bad hang-over and no real idea how we've arrived here, nor what we' may have contracted...
Is this not Time-Travel?

What if we could simply go back?

Perhaps not strangely, the realization of time travel largely depends upon a shit-ton of capital investment, a bit more 'time' (ironically) to get things right, and a ton of negative energy, (even more ironic) which we already have in spades here in the U.S.A.  As Nasa states in their conclusion from initial feasibility studies with JPL on Time travel, They acknowledge it's "more than theoretical possibility",  "...The concept (of Alcubierreian Time-Travel) is still a mathematical toy until the need for negative energy can be adequately addressed". Should we perhaps ask the White House for some of that magical fuel?

With arbitrary parameters R > 0 and σ > 0., Alcubierre's specific form of the metric for viable Time Travel can thus be written as the following handy equation:
𝑑𝑠2 = −𝑐2𝑑𝑡2 + [𝑑𝑥 − 𝑣𝑠(𝑡)𝑓(𝑟𝑠)𝑑𝑡]2 + 𝑑𝑦2 + 𝑑𝑧2
ds2=(vs(t)2f(rs(t))2−1)dt2−2vs(t)f(rs(t))dxdt+dx2+dy2+dz2.
I'm unsure (of course) as to whether you may believe we can move through time more quickly or more slowly, than our droll slog through a midwestern winter -- Or even if you'd care to go back in time to fix some shit right now... But when you look at the math, it sure looks possible. Especially when, and if technology catches up with theory.  Before then -- Like most inventions, Time-Travel remains science fiction.  Nobody gives a fuck what I think. Really. 
What is important, is that tech billionaires are competing for insane tax-subsidized NASA contracts, including 'lunatic' plans to colonize Mars. Which is way fucking stupid. Elon thinks this is his ULTIMATE, Bug-Out Shelter, so fuck New Zealand, right? Mars,  Instead of Time-Travel?, seems to me a stupid fucking investment.

But "Space travel", is NOT "time-travel", and the rest of this trip is going to fucking blow when you see your Hotel.

Mars: that totally hostile wasteland (way more desolate than Vegas with or without burning Cyber trucks). A red planet which is completely inhospitable to humans. Seated in coach, This trip will be the literal worst fucking idea anyone ever had. Like being air-dropped along a trump-era Mexicali border-path just to get a mean summer tan.  THIS, excursion without water, I.D., a visa, or any hope for survival whatsoever is way fucking lame. Like Mars.

Space is loosely defined as: "EMPTY, if a bit more boring than Mars". So perhaps Mars is even a bit less fun than being rounded-up and later caged by white-nationalist border patrols in a wicked hot desert.  You feel Desolate, desperate... You may initially be grateful to see someone, anyone else alas, for a moment.  But "Space travel", is NOT "time-travel", and the rest of the trip is going to fucking blow. Until someone can use Alcubierre's time travel plan, driven by copious amounts of Earth's abundant "negative energy".  We are not going anywhere fast. Spinning our magical wheels.

Meanwhile somewhere near Davenport Iowa, an only-child falls dead asleep, exhausted after playing with cousins at aunt and uncle's lovely home on Christmas eve. They are carefully, quietly carried out to the car, sleeping soundly as they are driven home two towns away. They drive for hours, and are later being tucked into a happy blue bed, lined with H.A. Rey books, and stuffed animals -- They awaken way too fucking early on Christmas morning to a shit-ton of presents.  Is this NOT Time-Travel?

For my money, I'd prefer to see investment in a mode of transportation where I simply awaken comfortably at any given destination.  No hassle, No TSA, No road rage, No cramped coach-class single-serving cutlery.

Has anyone ever wondered what the fuck people are actually doing up there in "Empty Space", On a space station? In fact when you think of it as "Empty" and even call it "EMPTY", instead of "Space" -- It seems rather self-evidently "UN-FUCKING-FUN".  Research....  Is it really "research"?

Building a way cool new rocket-ship, (which is basically a red-hot jet-fueled man-member), is a bit like getting excited about a brand-new electric sports-car which you still have to drive manually, cautiously, and slowly through heavy rush-hour traffic every damn day, just to pay for the fucking note & insurance on the thing in the first place.  So why is it that humans equate time travel with 'Space", and why is Space travel (mediocre rocketry) still so highly venerated that we aspire to make new larger ones every day? IF The Moon landing were done and dusted... then what is the rat-race to Mars really about, besides braggadocio B.S.?  Where are the Jet-Packs we were promised as children, and if we had them, could we not travel someplace interesting?, Like Michigan?

Fuck Elon!, and Fuck all of that reckless burning of "the people's" tax-subsidized cash to light the weekend wick of billionaire-boys-club benders.  Back-yard BBQ bull-shit boy-games  involving 400 tons of lighter-fluid, while really kind humans suffer, starve, helpless, and homeless... Seem strange to anyone else?  Here is a brilliant first step for the "DOGE-DOLTS"... sit for a dozen grueling congressional hearings on how this "research" is beneficial to it's constituents.

