Spacecraft

by Benjamin Broke

you go faster, would time move backwards?” I asked.

  “Good question. I don’t know. Possibly.”

  “So you believe in time travel?” I asked.

  “Yes of course. We’re traveling in time right now -forward. As far as science fiction and making machines that can go to any time in the future or past, no. I don’t think that’s possible. Of course it might be possible for a person to travel back in his own life. Not to go back and meet a younger version of himself, but to go backward in his own life and relive it. There’s a path through time that leads up to the present for every person, and it may be possible to travel backwards along that path, or even for your consciousness to jump to points in the past.”

  “And if you could do this, would you be able to live it differently than it happened?” I asked. “Could you change the past?”

  “That’s a good question, but I think a better question would be: Could you remember your future? What if human beings are incapable of remembering the future? You might go back to a shameful moment in your history with every intention of making it right, only to relive it again exactly as it happened, because you were unable to remember the outcome. That would take away any practical purpose that time travel might have.” He said. We turned off the main boulevard and walked up a side street that was shaded by large trees. Their branches met in the center of the street, forming a canopy.

  “And how would you do this?” I asked.

  “Well, have you ever heard of Schrodinger’s cat?”

  “No.”

  “It’s an interesting thing. Basically it’s this: You put a cat in a box with a vial of poison gas and a machine that will break the vial fifty percent of the time. You close the box and after awhile you know the cat is either alive or dead, right? It’s got a fifty-fifty chance. But here’s the thing, it’s a mathematical fact that before you open the box to find out if the cat made it, there is both a dead cat and a live cat in the box. Two possible outcomes, two cats. But when you open the box it’s either one or the other. It needs an observer to become one, otherwise it’s both. The reason I bring it up is because life is full of things that could go one way or the other, like your skateboard wreck. You might’ve been run over, you might’ve made it, you might’ve been injured in any number of ways, it’s endless. Well a moment like this may create what I like to think of as a heavy point in your history. An instant when all the possible outcomes fan out and send all the hypothetical Nicks on their way. It’s a point in time that has a sort of gravitational pull. You can return there much more easily than you could return to this conversation for example. Does that make sense?”

  “Yeah I think so. But I still don’t know how to do it.” I said.

  “Neither do I. It’s just a thought. But even if you could dip back, away from the present, and hit one of those moments, I’m not sure it would do you any good. I think in all likelihood you would do the exact same thing you remember doing, only you wouldn’t remember that you were doing it.” He said.

  “You lost me Mr. Bennett.”

  “Sorry. You know, it’s impossible for human beings, or any matter for that matter, to travel at the speed of light, because as you accelerate to the speed of light, your mass becomes infinite. Things just can’t go that fast, but information can. So maybe time travel is the same way. I doubt that human beings can travel backwards through time, but even if we can’t go back, it seems likely that we could send back information. But only back to ourselves, through the path that our consciousness has taken to the present.” He said. We had arrived at a two story white house with blue trim and an oak tree in the yard. “Thanks for the conversation Nick, this is my house and I must be going now.” He said. “Good luck with the skateboarding.”

  “Thanks Mr. Bennett, that’s a lot to think about.” I said.

  “I’ve told you before to call me Chris.”

  “Take our skates and go down to Woodbury and wait. Whichever one of us makes it down there first, wins.” Jeremy said. He was talking to Don and Michael who had agreed to officiate our little contest. I handed my skate to Michael. We were standing under a streetlight on the sidewalk, in the middle of the block between Hill and Holliston. “No cheating, you have to run through backyards unless you’re on one of the cross streets.” He said.

  I nodded. We’d decided to start two houses apart from each other so we wouldn’t follow the same line. I picked a white house with a tile roof and a well manicured lawn as my point of entry and Jeremy picked a two story house with an open driveway. Michael and Don stood midway between us.

  “Ready?” Don said. He looked at Jeremy and then at me. “GO!” He shouted.

