It’s 1978. I’m 24 years old. I’ve seen Star Wars 6 times in the theater. I’ve seen the previews for the new show Battlestar Galactica. I’ve watched a few episodes, and I just hate it. I’m watching what will be the last episode I ever see of this series. I’m cursing Boxey and the Daggit and Pa Adama. We call it Cattlecar Fantastica.
There’s a knock at the door, and when I answer, I see someone in silver lame quasi-futuristic clothing. He looks like my dad, sort of. He says he’s “Future Me.” I laugh and scoff, but then he takes me aside to another room and closes the door. He asks me a question that only I know the answer to. Something I’ve never told anyone in my life. Now I know it’s really me from the future.
He tells me that the show I’ve been watching will be remade as a “reimagining” of the series. It will have wonderful writing, fascinating characters, and better special effects than Star Wars. It will be my favorite television show, ever.
I just stare at him for a few moments. Then I tell him he’s full of shit.