by Shaun Lawton
Our descendants set the scope of their time machine to a series of certain points seeding portions of the universe with in-utero clones of themselves, with a closed-loop system of endless variations inherent to their genetic code.
It turns out the joke's on them. Rather than the successful time travel they had hoped for, they became the very Gods exiled from their own progeniture. The fact They can know nothing of us should not be considered ironic.
The irony lies in us even beginning to suspect They might exist. And so our destiny has been set. We will persist chasing after our fate until some day in the distant future we too will await in vain for our own progeny to arrive only to never hear them knock on our door.
