The other day, when I was still pregnant, CJ was driving me home from church.
“I’ve realised,” he said, “that, should the technology come about in my lifetime, I still can’t time travel.”
“Oh?” I said. “And why not?”
“Well, I worked out a while ago that if I time travelled and ended up in an alternate timeline, I could probably still track you down, either by attending the pirate ball where we met, or through one of our many mutual friends. This is Canberra, after all.”
“But once we have Louisette, and she actually exists in the world, it would be statistically impossible to reproduce exactly the same set of precise circumstances required to bring her – specifically her, not some other child – into the world. So time travel just isn’t worth the risk.”
I actually gasped, I was so touched. This is a man who not only plans ahead to save our marriage in the event of a time-space event, but who would give up one of his favourite fictional technologies for the sake of our little girl.
I love you too, CJ.