11/29/14
COPYRIGHT PROTECTED
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[1.]
“If you could travel back in time, what year would you like to visit?” asked Professor Kurt Brashman.
My stomach clenched and my breath caught because I feared this wasn’t merely a rhetorical question. I knew him well enough to take a question like this seriously. And since he was directing it at me I wanted to be careful how I answered it.
He was chair of the physics department, and I was chair of the archaeological department. As a result we associated together professionally. Besides that, his wife was a lead researcher and lecturer in my department, so we frequently attended the same social functions. Thus I felt I knew him better than most others did.
Our university’s physics department had received a large grant from the military to pursue Professor Brashman’s theory about a time travel machine. His proposal had been cogent enough to get a hearing, and its potential applications were significant enough to stoke their interest.
His math and engineering calculations had survived scrutiny by experts from other universities, so he was given funding. He and his grad students set themselves to build the machine as quickly as they could. Then without any public discussion or announcement he began testing it immediately.
The first two tests of the machine had attracted a lot of attention. Indeed it would have been impossible not to, given that a shock wave was felt throughout the community each time the transmission system was activated.
“Well, Kurt, um, I don’t know,” I said. “That would require some thought. What sort of time range are you talking about?”
“Jim. Ha, ha. Jim! There is no limit. We can go to infinity! If you know a way to input that as a number, that is. You’re an archaeologist. Isn’t there some past civilization you’d just love to visit? Don’t you want to know if the common conception of dinosaurs is accurate? Isn’t there any period or age you’re dying to really see?!”
“Yeah, well, you’ve hit on the problem right there — dying to see it. Of course there are a lot of things I, or anyone, would love to explore. But how safe is it? Really? Can you be certain after just two tests that such a trip is survivable for humans? Do you know for sure that such a trip wouldn’t change things, change the course of history? That’s not just a movie meme. It’s a real possibility.”
“But of course,” Kurt replied. “Do you think I haven’t already worked all this out?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “Have you? I heard there were some glitches during those two tests.”
“Bah! That was just a matter of minor adjustments. Plus, with the data we got, we’ve been able to refine our calculations enough to be ready for the next step.”
“Next step? I think you’re losing me, or you’ve skipped over something.”
“Oh, right. The first test involved sending only measuring instruments and recording devices forward in time a single hour. Those were the two pulses that caused everyone to get upset that first day.”
“Wait. So, what were they? Those pulses?”
“Perhaps you’d understand if I called them energy ripples,” he said. “To remove an object from its present location in the space-time continuum and then re-insert it at a different location requires tremendous energy. That causes a pulse or burst of energy as it exits the time stream, and then another one as it re-enters again.”
“You mean a release of radiation?”
“No, no, nothing like that. It’s not dangerous. It’s something like a shock wave, but different. It feels like a faint tingle, similar to when you stand close to a strong electric field. But it’s only momentary and totally harmless. It just surprised people that day because they didn’t know what was happening.”
“You got that right. But it was more than a ‘slight tingle’; people damn near panicked,” I reminded him.
The professor continued as if he hadn’t heard me. “So we told the news agencies it was just an innocuous side effect of some tests we were conducting and there was nothing to worry about. Then we warned, uh, notified them when we were ready to do the second test.”
“I remember. I almost couldn’t get on campus through all the protesters, gawkers and news crews that showed up. Then when the pulse went off several people cheered like it was part of a sideshow. You’re lucky for that. If it hadn’t been treated as something thrilling, you might have been shut down.”
“Well, that second time we sent a monkey along with the instruments, and it traveled forward a full day. He made it through with no problems.”
“There were still those pulse, ripple things.”
“Of course. We’re not ever going to get rid of those. But we learned enough that we’re able to calibrate to hit target destinations within an hour. And it won’t be long before we can get it down to the exact minute, or even the second we want.”
“That’s impressive,” I admitted. “But wouldn’t it be more prudent to run several more trials before risking a human life?”
“Nonsense,” he asserted. “It’s perfectly safe. Plus, this next time I want to try going backwards as well as forwards. You know, make it a round trip. And I want to extend the time distance involved. Go back far enough to really check the system. That’s where you come in.”
“It’s fine to push the machine a little. But I still don’t see the need to put a person in it before it’s more thoroughly tested.”
Our conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Dr. Mack Vellayne. The ambiance in the room turned icy. I liked Dr. Vellayne alright, and we even socialized from time to time. But there was bad blood between him and Professor Brashman of such intensity it seemed time would never heal the rift.
Dr. Vellayne was the head physicist with the university across town. As a result, the two experts were often in competition for the same contracts and awards. Last year Professor Brashman had even gone so far as to accuse Dr. Vellayne of stealing his discovery of the magnetic field transformer. It was this device which had made the time machine feasible. Professor Brashman hadn’t been able to prove his claim against his antagonist, so most people assumed they had probably just worked on the concept simultaneously, with Dr. Vellayne edging ahead in the end.
Personally, I believed this to be the case anyway. On those occasions that Dr. Vellayne and I met together in the days prior to the discovery, whenever we’d talk of what he was working on compared to what Professor Brashman was working on, it seemed they were following similar ideas. In fact, it was my statements to this effect which convinced the board to clear the reputation of Dr. Vellayne and establish him as the first discoverer.
It was quite a long time after that before Professor Brashman would speak to me again. It was only his wife who finally brought him around. Janice, or Dr. Brashman as most others knew her, convinced him he was just being paranoid and to stop accusing everyone he knew.
“Mack, good to see you again,” I said to Dr. Vellayne and gave him a strong handshake.
“Dr. Boswell, Jim; it’s good to see you too,” he replied.
“Doctor Vellayne.” The professor almost growled as he spoke, and he didn’t offer his hand.
“Professor Brashman,” Dr. Vellayne answered, effecting a slight bow.
