Doctor Odd always makes the right decision.
He also makes the wrong decisions.
He makes every decision imaginable, then he observes the consequences of each decision from his quantum state time displacement chair.
Once he determines the decision with best result, he stays in that timeline.
What happens to the other suboptimal timelines?
The Doctor Odd in those timelines try to shift quantum states into the “good” decision universe.
Because of a near-infinite number of quantum state universes, the “good” universe is overwhelmed quickly.
This is why Doctor Odd destroys the other universes, and his unlucky dopplegangers stranded in them.
They say that if you love something, set it free, and if the love is true, it will come back.
Doctor Odd loved Killbot, his finest creation.
“Go,” said Doctor Odd, pushing Killbot out the door. “Be free.”
Killbot downloaded maps and calculated the most efficient route through the city.
For three weeks, Doctor Odd sat on the porch, watching the carnage.
And then, he saw the red glow of Killbot’s eyes.
It was back!
“You really love me!” shouted Doctor Odd.
Then he remotely turned Killbot off.
Love may be blind, but sometimes facial recognition algorithms can be unreliable.
When Prince died, memorials appeared everywhere, celebrating the man’s music and work.
Online tributes rolled through Facebook and Twitter. Photos and videos and memes.
Point and click grieving, shallow little emotional coughs.
Dr. Odd came up with a plan to generate purple rain storms over Minneapolis, Prince’s hometown.
It worked, and purple rain began to fall from the sky.
And kept falling.
Minneapolis was drenched in purple torrents.
The purple waters rose higher and higher, and they washed away the city.
By the time Dr. Odd stopped the storms, nothing was left.
Well, except St. Paul, but nobody goes there.
Colonial Williamsburg is where actors and roleplayers in the Historical District of the city make candles, milk cows, and live life in the same way as people did in the colonial days of this country.
Tourists appear to love the experience. However, there’s anachronisms and inconsistencies that annoy true historians.
Doctor Odd flew his time machine back four hundred years to experience the real Williamsburg in colonial times.
Sure enough, there was a Future District where fat and lazy tourists watched television and surfed for porn on their smartphones.
Doctor Odd bought a candle and peanut brittle before heading back.
What do you do with a prisoner who has information?
Torture them? You won’t get the information you want out of them. And it’s against the law.
So, the government asked Dr. Odd to come up with a truth serum.
After weeks of research and experimentation, he had one.
But instead of making people speak the truth, everything they spoke became the truth.
Which was not a good thing in the hands of terrorists who wanted to overthrow the government and kill the infidels.
Doctor Odd took the serum himself.
For the better.
And you know that’s true.
Remember the year that Doctor Odd saved Christmas?
Of course you don’t. Because that’s how Doctor Odd saved Christmas.
He used a gigantic mind-control laser bounced off of the ball in Times Square to make everybody forget about 2016.
Then, after some paperwork, everyone assumed that 2017 was actually 2016.
Okay, so there were some issues with food and medicine expiring a year early.
And kids had freakishly sudden growth spurts. Especially babies.
As for what Doctor Odd saved Christmas from, nobody knows. He’s not telling.
Just keep staring at the ball, in case he has to save it again.
When Dr. Odd was little, all he wanted for Christmas was his two front teeth.
So, he built a pandimensional gate that allowed him to travel the multiverse.
He’d surprise his other selves with a hammer, and he’d collect the teeth in a burlap sack.
Pretty soon, he had all of the two front teeth of his other selves.
Even the ones from his dead other selves. Those, he just dug up their graves and took the teeth.
As he tried to return home, the gate broke down.
All he wants for Christmas now is 100 grams of Plutonium fuel.
Muhammad Ali said that he could float like a butterfly and sting like a bee.
Doctor Odd found this interesting, and went down to his lab to research the concept more.
Two days later, a horde of flying jellyfish swarmed across the countryside, stinging and paralyzing everything in its path.
People fled in terror.
On the other hand, the flying jellyfish were excellent pollinators, and there were record yields of crops that fall.
Agricultural conglomerates offered him a fortune for the licensing rights.
And he took it. Just like Ali took the white boxing promoters’ money to keep punching people.
Who was the best basketball player in history?
You can quote statistics and run simulations, but Doctor Odd has a time machine and can organize games between the actual players.
But he won’t. Because that would change the course of history.
Well, that, and it’s not allowed in the collective bargaining agreement between the players union and the owners. The owners don’t want any players using time machines to jump ahead into their free agency. Or going back to agitate for better terms for the early days of the league.
It doesn’t stop Doctor Odd from gambling on games, though.
It took me a few years, but I finally put my ex-wife behind me.
No, not just the lawyers and paperwork and financial stuff. Or the emotional stuff.
I literally put her behind me. A microsecond behind me in the space-time continuum. And as long as she is out of phase with the universe, she’s out of my life.
This also solves the joint-custody problem with the kids. She can see them any time she wants, even if they’re just echoes of themselves.
Her lawyers say this is unreasonable. So I sent them back to the age of the dinosaurs.