  I ran down the driveway between the house and the family car, into the backyard. There was a hedge on one side, and a wooden fence across the back. I went straight for the fence and took a running leap and got most of my arm over the top. It made a surprising amount of noise. I hauled myself over and landed in a sandbox in the yard behind the fence. There was a jungle gym and a tree to dodge as I ran across the yard. I hopped up the steps onto the cement patio and ran past the house, crouching low under the windows to avoid detection. At the end of the driveway was a high gate and my first impulse was to jump over it, but then I thought using the latch might be quicker. I slipped through and ran across the front yard as the gate clanged shut behind me. I crossed the street and looked over to see if Jeremy was keeping up but I didn’t see him.

  I ran past a truck and into another backyard. This one was divided into two sections by a hedge. I went around the hedge onto the lower level where there was outdoor furniture and a grill. It was enclosed on all side by tall hedges and none of the trees looked sturdy enough to climb. I felt trapped. I started poking around the shrubbery for a place to get through, but I was discouraged by a chain link fence on the other side. I went to the corner and crashed my way into the hedge, getting jabbed in the stomach and arms by stiff branches. I made it to where the fence connected with a cinderblock wall and I climbed while the evil branches scraped down my back. As I made it over the top, my calf was punctured by one of the metal wires on the fence. I landed in dirt on the other side. This yard was dark and I couldn’t see which direction to run. It took me a second to realize I was behind a garage. I found a narrow walkway and when I came out on the other end, a security light went on. Right then I heard a dog barking but I couldn’t see it. I kept running and I realized the dog was in some other yard far behind me to my right. It occurred to me as I ran past a parked mini-van that it might be barking at Jeremy which would mean I was winning. I ran down the driveway and crossed the street.

  The house that was directly in front of me had all it’s lights on so I went to the house next door which was mostly dark and was enclosed by a short iron fence. I opened it and was careful to close it quietly behind me. Half-running down a brick path, close to the house into the backyard, I saw a Jacuzzi surrounded by large potted palm trees. past this tropical paradise was another wood fence, but the panels of this fence were tapered into spikes at the top, so it looked dangerous to climb. It connected to a high brick wall in the corner so I ran and jumped, swinging my leg over the top. A light went on behind me and I knew it wasn’t a motion sensor. Someone had heard me. I put my feet on the narrow top of the brick wall and as I stood up, I hit my head on a tree branch and I almost fell backwards. When I had my balance, I scurried past the spiky fence and hoped down onto thick grass, taking a roll as I landed. I picked myself up and ran toward the driveway at the side of the house. I was met halfway by a small dog yapping crazily and nipping at my ankles. I gave him a shove with my foot and kept moving. He followed close but didn’t try to bite again, he just barked like mad at my heels. A light went on in the house as I slipped through the gate. The dog tried to follow, but I shut it fast behind me. I hit the street flying and went directly past the next house.

  I was on a cement patio enclosed by a chain link fence with green plastic strips woven in to provide privacy. There were childre
n’s toys scattered around and I had to be careful where I stepped in the dark. I stopped, realizing it was a good opportunity to take a breather because there were no lights on in the house and I figured the people must be gone or asleep. I walked to the back of the yard and hopped up and down a couple of times to see what was on the other side of the fence. I’d made it to the long block before the apartment buildings in front of Woodbury, my finish line. I went to the right corner of the yard and climbed the fence, stopping up there to plot my course. The rows of backyards that stretched out below me were all bordered by the same brick wall. On the other side were thick hedges that enclosed the opposite set of yards. Between the wall and the hedges was a narrow dirt strip. I hopped off the fence and pushed my way to the strip where my only obstacle was the occasional branch to duck under or push back. I wondered if this would be considered cheating since, strictly speaking, I wasn’t in anyone’s backyard. I made the last cross street and went straight for the alley. Michael and Don were waiting there. “Hey!” Michael said. “You made it. You won.”

  “We almost went looking for you guys. Did you see Jeremy anywhere?” Don asked.

  “No, not since we started. That was fuckin’ harder than I thought it would be.” I said, catching my breath.