“Why are you here?” Professor Brashman demanded abruptly and without further courtesy.
“The general asked me to check in on your progress,” he answered with a nonchalant tone that parried the effrontery. “He is growing concerned that we haven’t received any report on the results of the second test.”
“I don’t report to you. You’re not a part of this project.”
“But the general passes all your work by me, for peer review, you understand. After all, it is my magnetic field transformer which makes your little machine even possible.”
“Your transformer?! You mean my transformer!”
“Now, now. Don’t start that again,” Dr. Vellayne said. There was a trace of amusement in his voice as he spoke. “The general is very interested in this project. He wants to know how you’re getting along and when you plan to test again.”
“It’s not decided yet,” Professor Brashman snarled. “You tell him everything is going fine. But we haven’t finished analyzing the data from the last test. I’ll call him when I’m ready.”
“You know, if this project is getting beyond your abilities, it can always be reassigned to my lab. And the general is already aware of that.”
Professor Brashman’s face was glowing red and his jaw was clenched tight enough to crack teeth. “I don’t need your help! So if you’ll excuse me, I’m very busy now.”
Dr. Vellayne smiled and bowed again. As he turned to go he called back over his shoulder. “Give my regards to Janice.”
“GET OUT!”
After Dr. Vellayne had gone I shook my head at my friend. “That was uncalled for.”
“He’s trying to take another discovery of mine.”
“No,” I said. “If the general has asked him to verify your work, then that would be the general’s doing, not his. Plus it’s not unusual to ask other experts to do peer reviews.”
Kurt shook his head. “He only got in with the general in the first place by stealing my transformer.”
“We’ve been through this,” I sighed.
“He got my discovery from you, you know!” He then raised his hand, “Hold on, hold on. I’m sure you didn’t intentionally give it to him. But somehow he milked enough clues out of you to piece things together.”
“Stop. That’s enough.”
“Fine. I won’t say any more about that. But you heard him make a crack about my wife.”
“That wasn’t a crack. He only said to tell her hello.”
“No. There was more in it than that. You know their history together. He’s still resents that I got her.”
“Your wife is trustworthy,” I said.
“She’s also in on it. She keeps asking me about him. ‘Why don’t you two work together? You’re in the same field, after all.‘ Sheesh! As if! I must prove to her that I’m able to succeed without anyone’s help. Especially not his!”
“Oh, I’m sure she doesn’t mean anything by it. Janice is just looking out for your interests. It would be good for you to have a knowledgable colleague who could give input and feedback.”
“Well not him! Never. And now you see why I have to hurry ahead with my tests. I can’t wait for him to concoct some reason for the general to put him on the project. No, I must keep moving quickly. So, are you with me, or not?”
I sighed. Although I should have known better, I still felt a tinge of guilt knowing the professor blamed me for his loss somehow. If helping him with his test would finally convince him I was truly his friend, then perhaps I could suppress my cautiousness for a little while.
“As long as you’re sure, absolutely sure, there’s no possibility of anything going wrong, then let’s go.”
= = = = =
[2.]
Kurt Brashman and I went through to the test area of his lab and he informed the assistants there would be another test immediately. Everyone rushed to take their places, but then their actions became so smooth and deliberate, that their professional demeanor served to reassure me. Some were charging up the capacitors, some were running through systems checks, and some were readying the destination and return chronometers to receive their inputs.
I took a few deep breaths hoping to calm my racing pulse. This still struck me as hasty; but I had a lot of confidence in my friend’s capabilities, and if he thought it was safe, then that was good enough. My only impulse to draw back came when a grad student asked about getting the monkey and the professor told him we were going to be the travelers instead. The grad student gave a small start, but then blanked his face before I could read the expression which started to form. I had only begun to think about the implications of this when the professor called me over to the monitoring station.
“Let me give you a quick rundown so you know what to expect,” Professor Brashman explained. “We’ll get into the machine over there, and our technicians will monitor the functions of all the systems from here to make sure they remain properly powered for our return.”
“Since we’re going backwards we’ll be coming back to today, right?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered. “But we can’t return to the exact same time or we might bump into ourselves. Likewise, we can’t return to a time before we’ve left for the same reason. So we set the machine to receive us back one hour after we’ve left. Eventually we’ll be able to set the departure and return times closer; but for now we need to make it an hour.”
I nodded as if I understood. But in reality, it made my mind recoil to think of two of myself staring at each other. And I shuddered to think of re-materializing, or whatever it was called, inside of myself.
“Now, only to the assistants will it seem we’ve disappeared for an hour then reappeared,” he went on. “To us it will seem, well, I’m not sure exactly but we’ll soon find out.
“I’ll activate the departure mechanism from inside the machine as we leave. Then, once we’ve finished looking around our destination and have collected some proof, I’ll again activate the mechanism for our return and we’ll reappear here.”
“You’re the one who activates the machine?” I asked. “What if you become incapacitated and can’t do it? Are the technicians here able to recall it remotely?”
“Oh, no,” he said. “Think about it. What if they brought the machine back and we weren’t in it? What would we do then? But returning only requires a simple push of a button. Even you can do that much. If, somehow, we both got hurt, we’d just have to wait until one of us had recovered.”
“Does the machine disappear and reappear as we go through time and come back?” I asked.
“No. The machine remains here just as it appears now. Only the contents disappear and reappear. But it’s important for the machine to remain in operation in order to receive the return transmission. When we sent the monkey ahead a day, we had to keep everything running until he showed up again.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. A troubling thought occurred to me during his explanation that set off alarms inside my head. “If the machine stays here in the lab, then how will we be able to come back? Won’t we be trapped there without a means of return?”
“Ah, good question,” he replied. “But, no, we won’t be without any machine. A form of it will exist for us in our target time as well as here. As we travel, an iteration of the machine which exists in another dimension of reality will be inducted for our use.”
“What does that mean?”
