Hello, why don’t you—Scott Campbell. Damn. Sorry. Uh, go ahead an finish. 
It’s okay. But that’s not your real name. Yeah, it’s, uh, Scott Hudson. I am Finn’s son. Most people recognize that immediately. Pisses me off. But not, like, in a bad way. I mean, in a bad way, just it frustrates me more than angers me, you know? 
Who’s your momma, if I might ask? She’s dead. She died when I was six. Her name was Quinn. 

She was really nice and really pretty. I miss her a lot. Dad, too. Little sister, too. 
How did you get your name? I don’t know. There’s a baby book on the shelf in the office, though. It has six-hundred and eighty-eight pages of names and twenty pages of other stuff. There’s a lot of dog-earred pages and a bunch of struck-through names, so I guess they did it the old-fashioned way. 
What was it like growing up? It was hard. School’s a bitch. I mean, schoolwork isn’t hard, but I’m not… great at paying attention. I get my smarts from my mom, but I have my dad’s concentration. Usually, my teachers are understanding. I’m also on the football team like my dad, but I’m third-string, not first-string like he was, ‘cause I keep getting into fights. I kinda got his temper, too. 

Why’d you come back in time? To stop my mom from dying. Duh. But, I… uh… kinda pushed the button too soon, so now I’m here. Kinda turns out my mom and dad aren’t getting together anymore. 
Because of Rachel? No… he died, you asshole. I came back, and he was just… gone. I don’t know how I fucked everything up, but… Never mind.

Hey… Scott, I’m sorry…
Well, folks, uh… it seems the interview is over.
Image Source: theroleplaycritic

Hello, why don’t you—Scott Campbell. Damn. Sorry. Uh, go ahead an finish. 

It’s okay. But that’s not your real name. Yeah, it’s, uh, Scott Hudson. I am Finn’s son. Most people recognize that immediately. Pisses me off. But not, like, in a bad way. I mean, in a bad way, just it frustrates me more than angers me, you know? 

Who’s your momma, if I might ask? She’s dead. She died when I was six. Her name was Quinn. 

She was really nice and really pretty. I miss her a lot. Dad, too. Little sister, too. 

How did you get your name? I don’t know. There’s a baby book on the shelf in the office, though. It has six-hundred and eighty-eight pages of names and twenty pages of other stuff. There’s a lot of dog-earred pages and a bunch of struck-through names, so I guess they did it the old-fashioned way. 

What was it like growing up? It was hard. School’s a bitch. I mean, schoolwork isn’t hard, but I’m not… great at paying attention. I get my smarts from my mom, but I have my dad’s concentration. Usually, my teachers are understanding. I’m also on the football team like my dad, but I’m third-string, not first-string like he was, ‘cause I keep getting into fights. I kinda got his temper, too. 

Why’d you come back in time? To stop my mom from dying. Duh. But, I… uh… kinda pushed the button too soon, so now I’m here. Kinda turns out my mom and dad aren’t getting together anymore. 

Because of Rachel? No… he died, you asshole. I came back, and he was just… gone. I don’t know how I fucked everything up, but… Never mind.

Hey… Scott, I’m sorry…

Well, folks, uh… it seems the interview is over.

Image Source: theroleplaycritic

Hello and welcome to the— Yeah, yeah, let’s get on with this. I got a nail appointment. 
<sigh> Please introduce yourself. Jesus, you know my name is Bree. Two e’s, not like the gross cheese. 
I’m obviously more interested in your last name. I think a lot of us are. You would think to register at a school I’d have to give one, but McKinley has disgustingly bad security. No wonder there was a school shooting. 
That’s a terrible thing to say. You’re not allowed to interrupt. 
Anyways, I just strolled in at the beginning of the year and started sitting in classes. I added my name to the bottom of the teachers’ roll sheet, and suddenly I was enrolled. Seeing that the Cheerios were large and in charge, I strolled into practice, demanded to try out. First Coach Washington slapped me across the face, which is supes illegal, but she was just like, “I admire your moxy, child. Because I feel a strong solidarity with my fellow sisters, Imma let you try out.” Boom, Queen Bee. Wasn’t hard since glee stripped Kitty of her ovaries. 
As engaging as this is, I’m interested in your parentage. Don’t sass me! Whatever. The last name’s Rutherford. My dad’s name is Matt. 

