by RP Halliway
Time
and
Technicalities
by RP Halliway
Copyright © 2021 by RP Halliway
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
RP Halliway asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
RP Halliway has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.
All mentions of other works, real or imaginary, are purely for reference, and are not an endorsement or criticism of the works.
First edition
Cover art by Casey Gerber
What then is time? If no one asks me, I know what it is. If I wish to explain it to him who asks, I do not know.
Saint Augustine
Time is nature’s way of keeping everything from happening at once.
John Archibald Wheeler
Preface
Thanks for choosing my book to read. I hope you thoroughly enjoy it and it enhances your thought process about the world we live in.
Time and Technicalities is the first book in the Timewalker series, and is a very non-traditional book in many ways, while trying to look like a traditional book. My actual category for this first book would be ‘semi-non-fiction’ due to the fact that most of the ideas presented are based on real events, whether accepted as real or hoaxes is up to the reader. I try to deal with the topic of Time with a logical approach and discuss ideas that may or may not be provable or true, but are very interesting to think about.
The rest of the Timewalker series falls more in line with the typical science-fiction genre.
Time and Technicalities explores the theory of Time, while also adding information about the crafted storybook universe the characters will explore. The goal of this first book is to explain the theory, while still providing the dear reader with an engaging story.
A companion ‘textbook’ for Time and Technicalities, available at rphalliway.com, presents the theory in a more formal way, providing another way for readers to digest the ideas directly, making the story less cumbersome when trying to explain the theory.
I initially presented a lot more scientific exposition to the theory, but my wonderful editor suggested cutting much for the sake of readability. The surviving pieces still require effort to fully comprehend, even (or especially?) in story format, and I hope leads to an enjoyable reading experience for everyone.
Acknowledgement
Time and Technicalities has been several years in the making. The flash of an idea for the theory of Time came in early 2011, and finally became coherent enough to start righting about several years later.
Along the way, several people have proved instrumental in putting the words on the page.
These are in no particular order:
My parents, whose love and affection allowed me to explore so many ideas.
D - a wonderful mentor and professional questioner, who kept me thinking over and over about so many parts of the book.
S - I couldn’t imagine a better person and motivator, always willing to hear my crazy ideas and provide insightful thoughts.
P - I didn’t think editing could be fun, but as my first book took shape, I learned so much from the experience.
A - The talks about the universe and our existance, along with the inspiration for the cover, were always enjoyable.
And to you, dear reader, for taking the time to read my book and provide comments and feedback to improve it.
Thanks to all.
To the Giants that have gone before, and the educators that desire to inspire students of all ages.
May we never give up the quest for truth and never silence voices.
It doesn’t matter who you are - everybody can learn something from everyone else.
“Recognizing that you know what you know, and recognizing that you do not know what you do not know, this is knowledge.”
Confucius Analects 2:17
Time
and
Technicalities
Send any comments and discussion to:
[email protected]
Chapter 1
The image stuck sharply in his mind, as if drawn in marker on the inside of his eyelids. Silas Coleson awoke with a start, but didn’t open his eyes.
The sounds of the city just waking up started to invade his small room in the apartment. He plugged his ears with his fingers and focused all of his energy on remembering. All too often his dreams faded into nothing. This dream he wanted to remember.
Keeping his eyes closed, Silas reached for his dream notebook and started writing down key moments from before he fully awoke. He added notes about how parts became almost tangible during sleep—another ‘feel-dream’ he wrote. But the tangible moments took a back seat to what he really wanted to capture. The face. Her face.
Quickly scribbling the key details he remembered with his eyes still closed, Silas wanted to keep her face in focus as best as he could. He dreaded thinking that her face would slip away. There was something about it. It represented more about the dream. He was sure of it.
Silas knew his writing would be hard to read later. He silently cursed himself for not getting that small tablet computer he wanted. Finances didn’t seem to justify the expense, but he’d much rather be typing the words, instead of feeling his way around blindly, with pen and paper.
Resigned to the inevitable loss, he allowed himself to move toward wakefulness, but still kept his eyes closed. The city sounds—the few cars passing by, the birds in the few trees lining the streets, a dog barking—grew louder, and his dream state started to fall away.
He recounted the dream one more time, trying to keep it fresh, then he opened his eyes. Reading his blind scribblings, he tied them back to the memories of the dream and wrote a better description in the notebook.
