Those adorations mounted on every church wall and displayed in cheap frames on every Catholic retiree's credenza next to the family porcelain collection, actually got his look spot on. Gaunt, bearded, Kurt Cobain hair but darker. Pictures of Jesus the world over seemed...accurate.

But the most shocking thing about Jesus, who sat there in front of me, surrounded by people hanging on his every word, was that he was white.

Whiter than me and I'm from Minnesota and have Scotish roots. If I run outside naked on a snowy Christmas morning I'll be invisible. I'd only just arrived but before I stumbled upon this scene I was the odd man out (even having accounted for the era and come dressed to blend in). Everyone else: the Romans, the Middle Easterners, were all darker-skinned. I thought that my time machine journey to Jerusalem would have at least proven out the obvious: that Jesus was white-washed over two millennia.

Not true.

There he sat. And there I stood. Confounded.

When my initial shock started to wane that's when I became aware of the fact that Jesus himself, messiah and savior of all mankind, so I read... was staring me down with a rageful resolve that I'd only ever seen from my son when I'd take away a toy as punishment. I grimmaced, but his hard glaring eyes didn't break. Then I picked up on a twitch of his head. An indication to meet.

I walked behind the bazaar wall where he'd been, I don't know, holding court? I don't know how to describe the market-sized adulation. Somehow though he'd placated them to occupy themselves and had escaped. This I knew because now we were alone. He still held that rageful look, and I was still its target.

"What are you doing here, goddamn it?" he hissed, suddenly.

"Goddamn it? That's... out of character. How the hell? You speak English?"

"Ya damn right. I know the noggin' of an American in any century. Just what in tarnation are you doin' here?"

"Are you... are you southern? Wait... I have questions--"

"You better saddle up back on whatever time funky horse you rode in on and get back to your age, or you'll have us both caught out!"

"You're not Jesus you're some guy from... from Texas?"

"I am Jesus, you goddamn neophyte!" He caught himself and continued at a lower volume. "You need to leave here."

"Tennessee? Georgia? I think I can place Alabama and Louisiana but my ear isn't that trained. You're an American, that's clear to me."

"Why are you here?"

"I built a time machine. I wanted to see Jesus. Wasn't planning on talking to him. In English. In American."

He was muttering under his breath. "First time this has happened..."

"What?"

"You gotta go. Not the time, not the place."

"Do you speak the languages here? How do they not know you're foreign... and... timeless?"

"You want answers, partner? I ain't got 'em, Sam Hill."

"Tarnation? Sam Hill? Man, what year are you from? Are you Jesus Jesus or have I stumbled into some off-putting parallel dimension where you've found yourself comically replacing him? But then how can you speak Aramaic?"

"I'm busy saving the world, fella. There's your answer, now skeedattle!"

"But wait--!"

He'd given me once last hard glare before he turned and shuffled back out into the bazaar.

I had to sit down. I sat on an old basket full of soddy woolen sheets. A million questions still rolled around my head. But the questions were so non-sensical, the situation so bizarre, that my brain couldn't do anything. I could hear myself laughing, and I floated up into a morbid out of body experience, observing myself sitting there in the dark, a time traveler in the midst of discovery.

After ten minutes of this, I came to my senses. I went back to my time machine and initiated the return trip. A flash of light, and I was back in 2022, in Foley, Minnesota.

Everything looked the same. Same furniture, same house, same doting family. Same Netflix line-up, same neighbors and cars. I drove around. Same town. Same church. I should've been glad that I hadn't irreversibly changed anything, but all I could think was... what the Sam Hill is going on?

I had to go back. Because, honestly... wtf.

​

/r/velabasstuff

I’d spent twenty years on the design and another ten years begging, borrowing, and stealing for the nuclear fuel and capacitors, all for one shot. Mercifully, all the time spent waiting in dark Bulgarian alleys, fields in Kazakhstan, and in the foothills of Pakistan gave me lots of time to think about how I would use the machine. There was no way to travel more than about 2,200 years in the past due to load calculations. Odds of a capacitor failing were high and there wouldn’t be enough time to make another from scratch before I died even if I had all my tools and equipment from a few years in the past. My hands were withered, my body twisted by the time and effort. I’d given everything for this moment and I wanted it to count. I shipped the machine to Israel.

It was no small feat getting radioactive material past the inspections. The last of my money went to bribes and all the lead shielding, but, finally, I stood by Galilee next to the rusted shipping container holding my machine, the gentle lapping of water by my feet as the engine’s low whine steadily rose in pitch.

I entered the tiny hatch and crammed myself inside. Instruments and displays jammed uncomfortably into me as the whine became deafening. The year was set. A small light on the panel shifted to yellow, then green. I felt my finger depress a key and there was a loud bang, tremendous disorientation, then… nothing.