Oh, yeah, that makes… less than no sense. Do I look Korean or something? 
I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole. What about your mom? Don’t got one. 
You’re the child of a handsome, genial single father? You’re basically an 80’s sitcom cliché, except no warm fuzzy moments. I’m not a sociopath, asshole. Yes, in fact, my dad is pretty Danny Tanner. And we didn’t go around strangling kittens, okay? I’ve actually got a Boston Terrier named Aaliyah that I spoil like an heiress. I just act like I have to to keep my place at school. 
Do you know who your mother is? Are you asking because I’m black? 
I’m asking because sometimes it’s pertinent. Just yanking your hoohah. I’m not supposed to know, but it’s Santana Lopez. 

Huh. Don’t read into it. Legally speaking, she’s not my mother; she’s my “maternal contributor”. She sold some eggs in college during one of her “Whoa is me. I’m so frickin’ gay that I’ll never use my frickin’ lady tubes, and I am so frickin’ vain that I never want to wreck my frickin’ perfect plastic body, and I am so frickin’ shallow that I never want to wreck the undoubtably frickin’ perfect body of my future wife-slash-life-partner-slash-vagina-slave” phases. Pops thought she had good genes so he had her omelets fertilized and surrogated. 
How did you even find out? Daddy thinks that hiding her profile packet in his safe coded to my birthday would keep them secret. 
Is obtaining extracted ova and implanting them in a surrogate expensive? Daddy’s done well for himself. He works in the record producing business. He’s not like gang war famous, but we get by. 
So he never got married? Not yet. I’m pretty sure he gets play, though. He goes out with some backup dancer or backup singer or some up-and-coming R&B star every few months, but they don’t stick.

At this point, don’t need a mama. My nanny Giselle taught me everything a girl’s gotta know. 

Does Santana know about you? Hell nah. This shizzle ain’t her business. 
You apparently inherited some of her sass. I guess. I’m not related to Kitty or her mom, but the HBIC gene flows through their veins. 
You’d be Kitty’s stepsister or something? I’m not playing this game. We’ll let the dweebs at Harvard figure it out. 
You know for someone who hates the glee club, you’re related to some of them. Yeah, yeah, whatever. Singing and dancing isn’t dumb; being a loser is. I go out of my way not to grind on Sam (“Grandpa”) during Schuester’s impromptu music numbers. Back in my time, he’s a hilarious crotchety old man. Unique would be my half-aunt-cle or something. 
Most important question: Why’d you come back in time? Rite of passage at this point. Dad’s settled in his time, so there’s no need to make sure Sam and Mercedes end up together in this branch of the timeline. 
So, in the past I asked others about their romantic life— Just… stop wasting my time stepping on eggshells. Am I gay? Nopers. Am I straight? In the sense that peen is easier to deal with vage, I imagine. Am I in love? Hell no.  Am I going to start letting Jake slam me against lockers again? Not given the disturbing prodigiousness of his father’s swimmers. I just want to be, and I’m really tired of having to frickin’ examine it. You’re the worst of all. 
…
Sorry. 
…
It’s fine. Look, I gotta go. 

Hello and welcome to the— Yeah, yeah, let’s get on with this. I got a nail appointment. 

<sigh> Please introduce yourself. Jesus, you know my name is Bree. Two e’s, not like the gross cheese. 

I’m obviously more interested in your last name. I think a lot of us are. You would think to register at a school I’d have to give one, but McKinley has disgustingly bad security. No wonder there was a school shooting. 

That’s a terrible thing to say. You’re not allowed to interrupt. 

