I’ve always had an irrational admiration for anyone who even claims to be a time traveler. Anyone at all. It’s kinda rediculous. Someone could really take advantage of me in that way. Only not really.
To say that I would absolutely adore the process of travelling either backwards or forwards at basically any cost would be a vicious understatement.
I really don’t have any particular motivation. Sure, I would’ve liked a Republican victory in the Spanish Civil War, and I would like to tell my sister that her relationship with her now ex-boyfriend of Not Long Enough yet at the same time, Very Long would cumulate with her twin brother getting into a fight with him and him making me SOB.
However, I don’t think I can guarentee Francoist DEFEAT FOREVER, and I think my sister would be all “Okay then sissy sweetie! Thanks! I’ll remember that!” and then wander off, wondering why my hair is a different color.
I mean, I guess that despite the fact that I was either born a hundred years too early or a hundred years too late, I’m rather fond of our current time period, and I’m fond of time progessing.
But really, I want to do it so that I can be put into an insane asylum in 1910 or so, and then spend a bunch of time screaming about the Vietnam War or something completely worthless to them like that, and then make a grand escape and activate the time machine and zip back in my time machine back to my home timeline in front of the very eyes of whoever happened to be chasing me around 1910 London or something.
I’ll go back home and check Wikipedia for a list of people who claimed to be time travellers and be very upset if I don’t end up on the list.
