Unhappenings

by Edward Aubry

  “Athena?”

  Then she did speak to me.

  “I really have to go. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

  I reached toward her, held her arm, and said, “Athena. What do you know?”

  She looked me dead in the eyes.

  “I have to go.”

  The physical sensation for someone in contact with the traveler at the moment she departs is surprisingly cold. It was a full five minutes before feeling returned to my hand.

  here were several very comfortable chairs in the print collection reading room. That’s where she found me, sulking, first thing in the morning.

  “Hooky again?”

  “Something like that,” I said. After my confrontation with Athena, and her implication that my future self might be our common foe, I could not bear to continue to do his bidding. With no one else to turn to, and against many layers of my better judgment, I once again retreated to Helen’s sanctum. I chose to believe that my sour mood so well precluded any thoughts of romance I could not possibly pose any threat to her from my curse, at least not that day. But my determination to stay angry about my situation was severely threatened by the sight of Helen’s smile, confused though it was.

  “How did you get in here?” she asked, looking at the time. It was a fair question. The building did not actually open for another fifteen minutes.

  “It’s really better if you don’t know.”

  Her confused smile morphed into confused concern.

  “You’re not kidding.” She came over to my seat and crouched down to meet my eyes. “Are you okay?”

  I had prepared myself for variations of Helen pursuing the question of my ingress, but not for concern about my well being. That was probably as good an indicator of my state of mind as anything. Clearly, I had gotten past multiple locked doors, and she didn’t care about any of that over taking care of me.

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted.

  “Is it work?” Helen knew I was not happy with my assignment, but had no way of knowing why. On more than one occasion she had offered to be my confidant, and I absolutely believed her that she would keep anything I shared with her between us. Unfortunately, she was probably the one person in the world who I least wanted to know the truth. If she knew I was a fraud, the trust I had built with her would mean nothing.

  “Sort of,” I said. “I can’t go into details. I just need to get away from that project. Maybe for a long time.”

  “Do you get vacation time?” she asked. “I have personal days. Maybe I could take one and we could go to a museum or a zoo or something. If you’re going to play hooky anyway, we should do it right.”

  There was no mockery in her eyes. I was not used to seeing this side of her. Our interactions had been almost exclusively playful. Now she was being unabashedly nurturing, on a moment’s notice of my need for it. How could I possibly resist?

  “How long in advance can you take one of those days?”

  “I work in a department with one employee. If it needs to be today, just say the word.”

  I had come here for an opportunity to vent, which I had planned to do, somehow, in code. This was quite a bit more than I hoped for or expected that morning.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I think it needs to be today.”

  e spent the day at the aquarium. It was the first time I had been there in years, and I had forgotten how much I enjoyed it. Helen had never been there before.

  For a while, it really worked. There is something naturally soothing about watching fish. I managed to block out the convoluted nightmare my life was becoming, and take in their simple beauty.

  When we got to the ray tank, the whole experience shifted. There were dozens of them, engaged in a random ballet of such extraordinary grace that it was nearly hypnotic. I could feel them drawing the stress out of my body, and even though I knew it was a temporary effect, I basked in it. And then I looked at Helen.

  Her fingertips were resting on the glass. Her lips were slightly parted and her eyes wide in what I could only describe as an expression of child-like awe. She had, until now, seemed so worldly to me. The idea this might be the first time she had seen these creatures up close felt incongruous. And yet, there it was. I wanted to say something to her, but I knew anything I had to offer would only shatter this communion.

  “Wow,” she whispered. I doubt that was for my benefit, but that one syllable soothed my aching soul more than all the exotic fish in the ocean. Then she looked at me, and in a tone that gave me goose bumps, said, “I love these.”

  From there, as we moved from tank to tank, floor to floor, I was only partly paying attention to the fauna. My true source of joy was her string of discoveries. We had come here, ostensibly, to ease my troubles, divert me from my unbearable dilemma. Any benefit she reaped from the day off was intended to be a side effect. But that side effect was now my main effect. I wanted to show her the world, just to watch her face seeing it.

  And that’s when I realized my solution. Show her the world indeed! We could be together, and she could be safe.

  I would make her a traveler.

  hen I got home, I discovered I had a cat. At first I thought she was an intruder, but a quick check of bathroom and cupboard revealed litter box and cat food. She was an adult, and extremely affectionate, leading me to believe she had been mine for at least a year. I wondered what that year had been like for her.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?” I asked her as she curled up on my lap and kneaded me with her claws.

  “Prrrrrrrrrr,” she replied. Hardly an answer.

  “All right then,” I said. “Penelope it is.”

  As unhappenings went, this was agreeable enough. But the message was clear: I was getting too close to Helen, and the universe was letting me know it. Little did the universe know my master plan.