  “Check it out,” Michael said, “you’re all dirty, look.” I looked down and saw that my shirt was muddy and I had some kind of sap on my pants.

  “How long would you say that took?” I asked.

  “About an hour.” Don said.

  “Less than that, like forty minutes or so.” Michael said.

  “It seemed like a lot less.” I said.

  “Any problems?” Michael asked.

  “Yeah it was pretty fucking crazy. I’d like to try it again for stealth, going for speed made me noisier than I should’ve been.” I said. I told them about the dog and showed them the puncture wound on my calf which was sending a stream of blood into my sock. Finally Jeremy came lumbering down the alley.

  “Oh my god.” He put his hands on his knees and wheezed for a moment. “I fucked up my leg. That’s so fucking hard. Do you have any idea how many fences there are? I had to dodge big-ass dogs like three times. I’m never doing that shit again. I ran into one backyard and there was some dude sitting on a lawn chair smoking. He said he was calling the cops -we gotta get out of here. That shit was stupid.”

  “I win.” I said.

  13

  Lafyette Elementary School occupies two blocks on Washington Avenue, a wide busy street that still had some houses on it despite being mostly commercial space. The school was a four story, dual level brick building with small windows and a few eucalyptus trees that shaded picnic tables arranged in two rows near the front entrance. The large building stood beside two basketball courts, blocked from the street by a high chain link fence. On the other side of the basketball courts was the playground, which was on a higher level, separated by a large hedge. Connecting the playground to the courts were stairs and a long cement ramp. The place looked empty.

  Michael skated out in front of me holding his brother’s large bolt cutters. I wondered what the people driving down Washington Avenue were thinking when they saw him holding those things. He stopped by the chain link fence beside the basketball courts and waited for me. We both picked up our skates and walked up the alley. “What time is it?” He asked.

  “I don’t know.” I said. “Early.”

  “Most schools have a morning break around ten.” He said. “You think it’s close to ten?”

  “Nah.”

  At the top of the alley, next to the upper playground was a long row of bike stands with at least a hundred bikes chained to them. “What’d I tell you?” Michael said. “The mother load.”

  “Let’s crack one of these fuckers.” I said. “How ‘bout this one?” It was a silver Schwinn that looked brand new. Michael squatted down and looked at the chain.

  “No way, this lock is too thick. It’d take forever to bust through it.” He said. He walked down the line eyeing the chains. “Here,” he said, “we could bust this one.” It was a red dirt bike with pads on all the bars. I walked over as he was getting the bolt cutters in place around the lock pin. He put one of the long handles against the ground and held it with his foot while he shoved his full weight down on the top handle without moving it much. He tried again with a grunt. “Fuck.” He said. “I’m barely making a dent.” He tried again and the handles twisted, almost knocking him over. He picked up the bolt cutters and kneeled down to look at the lock. “It’s tougher than it looks.” He said. “Help me out with it.”

  I put my skate down and watched him reset the blades in the grooves he had made on his previous efforts. He put one handle down on the ground and held it in place with his foot again, and we both took hold of the top handle. He counted to three and we slammed down as hard as we could. I felt a little crunch. “Almost there.” He said. He counted to three again and this time we felt the satisfying little snap of the blade’s teeth closing. Immediately afterwards the school bell started ringing. It was loud and it startled me. For a second I thought it was an alarm we had set off. Michael stood up and looked at the school building. “Maybe it’s just the end of a period.” He said.

  “It’s an elementary school, they don’t have periods.” I said. “It’s recess.” He squatted back down and pulled the lock and chain off the bike. I watched as kids came streaming out of the building onto the playground.

  He shoved the bolt cutters at me. “Here. You better do it quick. Just take that one.” He said, pointing to a small bike nearby.

  “That’s a girl’s bike.” I said. “It’s pink.”

