Escape: a machine built with desperate hands to runaway through time, location, and space. Where shall you go? To which time shall you flee? The oppression of your current dimension weighs heavy like a blue whale falling after the water suddenly disappears. The splat something of that you’ve never heard. Where, oh where, shall you land? Which era shall you choose? That miniscule period of history where women were treated as equals? That time where war didn’t exist? Or the time where humans worshipped the Earth and acted solely as stewards in her interest? Gods with money slice off your fingernails then proclaim it a miracle when they sell you the cure. Taxes spend our youth. Where exactly is it that you wish to rush off to like a couple of teenagers eloping? That one time, location, and space where billionaires couldn’t buy and stock an island with children…