“Quantum mechanics demonstrates that there are an infinite number of dimensions. But for us to exist and function as we perceive of ourselves, we only need three of them. So, the machine you see here exists in the three dimensions you understand, while the machine we will occupy as we travel is composed of its concurrent existence in three other dimensions from the infinite number of dimensions available.”
“You pull forms of the machine from other dimensions for us to use?” I said with alarm. “How do you know it’s not us going into those other dimensions? And how do you know it will be the same version of us that comes back?! Even if that monkey, or some monkey did come back alive, you don’t know that it has the same identity, the same awareness as the one that left, do you? Do you?!”
“Careful, there,” the professor chuckled. “You’re about to blow a fuse. I’m certain it’s the same version of us, as you put it, which comes back. I told you, I’ve done all the calculations and I’m absolutely certain of the safety of this trip. Come on, you’ll only know by doing it.”
“But, …”
“Think of all the famous explorers — Christopher Columbus, and James Cook, and, and so on. Do you think they weren’t a bit apprehensive when they started out. It was only after they had done it first that others were encouraged to make similar trips. Think of yourself like that. Dr. James Boswell, first explorer of the temporal frontier! Sounds impressive, doesn’t it?”
I had to admit it was a thrilling thought. I knew he had modestly left his own name out just to make the argument. In reality it would be both of us acclaimed for this. Even so, it was exciting to think of myself, of us, in those terms. It’d be like Lewis and Clark, and the other great teams. Only now it would be Brashman and Boswell. Yeah, putting it like this was enough to subdue my fears.
“So,” he said bringing my attention back from imagination. “What date shall be our destination?”
This was how we had started our conversation less than an hour ago. But I still hadn’t thought about it enough to actually choose a time. I just shrugged at him.
“Well, then,” he said. “How about one million B.C.?”
“Why that,” I asked, suddenly realizing the immediacy of the decision.
“Oh, I don’t know. It just seems like the date chosen in all those stories and movies about time travelers. Why break with tradition?”
“But there wasn’t anything historically or geologically significant going on at that time.”
“We don’t know that,” he said. “Just because nobody was there to write about it doesn’t mean nothing happened. Besides, I like nice round numbers. It’ll look good in the history books when they talk about us and this first trip.”
“OK, whatever. You’re the driver. I’m just along for the ride.”
“Oh, no. That’s not true. Don’t you know why I chose you? I need your archaeological expertise to decide what samples to bring back to prove we actually succeeded. Think about it; there will be a lot of skeptics who say we’re making false claims. No. We’ll need to bring back proof, incontrovertible evidence, that we actually traveled through time. So think of what we can collect that will suffice.”
Oh, wow. He was right. People would be very doubtful initially. But what could serve the purpose? Maybe pick up some plant or animal that has been long extinct. No. Re-introducing a long-dead organism back into our ecosystem could present a threat to mankind. In fact, just making a trip like this could have unforeseen consequences.
I had nearly decided to mention this to the professor when he called me to join him in the machine. I looked over and saw him already waiting and patting the seat beside him. Ah, well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, they say.
As I sat down I looked for a seat belt or some sort of restraining device but didn’t see any. He read my thoughts and said they weren’t needed. We wouldn’t even have the sensation of movement. At most it would be a slightly stronger version of the energy pulses felt around campus before.
I don’t know if the machine really hummed or if it was just my imagination. No, I’m sure it did. The assistants switched everything on, then with a final thumbs-up signal from the grad student at the monitoring station, Professor Brashman pushed the button on the control panel in front of us. I inhaled sharply and held my breath. But other than a bright flash of light nothing happened.
“Kurt,” I asked. “What went wrong?”
“Nothing, my friend. Everything went perfect.”
His excitement made me look around. He was right; we weren’t in the lab any longer.
= = = = =
[3.]
Professor Brashman stepped out of the machine quickly. He was as giddy as a schoolgirl after her first kiss. I, on the other hand, exited more cautiously. I had no idea what might jump out at us. But as I scanned the foliage for unknown dangers, my attention was soon arrested by the realization that I’d only ever seen plants like these in fossilized form. My amazement overcame my timidity and I rushed for a closer look. Yes, these would be perfect proof of a journey to another age.
“Kurt, I’ve found some specimens,” I called out. But he was less interested in the flora than in scanning the landscape in all directions.
“I think,” he began, then dropped off. “Yes. There have been some major changes, but I believe we’re in the same location where the university will be in a million years. It’s just as I anticipated. We’ve only traveled in time but not changed our relative spatial position. I’ll have to factor that into future trips. We wouldn’t want to materialize in a location which had sunk underwater; or rather which hadn’t yet risen out of the sea.”
“Kurt,” I said again with wonderment. “You did it! We’ve really traveled back in time.”
He looked at me and his eyes began glistening. “Yes, Jim.” He struggled to speak without his voice cracking. “My inventions really work. Now maybe people will give my word a bit more weight.”
“I’m sure they will,” I said. “I’m sure they will.” I changed the subject before he could get too maudlin. “How long can we stay? Did you say we had to return after one hour?”
“Ha, ha ha. No, no. Even though to the lab workers it’ll seem we’ve been gone an hour, our stay here can be any length we’d like. But still, so that we don’t suffer too much jet lag, if you will, perhaps having it be an hour for us as well might be a good idea.”
“I agree,” I said. “Also, I meant to say something before we left. I think we need to take great care not to do anything which might alter history.”
“You’ve been watching too many movies,” he said with a laugh. “I don’t think the timeline of history is as fragile as sci-fi authors would have you believe. But yes, we’ll take care. Now, my prudent friend, let’s each turn to our respective tasks. Our time here will pass much faster than you realize.”
The air had an unusual quality to it which affected my breathing. I wasn’t able to identify exactly what it was though — whether a different concentration of oxygen, or the presence of an unfamiliar element, or something else. But it was much stronger than the sensation one gets when traveling to another country and taking a deep breath there for the first time. It was very nearly unpleasant, and I wouldn’t want to have to get used to it.
