A Discussion on Time Travel

         “Time travel is most definitely impossible,” says the young man to the old man.
         The old man looks at him with a twinkle in his eye. “After all you’ve seen, all you’ve done, how can you still say that? How can you say that anything is impossible?”
         The young man chortles. “It is because of all I’ve seen and done that I make this remark.” He settles down in an easy chair near the fireplace, regarding his counterpart with respect. “For I cannot believe that all the wrongs I’ve seen (and yes, have done) would have gone uncorrected, were time travel possible.”
         “But that’s one of the beauties of time travel,” the old man points out. “How can we know if it has ever taken place?”
         “Why, yes. I suppose I could have just gone for a quick jaunt in the Paleolithic era right in the middle of your sentence there,” says the young man with just a hint of sarcasm.
         “Ah, but you didn’t,” says the old man with a raised eyebrow. “It takes no belief in the impossibility of time travel to divine that. I know you all too well, and if you had come anywhere near committing this act, I would have known about it immediately following your return. You never were a good secret keeper.”
         The young man laughs. “True. How is it you know me so well when I know you so little?”
         “Balderdash,” scoffs the old man. “You know me plenty.”
         “I suppose, in the superficial meaning of the word. But I know almost nothing of what goes on in that great mind of yours, however open you claim to be.”
         “I believe the topic we were discussing,” says the old man pointedly, “was that of time travel.”
         “Of course,” says the young man, resigning himself to the topic at hand. “I believe I was telling you that it was impossible.”
         “And I believe we’ve already established our viewpoints on the subject. I can see no solid proof that such an event is impossible. There may not be evidence that it can, indeed, happen, but that does not rule out the notion.”
         “But think about it,” says the young man. “Think of all you could change with one single trip. You could change yourself right out of existence. This in itself provides an interesting conundrum, for if you did not exist then you would not have gone back in time. And if you had not gone back in time then you would exist. But then you would go back in time, and so on and so forth. Really, the only logical conclusion is that such an experience is too illogical to exist.”
         “And I suppose that’s what the Pilgrims would say about television and airplanes,” the old man replies facetiously.
         “Duly noted, my friend,” allows the young man. “But I must hold tight to my opinion on this matter. The concept of time travel is too fanciful and unreal to exist, in this time or any other.”
         “As I will hold tight to mine,” says the old man, raising his glass in a toast.
         “And now, I fear I have heard the chimes of the clock in the distance,” says the young man as he rises from his chair. “I must return home to my lovely Annabelle, or she will begin to fret. I thank you, kind sir, for our time spent debating”
         “Another time, then,” calls the old man as the young man slips out the door.
         “Certainly,” comes the distant reply.
         “Ah, the pertinence of youth,” sighs the old man, pouring himself another glass of wine as his companion departs.  “We’ll see what your position is when you’re on the other side of this conversation in sixty years or so.”