Today in pulp I revisit a mystery of the recent past: did ‘John Titor’ really travel back in time from 2038 to the year 2000 to warn us about an apocalyptic future? And why was he so keen on getting his hands on a 1975 IBM 5100 computer?
Let’s find out...
In 1998, US radio talk-show host Art Bell read out a fax from a man claiming to be from the future. Two years later the same man, calling himself Time_Traveler_0, left similar messages on the Time Travel Instutute’s internet forum.
They told a strange tale…
“Greetings. I am a time traveler from the year 2036. I am on my way home after getting an IBM 5100 computer system from the year 1975.”
For the next two years Time_Traveler_0, now calling himself John Titor, would leave many similar messages on internet forums.
The Bawdyguard, by John Dexter. Nightstand Books, 1971.
'John Dexter' didn't actually exist. It was a house alias - along with J X Williams - for a range of writers knocking out cheesy sex pulp for Greenleaf publishing. At least 20% of each novel had to be sex scenes with the other 80% titillation, voyeurism or padding. Not much space for character arcs or a hero's journey...
Greenleaf initially specialized in sci-fi magazines, until they discovered sex was selling better. A number of writers were quietly supplying novels for both scenes. Robert Silverberg, Harlan Ellison and Donald E Westlake all provides pseudonymous sex novels for the publisher.
Case 32: High Marks For Malice (1989). Nordic knits always work and they're great for detectives. Pastels are very flattering but you'll need a good lint roller if it's a long case you're investigating. This is a clear fashion win.
Case 51: A Model Crime (1990). Gold is a hard colour to pull off, but the details are on point here: single button and shoulder pads make it a power look and Nancy has sensibly avoided the '90s waitcoat trend. Another win.
Today in pulp: I try to buy a computer... in 1978!
Let's see how I do.
First things first: in 1978 you might never actually see your computer. Many people used dumb terminals linked to a mainframe or minicomputer system somewhere in the office basement. Access was on a timeshare basis, with dozens of users sharing access to the same system.
If you did have a microcomputer on your desk you were probably an executive. To be honest many CEOs didn't actually know what a computer was or what it did.