Time Traveler’s Talk Show: Einstein, Trump, and Elon
The air in the cabin seemed lighter as Ivy Mae passed around the joint, easing the tension that had built over the last few hours. Jas took a long hit, the smoke filling their lungs as they leaned back, letting it settle. The old tablet hummed quietly, flickering as though struggling to stay alive in the aftermath of the power surge.
Ivy Mae grinned, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Alright, alright, let’s see if we can get that VCR tape to work. We could use a good laugh.” She hit the power button on the tablet again, the screen sputtering before a crackling image appeared.
There, on the screen, was Einstein—wild hair, intense eyes—sitting across from an all-too-familiar figure. Trump, of course. He was taking a huge bite of a burger, his mouth half-full as he waved his hand dismissively at the camera.
Elon Musk was sprawled out in a chair next to them, scrolling through his phone, as if the entire conversation was beneath him.
Einstein was the first to speak, his voice dripping with sarcastic curiosity. “Mr. Trump, you are a great many things, but I fear a scientist is not among them. Your understanding of the laws of nature is… rather ‘fluid,’ if I may say.”
Trump, chewing with exaggerated vigor, raised an eyebrow. “I know more about science than anyone. I’ve got the best scientists—tremendous people. It’s called being smart.”
Einstein stared at him, utterly unconvinced. “Ah yes, the height of intellectual rigor. I’m sure your grasp on physics is… revolutionary. Quite like your grasp on reality.”
Trump waved it off. “You’ll see. We’re going to make science great again. Just you wait.”
Elon, still distracted by his phone, looked up briefly. “Maybe time travel is just an illusion. I mean, look at the mess we’re in. We’re all just here, stumbling around in the future with no real understanding of the past.”
Einstein sighed. “You cannot make sense of the future if you do not understand the present. And you cannot solve a problem you are not willing to acknowledge.”
Trump chimed in, suddenly serious. “I’ll tell you something, Einstein. We’re going to fix everything. Mars is the answer. If I get elected again, we’ll make it happen. The people will love it.”
Einstein shook his head, his face a mix of disbelief and disdain. “I’m afraid your plans for the future may be more fantastical than I originally thought. But I suppose that’s fitting in this time of madness.”
As the conversation carried on, the absurdity reached new heights. Trump boasted about how he would have defeated Hitler in a golf match. Elon rambled about colonizing Mars like it was a weekend getaway. Einstein, ever the voice of reason, gave up entirely, muttering about the deterioration of intellectual discourse.
The VCR fizzed out for a moment before the screen returned to static. Jas, exhaling the last of the joint, turned to the group, half in disbelief, half in amusement.
“Well,” they said, “that was certainly… something. I’m not sure if we should be terrified or just laugh.”
Ivy Mae grinned, looking over at Roman. “I think we do both. Sometimes it’s the only way to survive this mess.”