  “But look at the lock.” He said. “We gotta hurry.” I took the bolt cutters over to the pink bike and kneeled down by the lock. A second ago there had been silence, now there was the roar of hundreds of screaming kids. As I was putting the blades in place I noticed Michael was edging away from me down the alley. I stood and pounded down on the handle, but felt no give. I looked around and saw a group of kids standing about ten feet away on the other side of the fence, staring at me. I slammed all my weight down on the handle again, without success. As I was preparing to try again the lock slipped out and I had to reposition it between the blades. “Hey!” I heard a little voice shout accusingly. “That bike’s not yours.”

  I looked up and saw a pudgy kid in a t-shirt with his hands gripping the fence above his head. “Fuck off!” Michael said, walking toward the kid. “Mind your own business.”

  “No.” The kid said. “I’m telling.”

  I went back to work on the lock and was pounding it again as I heard Michael’s response. “If you tell on us we’ll find out where you live and we’ll kill your mother. Understand you little shit? We’ll kill her.”

  I looked up to see the kid giving Michael a defiant look. “I don’t even care!” He said. “I’m telling.” He turned and ran off as I finally managed to bust through the lock. I ripped the chain off and yanked the bike free. Michael hopped on his bike and started pedaling fast. I dropped my skate as I was getting on mine, and it took me a minute to pick it up. By that time Michael was gone. I had to balance the skateboard and the bolt cutters between the handle bars. I rode down the alley, past the basketball courts and onto Washington Avenue.

  Michael went down the middle of the street, and I followed about a block behind. The bike I’d taken was small and I had to pedal fast to keep up. There were multi-colored tassels on the handles that flapped against my wrists. A couple of cars passed on our right and one of them honked at us for being in the road. Michael turned down Holliston and when I got there I saw him waiting halfway down the block. “Is that your idea of low risk?” I asked.

  “If the bell hadn’t rang they wouldn’t have known the bikes were gone till three in the afternoon.” He said. “C’mon, we gotta hurry.”

  On that side of Washington the houses looked a little more run-down and a lot of the windows had bars on them. I had to wo
rk hard on my pedals to stay next to Michael. “Is it far?” I asked.

  He looked at me and laughed. “Why, you self-conscious about riding a girl’s bike?”

  “No dickhead, I just don’t want to get busted. It might be a little obvious that this isn’t mine, and the bolt cutters don’t help any.”

  “It’s down on the other side of the freeway.” He said.

  It took us twenty minutes to get there, and it seemed that every driver that went past had to take a look at me and laugh. I must have been an odd sight on the little pink bike with tassels. It was a hot day and by the time we got there I was sweating.

  The guy lived on a dead end street with cracked sidewalks in a one story house. There weren’t any trees around and the sun reflected brightly off a white Monte Carlo sitting halfway up the driveway. I saw a sign on the front door that read: Courson Sound Engineering Around Back. I followed Michael past the car and through a small gate into the back yard. Behind the property there was a car-wash and you could hear the sound of pressure hoses and compression engines whirring in the building. The back of his house had an enclosed porch with sliding glass doors. We left our skates and the bolt cutters by the side of the house and walked the bikes up to the glass doors. Michael knocked loudly.

  A thick face looked out at us from behind a heavy brown curtain and then the latch clicked and the door slid open. “You again?” The guy said to Michael. He was in his late thirties and stood stooped over in a strange way. He had black hair and bushy eyebrows. He was barefoot, wearing sweatpants and a faded Rolling Stones T-shirt.

  “My cousin asked me to sell this for him, and my friend here wants to sell his sister’s old bike.” Michael said.

  “She doesn’t use it anymore.” I added.

  “Alright, come in.” He said opening the sliding door to reveal at least ten other bikes on his porch. “Let’s see what you got.”

  We stood there while he inspected the bikes. He turned them upside down and pushed the pedals around with his hand, looking at the chain. He slammed the pedals back to test the brakes, and then he looked at all the bolts on each bike before turning them over again and putting the kickstands down. “I could give you forty for ‘em.” He said.

  “You gave me fifty last time.” Michael said.

  “That was a better bike.” The guy said. “These are for kids. Forty’s all I can give you.”

  “Ah, my cousin’s gonna be pissed.” Michael said. “I told him I could get fifty for it.” The guy looked at him and shrugged. Michael