The sky was different too. It wasn’t a clean blue with white puffy clouds. It had a reddish-orange tint and a murky quality which made the sun look pale and blurred. But I didn’t know whether that was a permanent condition or merely the result of inclement weather patterns that would eventually clear up.
The vegetation consisted of numerous stands of dense foliage scattered across rolling fields. The plants were mostly ferns and cycads of varieties I knew to be long extinct. It was of these that I took the most samples. The professor had thoughtfully stocked the machine with specimen bags for this purpose.
There were also a large variety of insects and other crawling bugs. But I felt it best not to take any of these back home yet. At length I became aware of the absence of larger species of animals but put it down to the probability that they had fled the area in response to the frightfulness of our arrival.
I filled and labelled each specimen bag, then stowed them in the small storage area beneath our seats in the machine. Once I’d exhausted the supply of bags and filled the space to overflowing, I went to find the professor. I stood with him for a final glance around but it didn’t take long. He was now eager to get back home to show everyone we had succeeded.
We took our places in the machine, then with a smile and a wink he pushed the button. To our surprise there was no flash of light; there was no hum, no anything. I quickly turned my head to look at him. There was fear in his eyes. My throat clenched and my chest tightened. I struggled to breathe, but it wasn’t because of the atmosphere.
He scanned all the settings and jiggled all the switches, but nothing had an effect. He started to step out of the machine, so I grabbed his arm.
“What if it suddenly turns on and leaves without you?” I shouted.
He shook his head and got out. Hearing him moving something at the back of the machine, I slowly stepped out and joined him. He had opened a panel and was checking circuits.
“I don’t understand,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “Everything is functioning correctly.”
“So why isn’t it working?” I said. “Don’t just shake your head. Do something! Think! What could be wrong? Anything, everything; tell me. What could do this?”
He straightened up and gazed into space. Having a puzzle to solve pushed him to focus on finding a solution rather than just standing in bewilderment. Thus equipped with purpose his face hardened into an expression of determination.
“One possibility,” he began, “is that a strong gravitational spike might be interfering with our movement from one point on the timeline to another.”
“Wait,” I said. “In simple terms please. What’s a gravitational spike?”
“Well, Earth’s gravitational field is fairly stable most of the time. But on rare occasions a cataclysmic event can cause an interruption — a drop or a surge.”
“Like what? What sort of cataclysmic, thing?”
“Oh, a major comet strike or a collision with another planet.”
“But that hasn’t happened, has it?”
“No. Not in just the time span we’ve gone. You’d have to go back hundreds of millions or even billions of years to find an event that large.”
“Well what then? What about more recent strikes? Wasn’t there a big one in the Yucatan?”
“Yes, but that was also long before this period.”
“What about that big strike in Russia? That wasn’t that long ago.”
“You mean Tunguska? 1908? No, that would be far too small. That only released a few megatons of energy. Nowhere near enough to influence Earth’s gravity. However, …”
His voice drifted off as he became lost in thought. But I was agitated and unwilling to stand silent.
“What? What did you think of?”
“There was the Australasian Strewnfield Event,” he said. “That was 800,000 years before our time. So it would have occurred between where we are now and where we left. It was caused by an asteroid entering our atmosphere. It was an air-burst instead of a ground strike, but it would still have released more than 50,000 megatons of energy. Perhaps that was enough to cause a momentary spike in the gravity. But if so, why would we have been able to get past it at all? If it could interrupt time travel, then it should have prevented us from getting here in the first place; not just prevent our return.”
“Nice theory, but no,” said an unknown voice behind us.
The unexpected sound caused us both to jump. In fact, I think I might have let out a small scream. We turned around quickly and there standing a short distance away were two men.
= = = = =
[4.]
The two beings who had so quietly appeared took us completely by surprise. They weren’t cavemen or one of the other early hominins. They were clearly homo sapiens. What’s more, their clothing looked to be the style of the late-Nineteenth or early-Twentieth Century, and they had just addressed us in English. Professor Brashman was still dumbfounded, so I spoke.
“Who are you? And how did you get here?”
“My name is Verne, Jules Verne,” said the taller one. Judging by his voice it was he who had spoken while our backs were turned. He had a distinct French accent. “And this is my friend and colleague, Herbert Wells,” he continued.
“You mean as in H. G. Wells?” I asked. “And the Jules Verne? But, you can’t be. They’re both dead!”
The one who had identified himself as Verne turned to the one he called Wells and spoke.
“Well then, that verifies your hypothesis, doesn’t it?”
“So it would seem,” answered Mr. Wells.
“Wait, wait” I said. “Tell me, please, how can it possibly be you two?”
“Because it’s not really us,” answered Mr. Wells. “At least, it’s not the physical incarnations of us that were born, lived, and as you say, died in the world from which you came. Rather, we are conceptual incarnations of our respective selves, brought into existence in this world by the imaginations of our Earth-bound counterparts.”
Professor Brashman was still silent. But judging by his facial expression he was actually understanding much of what they said. For myself, however, this was far to theoretical and metaphysical to grasp. Fortunately for me he finally found his tongue.
“Please answer a few questions for me so that I might better understand,” said Professor Brashman to the two men. Upon seeing them nod agreement the professor continued.
“You spoke of this world as if it isn’t Earth,” he said. “Are we somewhere else then?”
“Well it is Earth,” said Mr. Verne. “But as it exists in a different time period than your own, it has a few properties you may not be expecting.”
“We can leave that for later,” the professor said. “It also sounded like you implied that you two are not the actual men whose names you hold, but are instead embodiments of their thoughts. Did I follow you correctly?”
Both men nodded.