It's like space-era crusades, where (wait for it), Men (again) decide not to conquer any more (new) land but instead go about slaughtering each-other for not digging their version of the facts and some wacky religion.  Conquest of Mars, or "Empty-Space" for that matter is another stupid lark. Like paying for a shitty album, with one OK track, just for the right to say you'd heard of them first. What really happens when living out there all alone with your Tesla Mars-buggy?  Boredom. Blissful Beautiful Boredom.  Mars Colonies are as fictive as Fox News, but you can't use a sharp axe to escape Mars. This is not to diminish many way cool new space telescopes, which have little to do with fictional Martian Colonies, and Space-Based warfare. Space telescopes launched a decade ago give real insight into our human origin story, well before we flushed it down the toilet. Time seems to slow during some significant incidents, such as a car wreck, or a bike accident, but also in an injury, a high-dive, or a gymnastics routine. This is called a Time Expansion Experience. Moving objects of larger mass appear to have a distinct time-scale as compared to smaller objects throughout "space".   Between the two reside the possibility of controlling our own time travel.

Empty space without time-travel portends a Sisyphean Odyssey, without end,  or justifiable reward for humankind.  NASA says that until we can make a machine arrive someplace meaningful in a far more efficient time-scale, we are spinning our wheels. So Cool Your Jets, because anyway Mars will be rather like Nogales, or Santa Fe... for a Canadian -- a strangely beautiful foreign landscape --  Peaceful if you can pack enough good shit to eat, drink, and play with, to fend off boredom in your desert time-share, because it's too fucking hot outside. With  nothing much else to do, but meth, and whisky, we succumb to writing bad blogs, and the socials.

Look, I'll be the first person in the mosh-pit to welcome Space-travelers. In particularly if they look like Bowie in the "Man Who Fell to Earth" or the copycat "Terminator"... But let's begin with welcoming  all of the lovely "Aliens" living right here on Planet Earth.
Mars is rather crappy, and time travel is how you use yours.

We all have limited time, and most of us broken time-machines -- What matters is what one does with it.

Try this Book out: "Time Expansion Experiences" by Steven M Taylor


Last Night At The Bar

"My flying saucer is Ziggy Stardust My time machine is a bicycle", He Said
"I'm stuck", She said
"So you don't have a car then?"
She looks at her phone.
"Nothing but Negative Energy"
"Our timeline is non-linear."
"Pardon Me?"
"I Left my charger at home"
Two percent remaining,  panic
"Faith is a passable forgery"
But Western Union has one of those pens.
It's Mid-January
And everyone's desperate for a party.
So it's loud as fuck.
Shoulders knotted into my neck
"It's loud here", "really fucking loud!"
"Right?"
Teeth stained with wine
Dehydrated, My heart pounds ...I ask her if she could "stop talking about work"
For just a minute?
"Any Books you love?"   Changing the topic? 
Then, a loud car-wreck outside the front window
Who's just now staggering in.
"Where you from?" Beautiful ring", she questions.
"...I'm an artist, painter really."
"Lovely", "showing anything"?
"But I've only finished one so far."
"One what?, Painting?"
"Long Story."
"I've got about 12 minutes until my Lyft arrives..."
"Okay... Let's do this."
Back to, "Where you from?"
"I've painted a portrait of God."
​"Yeah?"
"Wisconsin."
"God from Wisconsin too?" She asked.
"Nope, nowhere near there."
"How was it?"
"What?, he said" 
"When she sat for you, 
"She Nice?"
"God's NOT a she"
"How do you know?"
"God is something else, Way cooler"
"I have to ask..., is it a nude?, the picture?"
"Clever!"
"Nah, No nudity, just a painting really"
"Where is home?"
"What?"
"The ride is taking you home?"
"No... elsewhere."
...
"Okay cool, ...So anyway, I have to be someplace"
"Sorry."
"Sorry?"
"Do you have a picture of your portrait?"
"What portrait?"
"'God' "I mean, On your phone?"
"Oh, yep."
"May I?"
"Sure"
[She moves in closer]
"Ready?" [He swipes a few times.]
​[The room mutes]
There is no sound, None
No movement
He hums something from "Black-Star".
She looks beautiful and Lost
​He sets his phone in her palm.
Her eyes dilate,
As she falls from her stool
Her bag spills under the  crowd,
...and the music returns, loudly
He lunges for his phone, and lifts her up
"I'm a black star... I'm a black star"
Plays
"It's fucking Bowie", She says.
"Yes, I think".
The music changes
To Theologians, and her phone pings
"What's happening?"
"To Me?"
"You saw him? That's the Picture."
"Holy Fuck!"
"Holy Fuck, yep!"
"Let's Go!"
​
We get into her car, as snow falls.