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!)