Anyways, I just strolled in at the beginning of the year and started sitting in classes. I added my name to the bottom of the teachers’ roll sheet, and suddenly I was enrolled. Seeing that the Cheerios were large and in charge, I strolled into practice, demanded to try out. First Coach Washington slapped me across the face, which is supes illegal, but she was just like, “I admire your moxy, child. Because I feel a strong solidarity with my fellow sisters, Imma let you try out.” Boom, Queen Bee. Wasn’t hard since glee stripped Kitty of her ovaries. 

As engaging as this is, I’m interested in your parentage. Don’t sass me! Whatever. The last name’s Rutherford. My dad’s name is Matt. 

Oh, yeah, that makes… less than no sense. Do I look Korean or something? 

I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole. What about your mom? Don’t got one. 

You’re the child of a handsome, genial single father? You’re basically an 80’s sitcom cliché, except no warm fuzzy moments. I’m not a sociopath, asshole. Yes, in fact, my dad is pretty Danny Tanner. And we didn’t go around strangling kittens, okay? I’ve actually got a Boston Terrier named Aaliyah that I spoil like an heiress. I just act like I have to to keep my place at school. 

Do you know who your mother is? Are you asking because I’m black? 

I’m asking because sometimes it’s pertinent. Just yanking your hoohah. I’m not supposed to know, but it’s Santana Lopez. 

Huh. Don’t read into it. Legally speaking, she’s not my mother; she’s my “maternal contributor”. She sold some eggs in college during one of her “Whoa is me. I’m so frickin’ gay that I’ll never use my frickin’ lady tubes, and I am so frickin’ vain that I never want to wreck my frickin’ perfect plastic body, and I am so frickin’ shallow that I never want to wreck the undoubtably frickin’ perfect body of my future wife-slash-life-partner-slash-vagina-slave” phases. Pops thought she had good genes so he had her omelets fertilized and surrogated. 

How did you even find out? Daddy thinks that hiding her profile packet in his safe coded to my birthday would keep them secret. 

Is obtaining extracted ova and implanting them in a surrogate expensive? Daddy’s done well for himself. He works in the record producing business. He’s not like gang war famous, but we get by. 

So he never got married? Not yet. I’m pretty sure he gets play, though. He goes out with some backup dancer or backup singer or some up-and-coming R&B star every few months, but they don’t stick.

At this point, don’t need a mama. My nanny Giselle taught me everything a girl’s gotta know. 

Does Santana know about you? Hell nah. This shizzle ain’t her business. 

You apparently inherited some of her sass. I guess. I’m not related to Kitty or her mom, but the HBIC gene flows through their veins. 

You’d be Kitty’s stepsister or something? I’m not playing this game. We’ll let the dweebs at Harvard figure it out. 

You know for someone who hates the glee club, you’re related to some of them. Yeah, yeah, whatever. Singing and dancing isn’t dumb; being a loser is. I go out of my way not to grind on Sam (“Grandpa”) during Schuester’s impromptu music numbers. Back in my time, he’s a hilarious crotchety old man. Unique would be my half-aunt-cle or something. 

Most important question: Why’d you come back in time? Rite of passage at this point. Dad’s settled in his time, so there’s no need to make sure Sam and Mercedes end up together in this branch of the timeline. 

So, in the past I asked others about their romantic life— Just… stop wasting my time stepping on eggshells. Am I gay? Nopers. Am I straight? In the sense that peen is easier to deal with vage, I imagine. Am I in love? Hell no.  Am I going to start letting Jake slam me against lockers again? Not given the disturbing prodigiousness of his father’s swimmers. I just want to be, and I’m really tired of having to frickin’ examine it. You’re the worst of all. 

Sorry. 

It’s fine. Look, I gotta go. 

Let’s start by having you introduce yourself. You might call me Adam.
&#8230;
I’m sorry. Can we start again? Apparently that’s your real accent. Adam Crawford, at your service. 
Excellent. Uh, thank you?
Yes, the interview! So, is Crawford your real name? Obviously not. It’s Temple. 
Temple&#8230; I don’t know anyone named Temple. I don’t expect you would. I’m not related to any of the members of New Directions. Though I hope to be one day. But, actually, I did travel in time. Your temporal irregularity detector didn’t misfire or whatever. But I came back with my folks, Connor and Abby Temple. 

