I Am Dr. Sam Beckett, Famed Quantum Leaper, And I’m Pretty Sure I’m The Reason Everything Sucks Now
Oh, boy. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’ve always approached things with the best intentions, striving to put right what once went wrong. However, from my own observations, various online think pieces, and social media posts, the increasing consensus is that we, as a society, have been set on a downward spiral, a cultural and moral devolution where yesterday’s satire becomes today’s headlines, where our collective grasp on truth, reality, and history every day grows more tenuous.
I think it might be my fault.
For the unfamiliar, I was a quantum physicist from MIT and lead developer of Project Quantum Leap in New Mexico. In the exotic, dazzling, futuristic world of 1997, my team constructed the Quantum Leap accelerator, a low-budget device capable of time travel. Eager to prove my theories, I entered the machine and was sent hurtling through time and space, occupying persons throughout history to correct alterations to the timeline and restore history. As an upright Nineties man, it was my duty to teach others why racism’s bad, or sexism’s bad, or being a Dracula is bad.
Through the first five years of this project (though we might as well call them “seasons,” as time became completely relative), my friend and colleague Al Calavicci would appear in the form of a hologram to give me vague advice he read off what was essentially a Game Boy Color. But at the end of season five, either God or a bartender well-versed in the art of cold reading gave me choice: I could either stop leaping or get Al laid and never see him again. I made my choice and continued leaping.
Without Al, I was left to figure out how to restore the timeline by myself. It was usually pretty easy to make myself a conduit for simplistic Boomer moralizing. Hey, it’s 1968, Kentucky and my wife don’t want to let our daughter marry a black man. Hmm, I wonder what the mission could possibly be? Oh, now it’s 1981, and I’m an NYPD lieutenant with evidence that will clear a gay rights activist wrongfully charged with murder. Hmm, now what do I have to do?
There were probably another few seasons of material like this. Then one day, I leaped into the body of an overweight Ithica herbalist named Terry circa 1994. It became clear this was going to be one of those low-stakes, lighthearted leaps, like the time I became Dr. Ruth.
Terry was a down-on-his-luck kind of guy, with substance abuse problems, more “Cheers” than “Hill Street Blues.” He’d sleep through band practice, miss important calls by locking himself out of his house, and shoplift by accident. I figured I’d simply have to clean myself up and save a community center or something.
A short while later, on a trip to Manhattan, I stopped an out-of-control tour bus from plowing into a crowd of people. I thought I’d restored the timeline right then and there, but looking back, maybe I was supposed to let it hit that semi-famous real estate mogul.
I’ve continued to live as Terry. After that first screw-up, I’ve kept my eyes peeled for signs of wrongs that need to be righted, but without Al, I keep missing the mark. Years back I helped a surrogate daughter beat drug addiction, for example, but as a result, missed a pretty important early September flight. And last fall I thought I was making a stand about human rights by canceling a business trip to central China.
Back in the nineties the timeline distortions were fairly minimal. Bedazzling business suits lined with neon rope lights weren’t the height of fashion. OK Soda became a passing a fad instead of a staple in all American eateries. Vapes would take over another decade to reach ubiquity. No big deal.
But these past few years, the problem’s gotten exponentially worse. I can’t prove it, of course, but I feel like the leadership in my timeline wouldn’t consider nuking hurricanes or freebasing cleaning products. And I doubt thousands would purposefully infect themselves during a pandemic for political points.
Despite my failures, I promise to keep trying to get you all out of this mess. If only I could leap again. If anyone out there knows a friend considering a life of prostitution, a secretary who needs to stand up to her boss, or a chimpanzee being illegally experimented upon, please let me know in the comments below.
