Really, it's kind of all about idealism and the way that idealism cuts both ways. The way nostalgia is kind of the worst thing of all, sometimes, especially nostalgia for things that didn't actually quite happen that way.
Is a ruined world that knows why it was ruined better or worse than a world in ignorant denial? And is our world the first one or the second one? What happens when most of the people who were supposed to be changing the world settle down and get jobs and have kids and... is it losing perspective to stop trying to change the world in trade for protecting your kids or is it being realistic? Did the generation before mine accept their responsibilities or did they pass the buck to a generation of self-absorbed emotional cripples made completely ineffectual by the comfort in which they were raised and the fact that the slightest whiff of pain can cause us to fold? Can cause me to fold? Etc.
Did they get our parents to trade a walk-on part in the war for a lead role in the cage, for our sakes, and what did growing up in a cage exactly DO for us?
Is a person like John Lennon better as a dead symbol or alive in a world where everyone sort of expects him to lead because he's famous? Is it better or worse that he hates it but does it anyway because there's no one else to? Would we be better off without charismatic leaders to listen to for one generation and then watch history turn into cruel parodies, like Jesus, like Muhammed, like Gandhi, like anyone... or is that the very best we can hope for, warts and all?
What's a world like where the only people left fighting are tired old men and a world of children convinced by post-modernism and irony and telepathic assault that action is ultimately ineffective so why bother? And is that that world or is it ours?
And as for the time-traveller... what's the line between chasing your past down to hold it in your arms again out of loyalty and love and ideals... and just chasing your own fuck*ng tail? At what point is it noble and honourable and at what point is it a huge wasteful narcissistic wank?
Except, you know, not an essay on these questions that keep me up at night but...
Something of a cross between Gilgamesh and the Wizard of Oz and the teevee series "Jericho" and my own terribly guilty conscience for all the things that I could not save.
And spires topped with mind-controlling vegetative empaths called "Freedom Towers". And steam trains fitted with cloaking devices invented by Brian Eno. And a layman's misunderstanding of the mid-20th century theoretical physics theories of Hugh Everett and Feynman and so on. And the belief of some Native American tribes that Mackinac Island in Michigan was the first piece of land to rise back out of the waters after The Great Flood.
And, again, the fact that I'm probably not entirely sane. Anyway.