They’re busy with saving the world and whatnot, so they sent me to the States to keep me out of trouble. 
Have you? Compared to the kind of trouble they get into, I’m a saint. Hanging out with misfits, ignoring social rules, singing, and chatting up cute boys, they’re quite proud of me. Me mum wanted to be a singer once. She could’ve been I think if she weren’t stopping apocalypses. 
I can’t tell if you kidding. It’s best you believe I am. 
Well, since you brought it up, you’ve been chatting up a particular boy. Kurt, yes. Um, he’s rather dreamy, innit he? 

I’d rather like to jump forward a bit and see how that turns out. 
You realize I might have some insight on that. I might. Is it better I don’t know? 
It’s better you remember the nature of time travel. I’ve met the future, and it’s not alone. I hear ya. It’s all in how I play the cards. Or maybe a little bit how the universe rolls the dice. 
It’d probably be best I don’t ask about them. It. The future, I mean.
What good would come of it? None, I suppose. You might be promising me a gift Santa won’t bring me. It’s well enough to know such a present exists. 
It’s a great gift. You don’t have to do that. I know better. 
It’s just, it going right&#8230; going well, that’s a bit foggy. Going not so well&#8230; for me at least, however, I got about ten good pictures. 

So, you’re a senior. What do you plan to do when you graduate? Well, I expect to be picked up by The Doctor, where I’ll have marvelous adventures. 
Sounds exciting. I’m of course kidding. But thank you for humoring me. Some of the other seniors and I are talking about auditioning for Broadway and off-Broadway things. Most likely we’ll be getting mostly chorus parts, but nobody makes it big just out of the gate. 
Image Credit: blainerph, kamamar
Original Idea: televisionamist

Let’s start by having you introduce yourself. You might call me Adam.

I’m sorry. Can we start again? Apparently that’s your real accent. Adam Crawford, at your service. 

Excellent. Uh, thank you?

Yes, the interview! So, is Crawford your real name? Obviously not. It’s Temple. 

Temple… I don’t know anyone named Temple. I don’t expect you would. I’m not related to any of the members of New Directions. Though I hope to be one day. But, actually, I did travel in time. Your temporal irregularity detector didn’t misfire or whatever. But I came back with my folks, Connor and Abby Temple. 

They’re busy with saving the world and whatnot, so they sent me to the States to keep me out of trouble. 

Have you? Compared to the kind of trouble they get into, I’m a saint. Hanging out with misfits, ignoring social rules, singing, and chatting up cute boys, they’re quite proud of me. Me mum wanted to be a singer once. She could’ve been I think if she weren’t stopping apocalypses. 

I can’t tell if you kidding. It’s best you believe I am. 

Well, since you brought it up, you’ve been chatting up a particular boy. Kurt, yes. Um, he’s rather dreamy, innit he?

I’d rather like to jump forward a bit and see how that turns out. 

You realize I might have some insight on that. I might. Is it better I don’t know? 

It’s better you remember the nature of time travel. I’ve met the future, and it’s not alone. I hear ya. It’s all in how I play the cards. Or maybe a little bit how the universe rolls the dice. 

It’d probably be best I don’t ask about them. It. The future, I mean.

What good would come of it? None, I suppose. You might be promising me a gift Santa won’t bring me. It’s well enough to know such a present exists. 

It’s a great gift. You don’t have to do that. I know better. 

It’s just, it going right… going well, that’s a bit foggy. Going not so well… for me at least, however, I got about ten good pictures. 

So, you’re a senior. What do you plan to do when you graduate? Well, I expect to be picked up by The Doctor, where I’ll have marvelous adventures. 

