“We all leverage our knowledge to our advantages,” Lisa says. “You’re the Interloper. You do the same thing.”
“Except,” I say, “I don’t have foreknowledge. All I know is what’s happened in the past.”
“Same with me,” she says.
“Except you have a hell of a lot more past than I do, or anyone else here,” I say. “And your ‘past’ is our future. How much of that future isn’t clear, but it doesn’t matter. Because, I know you’re lying.”
“What?” Lisa says, feigning shock. It’s so obvious it’s pathetic. “I’ve told you nothing but the truth, Frannie.”
“That’s right,” I say, “you’ve told me nothing. You say you’re from beyond Peter’s time, and that his theory of time travel is wrong. Except that, from a logical standpoint, if there’s already a way to travel through time, why would anyone bother researching it further? It’s like the wheel. Once it’s invented, there’s no reason to waste effort improving it. Time travel’s a scientific dead end. Once you can do it, the interesting bit becomes what using it does, not other ways to do it.”
“An interesting hypothesis,” Lisa says, “but what if there was a catastrophe that precluded the use of Peter’s method?”
“There isn’t,” I say. “When you can time travel, you can squirrel away knowledge in places that no catastrophe could ever reach. For example, say, a satellite.”