Time-Travel Duo

by James Paddock

  Steven stared at the spot in the cage where he last saw Anne. He wondered what she was thinking, what she was doing, how she was coping. He pulled himself back and looked at Jerry, “What you’re saying is that the power draw does not increase as linearly as we had thought with increases in mass.”

  “Not even close. The terrible thing about it is that you knew and everyone else convinced you otherwise.” Jerry reached for a sheet of paper lying on the table. “Here’s the graph you developed six months ago.” He handed it to Steven then started paging through the printouts. He pulled one sheet. “Here is the graph from Anne’s event.” Steven didn’t say anything. “They are nearly identical,” Jerry added. “What do you weigh? Forty, fifty pounds more than Anne plus I assume you have thirty or forty pounds of stuff in that bag. I think we’re talking maybe 100 kilograms. You would have blown the entire system apart. It would have been suicide!”

  Steven paged slowly through the evidence.

  “I’ll be in the conference room,” said Jerry as he started to walk out. “Steve, the data is based on my estimate of Anne’s weight plus Charlie who went with her. I used 60 kilograms. You may know better.”

  As Steven watched Jerry walk out, he felt very alone. He could see his world closing in around him; sense the loss of control and the wanting to surrender to defeat. He leaned forward and felt a phlegmatic rush bear down on him like a raging bull on a cowering child. He again escaped into the past, a time when life wasn’t so complicated, when love was fresh and young and new and not readily threatened by the challenges of life.

  He could see her leaning against a counter, both hands wrapped around a mug, staring off into some other part of the room. His view was somewhat distorted by floral etchings in the long, narrow panes decorating each side of the massive oak door. It gave him a teasing hint of what was going on inside the home of Dr. Robert Hair. Anne’s long, golden brown tresses spilled down around a bulky, thigh length white sweater, at least two sizes too large. Long, shapely legs poked out from below, not hidden, but instead enhanced by tight, light-blue ski pants and contrasted with royal blue ski boots. He wondered if she skied or was just caught up in the dress of the season.

  He pushed the button and watched her slowly set down the mug, not taking her eyes away from whatever had her attention. She didn’t move toward the door. He wasn’t impatient. He enjoyed looking at her and probably could have continued for some time and would have been quite happy doing so. But, suddenly she turned her head his way and he became embarrassed, quickly stepping from view. His heart pounded and after some endless seconds, the door opened.

  “Come on in, Steven!” Dr. Hair joyously demanded as he shook his gloved hand and pulled him out of the sub-zero, into the warmth of the Hair home. “Let me take your coat.”

  Steven dropped his briefcase to the floor, stuffed his gloves into his pockets and began peeling off his coat. “This is a beautiful home, Dr. Hair.” He looked about as if checking out the decor. Anne had disappeared from sight. He handed his coat and scarf to Dr. Hair who hung them together in a closet already stuffed full of coats and umbrellas.

  “Thanks. My wife did all the decorating herself. She would never take the credit though, always citing some magazine or book or someone’s home she saw an idea in. She couldn’t acknowledge that it was her talent that put it all together. Would you like something hot to drink? Coffee, hot chocolate. We even have hot spice tea. Karen’s recipe.”

  “Oh, no thanks. I just came from a big breakfast with a friend.” Steven immediately regretted the lie and scolded himself internally for always being shy at accepting someone’s hospitality. Anything warm would have felt good.

  “Okay. Maybe later. Let’s go into my study.”

  Steven followed him down the hall to the kitchen, past the spot where he had seen Anne standing, and then passed through a family room to enter an adjacent room that was obviously Dr. Hair’s study.

  “Make yourself comfortable. I must run upstairs to retrieve my reading glasses. Be just a moment.”

  Dr. Hair vanished out the door they had entered and Steven turned to scan the bookshelves. Nuclear Science and Society, Nuclear Energy, Nuclear Power and Its Environmental Effects, and Knowing the Atomic Nucleus. He was thumbing through this last one, by Ellis, when Dr. Hair returned.

