The Shape of My Name
In 2076 a teenaged transgender son—genetically female in a family where the ability to
time travel is passed from mother to child via mitochondrial DNA—lives with an aunt in
the house where his mother abandoned their family more than a century in the past by
traveling to a limit point in 2321 where their time machine can reach but not return.
I
noticed that the time machine’s name, anachronopede, is nearly that of El
Anacronópete, so I wrote to Nino Cipri to ask whether Gaspar’s novel was an
inspiration. It was, said Nino, writing to me: “It is indeed a reference to El
AnacronĂłpete. I was researching time travel in fiction while writing that story, and
it was the earliest mention of a time machine I could find. Plus, the name is so
great.”
I picture you standing in the kitchen downstairs, over a century ago. I imagine that
you’re staring out through the little window above the sink, your eyes traveling down
the path that leads from the back door and splits at the creek; one trail leads to the
pond, and the other leads to the shelter and the anachronopede, with its rows of capsules
and blinking lights.