Samantha Smart

by Maxwell Puggle

  Samantha frowned, mentally following the complications.

  “Of course, we shall be forced to go back and retrieve some if we hope to revive your mother from her coma.”

  “So... what are we waiting for?” Samantha almost snapped. She felt instantly childish for doing so, but everyone seemed to forgive her short temper, considering the circumstances.

  “Well,” The Professor sighed, leaning back in his chair, “consider this: One, we’ve never tried to travel this far through time or space before. Two, we don’t know for sure if the communicators will work. Three, I still don’t work the time machine like an expert, though I must say I have improved. Four, we definitely need to do a bit more botanical research to make sure we’d send someone to exactly the right area, and with enough knowledge that they could positively identify our desired plant and harvest enough of it so we could extract an antidote successfully. And five... ”

  “Yeah? Five?” Samantha was still impatient.

  “Well, five, it smells like a trap, Samantha. Think about it,” The Professor folded his hands in his lap and tried to appeal to her rational side. “Our enemies have orchestrated a situation that they know we can only remedy in one way. I assure you, they know exactly what we’re trying to do right now, and they want us to do it. I don’t know why; I’m still trying to put all of our experiences together in a way that might define our enemies’ motivations more clearly, but so far it’s still fuzzy. Yes, they either want lots of plant life to disappear or the ice caps to melt, or both. But I still haven’t the foggiest idea why–Vassily Slane’s investments don’t explain it, at least not the ones we know of. And Jordan seems more and more to me like just a pawn in the game–I don’t know.

  “What is obvious at the moment is that they want us in a certain place and time, perhaps to effect something that they can’t, directly, as before. I am fairly sure that we have at least one advantage over them: I believe that whatever method of time travel they possess is somehow... incomplete, compared to ours. We can touch and directly physically interact with people and things in other times; they cannot.

  “If I had to take a guess, I’d say that they’re using a somewhat poorly duplicated copy of our time machine. Perhaps they’ve built their own from some–some incomplete ancient text that they possess, some half-rotted or insufficiently translated blueprint scroll or clay tablet. One thing is certain, though: whatever their purpose, whatever their motives, plans, means or capabilities, they know full well now that we are out here, working against them. And believe me, not a day goes by that I don’t fear them finding out for sure where our time machine is, and coming here to take it. Pestering Paradoxes! They might even be able to just send in a spy who could somehow steal whatever secrets they’re missing, without even needing to take the thing itself!” The Professor was becoming almost crazed in a paranoid, sleep-deprived way.

  “Okay,” Samantha said, taking the role of the calm one. “So we have to play along if I want to get my mom out of a coma. What do we do? I’m ready, whatever it is.”

  “Right,” The Professor replied, calming. “Thank you, Samantha–I know this has been harder on you than any of us.”

  “We’re all here for you, Samantha,” Suki put in with genuine concern in her eyes. Everyone in the room agreed.

  “Thanks, you guys,” Samantha almost sobbed, looking around and feeling happy, for a moment, that she was lucky enough to have such good friends. “And thanks so much for taking care of Polly, Bree.” Brianna had been feeding and walking her dog for her since she’d been at the hospital.

  “Well,” The Professor began again, “we need to plan a group mission. I would include myself in this but I fear the police may want to be in steady contact with me and I doubt any of you could properly work the time machine’s controls. I’m afraid I must once again resign myself to desk duty. I will, of course, maintain constant communication with you all, and will do my best as well to follow up on our other lead.”

  “Our other lead?” Samantha raised an eyebrow.

  “We’re getting close to finding the Slanes,” Marvin offered. “Brianna’s mission at the show did set us up with some pretty dope info... ”

  “What our urban poet is trying to say,” Smythe translated, “is that we’ve traced an email that Jordan received on that laptop of his. So far we’ve followed it back through Los Angeles to the Philippines and then to Guam. We feel it originated out in The Pacific somewhere, most likely from a boat of some sort.”

  “Oh–wow. So... what does that mean?”

  “Well, it means we might be able to figure out where the Slanes are operating from. That would be a decided advantage for us as, despite my paranoia, I do believe that had the Slanes figured out a way to penetrate the sanctity of this building, they would have done so by now.”

  “They have to know that the time machine is here,” Marvin concluded.

  “Agreed.” The Professor nodded. “They know, at least, that Samantha, Marvin and myself have traveled through time, and have devised their own missions to intercept us or attempt to cause us to change history. I am certain that they are watching this place.”

  “Then why haven’t they tried anything here?” Samantha asked, confused.

  “I’ve been wondering that myself for a long time now,” Smythe scratched his whiskered chin. “And I’ve been studying possible answers to that question. What I’ve concluded is this: The time machine itself must have something to do with it. As you’ll recall, Samantha, the better part of a week that you and I spent in an altered timeline, the area immediately surrounding the time machine, including this office, seemed to remain somehow unaffected. You and I were aware that we were living in an... improper reality, but all of my notes were intact, as I had made them weeks before. My office phone number was the same–”

  “The books,” Samantha put in.

  “Eh? What’s that?”