  “STRONG FORCE!” he stated forcibly as he stepped back into the room.

  “Pardon Sir?”

  “STRONG FORCE! Isn’t that what everything is all about? The attraction and interaction of two bodies to bind them together?”

  “You’re, of course, speaking of the force binding neutrons and protons in the nucleus.”

  “That’s the only thing I’m talking about, because it includes everything there is in the universe, even the universe itself. And it’s not just limited to particles of neutron and proton size. The principles of STRONG FORCE can be applied everywhere. The moon and the Earth, the Sun and the planets, the stars, man and woman.” Dr. Hair put his arm around Steven’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t you agree, my boy, that STRONG FORCE is everywhere and applies to everything?”

  “Well, if you put it that way, Sir, yes, of course.”

  “Strong force,” Steven heard himself say, arousing himself out of his daydream. He pulled his mind back to the present and stood.

  He laid the printouts on the table and started through them one by one. Jerry was off by maybe five kilograms, but Steven could see that recalculating wasn’t going to make a significant difference. After an hour of studying the data, he entered the conference room, finding Jerry lying on the sofa.

  “You sleeping?”

  “Who can sleep?”

  “This completely supports my original theory.”

  “Yep.”

  “We’re going to have to do a complete rebuild.”

  “Yep.”

  “I can’t leave her out there without getting some kind of word to her that we’re working on getting her back.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  Steven sat down, leaning forward on his elbows with his head in his hands. “I don’t know. I just know I have to do something.” He looked up at Jerry with red and swollen eyes.

  “We could send something to her.” Jerry could see he was going to have to do something or he was going to lose Steven. There were lines on his face that weren’t there twelve hours before. He looks like Hell, Jerry thought.

  “Jerry, let’s just boost the power levels enough to send me. I’d be better off there with her than here without her.” He looked up at Jerry. “After I’m gone, you can tell whoever needs to be told that I went berserk. Maybe if you get lucky they won’t shut the project down.”

  “That’s a suicide mission and you know it. There’s no way it could handle that kind of power. And what would the project be without you? The people of Broad Horizons are putting their money where you are. Steven Waring is the project. I’m just a glorified supervisor and everyone else here are just pawns. If you disappear, so goes the project.”

  Steven sat back. Jerry walked over to rinse out the coffee pot and start a fresh batch. Before the water could start dripping, he erased the chalkboard, picked up a piece of chalk and wrote:

  A. Transport essential items and instructions to Anne.

  “I think this is very important right now. She’s very confused, I’m sure. She may have no idea what happened to her, so some personal items and instructions will let her know we haven’t abandoned her and she hasn’t gone crazy. Imagine what she is thinking right now.”

  “I’ve tried to imagine what she’s thinking,” Steven said. “This is a World War II barracks, isn’t it? She could have appeared out of nowhere in front of a bunch of Navy guys.” The two of them stared at each other until Jerry turned back to the chalkboard.

  B. Test system under live conditions to determine if any physical changes take place.

  “I feel this is equally important. We need to know if there are any physical changes during the time transfe
r. We’ll have Howard procure another rabbit and do the live test in the next 24 to 48 hours, assuming the rest of the system checks out.”

  “And what if there are physical changes?” Steven said. “What if the rabbit turns up dead?”

  “Don’t do this to yourself, Steven. Let’s do this scientifically and make no assumptions until we see the results. And...” he wrote:

  C. Assuming a successful test, begin rebuilding the system to accommodate increased power requirements.

  “We are going to have to set up a time table with our best estimate of how long it will take to rebuild the system; then get word to Anne that there will be a long dead time while the system is shut down. You know we are like a deaf and blind man talking in sign language to someone who can’t talk and who we can’t touch. We’ll have no idea whether Anne is receiving our messages.”

  D. Test system under live conditions, 80-100 kilograms.

  “Not human, though. I’m not too sure what. We’re going to have to come up with a large animal. A big dog in a heavy cage might do it.”

  E. Test system with live human.

  “No, not you. We’ll work this one out when the time comes.”

