Time travel unraveled

"Warm holes…throats…exotic matter…."

I suppose you're thinking, "An X-rated column!? Woohoo!!" Settle down, this is a wholesome publication. No, these words aired in the great Hawking vs. Hilton debate on the physics of time travel.

Paris scored points by stating, "Not warm holes, Stevie-babe, they're worm holes!" She's, like, awesome smart.

The sultry physicist argued that the space-time continuum can fold over itself, so theoretically we might travel back and do-si-do with our younger selves. Oh boy, a caper like that could spell big trouble - the elder moi slinging a tirade of advice, while the wrinkle-free, long-haired me repels the onslaught with half of a peace sign.

"Equal and opposite reactions" - more than a swell idea, it's the law. That rascal Newton was a clever lad who dabbled in classical physics, and also wowed the masses with his chewy fig cookies.

Okay, picture time as a donut-shaped vacuum. Any flavor…. Wait, not jelly-filled. Each lap around the hole takes us further back.

So what's the deal with "worm holes"? Sounds yucky, but they're shortcuts through time. Nobody has seen any but I think a worm hole would look like the framed photo on your mantel - the photo you snapped while whooshing through the pink tunnel at the water park. What? No kidding. That was taken during your colonoscopy?

Paris and whatshisname also parried views on "negative energy density." A fancy term for the high price paid by many seniors who pushed the bedtime envelope past 8:30 on New Year's Eve. Ah, yes, "wild and crazy," redefined.

Back to this "exotic matter." Physicists puzzle over the stuff, and believe it's repelled by gravity, not attracted to it. No Shih Tzu, professor! If, just once, those blokes would put away their math formulas, and enjoy a spree in, say, Las Vegas, they'd find a city bursting with exotic matter that is ALWAYS fighting gravity! Why do you think plastic surgeries are called "lifts"?

Anyway, exotic matter facilitates time travel because it keeps the doors or "throats" open at each end of a worm hole. Mein Gott! Claustrophobia in der closed tunnel makes not so happy, ya?

If you've ever gotten trapped while squirming out of a tight turtleneck, you know the panic. You also learned the Jaws of Life are a tad rough on cashmere.

When people "go toward the light" at death, are they traveling through a worm hole to the exotic matter? I don't know, but the possibility of an afterlife filled with any form of exotica makes me feel downright perky.

Short of dying, an "out of body experience" could be nifty if the timing is right. A thoughtful spirit would abandon ship when we mounted the doctor's scale.

Without the bobby pins, denture, nose and tongue jewelry, and a muffin-butt spirit, we'd surely weigh less. And when climbing into the dentist's chair, at least part of us could skip the torture session, see a movie, and hightail it back when we're paying for the damaged armrests.

Chances are, many spirits will sail out to cruise the mall at the same time. In the chaos, some might dive even back into the wrong body. (If that happens, toots, I've got dibs on Paris.) Let's hope that a spirit out surfing time's donut hole could scatter a few loose crumbs to mark a trail back to the corpus correctus.

One's spirit must execute a smooth re-entry, or the body will seek to cushion the blow. How? By creating fat!! You betcha. A hard landing will also fling a gaggle of skin cells into the air. And what does orphaned skin become? Why, gangs of dust!

So, maybe you've put on weight since the holidays, or discovered crumbs in your pockets. Or the furniture is fuzzy with a thick coating of skin flakes.

Aaaack! Easy does it, love, you've been traveling! And yes, your landings need some work. But I'm glad you made it home.

Copyright © 2007 Mary Tompsett