Arnesto Modesto: The World's Most Ineffectual Time Traveler

Prologue: The Original Future

"Why must time travel kill you, Grandpa?"

Arnesto Modesto looked at little Jessenia and smiled. She wasn't his granddaughter but his great-great-great-great-granddaughter. Over the last century, medicine had seen countless improvements in staving off death so people were living longer than ever before. As the number of surviving generations increased, many families adopted the tradition of calling all their elders "Grandma" and "Grandpa."

"Because the nanobots have to destroy my memory cells to best extract the information before they create the impulses to send back along the curve of space-time via quantum embroilment," he said. She looked confused so he reiterated, "It's to give my brain in the past the best chance of accepting memories from my brain in the present." He tapped his frail finger against the side of his liver-spotted head for emphasis.

He overheard one of the young mothers in the room whispering to her little boy, "He's preparing to go to heaven."

"No, I'm not!" he snapped.

A few of the bystanders gasped at his sudden outburst before the room fell silent.

"There's no such thing as heaven or hell. Can't a man choose to die in peace without any religious dogma ruining the moment?"

The boy looked like he was about to cry. So did the boy's mother. Arnesto felt bad. Must remember to be less condescending in my next life, he thought.

He looked over at the 2130 calendar hanging on the wall. He had it special made as nobody used print calendars anymore.

The top pages of the calendar featured classic cars from the 2060s: self-driving, self-recharging, eco-friendly, and impossibly safe. They were a far cry from the cars Arnesto drove in his day. He realized he was probably the only one alive in his family who had ever driven a car. Heck, the Department of Motor Vehicles closed down decades ago.

The bottom page showed April with that day's date circled. He loved that circle. His day had come at last. Less exciting were the marks filling every day before. The nurse put another mark inside that day's circle then looked at Arnesto with a mild sneer. It was part of their arrangement that she would mark the calendar every time he was snarky to someone.

From his deathbed, he looked around the room. Besides the nurse and Arnesto's assistant, Marcus, everyone was somehow related to him. Descendants, descendants-in-law, cousins a number of times removed, cousins he wouldn't mind seeing removed. They were all awkwardly looking at him. Even though it was his big day, he never got used to being the center of attention. He made an attempt at some damage control.

"I mean, we all have our own ways of coping with death. Besides, I'm not going anywhere except to the past, where I will get to live my life all over again. Does anyone have any questions?" he asked.

"If the impulses go back in time, couldn't they recreate your memories in a dinosaur?" Jessenia asked. Several people chuckled, easing the tension in the room.

"A great question! Who read and understood my research and wants to answer that?" The adults looked around the room at one another, but nobody volunteered. Idiots.

Arnesto had no choice but to answer for them. "I'm kind of oversimplifying things, but the impulses are grounded in my brain. That means I'm the only one who can receive them. But if one of them escapes and lands in a dinosaur's puny brain, the impulse would be incompatible. The energy would simply float away. Anyone else?"

A middle-aged man spoke up. "Would you like us to pray for you?"

Arnesto glared at the man. "You listen-"