  F. Throughout, continue research on return transport. Bring Dr. Hair in on the project.

  “No way!” roared Steven as he jumped up and stormed across the room. “We can’t bring her father in. He can’t know what has happened.”

  “What are you going to tell him?”

  Steven sat back down. “I don’t know. I’ll think of something.” He looked hard at Jerry, “There’s no way he’s to know.”

  “He’s the only other man alive that could possibly help us in this research.”

  “No!”

  “What if you can’t figure it out?”

  “I will not tell him. There’s no way.”

  Jerry erased the last line. “Okay. You win.” He studied Steven’s face, and said, “What if she didn’t make it, Steven? What if there wasn’t enough power to push her all the way? What if our calculations were in error and the best we could do was move a baseball twenty-four hours? What if there are physical changes we don’t know about?”

  “That’s not even a consideration! Didn’t you just say, ‘Make no assumptions, do this scientifically?’”

  “Yes, you’re right, Steven.”

  “Where would she be if she wasn’t either here or there? There is no in between.” Steven jumped up again and leaned hard on the table, his knuckles turning white in his grip, a bubbling rage of confidence in his voice. “She made it, Jerry, and that’s that; if I can’t bring her back, I’m going to join her. That’s that! I cannot and will not consider even the remotest possibility that she’s anything but alive and anywhere but forty-four years in the past. And I’ll put all my physical and mental energy into doing whatever it takes to make this right.” He relaxed. “Which means, if I can’t get her back, then I’ll join her.”

  They stared at each other for some time, then Jerry said, “What’s in the bag, Steven?”

  “Some things I put together to take with me.”

  “Okay, let’s go through it.” Jerry headed out the door. Steven followed down the hall and into the lab.

  “We need to keep this as light as possible. Pull everything out and lets repack it. We don’t have a scale so we’re going to have to guess.” Jerry set it up on the table and Steven unzipped it. As he pulled things out, Jerry made comments.

  “The underwear is all good, and the bible too. What’s the photo for?” Steven shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not really necessary. Set it aside. Makeup is fine, but only a few pieces of jewelry. Pick out a few things for her. Glasses are good. The blow dryer, I’m not so sure about. They didn’t exist in 1943 so better set it aside. The clothes are good. Take out yours. Slippers and nightgown are okay. What about shoes?”

  “I forgot shoes,” Steven said as he slapped the table.

  “She’ll have to go with what she was wearing. I don’t believe Tylenol existed back then. We have some aspirin here. That probably won’t be noticed. The watch - I don’t think so, Steven. People will take notice of that.”

  One by one the items were sorted and the bag packed. Steven convinced Jerry to include the watch, stuffing it into the pocket of a bathrobe, and the blow dryer. He slipped Anne’s wedding photo back in when Jerry wasn’t looking.

  “This was my father’s collection,” Steven said when Jerry congratulated him on thinking about the dates on the money. “Everything in here is older than 1943. Fifty or so silver dollars, four or five hundred dollars in gold pieces, a number of ten and twenty dollar silver certificates, plus a bunch of quarter’s, dimes and half dollars.”

  Jerry picked up the box. “It’s heavy, Steven.”

  “Yes, but even with that and everything else, we’re still not up to a third of Anne’s weight.”

  Jerry realized if Anne made it then this would too, and if Anne didn’t make it, it wouldn’t make any difference. They had to try no matter what the cost.

  Chapter 7

  Sunday ~ July 18, 1943 ~ 3:00 A. M.

  Anne knew she was screaming and that she should be doing something else. She remembered rhythm breathing and coaching and concentration, and being mad because Steven wouldn’t go. But right now, it was the hell with all that; let’s get this thing out of me!

  She could hear the doctor’s voice, Bronden or Bronston, and for a second she was irritated because she couldn’t remember, couldn’t think. She heard him say something about forceps and, “I have the head.” There were visions of dents in her baby’s head, and she wanted to scream, “No, don’t use those things on my baby,” but only, “NO! NO! NO!” came out.

