Ancient History (3000 BC to AD 476: Bronze/Iron Ages)

‘‘किञ्‍चापि भवं कस्सपो एवमाह, अथ खो एवं मे एत्थ होति – ‘इतिपि नत्थि परो लोको, नत्थि सत्ता ओपपातिका, नत्थि सुकतदुक्‍कटानं कम्मानं फलं विपाको’’’ति। ‘‘अत्थि पन, राजञ्‍ञ, परियायो …पे॰… ‘‘अत्थि, भो कस्सप, परियायो…पे॰… ``यथा कथं विय, राजञ्‍ञाति? ‘‘इध मे, भो कस्सप, मित्तामच्‍चा ञातिसालोहिता पाणातिपाता पटिविरता अदिन्‍नादाना पटिविरता कामेसुमिच्छाचारा पटिविरता मुसावादा पटिविरता सुरामेरयमज्‍जपमादट्ठाना पटिविरता, ते अपरेन समयेन आबाधिका होन्ति दुक्खिता बाळ्हगिलाना। यदाहं जानामि – ‘न दानिमे इमम्हा आबाधा वुट्ठहिस्सन्ती’ति त्याहं उपसङ्कमित्वा एवं वदामि – ‘सन्ति खो, भो, एके समणब्राह्मणा एवंवादिनो एवंदिट्ठिनो – ये ते पाणातिपाता पटिविरता अदिन्‍नादाना पटिविरता कामेसुमिच्छाचारा पटिविरता मुसावादा पटिविरता सुरामेरयमज्‍जपमादट्ठाना पटिविरता, ते कायस्स भेदा परं मरणा सुगतिं सग्गं लोकं उपपज्‍जन्ति देवानं तावतिंसानं सहब्यतन्ति। भवन्तो खो पाणातिपाता पटिविरता अदिन्‍नादाना पटिविरता कामेसुमिच्छाचारा पटिविरता मुसावादा पटिविरता सुरामेरयमज्‍जपमादट्ठाना पटिविरता। सचे तेसं भवतं समणब्राह्मणानं सच्‍चं वचनं, भवन्तो कायस्स भेदा परं मरणा सुगतिं सग्गं लोकं उपपज्‍जिस्सन्ति, देवानं तावतिंसानं सहब्यतं। सचे, भो, कायस्स भेदा परं मरणा सुगतिं सग्गं लोकं उपपज्‍जेय्याथ देवानं तावतिंसानं सहब्यतं, येन मे आगन्त्वा आरोचेय्याथ – `इतिपि अत्थि परो लोको, अत्थि सत्ता ओपपातिका, अत्थि सुकतदुक्‍कटानं कम्मानं फलं विपाकोति।

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“Well then, chieftain, I’ll ask you about this in return, and you can answer as you like. A hundred human years are equivalent to one day and night for the gods of the Thirty-Three. Thirty such days make a month, and twelve months make a year. The gods of the Thirty Three have a lifespan of a thousand such years. Now, as to your friends who are reborn in the company of the gods of the Thirty-Three after doing good things. If they think, ‘First I’ll amuse myself for two or three days, supplied and provided with the five kinds of heavenly sensual stimulation. Then I’ll go back to Pāyāsi and tell him that there is an afterlife.’ Would they come back to tell you that there is an afterlife?”

—Poco á poco—argumentaba un sensato.—Si el Anacronópete conduce á deshacer lo hecho, á mi me pasrece que debemos felicitarnos porque eso no permite reparar nuestras faltas.

—Tiene usted razón—clamaba empotrado en un testero del coche un marido cansado de su mujer.—En cuanto se abra la línea al público, tomo yo un billete para la vispera de mi boda.

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“One step at a time,” argued a sensible voice. “If el Anacronópete aims to undo history, it seems to me that we must be congratulated as it allows us to amend our failures.”

“Quite right,” called a married man jammed into the front of the bus, thinking of his tiresome wife. “As soon as the ticket office opens to the public, I’m booking passage to the eve of my wedding.”

Divers incestes sont consommés. Palentête a quelques raisons de croire qu’il est son propre père.

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Various incests are consummated. Skullhead has some reason to believe that he is his own father.

A dazzling streak of lightning, a mighty clap of thunder, and Paul Feron, suddenly awakened, sprang to his feet with white face and staring eyes. What had happened? God, what had happened?

The year of grace 1935! A dull year, a comfortable year! Nothing much happened. The depression was over; people worked steadily at their jobs and forgot that they had every starved; Roosevelt was still President of the United States; Hitler was firmly ensconced in Germany; France talked of security; Japan continued to defend itself against China by swallowing a few more provinces; Russia was about to commence on the third Five Year Plan, to be completed in two years; and, oh, yes—Cuba was still in revolution.

Write Caesar a letter in your own hand, inviting him here tomorrow and we’ll have Ula deliver it. That will keep him from going to the Senate chamber!

If you went back to, I would guess, 1946, and worked to prevent your parents’ marriage in 1947, you would still have existed in that year; you would not go out of existence just because you had influenced events. The same would apply even if you had only been in 1946 one microsecond before shooting the man who would otherwise have become your father.

Events are the result of a complex. There are no single causes. That’s why it’s so hard to change history. If I went back to, say, the Middle Ages, and shot one of FDR’s Dutch forebears, he’ll still be born in the late nineteenth century—because he and his genes resulted fom the entire world of his ancestors, and there’d have been compensation. But evey so often, a really key event does occur. Some one happening is a nexus of so many world lines that its outcome is decisive for the whole future.

Won’t things become rather confused if people see and hear there are two of us?

I saw this move somewhere . . . If I could just remember!

