Despite my excitement, I must have fallen asleep at some point because the alarm seemed extra harsh, and the pool of drool on my sopping wet pillow seemed extra deep. I flipped my pillow over, batted at the alarm repeatedly, and must have hit the snooze button because I was rewarded with the deep richness of silence. Ahh.
A buzzing noise awoke me again and as the all-encompassing fog of deep sleep began to burn off by the morning light, several things began to register as “wrong” in my head. The first being the sunlight. The second, and the more persistent, was the sound, which I realized was not the alarm clock after all, but my cell phone. I looked at the spot on the nightstand where the alarm clock normally was, but it had apparently left or something. What am I thinking? Clocks can’t leave. I leaned over the edge of the bed and saw it on the floor. It must have jumped off to avoid the angry silencing hand of six a.m. Now, the clock got its chance to laugh as it laid back on the plush carpeting and told me that not only was it now 9:22, but the phone, yeah, it’s work calling to say that you’re late.
By the time I threw back the covers, stumbled out of bed, and reached my phone, it had stopped ringing. I checked the call log, and sure enough, it was work. Crap.
Ten minutes later I was on the road and at work in another ten. I got in, made my way through the industrious construction sounds of the new, and still evolving, security setup, and headed to the basement.
I dropped my coat off in my office and saw there wasn’t anything on the Big Board. Good. This could still work. I crossed my fingers just in case. I stepped into the hallway and saw Dr. Mason heading my way. He called out to me, “Dr. Eastman, nice of you to join us today. We’re on our way up to the big conference room for a meeting.”
My heart froze as my mind immediately went to the worst: they were firing me for being late. No! Not when I’m so close to saving her! I relaxed a little when the rest of the scientists shuffled out of their offices. They seemed to recoil slightly from the bright lights running the length of the hallway. When Dr. Mason reached where I was standing, I asked, “Hey, what’s up?”
“Nothing big. It’s just a meeting letting everyone know what happened yesterday, what we’ve found out since, and what measures we’re putting into place as a result. Since you were here late last night, you already know a lot of what I’m going to say.”
“Oh, good. Can I skip it?”
He smiled, “Nope, sorry. I said you knew a lot, but not all of what I’m going to say. And besides, I have to have everyone there to sign a statement saying they are now current with the new security measures, you know, for liability reasons. I’d hate for someone to get accidentally shot for doing something stupid and for the next-of-kin to sue us saying that Dr. Dum-Dum didn’t know that would happen.”
We got to the elevator and a bunch of scientists crowded in. The rest had to wait for the elevator to return. “I saw that there aren’t any pressing issues today, so after the meeting I’m going to do the monthly full-spectrum service and testing,” I said to him.
Puzzled, he asked, “Don’t you normally do that closer to the end of the month?”
I nodded, “Yeah, I usually do, but I want to make sure everything will run smoothly for Monday’s all-day military marathon.”
He thought for moment and said, “Good idea. Everything that day has to be perfect.”
I relaxed a notch as that bought me the cover I needed to do what I had to do.
We got off on the second floor and filed into the conference room with the other fifty or so people that work in this building. I snagged a seat in the back, over by the window and began to doodle small pad of paper I had with me, which made it look like I was taking notes. Every once in a while I got bored and stared out the window. There wasn’t much of a view with the world living in the shades of December’s muted gray. Mottled gray sky interspersed with alternating light and dark gray clouds above, and the grimy slushy snow mixed with salt and dirt below.
I thought about the logistics of how this would work. Later this afternoon, I go down and do my monthly testing stuff, fire it up, set the time, date, and location, and jump through. The guards won’t be a problem. It’s their first day on the job and they don’t even know what they’re guarding. They won’t stop a scientist-type person, like me, in a lab coat. I zip back in time, appear just around the corner from where June was hit, jump out, save her, dash around the corner, hit the button on the recall remote, and return to a much happier present.
The thing is I won’t directly know what impact my action will have had on the present. For some reason that’s not fully understood, no one on the planet is aware of past events that have been changed as a result of someone using The Machine. When something is changed in the past, people in the present find out about it in textbooks, newspapers, and other forms of media. The common response to something big that had been changed is puzzlement, “Huh, I didn’t know that.” That’s why we have such a large support staff that does nothing but collect news from every possible source; papers, television, public CCTV cameras, and the entire Internet. This information is securely saved in multiple formats and locked into a vault on property. At the conclusion of an experiment, or the return of someone who went into the past, the research staff then pulls the news from that date to the present, searching for any kind of variation.
So, it’s wholly probably that I could go back, save June, return to the present, drive to my apartment, only to discover that I don’t live there anymore. This is a very real possibility that happened to the first few people who went back in time. When I get back, I need to do some research and look up both her and me to make sure it worked. There’s also a good chance that other unforeseen circumstances could pop up. I hope not, and the best way to combat it is to have been prepared, which I am.
As the meeting finished around noon, Ron said since it’s a Friday, everyone can have the afternoon off. He pointed at me and said, “Besides, Tim will be doing preventative maintenance on The Machine this afternoon to get it ready for Monday, so there won’t be a lot else to do around here.”
Several people cheered and they started planning on going to a popular, mid-scale, bland, bar & restaurant. You know, the kind where the walls are adorned with random antiques and workers wear buttons of “flair” on their vests. As they left, I got patted on the back and heard things like, “Sucks to be you,” and, well, that’s pretty much what everyone said. That’s fine. Leave me be so I can get my real work done.
I went back to my office, had a quick lunch at my desk, got my equipment, and headed back down the hall. I was surprised to see Dr. Mason pulling his coat on and heading for the elevator. I pointed at his coat and say, “Oh, hey Ron, you’re going too?”
“Yeah I am. I was here late yesterday so I’m leaving early today. Between what you’re doing with The Machine and the new construction in the lobby, my expertise isn’t needed right now. And besides, half price appetizers sounds pretty good.” The elevator doors opened and he stepped inside. “Have fun prepping The Machine and I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Thanks, have a good weekend.”
The walk down to the control room was eerily quiet. Normally, you can hear ringing phones, music, or talking coming from each open office doorway as you passed by, but every one of them was closed, locked, and silent. I nodded to the guards, swiped myself through the door, and entered the control room.
I went over every part of The Machine to make sure it was all running perfectly. Yes, I wanted Monday to go well for the military brass who has some super secret reason to use the time machine, but, more importantly, I wanted it to go flawlessly for myself. Everything checked out and I fired up the generators. The deep whine spooled up to a high-pitch. I entered in the coordinates for time and location and pressed the big green button. The lenses in the doorway of The Machine sprayed their impossibly bright blues and greens about the platform. It was like the aurora borealis was here, right in front of me. I had to shake off the urge to stare at the be
auty of it: I have a life to save. I grabbed the remote, triple checked that the return information was correct, and walked out of the control room. I stepped up onto the riser and walked towards the light. My heart was beating so hard I thought I might drop dead right here. Calm down. I have plenty of time. Heh, I have all the time in the world. I smiled and walked through the living light.
***