  Someone was caught in her grip and she wasn’t letting her go for anything. She wished Steven was there and imagined he was, then squeezed even harder as the doctor ordered, “One more push.”

  One more push, hell. “I can’t!” she screamed, but she knew she had to, so she pushed until she felt the veins in her face ready to burst. She screamed again, and suddenly there was relief and it ended.

  She lay on the table, legs high in the stirrups, breathing hard, sweating, and waiting.

  “It’s a girl!” The doctor proclaimed.

  Waiting... waiting... and then her Elizabeth Anne cried and all the pain melted away.

  “What was the time?”

  “Three oh seven.”

  “Got the weight yet?”

  “One second, Doctor.”

  Anne listened to the exchange. She was exhausted and content, but growing anxious to hold her baby. Steven will be happy, she thought, and then realized how frantic he probably was when she wasn’t home when he got there.

  “Five pounds, seven ounces.”

  She remembered trying to give her phone numbers to the police officer. “Please, call my husband, Steven Waring,” she pleaded, “And if he’s not there, try his work.” And she gave him the lab phone number. She recalled his puzzled expression and comment that the numbers made no sense. “Hell,” she thought, “Nothing has made any sense since I drove onto the base.” She was thinking through those events again when a young nurse placed her baby in her arms.

  “Congratulations, she’s very beautiful.”

  And that she was. Everybody says that babies are beautiful. Some are and some are not. This one truly was with a full head of red hair, perfect skin and no wrinkles, the perfect baby.

  “Have you a name for her yet?” the nurse asked as she helped situate the little girl in Anne’s arms.

  “Elizabeth Anne. Her name is Elizabeth Anne Waring.”

  Saturday ~ July 18, 1987

  Steven checked the settings one last time as Jerry placed the bag into the cage.

  “Okay,” Jerry said and stepped away. He pulled his goggles down over his eyes and donned the hearing protection. “Let’s do it.”

  Steven flipped the switch.

  By the time the cage was glowing with white light, he had his protection i
n place. Nothing to do now but watch.

  “The instructions!” Jerry suddenly said.

  “What?”

  “We forgot the instructions. How is anyone going to know who this belongs to?”

  Steven looked about frantically. He ripped a sheet of paper from his notebook and wrote:

  For Anne Waring

  I love you & I’m sorry.

  Steven

  He ran to the cage and shoved the paper toward the bag. He watched it settle against the bag and then felt himself being pulled in, as though a force grabbed his arm. He jerked away and landed flat on his back.

  Jerry knelt down next to him. “Are you all...”

  And then the high pitch wail filled the room. They both looked at the bag in the center of the glowing light and waited. In a blink, it was gone.

  The light went out and all went quiet.

  Steven held up his arm. “Look at this.”

  There was a ring around his arm just below the elbow, dark red, about a half-inch thick. He touched it and winced. “The hair is singed; it feels like a bad sun burn.”

  Jerry placed his hand on Steven’s arm. “You’re hot and the rest of your arm is pink. Go submerge it in cold water, fast. I’ll make up a bucket of ice water.” Jerry helped him to his feet.

  “I feel fine, except my fingers tingle.”

  “Down to the conference room. Let’s just hope there’s no internal damage.”

  “We need to make recordings.”

  “Later. That will keep.”

  Steven took one last look at the cage before Jerry closed the door. I pray it finds you safe, Anne.

  Chapter 8

  Sunday ~ July 18, 1943 ~ 3:30 A. M.

  Seaman O’Brian was sure there was something wrong with the procedure, but what did he know? He had only been in the Engineering Department for a month, assigned to Chief Boiler Technician Rowstic. That was just fine with him, anything to get out of Deck Division. He had scraped off and brushed on all the paint he would want to for the rest of his life. The boiler room was much more interesting with all kinds of machines and gauges and real things happening. It was hot but he didn’t mind the heat, being from southern Louisiana. It beat the heck out of hanging off the conning tower with a paint scraper in the North Atlantic in February. He had decided to strike for Boiler Technician, to eventually have his identity changed from Seaman O’Brian to Fireman O’Brian.