No . . . it’s all an illusion! I’ve been working too hard!

I forgot! Sounds could be etched on this rock by voices in its vicinity over the ages, since it was first formed!

Oh . . . The Crucifixion. You want to witness it, of course—

In the case of a missing man, you were not required to search for him just because a record somewhere said you had done so. But how else would you stand a chance of finding him? You might possibly go back and thereby change events so that you did find him after all—in which case the report you filed would “always” have recorded your success, and you alone would know the “former” truth.

“And watching the great Pythagorous at work.”
“And the three days that he spent on that little surveying problem. How one longed to hand him a slide-rule through the barrier and explain its working.”

We helped the wrong army. We put a skunk on the throne of Ithaca.

I refuse to make any statement about whether or not those two crossed a Time Barrier.

He looks for real! So does the chariot!

For though I do not know your real identity . . . I, Cleopatra, have lost my heart to you!

At the conclusion of that adventure, Doom’s castle was abandoned by him, but there is still a chance that the machine he used to send us into the past may still be operational!

You can win Odin’s enchanted hammer—but you will have to meet death first!

To the Reader: The “science” in this book is mostly scaffolding for the story, story-telling in the traditional sense. However, the discussions of the significance of time and the meaning of consciousness are intended to be quite serious, as also are the contents of chapter fourteen. —from Hoyle’s preface

We approach the time-space continuum of ancient Babylonia— It is there that the book which we seek was created milenniums [sic] ago!

Il veicolo aveva bisogno di una messa a punto! Comunque, siamo sulla “strada” giusta! Tenetevi forte!

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Keep your seat belts buckled at all times! In the unlikely event of a water landing, your seat cushion doubles as a flotation device.

Is it all ready? Right. Come on then. Back to creation. We mustn’t waste any more time. They’ll think I’ve lost control again and put it all down to evolution.

If Tyre explodes, why, here we’ll be, but our ancestors, your kids, everything we knew, they won’t. It’ll be a whole different history. Whether whatever is left of the Patrol can restore it—somehow head off the disaster—that’s problematical. I’d call it unlikely.

1. Travel is possible only into the past.
2. The object transported will return to exactly the time and place of departure.
3. It is not possible to bring objects from the past to the present.
4. Actions in the past cannot change the present.

Most excellent!

He had made three training jumps, two hundred years, then four hundred, then six hundred, and he thought he knew what to expect, that sickening sense of breathlessness, of dizziness, of having crashed into the side of a mountain at full tilt; but everyone had warned him that even the impact of a six-C jump was nothing at all compared with the zap of a really big one, and everyone had been right.

“For a thousand years,” said the ghost-queen. “I have waited for help.”

“Give a message to the silk weaver. You will see her at the farmhouse,” said the young man. “Tell her to meet me here at twilight.”

I rettili attaccarono tutti insieme i gettarono a terra Trappola. Gli azzannarono un polpaccio con le zanne affilate come quelle dei piranha, e chissa come sarebbe andata a finire se non fossi arrivato io agitando un osso: — Via di qui! Viaaaaaaa!

I dromaeosaurus, colti di sorpresa, arretrarono e si diedero a una fuga precipitosa.

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Suddenly, the pack attacked all at once. They threw Trap on the ground, and one of the grammed his arm with sharp fangs. Who know what wouldhave happened if I hadn’t furiously waved the bone and should at the top of my lungs.

“Go awayyyyyyyyyyyy!” I yelled. “Scram!”

Taken by surprise, the Dromaeosaurs retreated and swiftly took flight.

Non siamo più a Kilmore Cove.

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“We’re not in Kilmore Cove anymore,” he said aloud.

And she was continually amazed at how easily everyone else accepted their situation, the blunt, apparently undeniable reality of the time slips, across a hundred and fifty years in her case, perhaps a million years or more for the wretched pithecine and her infant in their net cage.

At any rate, ready your cameras and make sure your bows are rosined.

Time had gone wrong—this is what the Hystorians believed. And if things were beyond fixing now, there was only one hope left . . . to go back in time and fix the past instead.

Think of History as a living organism, with its own defence mechanisms. History will not permit anything to change events that have already taken place. If History thinks, even for one moment, that that is about to occur, then it will, without hesitation, eliminate the threatening virus. Or historian, as we like to call them.

Sheman was supposed to keep the time machine secret, but he broke the rules. He took his friend Penny back in time to ancient Egypt.

“Don’t you see?” says Terry. “We’ll just travel back in time and get a permit for the treehouse.”

“There’s nothing to return to.” Eliot’s knuckles bulged at the seams, but she didn’t yell. “When the Fade destroys a moment, it’s lost. Forever.”

“So I hear,” said the emperor. “When I first met you, I thought you must live nearby in Carnuntum. But now I do not think that is so. Where is your home?”
“Frog Creek, Pennsylvania,” said Annie.
“Beyond the Danube,” said Jack.

[. . .] the bubble could transfer to a flux capacitor in a DeLorean, and we could use the car to travel back to the future.

“Because we don’t know how returning to our own timelines will affect things.”

She let out an exasperated noise. “For God’s sake, Will, that’s why you go back to a few seconds before you enter Keystone for the first time. It’s Time Travel 101.”

With sights on events his eyes have never seen, Arthur is ready for his new time machine.

You come to the conclusion that you can correct everything if you stop yourself before you steal the time machine.

Appears to be a standard sequence violation. Branches growing at a stable rate and slope. Variant identified.

Helena: Well, for starters, you’d have changed the course of history.
Indy: That supposed to be a bad thing?

Dad was right. It is just a pile of stones with a gift shop.