  At work the next morning, I was greeted by Wendy, back on the job, and unusually happy to see me. We chatted for a minute, mostly to give me an opportunity to feel out where we stood. As soon as she brought up the topic of her boyfriend Matt, I was content.

  Most of my lab equipment was not where I left it. No problem. Several weeks worth of data was missing from my tablet, replaced with ramblings about some experiment I never ran. No bother at all.

  I felt energized and inspired. I had finally isolated a problem to solve, and nothing was going to hold me back, no matter how many times I had to start over. A new sense of independence took hold of me, and for the first time in years, I felt truly free of manipulation.

  I really should have known better.

  or a week, I forged on with my new optimism. Occasionally, I would make minor discoveries, and although they would invariably be facets of time travel someone else had already established and named, the fact that I arrived at them independently infused me with an altogether new confidence. For the first time, I started to believe I was the same person as the man who invented the technology that brought me here.

  During that week, Helen was away for three days, and I managed to endure it. Our time apart, however brief, tested my resolve to see her as nothing other than a best friend. Until I was ready to make her a traveler, I couldn’t afford to take the chance. She began to remark on my transformation, and credited it to our day out, which she believed rejuvenated me.

  One day I went to visit her at work, with a purpose. Incredibly, she was not alone. An old man had wandered into the print collection. From the look on his face, it appeared to be a new discovery for him, and the reverence with which he took books from the shelf and cautiously leafed through them, it struck me that this experience must have allowed him to relive his youth, when books were a thing to hold, not download. Then I remembered what year it was, and realized with a start that he was probably ten years younger than my present incarnation. His youth happened after mine. This was no nostalgic wonder. It was probably just mystified curiosity. Unfortunately for me, he had picked an inconvenient time for his epiphany. I had things to discuss with Helen
that were not for public consumption.

  “Things going better?” she asked.

  “Quite so,” I said, pulling up a chair.

  Then she threw out her usual bait. “So, what kind of progress are you making?”

  I gestured back over my shoulder at the new bibliophile, still engrossed in his discoveries, and put my finger to my lips. Then I took a pencil from her desk, and a slip of paper.

  “Still can’t tell you,” I said. “You know the rules.” As I spoke those words, I wrote different ones on the scrap, and passed it to her.

  The note said: Time Travel.

  She read it. Her eyes bugged.

  “Well, you can’t blame a girl for trying,” she said, scribbling furiously.

  The note she passed back to me said: WHAT???

  “You know I trust you,” I said. “But I really can’t share.”

  I passed her the note: Can we get out of here?

  “I know, I know,” she said casually. “You here for lunch? It’s early, but I could eat.” She dropped the note into a shredder.

  “Sure,” I said. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe,” she said.

  She managed to contain herself until we got out of the building. Once outside, she whispered, “Oh my God! Is this for real?”

  “It’s very real,” I said.

  “Are you… I don’t even know what questions to ask you.”

  “It doesn’t matter because I can’t answer them anyway.”

  She pouted.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not even allowed to tell you what I already have.”

  “Wow,” she said. “Just wow. Why did you tell me?”

  “Because I wanted you to know,” I said. In truth, I wanted to prepare her. Time travel was about to become a huge part of her life. I wanted it to be as little of a shock as possible. “I’ve been kind of leaning on you, and you deserved to know what the stress was all about. It’s a very difficult assignment.” We walked in silence for a bit. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m trying to decide whether to believe you,” she said.

  “Do you think I would lie about this?” I asked. It was not defensive. I truly wanted to know.

  She looked me in the eyes.

  “No,” she said.

  “Good. Because I wouldn’t.”

  “This is kind of a heavy thing for me to carry, you know.”

  “I know,” I said. “I wouldn’t have put it on you if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

  After a few seconds, she again said, “Wow.”

  “I know. We probably shouldn’t talk about this anymore,” I said. “I’m glad you know, though.”

  She smiled softly. “I hope you know how much it means to me that you trust me like this.”

  “I do,” I said, and for a moment, I considered telling her everything. I almost did. But as soon as I pictured myself confessing my feelings, I was assaulted with the image of Helen disappearing into oblivion. Soon she would be safe. I would have to wait.

  came home to find Athena in my kitchen.

  “Since when do you have a cat?” Penelope was standing on the table, gratefully receiving a little attention behind her ears.

  I shrugged. “About a year, by the looks of it. She kind of unhappened to me a week ago.”

  “I like her,” she said. “What’s her name?”

  “I have no idea, so naturally, I am calling her Penelope.” That elicited a weak smile. “I’m a little surprised to see you.”

  “I wasn’t happy with where we left things.”

  “I’m not happy about it either,” I said, pulling up a chair. “And I don’t want you to go away again, so I’m not going to pursue it.”

  She frowned. “That seems too easy.”

  “It is,” I said. “It absolutely is. But right now I have a much more pressing issue than whatever my mysterious future self is up to. I have questions, and if you can answer any of them, I’d be extremely grateful.”