The lifting of an object. An ancient artifact? Then another distinct object. He kept trying to imagine the two objects together, but they didn’t fit. He could feel the abrasive texture of the corroded metal as he held one of the objects. He ran his fingers over the grooves in the metal face. It looked like some kind of reptile, a crocodile perhaps? Silas turned the cylinder over several times, imagining how each of the three pieces fit, but he wasn’t having much luck. He felt a tug on his chest as the girl grabbed his shirt to get his attention.
The girl. Not overly glamorous in “plastic beauty,” as Hollywood would adore, but having a refined elegance and definitely very attractive. Brown hair, jus
t below the shoulders, cute nose, hazel eyes. A mouth trying to express something. Danger? He looked toward the girl, then back to the corroded artifact for a frantic second. Artifact or girl? He had to choose.
He turned and grabbed the girl’s hand, and they both stepped away from the artifact. The dream ended. Silas woke up feeling his heart beat fast, and an impossibly real hand grasping his.
He and the girl had seemed to know each other. But how did he know her? What was their connection? It felt much more real than just a dream. He needed to know more. Where were they? What was the artifact? What did it do? Why the etching? And what was the danger?
Silas finally rolled out of bed a few minutes later and headed to the shower. He heard the buzz of his roommate’s alarm, knowing he had several minutes before Eric woke up, courtesy of the phone’s snooze feature. The shower was hot and powerful, and he reveled in the water pressure. He managed to convince his boss that the old higher pressure nozzle would be better off in his hands than in the recycle bin. The small acquisition allowed Silas to enjoy hot ‘soul cleansing’ showers.
After toweling off, Silas pulled on his clothes. Denim jeans and a thick shirt helped to protect from the exposed dangers on the construction site. After strapping his watch on, he checked the time with his phone. Wearing a watch proved to be quicker than reaching for his phone over and over. Grabbing his tool belt and phone, he headed to the kitchen and stuck a couple of granola bars into an empty pouch on his tool belt. He filled his travel mug with two cups of coffee.
“Three cups left!” he called out to Eric as he left for the morning.
Silas placed his tool belt into the back seat of his car, a 1999 Toyota Camry. Purchased from a mechanic and with Eric’s help, the car behaved almost as new. He started the engine then reached for the radio out of muscle memory. But he stopped himself, wanting to keep the dream fresh the entire drive to work.
“Hi boss,” Silas greeted Myron, smiling as he wrapped his tool belt around his waist.
“Morning Silas,” Myron replied. He looked up briefly but didn’t return the smile. That could only mean the day was already busy.
Silas cinched the tool belt a little tighter and did a survey of the planning desk and the building under construction. He’d taken on the role of assistant to the manager, which meant he controlled a team of four to six workers at different times.
“Gonna need you up high today,” Myron said, first pointing to the roof and framed-in upper spaces on the plans, and then turning to the work in progress on the roof. “Gotta run pipes and venting. You good with that?”
Silas did a survey of the skeleton roof and the people around him. He calculated that with the lower skilled people working around him, and attention required to stay safe up in the space, he would have to focus all of his attention on the work.
“Uh, boss . . .” Silas trailed off. “I don’t know if that works for me.”
Myron stopped in his tracks, having never heard Silas turn down an assignment.
“What’s up?” Myron asked, growing more concerned.
Silas blushed slightly, seeing the disappointment registering in Myron’s eyes. “It’s kinda hard to say.”
Myron paused, waiting for him to speak.
Silas, still checking for anger in Myron’s face, started slowly. “It’s weird, but I had this dream . . .”
Myron chuckled a bit when hearing the word “dream,” his weathered face cracking into an uneven smile.
The small chuckle from Myron set Silas at ease a bit more. “I had this dream,” Silas started again, “I don’t know how to describe it, other than to say it actually ‘felt’ real. It seems like it is a sign.”
“A sign?” Myron asked, his face turning sour. “What? Are you a psychic now?”
“I don’t know,” Silas answered with a small laugh. Hearing himself say it, he realized how ridiculous it sounded. “I’m not saying I’m psychic. But I saw a face in the dream.”
“A face?” Myron asked, still staring down Silas, like he was trying to digest whatever was going on in Silas’ mind.
“Yeah . . . A girl,” he said.
“Ah,” Myron replied with a laugh. “Yeah, those girl dreams get to you.”
But this wasn’t just about the fact that it was a girl.“The face was only part of it,” he said. “The rest of the dream seemed so real too. Like I even felt parts of it, and that’s what made it stand out. It was so real.”
“And what does that have to do with you working high up today?”
Silas knew his boss was reaching maximum impatience.
