My Temporal Dinner
I wrote a blog a while back about the personality differences between the past and the future. Using the Five-Factor Model, I noted that they were quite different, their personalities radically divergent. This was a disconcerting realization: does this have to be so? Is it such a good thing for the two fundamental temporal entities of our lives to be at odds with each other? Perhaps I could play a part and find some common ground between them. Wouldn’t life be a lot easier if "what was" and "what will be" were more in sync?
After working my connections and navigating the prerequisite temporal eddies, processes beyond the scope of this essay, I succeeded in setting up dinner with Past and Future in my dining room. Their arrival was instantaneous, a veritable flash of incorporation. Past appeared as an old man wearing a suit with a bowtie, while Future materialized as an animated woman glowing with untold potential. Upon seeing each other, they stiffened, working very hard to control themselves and barely succeeding.
“I’m only doing this for you, Robert,” said Past, turning to me, “because you are so predictable.”
He meant that as a compliment, I’m sure.
“And I’m here because the future I have in store for you is anything but predictable,” Future said.
The smile she gave me was ostensibly mirthful, but I couldn’t help but sense slight menace.
She turned to Past and taunted, “I bet you hate that.”
Past just glowered.
“Hate what?” I asked, genuinely confused.
“The future I create, once acted upon, quickly becomes the past. So Past has to keep track of all the moving parts I summon.”
“That little trick of that asteroid killing the dinosaurs was just mean, Future,” growled Past. “It took me forever to keep track of all the wreckage, not to mention the tedious task of monitoring the rise of mammals.”
“Well, if that didn’t happen, I wouldn’t be here enjoying dinner with you!” I said cheerfully.
Stone-faced, my guests just looked at me without a trace of expression. Then Past broke the silence.
“Hey, where’s Present?”
“He couldn’t make it,” I said. “He’s in the middle of something.”
“That’s just like him,” Future said. “He is such a thief. He takes two seconds of my future.”
“And two seconds of my past,” said Past, clearly annoyed. “Only because you corporeal beings need all that time to process events.”
Sensing my guests were a bit fidgety, I tried to find some common ground.
“Speaking of processing events,” I awkwardly segued, “how’s the food?”
“It was delicious,” said the Past.
“Looking forward to it,” said the Future.
Okay, that didn’t work. Well, might as well just get to the heart of the matter.
“Is there anything you agree on besides not liking Present? I thought this dinner might be an opportunity for both of you to get along.”
“Get along?” snickered Future. “Past always thinks things were better in the old days. May I remind everyone that was before penicillin and plumbing?”
“And what about your predictions of AI taking over the world? I can’t count how many times you panicked on that one.” Then Past caught himself. “Actually, I can count how many times you panicked. That’s what I do.”
“You’re so limited. You just can’t imagine the terrible things that are going to happen!”
“Take a breath, junior. Remember Y2K? I do. You can’t!”
“You old-timer!”
“You whipper-snapper!”
“Will you two stop bickering!” I implored, losing my patience. “Can’t you agree for 10 seconds? That’s all I ask for. Just 10 seconds!”
Startled, the two temporal entities paused. Tired from their argument, they considered the idea.
“Okay, Robert,” Past said wearily, “I’ll try it. Just to stop listening to her.”
“Why not,” Future said, exasperated. “I’m so annoyed I’m willing to try anything—which, parenthetically, is what I do.”
And so they “agreed.”
Immediately, the room went gray. The food lost its flavor. The air was stale and heavy. The clock stopped ticking. And I began to melt away into nothingness.
“Not!” yelled Past and Future, seemingly in tandem.
And everything went back to normal. Life was, well, life again. At that moment it became obvious to me that existence, the flow of time, and free will itself required these two entities to be at war with each other forever.
“I said ‘not’ first,” Future said.
“No, I said ‘not’ first,” Past said. “I’m the past; I do everything first!”
“No, I did. I make the past!”
“And I’m there before you make the past!”
Relieved to see them at loggerheads once more, I slipped out to take a stroll in the evening air. It was a quiet, peaceful night; everything seemed right. The roiling conflict of the temporal world, the give and take of possibility and regret—we need it all. For if my temporal guests ever agree for real, we will have reached the end of the argument, only to realize that was what really mattered.