Sounds exciting. I’m of course kidding. But thank you for humoring me. Some of the other seniors and I are talking about auditioning for Broadway and off-Broadway things. Most likely we’ll be getting mostly chorus parts, but nobody makes it big just out of the gate. 

Image Credit: blainerph, kamamar

Original Idea: televisionamist

Hey ya, I’m Zoey, and it’s great to meet you? 
Oh, it’s great to meet you. Zoey Nolastname? Ha! Well, it’s Rafaeli if you check my fake ID. I don’t use it for buying alcohol or anything, in case you were wondering.
Actually, what I was hinting about was your true parentage. You make it sound like a soap opera or like one of those fantasy movies aimed at 10-year-olds. 
&#8230; 
Oh, sorry, digression, I’m bad at those. 
My last name’s Puckerman. 
So, my guess is that you would be Puck’s daughter? Hey, I could be Jake’s. I don’t want you to eat crow now. 
You’re not&#8230; You don’t look like Jake. I guess not. 
So you’re Puck’s daughter. Who is your mother? Tina. 
Tina? Did she adopt you? Nope. 

Damn. I guess I do have to eat crow. Tina’s your biological mom? Don’t worry; you’re not the first person not to believe it. Even Mom thought Dad had impregnated another poor girl when I came out.
Of&#8230; her? That’s the joke. Don’t make it dirty. 
Well, hybrid vigor sure is in effect. Oh, god, are you calling me pretty? Don’t do that please. I mean, I think I’m nice enough looking to have self-esteem, but, ugh, being called pretty just makes me so self-conscious. 

Doesn’t that make dating hard? Oh, it’s just the tip of the debilitating awkwardness that is my life. You think I don’t favor my mother? How about the fact I didn’t an ounce of my dad’s charisma? I’m this white-passing goober than makes you think the stork wrote down the address wrong. 
So, I take it you’ve never had a boyfriend? Well, I mean, when I was eight, I was dating Wyatt Motta, who for some reason was calling himself Ninja Triceratops, which when you’re that age make you like a jillion times cooler. 
Long story short, he stop dating me because I brought a My Little Pony figurine to recess. And, of course, he grew up to be a teenage Greek god, and I grew up to be, well, me. 

So, can we jump back for a second. Are your parents together? Ha! No. Because that would give me some semblance of a normal life and allow me to develop appropriate social skills. No, my birth had nothing to do with true love, and everything to do with a bottle of tequila and the factoid that my grandmother was a Korean baby raised by Christer Jews.
Christer Jews? Jews who only go to church—Temple?—on High Holidays, but still celebrate Christmas and Easter secularly. 
So, who raised you? I guess you could say Mom had custody. I’ve always lived with her, but it was the same apartment building where Dad lived, so it’s not like there was ever any trouble with visitation. It was kind of a weird joint parenting thing. 
Are you musical like your parents? Oh, yeah, sure! I mean, I got something from them, or I’d be requesting the DNA tests, too. I love to sing. I’m in a band with my best friend Eli. Have you met him? The doofus came back in time because he wanted to, I don’t know, invent calculus or something. 

I have; Quinn and Artie’s son? Yeppers. I’m just kidding; I don’t use “Yeppers”; nobody does that. Anyway, yeah, we’ve been friends since forever. Everyone thinks we should date but it’d be super weird because we’re like brother and sister. And then there’s the fact our parents dated. Like, literally, both sets of opposite parents were seriously dating at one point in their lives. If we were in some sappy rom-com, yeah, it’d totally work out great.
But it’s not going to. 
Why’d you come back in time? Because it was what all the cool kids were doing? 
Honestly, Ryder, Eli, and I all agreed to go back one at a time, and help get each other situated. Ryder of course could go back into the 1700’s and get himself elected prince of Prussia. And Eli’s like a genius, and could probably could just found M.I.T. earlier or something. 
And then there’s me who hasn’t made a friend by myself since I was four and once managed to lock myself out of my own house. In my underwear. At age eleven. At my own birthday party. 
So, I’d seriously chicken out except for the fact I’m kind of lonely. 
Image Credit: sephymason, imaibui, theomgleeproject, last.fm, nva

Hey ya, I’m Zoey, and it’s great to meet you? 

