Gravity Curves

The International Spacetime Investigation Committee (ISIC) had politely asked Peter Strondike to leave five years previously. Though a gifted physicist, Peter was considered ‘Not a Team Player’ by the group. In fact, his single-mindedness in the pursuit of time travel enraged other committee members. At the ISIC Annual Conference 2026, Peter had created a laughing stock of the group’s achievements with his presentation ‘Gravity curves: an exploration of Gravitational Fields and Time Travel’.
‘Regretfully I must ask for your resignation from the Committee,’ wrote the then-president Carl Walson PhD, ‘We thank you for all your contributions… you have been an asset to the development of ISIC…’
Five years later, the words of this missive were still imprinted on Peter’s brain. But his rejection had ultimately been the catalyst to spur on his own experiments. Peter preferred to work alone anyway. In fact, he preferred to do pretty much everything alone: Eat alone, live alone, sleep alone. He couldn’t imagine anything worse than another human about the place; cluttering things up, demanding attention, making conversation. Yuck.
There was really never any doubt to Peter that he would achieve time travel anyway. His whole life had built to this; from tinkering with rockets as a boy, to his Doctorate in Physics at Bern University, to his development (from the conception) of ISIC. As he sat in his workshop, he idly dreamed of the first journey he would make when his machine was finally complete. A few clichés would be necessary: The removal of Adolf Hitler would be top of the list, the prevention of the discovery of Nuclear Weapons, perhaps he could smuggle back a couple of modern-day vaccines? And for his own personal gratification: an encounter with Albert Einstein would be hard to beat.
With the discovery of a new element Marinovium (atomic number 278), the final piece to Peter’s interdimensional jigsaw had arrived. With trepidation, Peter stepped into his machine, closed the motor actuated vacuum door, and held his fingers static above the virtual keyboard. Suddenly, all of Peter’s noble intentions to better the history of the world deserted him. Before he even knew what he had done, his fingers had keyed in the date 11^th March 1984, and the place: Swindon Community Youth Club. With a flash and a baritone howl, the machine (pregnant with Peter) embarked on its maiden voyage.

Feeling woozy, Peter clambered out of the vessel, and made his way into the centre. All around him, groups of young teenagers noisily huddled, playing ping-pong, listening to music. Peter edged to the far corner of the room where he found the reason for his journey. Sat together around a table were Simon Vee (an older teenager, covered in acne and socially awkward), Fiona Shaw (the object of Peter’s teenage affections – his first crush), and a 14-year-old Peter Strondike. For a moment, Future Peter hesitated, then approached the table.
‘Peter, I need to speak with you.’
14-year-old Peter surveyed this white-haired, bearded eccentric before him with zero recognition. Not wishing to lose cool points by acquiescing with this stranger’s request, Young Peter affected insouciance, and turned his back on his future, returning his attention to his friends.
Astounded, the Future Peter considered his options. There was so much that he wanted to say to his younger self. He wanted to warn him not to get in the Green Fiat in Milan. He wanted to let him know that, at 24 he will suddenly (and briefly) become attractive to females, but that he must capitalise on it, because he will be unaware at the time – have some fun, have some flings! He wanted to steer him towards Gravitational Physics, to the exclusion of Quantum, as this is where his career will ultimately lead. He wanted to explain about the back-stabbers of ISIC, and let him know that he was better than them anyway, and would ultimately have the last laugh. But more than anything he wanted to say ‘Take Fiona Shaw by the hand and lead her outside. Tell her how you feel. Tell her now. It is very likely that she will reciprocate. If you do not do this now, you will never have another chance, and you will regret this for the rest of your life.’
Ah, but what was the point? Young Peter would not listen anyway. Resigned to his impotence, Future Peter backed out of the Community Centre, climbed back aboard his machine, and in a burst of white light, returned to his workshop in April, 2031. Stepping for the last time out of his vehicle, he picked up a screwdriver from his work bench and slowly, methodically, set to work disassembling his life’s work screw by screw, bracket by bracket, component by component.