  I waited for a reaction, but she just sat back in her chair.

  “No promises. What do you want to know?”

  “Why are we invisible when we travel? You and I have appeared in the middle of crowds in broad daylight, and no one ever bats an eye. Why?”

  Athena thought for a moment, then nodded.

  “Okay, I can answer that one. It’s a cognitive dissonance side effect of the jump field. No one expects people to materialize out of thin air, or disappear into it, so when they see it happen, their brains adjust to believe that we must have already been there. The effect is more dramatic for backward travel than forward travel, by two orders of magnitude. And it doesn’t work on anyone who is expecting you, or anyone who is staring at the exact spot where you materialize. There are also a few people who aren’t affected at all, but it’s something like one hundredth of a percent of the population.”

  “Huh. Does that mean travel is generally safe no matter where or when you go?”

  She shook her head. “There are still risks. Cameras aren’t affected by the field in any way, so you don’t want to materialize anywhere you might be recorded. Even cameras that monitor in real time are a danger. Anyone who sees you suddenly turn up filtered through a monitor will see it for exactly what it is.”

  “Noted,” I said. “Okay, how about this: you told me at one point that a typical jump has a seven year margin of error. Why is it that almost every time I jump on my own I land exactly where and when I intend to?”

  “That I can’t say,” she said flatly.

  “Because you don’t know, or because you don’t want to?”

  “A little of both,” she admitted.

  “But it is different for me, isn’t it?”

  “Oh my, yes,” she said. “I don’t think there would be any point to my denying that.” This was not what I wanted to hear. I intended to travel with Helen. If my jumps were precise and hers were wide, we would get separated.

  “How does tandem jumping work, then? Why do we stay together?”

  She frowned. “Because our modules communicate when we are in contact. Why are you asking me this?”

  I ignored the question. “That’s interesting. Would you be able to provide me with another module? I’d like to study it.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “No.”

  “Are you sure? It would be very helpful for me to see how it interacts with mine.”

  Athena stared at me in bitter silence.

  “Are you going to give her a choice?” she asked finally. “Or are you just going to hijack her?”

  My heart sank as I realized how stupid it had been to imagine Athena would not see right through me. I also felt guilty for not being forthright with her. Unfortunately, I chose to lash out in my own defense.

  “Like you gave me a choice?”

  She moved her hand to cover the pocket inside her jacket that held the small silver bead she would one day put inside my arm. This Athena was younger than the one who made me a traveler, and she told me at the time she had been carrying the bead for years without knowing when she would finally give it to me. I could have taken it from her right then, I suppose, but that would have cost me more than I would ever dare sacrifice.

  “I haven’t done that yet,” she said quietly.

  “But you will. And you won’t even warn me. How is this any different?”

  “You were already a traveler, that’s how,” she said. “You just didn’t know it yet.”

  I took a deep breath. This was not how I wanted our conversation to go. I needed Athena in my corner on this. She was the only person I had ever consistently considered to be a trusted ally.

  “For the record, yes, I am going to give her a choice. I have already told her that my work involves time travel. I am going to break this to her in stages, and then I am going to tell her why I want her to travel with me.”

  “And if she says no?”

  My stomach churned at the prospect. “I honestly don’t know. But I have
to try.”

  Athena stood. “I will not help you with this. What we are… You cannot wish this on another person, Nigel. You cannot.”

  “I don’t want to lose her,” I said. It rang pathetically in my ears.

  “You…” Athena looked away from me, but I could see her lip starting to tremble. “Don’t do this,” she whimpered, fighting back tears. “Please don’t do this.”

  I had no idea what to do or say. “Athena, please. If you know something about Helen, just tell me. I’ll do the right thing, I swear. But I need to know what’s going to happen to her.”

  She sniffed loudly and wiped her eyes.

  “You will know,” she said.

  She was either laughing or crying when she said it, but it was impossible to tell which, and she didn’t stay long enough for me to ask.

  he following day I planned to see Helen after work, but she intercepted me on my way out the door.

  “Hey you,” she said. “You have time to grab a coffee?”

  “I do.” I stood there in a moment of indecision. Her appearance at the lab building provided me with a sudden opportunity, and I was feeling bold. “Come with me,” I said, heading back inside.

  “Coffee is this way.” She pointed behind her.

  “Humor me.”

  She sighed. “I always do.”

  Helen followed me back into the building and past the security desk. We made it to the elevator before she finally asked, “Am I allowed to be here?”

  “You’re allowed to be in this part of the building, yes,” I said. “You’re not allowed in the part I’m taking you to.” Once inside the elevator, I said, “Fourth floor.”

  This was followed by a routine scan, after which a polite but firm voice said, “Unauthorized personnel present.”

  “Override on my authority.”

  After a brief pause, the voice said, “Yes, Doctor Walden.”