TIME TRAVEL ISN’T WHAT IT USED TO BE.
“After all, the wrong road always leads somewhere.”
- Victor Standish.
I used to dream of it in the libraries of every mean city Mother dumped me in. To travel through time seemed to be the perfect escape from the street gangs who made my life miserable. No matter the library, I would find the copy of H. G. Wells’ THE TIME MACHINE, and I would read it from cover to cover in one sitting. I would fantasize about finding an abandoned Time Machine in the end of a little-used alley.
SHOULD PEOPLE THIS CLUELESS BE REPRODUCING?
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