“Can we watch Michelangelo work today?” my wife said, at the breakfast table.
“I have to go into the future today,” I said.
“The future? You said that you would never go into the future. You said going into the future is like a man opening his girlfriend’s mail. Ignorance is bliss, you said.”
“I’m only going ten minutes forward, max. To test and prove my theories.”
“Your equipment works,” my wife said. “Isn’t that proof enough?”
“We now know that we can observe the past. We can’t interact with it. We can’t change it. We can only watch it, like a movie. My calculations tell me that the same is true for the future, but I haven’t tested that yet.”
“The universe does not permit paradox, you always say.”
“My calculations prove this. Yet I must test the theory.”
“Will it be dangerous?”
“I don’t think so, but…”
“I want to be there.”
“This won’t be like our travels into the past. Nothing exciting will happen.”
“Nevertheless, I want to be there.”
“OK,” I said.
After breakfast, we cleaned up and dressed. Angela followed my out to my lab behind the house. The day was clear and warm.
In the lab, we sat down side-by-side, facing the counter that held my setup. I ran through my startup procedures and calibrated the central nexus. We put on our helmets.
I switched on the apparatus.
“I don’t see any change,” Angela said.
I moved the mouse and as we sat, we seemed to float backwards, so that we were watching ourselves from behind.
“I’m fast-forwarding,” I said. “Ten minutes into the future should take us only two.”
We sat quietly for two minutes. In front of us, we sat quietly for ten minutes.
I watched the timer and clicked the apparatus off after one hundred and twenty seconds.
“Now what?” Angela said.
“You saw us. For the next eight minutes, we sit here.”
“Neither of us stands up during that time. We can test this. Do you understand?”
“Not exactly,” Angela said.
“If we can see into the future and then act to change it, we can create a paradox, just as we could if we could change the past. We know we can’t change the past. We can only observe it, observe the universe’s stored hologram of spacetime. Now, however, we’ve observed future events in that same hologram. Suppose I stand up?”
“I don’t think you should,” Angela said. “I don’t think you will. We neither of us did. We just sat there.”
I stood up. I stepped away from the chair and looked back. I was still sitting there.
“What the…,” I said, or thought I said. No sound came out.
“Perhaps you’re right,” said the me sitting in the chair, to Angela.
“No!” I said, soundlessly.
I stepped back to the chair and reached out. I couldn’t see my arm. I looked down. I couldn’t see myself. My hand passed through the me in the chair.
“My math is clear,” said the me in the chair. “The universe does not permit paradox.”