  “The books,” Samantha repeated. “Remember, we couldn’t find Elliott Bergen on the computer network, so we looked him up in your books. We found him noted in a book in your office, and he wasn’t ever born, in that timeline.”

  “Precisely,” Professor Smythe replied. “We exist, here, in some sort of bubble, some sort of neutral pocket in time. I haven’t been able to establish exactly how far it extends, but I believe that for some reason it is this bubble that our enemies cannot breech. Truly fascinating but, alas, still a mystery to me.”

  “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Suki smiled, pleased with herself to have correctly used a rural western expression.

  “And we shan’t,” The Professor smiled back, looking very tired. “Nonetheless, if we can pinpoint where the Slanes are based out of, we may be able to throw a wrench into the gears of their time-traveling operations.”

  “And yo, we got homie’s password, too,” Marvin grinned in his devious hacker’s way.

  “His password?” Samantha asked, suddenly intensely curious.

  “Yup. That little device Brianna planted did its job real good. We can check his email right now if we want.”

  “Well,” The Professor spoke, “I wouldn’t count on that.”

  “No, me either,” Brianna agreed. “I’m sure Jordan found that thing when he unplugged his computer. He’s probably changed all his information by now.”

  Samantha frowned. One step forward, two steps back, she thought.

  “We did get something, though,” The Professor acknowledged. “The email we intercepted detailed the plan to target your mother, Samantha. They are clearly trying to draw us into a trap, or at least into performing some other history-altering action on their behalf. Whatever mission we devise to secure the antidote for Cindy’s poisoned state, we must keep this in mind. I’ve already begun researching the area and time period we will need to access, i.e. the Yucatan Peninsula sometime before the tenth century A.D. I will continue to keep my mind open to other possible effects of entering this time period and try to plan around not disturbing anythi
ng too important.

  “We will plan a time when everyone can go. I’ve mastered the time machine enough so that I am reasonably confident of my ability to get you there and back within an hour, so no one will become too suspicious of your absence. This will be strange, as you may spend many hours or days in the past, during which I will be in constant contact with you. However, I shall ‘re-insert’ you back into the present less than an hour after you’ve left. Hence, I will probably not remember any conversations we’ve had beyond that hour, as they won’t technically have happened yet. Though I suppose that bringing you back early will change the future, it shouldn’t matter as you will already have the required plant.”

  Marvin sat scratching his head. The others looked equally perplexed by these complicated conundrums of time, and their confusion was augmented by their general lack of sleep. The Professor sensed their difficulty in understanding and attempted to simplify his explanations.

  “All, right, look,” he summarized. “I’ll send you all back, and you’ll be back in the present less than an hour after you left. Just remember that upon your return, I will not remember any of the conversations we’ve had via communicator, except those that took place within one hour of your being gone. Does that make sense?” Everyone nodded.

  “Good. Then when can we meet? I’ll need at least two days to do the necessary research. Suki and Marvin, I’d appreciate your help in the lab here as well, if you can spare some time in the next couple of days.”

  “Okay,” Suki nodded. “I’ll just tell my mom it’s more study group stuff.”

  “Hey, Dr, Marvy’s on call, y’all,” Marvin assented. It seemed that, as a boy (and one who did well in school despite his ‘rebel rapper’ image), his parental rules were a lot more relaxed.

  “Samantha, Brianna, see if you two can come here, say, Friday afternoon, after school or–I know you’ve mostly been at the hospital, Samantha–when you can. Can we say we’ll try for Friday at four?”

  “All right,” Samantha nodded, adding “please, Professor, we need to bring my mom back.”

  The Professor nodded solemnly, wordlessly promising to do his very best.

  *

  The next few days were very hard for Samantha. She missed being in school, the learning about other cultures and scientific properties and such, even just the social distraction. She spent most of her time at the hospital, reading magazine articles aloud to her mother, hoping somewhere inside that she could hear them. Jason was there as much as time allowed, and Samantha was beginning to develop a deep respect for him; it was obvious that he really, genuinely cared about her mom. It must be weird, she thought, having to go through something like this with someone you’ve only been seeing for a week or two.

  Todd was there a lot too, and their mother’s sister Tina. Samantha had begun staying with their aunt as well, after an initial few days of falling asleep in the chair in her mother’s hospital room. It was all really strange, even for Todd, who seemed agitated and out of sorts, though he attempted to maintain a facade of cool, teenaged detachment. At least it had been nice to be able to be with Polly again–there was no friend in times of trouble like a loyal, canine one, and Polly had gently licked her tears away the past few nights as she cried herself to sleep. In some ways, she had wanted to tell Todd the truth about what was really going on; Cindy was his mom too, and she often thought that he deserved to know. But logic insisted that he probably wouldn’t believe her story anyway, that she was lying or just totally crazy, cracking up from the stress of the situation.

  The doctors were still mystified, though they had been in touch with Professor Smythe. He had actually given them his information, in hopes that by some small chance they could artificially synthesize some kind of antidote, but so far nothing solid had been accomplished to that end. Samantha sighed in her hospital chair, realizing that once again, The Professor was probably correct in his judgement that for an antidote to be created, a sample of the plant which had produced the poison would have to be acquired. It looked like her career as a time-traveler was far from over.