“So then, thoughts can exist independently of their thinker?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Wells. “That was the hypothesis to which my colleague referred a moment ago. We had already come to the recognition that once a thinker conceives of an idea, then dwells on it until it has been fully conceptualized, it gains its own existence somewhere. We’ll get to that point in a minute. It can be any thinker — you, your friend, Mr. Verne, Mr. Wells, anyone.”
“By the way,” Mr. Verne interrupted. “Neither of you have introduced yourselves. We’ve already told you who we are. So, if you please.”
My friend was frequently careless about social formalities, especially when he was pursuing a line of thought, thus he was none too pleased with this break in the explanation. I, therefore, jumped in and spoke for us both.
“This is Kurt Brashman,” I explained. “A university professor of physics, and I’m James Boswell, a university professor of archaeology. We have come from the early part of the Twenty-first Century. We recognize your names because you both are still quite famous in our time.”
“Thank you,” said Mr. Verne. This was followed by handshakes and nods all around.
“Now may we continue?” asked Professor Brashman.
“Of course,” answered Mr. Wells. “To continue, consider an architect. He first conceives of a new structure he’d like to build. He then draws up a set of plans. Finally, he gathers the needed materials and constructs the building, or bridge, or what have you. Each step of this process brings the item further into existence into what you know of as the physical world. But even before the actual construction began, the item already had an existence. Merely the act of conceiving the idea was enough to cause the object to exist in some form, somewhere. It was then the man’s continued effort which brought it from that somewhere and into existence in his own world.”
Seeing that I was having a hard time following this, Kurt turned to me to help explain it.
“You know that Einstein proved that matter is energy and energy is matter, right?” he said. Seeing me nod he continued. “Thoughts are merely another form of energy, you see? When we think of something it gains an existence. Probably in one of those infinite number of dimensions we were discussing earlier. It then becomes a matter of moving it from the unseen dimensions into our perceptible dimensions. This is done by building something if you’re an architect, or writing something if you’re an author, and so on.”
I was catching on a little better, so Mr. Wells began again.
“My colleague and I came into existence in this time period when our physical counterparts began conceiving of what the distant past would be like so they could write their novels. They put a lot of thought into this age in particular, perhaps because of the general fad of the day, so this is where their conceptual embodiments materialized. We have been keeping each other company ever since. Your arrival here from a time when our counterparts are no longer alive and yet you are able to see us and interact with us, demonstrates we are able to continue our existence independently of their existence. This was a question we have debated at length but with no way of resolving until now. So, thank you.”
“Glad we could oblige,” said the professor without feeling. “But we are not mere conceptualizations. We are actual physical beings from Twenty-first Century Earth. And as such, our present difficulty of getting back to our proper time period has a bit more implication for us than it might for just an embodied thought. So, if you know of some way to help us, other than just providing intellectual stimulation, it would be greatly appreciated!”
I held my breath to see if either of the two men took offense at being addressed as less than human, but they didn’t. Thank goodness for the gentler disposition of those earlier times. I didn’t want our only prospect for help to turn against us, so I took over the questioning.
“If you’ve been living here ever since you were conceived, oh, pardon the pun,” I said. “Um, does that mean you’ll never cease to exist?”
“Possibly,” said Mr. Verne.
“Nice,” I said. “And how is it you came to interact with us?”
“Ah, yes. You see, we two share a residence not far from here. And a short time ago we heard, or felt rather, the arrival of your craft. We recognized what the sensation was and came to investigate.”
“So then,” I continued, “it’s possible for physical beings, like us, to encounter other people’s embodied concepts, like you?”
“Apparently; given the right conditions,” replied Mr. Verne. “Although, that shouldn’t surprise you since possessing the ability to time travel physically should have prepared you to encounter anything.”
I pressed on. “You’re both great thinkers, and you said you’ve had lengthy discussions about time travel and conceptual existence. Consider for a moment our present situation. Do you know of any reason why our machine has stopped working?”
“It could be due to one of the temporal paradoxes,” answered Mr. Wells.
“Probably number four,” added Mr. Verne. Then to his friend, “Should that be paradoxii?”
Professor Brashman suddenly took renewed interest in the conversation. “What paradoxes,” he asked.
“Oh, there are several temporal paradoxes which come into play when one travels through time,” replied Mr. Wells. “I’d think someone pursuing this endeavor would make knowing them a priority.”
“Just tell us what they are, please.”
Mr. Wells and Mr. Verne again overlooked Professor Brashman’s rudeness and alternated telling us about the paradoxes.
“The first one is the most basic, and even beginners usually get it,” said Mr. Wells. “If you go back in time, you must not change anything or your own future might cease to exist.”
“See,” I shouted to the professor. “That’s what I was saying before. It is important not to alter history.” Then turning to our new friends I asked, “Would coming here and collecting a few plant specimens have somehow changed the course of history?”
“No,” they all three said simultaneously.
“Oh. Well then, what’s the next one?” I said more quietly.
“The second one is also easy,” said Mr. Verne. “Well, it’s easy to learn the rule. It’s not easy for some people to understand why it happens. But it does. If you go forward in time to get information to bring back and thereby gain benefit in your own time, by subsequently making use of that information you change those future events such that the expected benefit becomes nullified.”
Mr. Wells again spoke. “The third rule is, whether your go forwards or backwards in time, if you meet yourself and interact, you will create a new timeline which is unpredictable and which is often fatal to one self or the other, and potentially both.”
“Well, neither the second nor the third seem as though they apply to us,” I said. “So what’s next?”
“Yes, the fourth,” said Mr. Verne. “That’s the one which seems most likely. Every form of time travel works by establishing a connection between two time periods or two realities. If you somehow become separated from that link back to your original time or reality, you cannot re-establish it.”
