by Paula Guran
Louise lowered the opera glasses. Well now, she hadn't expected them to start moving it so early, so maybe Dr. Connelly had a point after all.
She'd seen photos of the plane, of course, but until this moment the reality of time travel hadn't hit her. She recognized the Wright Brothers like they were her own family. The fellow down at the end with the handlebar mustache, that was Orville. And over there, with the bright blue eyes, was Wilbur, covering his bald head with a bowler, even while he was working.
And then there was the plane. It was like a child's model made large. A wood and cloth construction that was equal parts grace and lumbering ox. Looking at it, it was hard to believe that it would roll down the track, much less fly for half an hour. Louise raised the opera glasses to her eyes and filmed the men settle the plane on the track. They milled around then, while Orville Wright did something with the one wheel trolley underneath.
She checked her watch. 8:45, which was about when she'd vanished on the first trip. There was two hours yet before the flight was going to happen. She'd need to hurry and snap the photo of that gear they wanted and then hurry down the road to meet Homer. There ought to be more than enough time to get down the road to Homer and be back for the flight.
The board had their mission and she had hers. Tucking the opera glasses back into her bag, Louise made her way across the field. She wanted to run, but the uneven ground would cause her to stumble if she stepped out of walking pace.
Wilbur looked up as she approached. From his face, she must make quite a picture. An old lady, in a fine plum walking suit, out by herself in a field full of men and machinery. Louise nodded her head. "Morning. I hope I'm not disturbing you."
"No ma'am." Wilbur pulled a rag out of his pocket and hastily wiped his grease stained fingers off. "Can I help you with anything?"
That was one of the handy things about being old, people were always wanting to help out. No telling if the people at the Time Travel Institute had thought of that or not. "I wanted to see what you gentlemen were doing out here. I've been reading about your efforts and they're inspiring, I'll tell you." Louise moved around the wing of the plane toward the rudders, where the missing part was. Or not missing. Since the plane was whole and perfect. She turned so her hat-cam was pointing straight at him, recording for posterity. "Please don't mind me. I'm just the nosy type."
"Um. Well. We're getting ready for a trial flight, so if you don't mind . . . "
"Oh, I'll stand over on the side when you take off." She lifted the glasses again and aimed them at the part, moving around to get it from a different angle.
He laughed. "I appreciate that ma'am. It'll be another ten minutes or so."
Louise gasped. The records showed that they took off at eleven and that was two hours from now.
"Something wrong ma'am?" His face was flushed and so alive that it was hard for Louise to credit that he'd been dead for close to seventy years where she came from.
"No, no. I didn't realize how soon it was. Somehow I got it in my mind that you were going to fly later today." This time travel was a marvel. Standing here as they fiddled with whatever it was on the airplane, it made her pity poor Mr. Barnes who couldn't travel back more than thirty years. What had there been to see in his lifetime that was like this?
It made her wish she was a few years older so she could see their first flight. Louise worked her way around the plane, determined to film every inch of it. Did they know that it would break records today? "How long do you think you'll fly today?"
He grinned and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's good of you to think it'll get off the ground, ma'am."
Orville gave the wrench a twist on the gizmo. "The gentlemen are taking wagers so my brother doesn't feel as if he can make predictions. It wouldn't be 'sporting.' " He lowered the tool and gestured at her with it. "How long do you think we'll stay aloft?"
"Well now, I'm not a betting person, so I couldn't say." If truth be told, she knew exactly how long it would take. Eighteen minutes and forty-two seconds. In two days, they would do the flight everyone talked about, where the machine stayed aloft for thirty minutes. But this flight, today, marks the first time it will stay aloft for more than a few minutes. There were no records of it because no one knew that it would be a historic moment.
"Go on. We won't write your name down," one of the men said.
"No, thank you sir. It'd be betting in my heart, because I'd still be hoping I was right." Louise smiled at him but he shifted uncomfortably and tugged on his collar. Well, if it made him think better of his ways, that was all to the good, even if it wasn't why she'd traveled through time to get here.
After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, they got back to work and more or less ignored Louise, which suited her fine. She took pains to look at every inch of the flyer so no one at the Time Travel Institute could say she had neglected her duty when she went off after Homer.
Orville said, "Is there anything you're looking for in particular?"
"Oh! No. Thank you. I'm fascinated."
He grunted and lifted his head. "Wilbur! Would you get me the oilcan?" Orville jiggled a gizmo on the front of the plane. "I don't like the way the elevator is responding."
Nodding, Wilbur trotted over to the hangar while Orville continued to tweak the Flyer. "Wilbur's a trusting sort." He beckoned Louise closer. "The thing is, I don't think we've ever had someone display so much interest in one of our flyers before, except industrial spies, of course." He smiled at her, but his eyes were hard and narrow.
It hadn't even occurred to her, what it must look like for her to be staring at the plane with opera glasses. "I'd so wished I'd seen your first flight that I'm determined not to miss a thing about this one." She put on her best sweet little old lady face and pointed at the rudder. "What does this do?"
Leaning in close to her, Orville kept his smile fixed. "It helps the flyer fly."
