Fellow preppers, bring it in for a huddle. I’ve got a manual you’ll want stuff in your bunker. (Am I being suggestive on purpose? I can’t tell anymore. Recent research into the concept of free will suggest that all these actions are downstream of unconscious processes for which I should not be held accountable. And if that is true, (putting aside cases in which pragmatic action is taken to sequester psychopaths from doing further harm through, perhaps, no fault of their own) these findings impugn the primary motives of retributive justice, and thus threaten the basis of our legal system. So maybe I shouldn’t open this can of worms and accept responsibility for all the sexual entendres which follow.) Have you ever, while deathly ill from ingesting several cases of magic markers, painted an impromptu canvas with the prism of your explosive vomit and saw the Mandelbrot set starring back at you? Then, upon further examination of its infinite self similarities, experienced a great longing to recapitulate the important discoveries of mankind? If condensed into a book to aid a stranded time traveler, it might be organized thus:
How to Tell What Time Period You’re Stranded In: A Handy Flowchart.
A Special Note If You Are Stranded Between 200,000 BCE and 50,000 BCE and You Are Thinking, “The Humans Here Are Crazy and I Am Definitely Doomed Forever”
The Five Fundamental Technologies You Need For Your Civilization:
Spoken Language.
Written Language.
Non-Sucky Numbers.
The Scientific Method.
Calorie Surplus.
Units of Measurement Are Arbitrary, but Here’s How You Can Reinvent the Standard Ones Used in This Book from Scratch.
Now We Are Become Farmers, the Devourers of Worlds.
What Will Other Humans Be Eating If I’m Stranded After They’ve Evolved but Before Agriculture and Selective Breeding Are a Thing, and How Can I Tell If It’s Poisonous, Because I Bet These Ancient Humans Are Eating Some Really Stupid Stuff?
Putting Down Roots: Useful Plants for the Stranded Time Traveler.
The Birds and the Bees: Useful Animals for the Stranded Time Traveler.
Basic Nutrition: What to Eat So You Won’t Die for At Least a While Longer.
Common Human Complaints That Can Be Solved by Technology:
“I’m Thirsty”
“I’m Hungry”
“I’m Sick”
“The Natural Resources I See Around Me Suck; I Want Better Ones”
“I’m Lazy; I Want a Machine to Do Work for Me”
“No, I Mean I’m So Lazy I Just Want to Flip a Switch and Have Machines Work As If by Magic” “It’s Late and I’m Cold, and I’d Like to Know How Late and How Cold It Is”
“I Want People to Think I’m Attractive”
“I Would Like to Have Some Cool Sex”
“I Want Things That Won’t Catch on Fire”
“There’s Nothing to Read”
“It Sucks Here and I Want to Go Literally Anywhere Else”
“I Want Everyone to Think I’m Smart”
Chemistry: What Are Things, and How Do I Make Things?
Major Schools of Philosophy Summed Up in a Few Quippy Sentences About High-Fives
The Basics of Visual Art, Including Some Styles You Can Steal.
Heal Some Body: Medicine and How to Invent It.
Basic First (And in Your Case, Only) Aid.
How to Invent Music, and Musical Instruments, and Music Theory, and Also We Included Some Really Great Songs for You to Plagiarize Too.
Computers: How to Turn Mental Labor into Physical Labor, So Then You Don’t Have to Think So Hard but Can Instead Just Turn a Crank or Whatever.
With the following appendices:
Technology Tree.
The Periodic Table.
Useful Chemicals, How to Make Them, and How They Can Definitely Kill You.
Logical Argument Forms.
Trigonometry Tables, Included Because You’ll Need Them When You Invent Sundials, but They’ll Also Be Useful If You Ever Decide to Invent Trigonometry.
Some Universal Constants That Took Humanity a While to Figure Out, and Which You Can Now Name After Yourself.
Frequencies for Various Notes, So You Can Play Those Cool Songs We Included.
A Bunch of Cool Gears and Other Fundamental Mechanisms.
Here’s Where Some Useful Human Parts Are and What They Do.
This book is written as a guide to help reconstruct civilization in the event of a time traveling mishap which leaves you stranded in an epoch denuded of all the hard won scientific and technological progress which most of us find indispensable, yet comprehend in the manner of Arthur C. Clark’s famous maxim regarding sufficiently advanced animatronic bears. But I’m sure it will serve as a terrific guide for the more probable emergencies which leer at us from space, nuclear silos, the atmosphere, political/religious pulpits, continued gain of function research on deadly viruses, and pissed off hyper-intelligent ungulates. In any of those instances, this book will likely be overkill, because we’ll at least have the ghostly relics of our first attempt to use as scaffolding for the next. Although, the hulking wreckage probably won’t be as useful as all the liquified-life that empowered our species to inflict a mortal wound upon itself. Also, irradiated earth isn’t great for pushing up caloric surpluses, and if you can’t venture onto the surface without insult to your physical integrity in the form of malicious particles and giant mutant ground sloths, it’s unlikely that construction will proceed apace. And if.. Well, I’m sorry I even brought it up! Maybe I’ll try my hand at some Mark Watney fan fiction, where he arrives back on earth only to find smoking, iridium enriched craters, sparklingly with silicates and foreboding botanical challenges. He’ll need food, and he’ll need ammo for his Spudzooka (for those of you unaware; if using acetylene, a potato can free itself from that barrel at upwards of 310 miles per hour) if he’s going to survive the reemergence of charismatic megafauna. In times of fitful slumber I have often experienced auditory hallucinations which traced the peripheral oscillations of sounds as yet unheard by the human race. One such sound, a dimly apprehended acoustic novelty, is (I must desperately imagine) the hollow thud of a clod of carbohydrates ricocheting from the thoracic cage of a Megatherium. The giant beast balancing its four ton bulk on its hind legs, black eyes moist from the kinetic sting deposited by the ballistic herbaceous perennial, arms (slowly and inexorably) akimbo, bodily conveying the universal grammar of; “What the fuck, man?” And what possible justification could you provide for attempting to annihilate this majestic beast by hammering, repeatedly, its manubrium and xiphoid process, with starchy slugs expelled from a metal cylinder by hellfire? Because it’s your manifest destiny to pillage the amino acids of other sentient life to power your metabolically expensive cognition? Does that supersede the Giant Mutant Ground Sloth’s right to continue its slow and unexamined life? Apparently!