“We were already discussing that before you two arrived,” Professor Brashman said. “We were trying to determine what could be preventing our return.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Verne. “But you were speaking of gravitational fluctuations and comet strikes. Those wouldn’t have the effect you’ve encountered. You were right when you said, so long as you could go one direction, you should be able to return along the same path. That is true. As long as a connection can be established between two points in time, or between two worlds, or two realities, you can travel from one end to the other and back again without difficulty. A problem only arises if that connection gets broken before the return trip is made.”
“But what could break the connection,” I asked. “If it wasn’t a comet or gravity, what else could do it?”
“Loss of power at the source of the connection,” answered Mr. Wells.
I looked to the professor. “Could there have been a power outage at the university?”
He shook his head no. “I have back-up generators and battery packs in a triple-redundancy system.”
“What if someone turned off the machine?” I asked.
He looked as though this were beyond the realm of possibility. “Why would anyone do that? But even so, I have my assistants remaining on duty to keep the system running until the cycle has completed.”
“I don’t know. It was just a thought. But something has happened. Do you have another explanation?”
The four of us stood staring at each other not knowing what to say next. It was Mr. Verne who broke the silence.
“Well,” he said. “You now have all the time in the world to solve your dilemma. In the meantime would you care to join us at our humble abode? We can give you some refreshments, then afterwards perhaps we might share some entertainment.”
“Did either of you happen to bring a set of playing cards?” asked Mr. Wells. “With four of us now we could play bridge.”
Professor Brashman flashed a look of contempt. He clearly felt they weren’t doing enough to help us get home, and he resented their appearance of making light of our disaster. I, however, thought it would be great to have a drink about now. The stronger the better.
Suddenly we felt a strong burst of energy, just like the ones when the time machine had been activated in the lab. But it wasn’t coming from beside us. This pulse seemed to come from several kilometers to our south.
“Another guest,” declared Mr. Verne.
= = = = =
[5.]
In just under half an hour the four of us had hiked the distance and found the source of the pulse. In the center of an open field was an identical copy of Professor Brashman’s time machine. A short distance away, staring intently at something in a small stream, was Dr. Mack Vellayne.
Between Professor Brashman and myself it was hard to tell which was more surprised. Mr. Verne and Mr. Wells on the other hand seemed amused at our recognition of the new arrival.
“Vellayne!” bellowed Professor Brashman as he rushed to his nemesis. “What have you done to us?”
Dr. Vellayne stood and turned, then smiled broadly at our approach. “Brashman! Jim! I’ve found you. I was hoping I’d be able to rescue you before anything terrible happened.”
“What are you talking about? And how do you come to have a machine identical to mine?”
“This? Oh, it is yours. After your accident I moved it to my lab so I could find what went wrong and repair it. Now I’ve come to rescue you.”
“Accident? Moved it? Hold on, you need to explain yourself better,” said Professor Brashman.
“You recall I came to your lab to check on your progress, at the request of the general?”
“Yes, or so you said.”
“After that conversation I hadn’t even left your campus when I heard your machine activated for another trial. I rushed back to your lab and learned from your students that you had foolishly used your own person as a test subject. So I immediately telephoned the general. He agreed with me that since you had vaporized yourself and another well-respected professor, then I should take charge of the project and do whatever was necessary to prevent further accidents.”
“I didn’t vaporize myself! I’m perfectly fine. We’re both fine. What did you do to the machine?”
“I told your assistants to power it down.”
“NO!” the professor and I shouted in unison.
“Yes,” continued Dr. Vellayne to my horror. “They objected strenuously saying it had to stay running until you returned. But I felt the need to secure it before it did anything else unexpected or dangerous. They finally complied once I pointed out they could be arrested for refusing orders on a military project. I then realized I should move the machine to my lab where my own assistants knew not to question my commands.”
“You idiot!” bellowed Professor Brashman. “Don’t you know that turning it off left us stranded?”
Dr. Vellayne’s face turned red, so I interjected to redirect the conversation.
“Mack,” I said. “Mack, look at me. So, you turned off the machine, took it to your lab, then reassembled it and turned it on again. Yes?”
“Yes,” he answered. “Besides, I felt if you were still capable of returning on your own, it wouldn’t matter if you reappeared at my lab instead of your own.”
“It does matter, but never mind that. How long after our trip was it before you made your trip?”
“Oh, it was just a week later.”
“You left a week later than us, but you’ve arrived here at nearly the same time? How?”
“I just kept the same destination settings, then advanced the return time by exactly a week.”
“But if you thought it was dangerous for people to travel in it, how is is you got in yourself?” I asked.
“Oh, well, um,” Dr. Vellayne stammered as he groped for a reply. “After checking over the machine and all the calculations and settings, I felt that with proper operation it could be safe after all. Besides, I thought if I could find the two of you and get you back again it would be worth the risk.”
“Ah hah!” burst out Professor Brashman. “You knew it wasn’t dangerous! You only said that to the general so you could steal another of my experiments. And we wouldn’t need rescuing if you hadn’t turned off the machine in the first place!”
“What do you mean?” asked Dr. Vellayne.
“Hah! That proves it!” shouted Professor Brashman. “If you had really invented the magnetic field transformer as you claim, then you’d know it must maintain constant power in order to keep the field it generates from collapsing. And if you knew anything about my machine, you’d know the field has to be preserved for the entire duration of the journey.”
Again I saw Dr. Vellayne’s face flush. I then knew I had been wrong about who invented the transformer. I’d apologize to Kurt later. But for now there was a more pressing need. I turned to our other two acquaintances who were standing to one side listening silently to our animated exchanges.
“Mr. Verne, Mr. Wells,” I addressed them both. “You said earlier that I could collect samples here and take them home without violating any of the temporal rules. Right?”
“That is correct,” said Mr. Verne.
“Well then, couldn’t Dr. Vellayne collect Professor Brashman and myself, then return home with us?”
“I suppose so,” he answered. “Since you came from that time originally, returning to it shouldn’t cause any major alterations to history.”
