Destination...Future

         “Tighten one more screw. Hook up wires.” Excitement hummed inside Jim’s veins just like the plutonium pulsating through his time machine. "Close dome. Destination 3009. Schematics, pictures, and yes, sample viruses that may be curable.” Taking a seat, he pulled three levers, pushed buttons. Scenery blurred on either side as years, eras, passed. “Invention working, almost reached specified goal,” said man for recorder. Lights flashed. Engine droned. “Body pinned by sheer force, unable to move. Keeping mental notes until capable of taping observations.” Eyes squeezed shut, open slowly. “Target achieved. Floating in space? Earth gone. Our planet has no future.”