Kevin Coolidge

The Butterfly Effect

Skin prickles, stomach tightens, fists clenched, jaw so tight it aches. I used to love thunderstorms. The gusty winds, the driving rain, the sound of thunder. Now, lightning jolts memories--memories of the past, the future, and my promise to make all of it better. I no longer know where to end. I only know I can’t stop. Only that I need to begin…again.

If you could travel back in time, and kill the man that started it all, would you? You aren’t sure. I knew I could. Evil or misunderstood, I didn’t care. He was the problem, and I was the solution. It sounds easy. The hopeful look in his eyes, the smell of spring in the air, or maybe I just needed something to fill the blank space in the living room. I don’t know where it went wrong. I bought a painting. I’m sorry. I should have killed Hitler…

The butterfly effect—small differences in initial conditions can yield widely diverging outcomes, rendering long-term prediction almost impossible, in essence, chaos. How could I know that making Hitler a successful artist would result in enslaving humanity? Would a bullet have bought a better future for mankind? Should I have just stayed home?

The idea that one little ripple, that one butterfly could eventually have a far-reaching ripple effect on historic events first appeared in A Sound of Thunder, a 1952 short story by Ray Bradbury. The story begins in a future where a time machine exists. Time Safari Inc. can deliver you to the past and give you the severest thrill a real hunter could ask for, a Tyrannosaurus rex. Be sure to sign the waiver because they guarantee nothing, except the dinosaurs.

Bradbury wrote the kind of story that lurked in the corners of your mind. His stories and novels remain long after the pages have closed. I know. Did that glistening green, gold, and black butterfly inspire “the butterfly effect”? It wasn’t until 1961 that Edward Lorenz coined the term. Could killing that one butterfly really be that important?

Bradbury is perhaps best known for his speculative fiction—such as Fahrenheit 451, The Martian Chronicles, and The Illustrated Man. He is credited with being the writer most responsible for bringing modern science fiction in the literary mainstream. If not for his lyrical, evocative prose, would we have the films of Steven Spielberg, the haunting short stories of Neil Gaiman, or the wizarding world of Harry Potter? Could the imagination of one man really be that important? Does a flash of lightning bring the sound of thunder?

The lightning? Or the Thunder? Email me at from_my_shelf@yahoo.com and let me know. Miss a past column? You too can return to the past at http://frommyshelf.blogspot.com and dig into the archives of columns past. Looking to delve into the past of Hobo the cat? You can read about his early months in “Hobo Finds A Home” a children’s book about a kitten who found a future…