I came to in the dark, gently rocking back and forth. I was alive! As I cracked the hatch, smells of ozone and burnt plastic gave way to the soft spice of spring wind. The shore was barely visible in moonlight. Of course! Galilee was deeper then! A foolish oversight. I removed a small life vest from the seat, my carefully chosen robes, and a small, inflatable raft and began to tow my creation to shore.

A few carefully placed cloths concealed my work and I stood, exhausted on the shore. A couple of young men had come down to the shore to push off and regarded my elderly bedraggled form quizzically. They spoke in… Aramaic? I’d had to make choices about what I studied. I responded in Koine Greek.

“I am looking for someone. Can you help me?”

The first man glanced at the second who spoke up in heavily accented Greek.

“You’re a traveler?”

Success! I responded.

“Yes. I have come to seek the one they call Jesus of Nazareth. Does he teach here?” I held out a coin I’d paid a small fortune to obtain at a pawn shop as a tip for information. The man affirmed. “I have half now, half when we get to him.”

Fishers must have been as poor as it was recorded as both men enthusiastically led me further down the shore. It was a mercy their Greek was so poor that I didn’t have to explain my own stilted skills or attempt to fall back to my high school Latin. They were quite hospitable, fed me, and allowed me to ride in their cart as they led the ass along a Roman road. What a privilege to see one with my own eyes. The past! I could scarcely drink it all in before I heard an increasing din of a crowd.

There had to be two thousand or more people all waiting on a hillside. Children playing, old men gesturing angrily, and others seem to have made a picnic out of it. After a few confirming conversations, I paid my guides who enthusiastically made their way from me into the crowd. I would be unlikely to last here; strange food, strange disease, cultural misunderstandings, broken equipment, but it would be worth it. In moments, I would see Him.

“YOU!”

A voice boomed in Greek over the din and the crowd silenced.

“YOU!”

All eyes turned to a slight man with a small entourage emerging down by the shore. Could it be?

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!”

I suddenly became aware of this man’s outstretched hand, pointing my way. Members of the crowd fell prostrate as this man walked past.

“YOU DO NOT BELONG!” That… was not in Greek. That was accented… Latin?

The crowd parted and suddenly I was aware of this man’s fixated eyes as he marched toward me, seemingly blind to his followers. I was too frightened to speak.

“You are out of place, traveler.” Not Latin… Italian? He looked frustrated at my face. Then he spoke in halting English, “You understand me now?”

I nodded. It seemed the world stood silent around me.

“No much time. You… break it all. You go. Back to your machine.”

I stammered in English. “Y.. you know me?”

“I heard of you. Told to look for you here. Father watches. You go back to your machine NOW!”

(I’ll add more shortly. Off to work!)

Jerusalem, 2000 years before it all got out of hand. The mission my superiors had sent me on was clear and simple. Take a picture of Jesus Christ and confirm his existence then get the computer in the 70s. Easy. I didn’t stand out. I wore the same clothes as the folks around me. Perhaps the colour of my skin was a bit out of place, but nobody seemed to notice.

“Son, hurry up. You have only half an hour left to finish your mission. We can’t risk you getting stuck in the past. We won’t risk another H.G. Wells, besides there is more to do. We need you to find the 1975 computer as well. This is just our little side project,” the general told me as I felt his voice inside of my head. The past does have its advantages. At least there were no forced microchips in the heads of these people. “Sir, yes, sir,” I quickly answered.

I saw a crowd surrounding a dark, tall man. His beard seemed clean, so did his long black hair. The man spoke in a language which I did not understand. It was time for modern technology to do its thing. I snapped four times with my fingers. The translation machine immediately did what it was meant to do. Could this be him?

“You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind,” the intriguing man said to a young boy. His voice sounded a bit peculiar. I tapped twice on my forehead in a specific manner to get in contact with the general. “General, this man is preaching the bible. Could this be him?” I asked as the camera seemed to confirm my suspicions as well. “Positive, son. Take the picture and get the hell out of there,” he answered.

I took out the camera and took a few pictures of the man who I assumed was Jesus Christ. It was done. The mission had succeeded. As I walked out of there, I decided to look at the pictures. The man had stared right at the lens of the camera. Twice. This was odd, but nothing uncommon. I mean, Napoleon had stared at the camera and everything was fine after that. Same goes for Alexander The Great.

“Sir, I got the pictures. The software is positive, this is Jesus Christ. Take me back.” “Sending you back now, Fredrick. Well done!” The general sounded enthusiastic. Just then I felt a huge electric shock in my head. I dropped the camera and it was immediately broken. Damn it, Apple…

“What is this?” A man with strong facial features asked. Did this man follow me? “Nothing of interest to you,” I quickly answered as I grabbed the broken camera. The camera still seemed to work just a little bit. It recognized the person in front of me as Judas! Incredible. “You’re Judas?” I asked way too quickly. “Yes, I am,” he answered. He didn’t seem to be surprised. “Who are you?” he asked. Suddenly we both heard footsteps quickly coming towards us. It was him. It was Jesus.