“Well, I feel like . . . like I’m going to be too distracted,” Silas said. “And that could be dangerous.”
He knew all he had to do was mention possible danger and Myron would take note. He should have started off with that.
Myron glanced up at the high space. “The last thing we need is an accident on our record,” he said. Then he walked back to the planning desk. “You know what? Take the day off. Call it an unscheduled vacation day. Get your head in order. But you better be here tomorrow.”
That was way more than Silas could have hoped for. Somehow things seemed to be working out okay—so far.
“I’ll be here for sure!” Just the relief of not having to focus on work was already helping the dream filter back into his mind.
“Hey, you know what?” Myron seemed to stare off into space for a few seconds, and then settle on a thought. “Remember that studio project we finished up about 3 months ago? The artist?”
Silas remembered it well. “Yep. I remember.”
“You should head there and ask for a sketch. I remember seeing a lot of faces and portraits and that kind of stuff. Might be a worthwhile effort to put your face to paper.”
A sketch! Great idea. “You’re a genius, Myron!” Silas said.
“Yeah, I know,” Myron said. “Just be here tomorrow on time.”
The morning drive passed easily, with the rush hour traffic thinning before Silas. The timing of the drive from the construction site to downtown coincided with the beginning of the work day, and cars melted away into parking lots as he exited the suburb and turned onto downtown Main Avenue.
Fifteen minutes later, Silas arrived in the parking lot of the art studio. He quickly noticed the outer advertisements and new interior displays, put up after the crew finished the remodel. It was modern and flashy, so unlike him.
“What am I doing here?” He gripped the steering wheel. “Am I really trying to get a picture done of some girl in my dream?” He hoped they wouldn’t laugh him out of the place.
He exited the car and walked toward the door of the studio. Approaching the main doors, Silas noticed the “OPEN” sign in the window. At least he wasn’t too early. The studio door opened smoothly, and Silas heard a small chime ring out toward the rear of the studio. He stepped through the door and walked toward the closest display, pretending to be interested.
“I’ll be right out!” a voice called from what he knew was the back room. He continued scanning several of the displays and started to feel butterflies growing restless in his gut. He knew nothing about art. What should he ask for to get a painting of a picture that only existed in his head? How does that even work?
A familiar face greeted Silas as the door to the back room opened. A young woman walked out, drying her hands on a rag. “Hi there. Anything I can help you with this morning?”
“Hello.” He returned the smile. “You might not remember me, but I helped remodel the studio here.”
“Oh, yeah. You do look familiar. I’m Jenny. My mom owns the studio,” Jenny said, extending her hand politely.
“Hi. I’m Silas.” He gently shook her extended hand. “And I’m not sure how to ask this question.” Silas let out a nervous laugh.
Jenny shot Silas a sly look with a one-sided smile, “Well, I’m always up
for a challenge.” She placed her elbows on the glass counter with her hands together, fingers steepled and wiggling just under her nose, her chin resting on her thumbs. “What do you need?”
He cleared his throat. “I’d like a picture drawn of somebody,” Silas finally said, after rehearsing different opening statements for a few seconds.
“Oh, that doesn’t seem too hard to ask,” she said, turning to a pick up a lined order pad. “Who is the picture of?”
Silas laughed, feeling his face warm, and starting to rock slowly on his feet. “That’s the trouble. I don’t know who it is or even if she exists.”
Jenny cocked her head and squinted at him. “You want to run that by me again?”
Silas hesitated for a second, finally deciding that recounting the dream seemed the best action.
“I had a dream this morning,” he said, shuffling back and forth faster. “And it felt so real. I saw this girl in it, and I’m wondering if she exists.”
Jenny’s shoulders relaxed and her eyes brightened, followed by a quick nod. She put down the order pad. “Oh, I get it. What you want is a character sketch.”
Was that what it was called?
“Follow me.” She walked from behind the counter toward the back of the studio. Silas followed a few steps behind. She stopped at a desk near the back corner of the studio. The computer workstation hummed with the screen darkened.
“This is an art workstation. We’ve been evaluating some ‘sketch artist’ software. You know, like the police use for making a sketch. I don’t think anyone has used it much,” She woke up the computer screen and searched through the desktop icons for her intended target. “Here it is.” She double clicked an icon.
The application splash screen appeared. “It takes a while to load,” she said, as the progress bar filled from 10% to 70%.
“You think this will work?” he asked, hoping for something easy.
“I hope so,” she said. “I’m not very good at paper sketches just from descriptions. I usually work from pictures and personal sittings and such.”