“Unless,” interjected Mr. Wells. “Unless you were meant to become lost in time.”
“Well there’s only one way to find out,” I said.
The three of us travelers rushed to the sides of the machine. There was a brief scuffle as Professor Brashman and Dr. Vellayne both maneuvered to sit in front of the control panel. Vellayne was about to argue, but the ferocious look on Brashman’s face convinced him otherwise. Vellayne and I then squeezed onto the other seat.
Before activating the system Professor Brashman questioned Dr. Vellayne. “Did you leave the machine set to accept the return a full hour after the departure? We don’t want any other kind of accidents now.”
“I told my assistants to re-energize everything well before my anticipated return,” Dr. Vellayne said.
“What do you mean re-energize?” said Professor Brashman with alarm. “Didn’t you tell them to keep it energized through the entire cycle?!”
“Do you have any idea how much power this machine consumes?” protested Dr. Vellayne. “I didn’t realize you were using that much energy with each test. I could have considered leaving it running if it were more efficient. But, …”
“Are you joking?” said Professor Brashman with incredulity. “What kind of reason is that? Who cares how much energy it uses? We’re time traveling! We’re pioneering a new frontier. Besides it’s paid for by the military.”
“But my grad students,” Dr. Vellayne said almost in a whine. “They all belong to a biodiversity preservation society and they wanted us to operate the machine with more environmental sensitivity. If I’d resisted them, they might have called the general to protest.”
“Idiot!” yelled Professor Brashman. “I’ll bet …” He pushed the button to activate the machine. But as feared, nothing happened. “Gah! God save me from fools!”
We all three climbed out of the machine. Then Professor Brashman turned on Dr. Vellayne again.
“You ruin everything! You know that?” he yelled. “First you steal my transformer, then you try to steal my time machine.”
“I was only trying to help you,” Dr. Vellayne protested.
“If you hadn’t been so quick to grab another of my inventions, we wouldn’t have been stranded here! And if you hadn’t been trying to get some glory for yourself with a contrived rescue, you wouldn’t be stranded here with us.”
“What do you mean stranded with you?” he asked.
Mr. Wells answered the question before anyone else could. “Paradox number four: Once you become separated from your own world or reality, you can’t go back.”
= = = = =
[6.]
“You’re all welcome to join us at our home,” said Mr. Verne as he turned and began walking.
“You didn’t happen to bring a set of playing cards?” Mr. Wells asked Dr. Vellayne. But getting no more than a blank expression he too turned and followed his friend.
I looked to Professor Brashman and asked, “What do we do now?”
“Nothing,” he said shaking his head. “There’s nothing we can do.”
“But what about the machines? This one and the other one? With two of them now can’t we just put them together and do something to make them work?”
“No,” he said. “This one and ours are merely end-pieces of the portals which were created. We need the equipment that’s in the lab and a large source of power to generate the temporal field needed to connect the two time periods. These things here aren’t able to do that by themselves.”
“Why are there two of them now? Why didn’t the one we came in disappear once the connection was turned off?”
“Remember I told you, as the machine in the lab creates a connection to another time period and opens a portal so to speak, it draws on the other spatial dimensions to form a counterpart of our machine at the destination. You also learned from our virtual friends that once a counterpart entity has been formed it can continue to exist even after it’s no longer connected to its originator. Thus, even though the idiot turned off the machine in the lab, the virtual machine here remained. Later, when he activated my machine again, it formed a new connection, and drew on three other dimensions from the infinite number available to create a second counterpart, as you see. But now that this one too has been disconnected from the source machine, it’s useless as well.”
“So what can we do?” I asked. The thought of spending my remaining years in this place was pressing heavily on me and I was growing light-headed.
“Our only hope is that the general has access to another scientist who is willing and able to create a new time portal with the machine in the lab, and that the new person has sense enough to leave it on until we all get home.”
Dr. Vellayne, who had been listening in silence, shook his head. “No. That won’t happen.”
“How do you know,” I asked.
“When I told the general about you two getting vaporized he wanted to terminate the project right then. It took a lot of begging for me to get permission to reassemble the machine at my lab and search for the cause of the problem.”
“There wasn’t a problem,” interrupted Professor Brashman.
“I did such good a job convincing the general it was dangerous, that he didn’t even want me turning it on again,” Dr. Vellayne continued. “I had to wait until he was away before I could try it myself. So now that it will appear another scientist has been lost, the general will certainly have the machine disassembled and the project killed. There’s no hope of anyone else coming; no doubt about it.”
I nearly fainted as he said this, but Kurt caught my arm and I soon recovered. The three of us looked from one to another in silence for several moments. Finally, finding nothing more to say we turned and began walking briskly in the direction the other two men had gone. They were still visible in the distance, so we hurried to catch up and see what they had in the way of hospitality.
I asked Mr. Verne, “You said you’ve made a home for yourselves. Do you two also eat?”
“Yes. We can, and we do,” he answered. “Although we don’t really have to. Why? Are you hungry?”
“I sure am. And I hope you have something suited to our palate. I don’t think I’d care for dino-burgers, or anything like that.”
“I’m sorry,” Mr. Verne said. “I don’t understand the reference. However, you’ll find we’ve been able to hunt and forage well enough to put together adequate nutrition.”
A thought suddenly occurred to me and I addressed Mr. Wells. “What did you mean when you said ‘unless we were meant to be lost?’”
He paused a moment as he considered how to explain himself. “The time stream, although fluid, seeks to be stable. Thus it resists time travel. So, merely making this trip may have sealed your fate.”
“Is that another paradox?”
“Possibly,” said Mr. Verne answering my question.
I pressed on. “You also mentioned that you two will just continue on indefinitely. Does that mean that in a million years you might even run into yourselves?”