“What in tarnation is the meaning of this? What are you doing here?” he asked. He seemed incredibly angry with me. I decided to play it off. “Jesus, you want me to-“ Judas asked as he was interrupted. “Leave, please,” he responded. Judas left as Jesus turned to me. I decided to answer him. “Messias, I came to gander upon your greatness. I believe in Him as well.” “Perhaps you do, perhaps you don’t,” he answered as the camera went out of my hands into his. He didn’t reach for it. It moved out of itself. After that I felt a huge headache for just a few seconds.

“Your technology is destroyed,” Jesus told me. I was a bit angry now. “My Lord? What do you mean? I came here to reassure the future human race of your existence. Why would you deny us of your existence?! This is preposterous!” I responded. “No. We’ve all been warned of your kind. Mohammed, Moses, me. We know of you. We’ve been warned.” This frightened me to my core. What was this being truly capable of? What did he know? I thought religion was some sort of joke. Not only does Jesus know that I’m from the future, but he also knows of Mohammed and Moses. How? I am not really a true believer, but is Jesus really God?

“Jesus, how do you know all of this?” I asked. He didn’t answer me. Instead he touched the place between my eyebrows. Shocks went through my body as I was teleported. I felt it.

I opened my eyes. Planes flew above me. Cars honked as I quickly walked away. Where was I? I sped towards a trash bin where I found a paper. October 26, 2000… This is bad. I need to fix my time travel method…

It was a rushed decision, but after using all his logic building this machine, faith took control and he just knew where he wanted to go first. As soon as the flash of light blinded him, he felt his weight pulling him down as he started to fall. Still blinded he felt the impact and how his shin snapped. Agony got there before his sight, so he was graving his broken leg screaming in pain when he noticed where he was laying.

He knew the land would be different and some variation must have occurred in over 2000 years, he did the math and tweaked the machine so he would appear near Jerusalem in the year 32. But he never thought he will fall 9 meters right in the middle of town.

People were already forming a circle around him and kids were hiding behind their mother's skirts. Pain was excruciating and tears mixed with sand were blinding him a little, but he managed to see the tanned and bearded faces of people around, some scared and others curious. Someone shouted something and he felt as two strong armes lifted him and started pulling him away, unconcerned about his leg hitting the ground leaving a bloody trail. Some screamed scared and run to tell what they saw, others just went on with their lives.

A door closed and someone asked him something but he didn't understand. Of course he didn't. "How stupid of me" he thought after realizing he jumped in time thousand of years back without even taking a dictionary. He managed to open his eyes and clean off some dirt and found himself in a room with the drapes closed. Three men were watching him and sharing strange looks, as a woman stood close to the door looking at him in awe. One other was in the corner, talking and pacing back and forth. He looked ragged and covered in dirt, his hair a mess and the beard long. seemed furious, moving his arms and pointing him a couple of times. Suddenly he saw as the man turned and looked him in the eyes. As the man approached he felt scared and attempted to run only to get held tighter by the three men. The ragged man got close, muttered something and kicked his leg. When he was about to scream in pain all he felt was a sudden numbness and then nothing. He looked down to se his bloody leg with the bone back in place and a redness where once was a deep wound.

"You shouldn't be here" I said after tuning in to his dialect. "I'm tired of fanatics jumping back in time and ruining everything for me. You know how hard it is to make people love you and then hate you the next day?" He was looking at me holding his leg, dumbfounded. "Other have arrived at better times but you had to get here right today, right?" I yelled at him again. "I don't... I don't understand. My lord?" He said mumbling. "Yes you stupid weak" I replied. "It's me, Yeshúa, Jesus, Jesús, whatever you call in your time the son of god" It was tiring. "But not in this timeline anymore thanks to you. Now those people out there think I invoked you from the heavens, or you are some angel, or whatever. And that will only reinforce their faith in me" I reached images ahead of time and peaked at the future. "Ooh yes, this one is rich. Rome comes to get me in a couple of months so I can invoke for them an army: they take me, kill me after failing to do so, my followers revolt and are killed.... And that's the end of Christianity thanks to you" The man was muttering confused, asking for forgiveness and trying to understand at the same time. " Enough of your nonsense " I finally said. "I'm tired of you people" Right then the machine started to pull him back and a tear opened behind him. But right when it was pulling him inside, I graved him by the shoulder and closed the tear. "Ow no, not this time. The last one was the last person I promise to send back. You are staying and helping me to make this less painful for me"

The ragged man spoke to the bulkiest of the three man back in their dialect and he took me, and dragged me back to the streets, where people muttering and cheered as we went out.

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