Oh, it’s great to meet you. Zoey Nolastname? Ha! Well, it’s Rafaeli if you check my fake ID. I don’t use it for buying alcohol or anything, in case you were wondering.

Actually, what I was hinting about was your true parentage. You make it sound like a soap opera or like one of those fantasy movies aimed at 10-year-olds. 

 

Oh, sorry, digression, I’m bad at those. 

My last name’s Puckerman. 

So, my guess is that you would be Puck’s daughter? Hey, I could be Jake’s. I don’t want you to eat crow now. 

You’re not… You don’t look like Jake. I guess not. 

So you’re Puck’s daughter. Who is your mother? Tina. 

Tina? Did she adopt you? Nope. 

Damn. I guess I do have to eat crow. Tina’s your biological mom? Don’t worry; you’re not the first person not to believe it. Even Mom thought Dad had impregnated another poor girl when I came out.

Of… her? That’s the joke. Don’t make it dirty. 

Well, hybrid vigor sure is in effect. Oh, god, are you calling me pretty? Don’t do that please. I mean, I think I’m nice enough looking to have self-esteem, but, ugh, being called pretty just makes me so self-conscious. 

Doesn’t that make dating hard? Oh, it’s just the tip of the debilitating awkwardness that is my life. You think I don’t favor my mother? How about the fact I didn’t an ounce of my dad’s charisma? I’m this white-passing goober than makes you think the stork wrote down the address wrong. 

So, I take it you’ve never had a boyfriend? Well, I mean, when I was eight, I was dating Wyatt Motta, who for some reason was calling himself Ninja Triceratops, which when you’re that age make you like a jillion times cooler. 

Long story short, he stop dating me because I brought a My Little Pony figurine to recess. And, of course, he grew up to be a teenage Greek god, and I grew up to be, well, me. 

So, can we jump back for a second. Are your parents together? Ha! No. Because that would give me some semblance of a normal life and allow me to develop appropriate social skills. No, my birth had nothing to do with true love, and everything to do with a bottle of tequila and the factoid that my grandmother was a Korean baby raised by Christer Jews.

Christer Jews? Jews who only go to churchTemple?on High Holidays, but still celebrate Christmas and Easter secularly. 

So, who raised you? I guess you could say Mom had custody. I’ve always lived with her, but it was the same apartment building where Dad lived, so it’s not like there was ever any trouble with visitation. It was kind of a weird joint parenting thing. 

Are you musical like your parents? Oh, yeah, sure! I mean, I got something from them, or I’d be requesting the DNA tests, too. I love to sing. I’m in a band with my best friend Eli. Have you met him? The doofus came back in time because he wanted to, I don’t know, invent calculus or something. 

I have; Quinn and Artie’s son? Yeppers. I’m just kidding; I don’t use “Yeppers”; nobody does that. Anyway, yeah, we’ve been friends since forever. Everyone thinks we should date but it’d be super weird because we’re like brother and sister. And then there’s the fact our parents dated. Like, literally, both sets of opposite parents were seriously dating at one point in their lives. If we were in some sappy rom-com, yeah, it’d totally work out great.

But it’s not going to. 

Why’d you come back in time? Because it was what all the cool kids were doing? 

Honestly, Ryder, Eli, and I all agreed to go back one at a time, and help get each other situated. Ryder of course could go back into the 1700’s and get himself elected prince of Prussia. And Eli’s like a genius, and could probably could just found M.I.T. earlier or something. 

And then there’s me who hasn’t made a friend by myself since I was four and once managed to lock myself out of my own house. In my underwear. At age eleven. At my own birthday party. 

So, I’d seriously chicken out except for the fact I’m kind of lonely. 