“Oh, I doubt we’ll last that long,” Mr. Verne said. “Although we have an existence, it’s conceptually based. So there will come some point, I don’t know when or how, that these concepts of which we’re made will no longer be viable. Maybe it’ll be once we no longer appear in history books or references. Maybe it’ll be when science advances to where our concepts are proven false. I don’t know, but I doubt it’ll take a million years. Besides, remember paradox number three says we can’t meet ourselves.”
I then put to him the question that had been running through my mind ever since we first met and they said they didn’t age like regular humans. “Does our being here like you mean that we too will, or may, live forever?”
He looked at me thoughtfully before answering. “No, I’m sorry. I’m sure it seems unfair. But remember, we’re conceptual embodiments, while you are actually physical beings. You’re lifespan will follow its normal course of years.”
Dr. Vellayne hadn’t yet heard the explanation of our hosts’ nature, but hearing me ask questions gave him courage to ask a few of his own. “Are there any women here?” he asked. “If we’re going to have to stay here indefinitely, it seems it might get somewhat boring if there are only other men around.”
I snorted with amusement, but Professor Brashman huffed in disgust. Our two hosts both just smiled at him. We soon learned why.
Mr. Wells answered the question. “Well, that will depend on what you call women. There is a tribe of Neanderthals a day’s walk from here. In their group are several females of varying ages, if you’re not too picky.” He smiled and winked at me.
Mr. Verne then joined in. “But you’d best watch yourself. The males tend to be possessive and can turn rather violent if they become jealous.”
“How do you know?” Dr. Vellayne asked. “Have you tried already?”
“No,” said Mr. Wells. “But we have spent quite a bit of time observing them from a distance. It’s one of our distractions, you see. Constant study keeps the mind sharp as well as passes the time.”
“You make me sick,” Professor Brashman said in Dr. Vellayne’s direction. “Now that you can no longer try to steal my wife, you’re planning to take the mates of the locals.”
“Hey,” protested Dr. Vellayne. “I’m not trying to take their mates. I didn’t even know about them before I asked. And I’ve never tried stealing your wife. Well, not after she made her choice and committed herself to you.”
“Yeah, right,” replied Professor Brashman. “I know about the messages you leave on her work phone, and the gifts you send to her office thinking I won’t know about them there. You’re a sneaking interloper. But you’ll never have her. And thanks to you, now I won’t see her again either.”
“Don’t worry,” answered Dr. Vellayne. “Your wife is faithful to you. Though God only knows why. Besides, you two may actually meet again someday.”
I had seen the retort building and sensed a nearly perceptible buzz in the air. Kurt had finally jabbed Mack too many times. I held my breath, then after an effected pause the rejoinder came.
“Janice is an archaeologist, after all,” Dr. Vellayne said with a grin. “Perhaps one day she’ll find your remains in one of her digs.” He then held up his left hand in the shape of a fist and began talking to it in a falsetto voice. “Oh, look, it’s Kurt. Where ever have you been all these years?” Then manipulating the fingers of his hand, “Well, you know, just hanging out with the other fossils.”
Luckily Mr. Wells and I had quick reflexes and were able to grab Professor Brashman before he reached Dr. Vellayne. But the lividity in the professor’s face informed us all that a line had been crossed. Dr. Vellayne remained silent the rest of the way, and made sure to keep as many of us as he could between himself and the professor.
= = = = =
[7.]
I, James Boswell, have undertaken to set down as best I can the events and circumstances that overcame my friends and I, and caused our disappearance from the world we knew.
I have been living for many years with my two virtual friends. It is entirely thanks to them that I was able to adapt to these surroundings, and to keep from going mad with regret and recrimination. But now that I feel my end approaching I wish to make a record in the hope that it may survive.
My two friends, Mr. Verne and Mr. Wells, have assisted me in building a little ceramics workshop and constructing a small furnace. With these I’ve been making clay tablets, then after writing into them with a stylus, I bake them until they’re hard. I will leave all these tablets where I hope they will be discovered in my native time period.
Something Dr. Vellayne said long ago gave me an idea. I recalled an archaeological dig site that my colleague Janice Brashman and I would work periodically before I left. It wasn’t too distant from our university, and I’ve been able to find the place here that corresponds with that dig site in the future. In the hopes that I’m correct, I’ve made this the location for my time capsule.
There is a natural stone grotto at the dig, which if my memory serves correctly, we had just uncovered during our last excavation. I’ll place my records in it and hope for the best.
I realize it’s a long shot. But I’ve had lots of time on my hands and not much else to keep me occupied. It is my dream that Janice will find these clay tablets, read what happened to us, then somehow convince the general to send a rescue party. My two friends say theoretically it could work. But then again, maybe they’re just humoring me.
Although no rescue has happened yet; and presumably if it were to come it would have arrived in the same year we did; it may be that I have to actually bury this rescue note before it can be found later. Sheesh! I just noticed how rambling my sentences are. I’m not bearing up well.
I’ve prepared a burial place and a makeshift coffin for myself. I’ve arranged with my two conceptual friends to inter me beside my two physical friends when the time comes. The three of us can then wait together with my clay tablets until we’re finally discovered in our right time.
Kurt Brashman and Mack Vellayne have been waiting there many years already. They killed each other our first month here. They couldn’t stop sniping at each other about who stole what and who loved who. Finally Kurt pummeled Mack to death with a club. But Mack was able to get in enough blows of his own that Kurt died of internal injuries and infection shortly thereafter.
Once I had buried them both I couldn’t help but laugh. I recalled Mack’s perverse joke about Janice finding Kurt’s skull and holding it up to examine. This silly image kept running through my mind until I realized it could actually come to pass. In a million years or so, that is. Hence my plan for a time capsule containing a distress call.
Or then again, maybe I’m just deluding myself about the possibility of our remains and my notes being found in our natural time. It may be that Paradox Number Four has cosmic and psychological applications as well as its temporal one.
Once you lose touch with your reality, you can never get it back.
.
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