  The police, too, had been in contact with The Professor. He had given them the same information that he’d given to the hospital, though had understandably withheld any further knowledge that he possessed relating to the situation. There was, Samantha was beginning to realize, a real chance that the government could pierce their bubble of secrecy and infiltrate it, seal off the museum and exploit the site like some alien crash-landing area in a science fiction movie. Would she ever speak to her mother again if this was to happen? She didn’t think so.

  She had arranged for Jason to bring her to the museum at four, it being Friday now, almost an entire week that her mother had been in a coma. Todd and Aunt Tina had actually expressed interest in coming with her, as her explanation for going had been that she was helping Professor Smythe research the toxin that trickled ever-so-slowly through Cindy’s nervous system. Reluctantly, they had agreed to let her go alone after she fabricated a story about The Professor being a very reclusive man who didn’t function well around people that he didn’t already know. It had finally been agreed that Aunt Tina would pick her up at seven at the museum, and that afterward they would all have dinner together somewhere.

  Jason was at the hospital at three and escorted Samantha out to the waiting car service car, kissing Cindy’s forehead before they left and making sure that Tina and Todd were okay. Samantha decided that he was a very good man despite his simple, sometimes immature behavior and made a mental note to try really hard to keep him and her mother together. The car ride was mostly silent, though he too expressed an interest in accompanying her to The Professor’s labs, hoping to be of help in some way. Samantha looked at him after giving him the same story she had told her family and smiled slightly through her tears, which welled up frequently in the past week. Yes, he was possibly a keeper.

  She waved goodbye to Jason from the steps of the museum, having thanked him profusely for having been so concerned about her mom and for being there for her as well. It was a particularly cold night, and she tried to search her memory for a feeling of warmth that she’d had as she’d stood on the same stairs in the altered reality.

  The Professor’s office was once again a lively center of activity. All her friends were, once again, already there and had apparently been being briefed on the details of their mission by the aging, many-degreed Englishman. They all hugged her as she entered, even the stoic ‘Dr. Marvy.’ She felt good.

  “Everything’s ready Samantha,” The Professor began. “Suki, Marvin and I have been planning the mission details for days. We’ve even constructed more wrist-communicators so that everyone will have one now.”

  “Thank you all so much,” Samantha spoke quietly, trying to hold back tears. “It really means a lot to me.”

  “I need only relate a few things to you, as I have already to the rest of the team. Please listen carefully, for these things are very important, though they may seem trivial.” He cleared his throat. “ Do not touch anything, speak to anyone or in any way interact with the environment around you unless it is absolutely necessary. This means life or death, or mission failure. We have supplied the team with food and water enough to last for three days. If you cannot complete your mission within this time, you must return nonetheless to our present time. No exceptions.” Samantha nodded, swallowing gravely. “ Do not eat or drink anything from your surroundings; this is truly the distant past, and doing so will most likely result in violent illness for one or all members of your party.

  “Be invisible if at all possible. Your mission, though it may seem a simple one of gathering samples, should not in any way affect the existence of other plants, animals or especially human beings you may inadvertently come in contact with. This is of the utmost importance.

  “Do not camp where you might be noticed. Do not dally in distractions that may pique your interest; you have but one primary mission and your only other function should be to absolutely
minimize any possible effect you could have on the ancient world around you. Remember, even a chance encounter with a harmless-seeming native could result in none of us ever being born.”

  The friends all looked at each other, feeling almost as if they were some adult team of astronauts about to fly into the sun. Clearly, this was serious stuff.

  “Finally,” The Professor concluded, “make sure you’ve got the right plant. I’ve given Marvin and Brianna palm computers detailing the plant’s visual, textural and olfactory, that is, scent characteristics. Brianna also has the little chemical testing kit I whipped up. Performing the chemical test should be fairly elementary, nothing beyond what any of you have had in school. And I know you’re all very bright,” The Professor cracked a smile. “I can’t think of any team I’d rather be sending to perform this task. Just please be careful.” He patted Marvin on the back and then indicated that they should follow him to the time machine room.

  *

  The time machine was as awesome as ever. Everyone had now experienced its effects, and all had consequently developed a healthy respect for the megalithic construction of some ancient pre-Mayans. The Professor had managed to duplicate the original stick of ‘chalk’ through painful research and questionable materials requisitions that he had submitted through the museum, giving them each their own hunk of the mysterious compound. He had also seemingly refined his knowledge of the device’s controls, and now manned them with a much more reassuring air of confidence. In a short time, the party found themselves clustered together atop the machine’s stone platform, fingers crossed for good luck.

  It began. Once again, the world turned an electric blue and started to flicker. Incomprehensible symbols flashed through the minds of the would-be adventurers, dancing like fireflies on the insides of their eyelids. Reality seemed to ripple, like the spot on the surface of a pond where someone had just tossed a pebble–it was entirely surreal. Samantha and the others stared at their feet, trying to focus, trying to ground themselves in some awareness that they did exist, that they were real things, standing on solid earth. It was difficult.