Image Credit: sephymason, imaibui, theomgleeproject, last.fm, nva

Welcome to show. It’s great to have you. Well, I’m much honored. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Eli Abrams, and I’m from the future. 
You may be the first person who didn’t try to keep their status a secret. It’s why you invited me to this interview, right? You know my parents? 
I assume you have parents that I’m acquainted with. You said your last name was Abrams. Are you Artie’s son? Yes, sir, I am. And my mother’s name is Quinn, maiden name Fabray. 

I don’t believe I’ve met any of their children. Really? 
Their children. I’ve interviewed plenty of their children with other spouses. Heh, that’s weird to think about. I guess it makes sense, though, my parents dated other people in high school. Heck, a few of them are family friends still. 
Did your parents ever tell you how they fell in love? They’d been friends a long time. My mom moved to New York after college, when my Dad was in his senior year of film school. He asked her to be in his senior project, and&#8230; well, that’s really it. Dad got noticed; they moved to LA for better exposure, and had me. 
And before you ask, no, it had nothing to do with the time Mom was in a wheelchair. 
So, what brings you to the past? It’s a long story. 
Both my parents are crazy smart. And they passed that along to me, not to brag. They&#8217;re most artsy, and I’m a little bit artsy, too, inherited their love of music; I’m even in a band.

But where I really got cranially blessed was in mathematics. I’m a prodigy. It’s like the most interesting thing about me, and it’s the dullest most interesting thing about you that you can have. 
I happen to think mathematics is quite awesome. Well, cool. But, for me, it’s been the cause of a little bit of heartache. I did the whole genius kid routine: got a GED at 13, got a B.S. from UCLA in a year and a half, matched wits with the best guys at Stanford, UC-Berkeley, and CalTech. 
My problem is that I’m really good at figuring out stuff that’s already been figured out. I’m basically bound to solve some awesome unsolved problem in mathematics&#8230; but it’ll take me 40 years. I’m willing to put in the time; I’m just afraid I’ll get discouraged. 
So, I’m cheating and going back 30 years. Most likely, I’ll solve something that’s been solved in my time, but I’ll just do it first. Mind you, it won’t be something I’ve read about; I’ll still do it the hard way. 
I guess you’re ethically in the clear. It’s a murky gray area, I admit, but I figure that the person whose work I’ve “stolen” will then leapfrog my work and discover something better. 
How’s it going so far? Kinda awesome, actually. I came back to this point in time for a reason. You see, in my time, Brittany Pierce still goes to MIT, but she only stays for six months and then gets bored, and stops spouting useful numbers. She does just fine afterwards, becomes a popular television talk show host, but I’m sure a dozen secrets of the universe remained locked in her head. 

So when I came back, I enrolled at MIT, and volunteered to be her tutor. You see, MIT, geniuses that they are, decided there was no point in allowing Brittany to take classes when her high school transcript is nothing but Incompletes. (Literally, there’s not a single failing grade in her records. They’re just&#8230; blank.) Well, all it took was a sympathetic friend and a little hard work, and she’s basically caught up all the way to ninth grade math in one semester. 
(Okay, it also took a ton of Adderall, but that stuff’s easier to get here than pot.) 
Anyway, it’s working. She’s still giving us really awesome patterns. One set might help us reverse engineer a Base-10 spigot algorithm for pi. One set has something with Fermat’s Last Theorem. Not everything’s useful; one set even appeared to be the initial digits of an odd perfect number, but not only was it wrong, but we were reading it upside down. If you can imagine.
&#8230;
But still she’s basically the most amazing thing in the world. 
Sounds like someone’s got a crush. No point in denying it. She’s a dropdead gorgeous blonde who some sort of Holy Grain to Mathematics. 
But I’m not going to do any thing about it. She’s 19 and I’m 16. And she’s been in a ladies-only phase since she arrived. And I have negative game. And I know I’m going to return to the future someday.   
Miss anything from your present? My friends, mostly. Ryder’s in Lima now and Z’s still in the future, but she says she’ll be popping back soon.

Original Idea: televisionamist
Image Credit: blakeyjenner, popscreen.com, glee.wikia.com, nvalovers

Welcome to show. It’s great to have you. Well, I’m much honored. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Eli Abrams, and I’m from the future. 

You may be the first person who didn’t try to keep their status a secret. It’s why you invited me to this interview, right? You know my parents? 

I assume you have parents that I’m acquainted with. You said your last name was Abrams. Are you Artie’s son? Yes, sir, I am. And my mother’s name is Quinn, maiden name Fabray. 

I don’t believe I’ve met any of their children. Really? 

Their children. I’ve interviewed plenty of their children with other spouses. Heh, that’s weird to think about. I guess it makes sense, though, my parents dated other people in high school. Heck, a few of them are family friends still. 

Did your parents ever tell you how they fell in love? They’d been friends a long time. My mom moved to New York after college, when my Dad was in his senior year of film school. He asked her to be in his senior project, and… well, that’s really it. Dad got noticed; they moved to LA for better exposure, and had me. 

And before you ask, no, it had nothing to do with the time Mom was in a wheelchair. 

So, what brings you to the past? It’s a long story. 

Both my parents are crazy smart. And they passed that along to me, not to brag. They’re most artsy, and I’m a little bit artsy, too, inherited their love of music; I’m even in a band.

But where I really got cranially blessed was in mathematics. I’m a prodigy. It’s like the most interesting thing about me, and it’s the dullest most interesting thing about you that you can have. 

I happen to think mathematics is quite awesome. Well, cool. But, for me, it’s been the cause of a little bit of heartache. I did the whole genius kid routine: got a GED at 13, got a B.S. from UCLA in a year and a half, matched wits with the best guys at Stanford, UC-Berkeley, and CalTech. 

My problem is that I’m really good at figuring out stuff that’s already been figured out. I’m basically bound to solve some awesome unsolved problem in mathematics… but it’ll take me 40 years. I’m willing to put in the time; I’m just afraid I’ll get discouraged. 

So, I’m cheating and going back 30 years. Most likely, I’ll solve something that’s been solved in my time, but I’ll just do it first. Mind you, it won’t be something I’ve read about; I’ll still do it the hard way. 

I guess you’re ethically in the clear. It’s a murky gray area, I admit, but I figure that the person whose work I’ve “stolen” will then leapfrog my work and discover something better. 

How’s it going so far? Kinda awesome, actually. I came back to this point in time for a reason. You see, in my time, Brittany Pierce still goes to MIT, but she only stays for six months and then gets bored, and stops spouting useful numbers. She does just fine afterwards, becomes a popular television talk show host, but I’m sure a dozen secrets of the universe remained locked in her head. 

So when I came back, I enrolled at MIT, and volunteered to be her tutor. You see, MIT, geniuses that they are, decided there was no point in allowing Brittany to take classes when her high school transcript is nothing but Incompletes. (Literally, there’s not a single failing grade in her records. They’re just… blank.) Well, all it took was a sympathetic friend and a little hard work, and she’s basically caught up all the way to ninth grade math in one semester. 

(Okay, it also took a ton of Adderall, but that stuff’s easier to get here than pot.) 

Anyway, it’s working. She’s still giving us really awesome patterns. One set might help us reverse engineer a Base-10 spigot algorithm for pi. One set has something with Fermat’s Last Theorem. Not everything’s useful; one set even appeared to be the initial digits of an odd perfect number, but not only was it wrong, but we were reading it upside down. If you can imagine.

But still she’s basically the most amazing thing in the world. 

Sounds like someone’s got a crush. No point in denying it. She’s a dropdead gorgeous blonde who some sort of Holy Grain to Mathematics. 

But I’m not going to do any thing about it. She’s 19 and I’m 16. And she’s been in a ladies-only phase since she arrived. And I have negative game. And I know I’m going to return to the future someday.   

Miss anything from your present? My friends, mostly. Ryder’s in Lima now and Z’s still in the future, but she says she’ll be popping back soon.

Original Idea: televisionamist

Image Credit: blakeyjenner, popscreen.com, glee.wikia.com, nvalovers