Behind her, Louise heard the squeal of pigs. She lost all interest in Orville and turned as Homer came thundering up to the field, driving the wagon faster than was wise. He pulled the horse up in a cloud of dust. Standing, he pointed at her. "I thought so!"
"Excuse me, gentlemen." Louise set her back to them and started walking across the field to meet Homer.
He half ran at her but stopped before he got near enough to touch. "Are you a witch?"
Back at the plane, one of the men muttered. "Well she's old enough to be."
Louise half-turned her head to him. "I'm old but there isn't a thing wrong with my hearing." She faced Homer again. "And I'm not a witch."
"How do you explain disappearing and then turning up here?"
She shook her head. "Walk with me, young man, and I'll explain."
He crossed his arms. "Not a chance. I want witnesses to whatever you're going to say. There's no way that I'm going to let you take me off and enchant me."
The snickers again from behind her. Louise sighed. "You want these gentlemen to think you've read too many penny dreadfuls? Have you ever heard of witches outside of a storybook? Ever read about one in the papers? No. Because there's no such thing."
"That might be so, but I saw you disappear with my own two eyes and I ain't taking any chances."
"You took a chance coming here, didn't you? If I'm what you say I am. What's to stop me from vanishing right now and taking you with me if it were something I could do? So when I ask you to walk with me, I'd take it kindly if you would."
"What have you got to say that you're afraid to say in front of these folks?"
"Not a thing. I'm more worried about them thinking you're any more touched than they already do." She gestured toward the hangar. "I'm going to walk over there and you can come with me or not, as you like. I'll keep at arm's distance though so you aren't thinking I'll grab you and haul you Lord knows where." Without waiting for Homer to respond, she set out, stabbing the ground with her cane as she went. She figured that curiosity had brought him here and curiosity would make him follow her. Sure enoug
h, she hadn't got more than ten steps before she heard him coming along after.
She waited until she was fairly sure she was out of earshot of the men at the flyer and then waited a mite more before she started talking. "You ever read H. G. Wells?"
"Of course I have."
"Well, that'll make things a little easier." She stopped abruptly and turned to face him. Homer was almost on her heels and half-stumbled back to keep out of arm's reach. Louise snorted. "Do you remember the book The Time Machine?"
Homer blinked and then guffawed. "You aren't trying to tell me you're from the future."
"Being a witch is more believable?"
"Well . . . no offense, ma'am." He dug his toe into the ground. "But a time traveler wouldn't be old."
"I wouldn't have thought so either but it turns out that time travel only works within the span of a person's lifetime. They picked me because I was born this year."
His face screwed up with concentration. "Let's say that's so. Give me a good reason for you to vanish then."
"The machine broke and I can only stay here for so long as it's turned on. It took a full day for them to fix it while I was back in my own time." She shook her head. "I told them to set me down near you so I could explain, but they thought you wouldn't understand. I'm very sorry about that."
"Prove it. Bring me tomorrow's paper or something." Those arms were crossed across his chest again as if he were preparing for war. At least Louise knew he'd survive the Great War, because the records they'd found about him showed Homer dying in the seventies.
"I can't nip back and forth in time on a whim. It's an expensive machine that's sent me here and the operator is back in my own time." Louise pursed her lips, thinking. Dr. Connelly wouldn't approve, but the only obviously modern thing she had with her was the opera glass camera. Pulling it out of her handbag, Louise rewound the footage a little, so he could watch it. "Here. This is a moving picture camera, disguised as opera glasses. I was filming the plane."
Homer started to reach for them and then stopped. "What if this is just a story and that's ensorcelled?"
"Young man. I don't know why you're so set on me being a witch instead of a time traveler. Why on earth would I pretend to be something so unbelievable if I were trying to hide being a witch? It doesn't make a spot of sense. If I were going to make up a story, it'd be a cleverer one than that— unless I'm telling the truth. Now you tell me why I'd pretend to be timetraveler instead of letting you think I'm a witch?"
"There are laws against witchcraft. You could be burned at the stake."
She didn't say anything to that, just sighed and looked over the rim of her glasses at him. Living as long as she had gave her plenty of time to perfect the withering glare of scorn. She'd decimated sons and grandsons with it and this boy melted as easily as the others. His face colored right out to the tips of his ears, which burned bright enough to serve as a landing beacon for the Flyer. He rocked back on his heels and raised his shoulders as if he were trying to protect his neck from the butcher's knife.
Swallowing, Homer said, "I guess that's not too likely."
"No. It's not. Now are you going to look at this or not?"
He took the opera glasses from her and held them up to his eyes. Immediately he yanked them away, eyes wide with shock. Spinning on his heel, he stared at the airplane. Homer brought the glasses up to his eyes and even with his back to her, Louise could see his hands shaking. "What is this?"
"It's a camera."
"I mean, why are you taking all these pictures of the flyer?" He lowered the glasses, turning to face her.
"Because, today is the first day that they really fly. Wilbur will go up for eighteen minutes and not come down until he drains the gas tank. It's a historic moment but they weren't expecting it, so there's no photographer here. Day after tomorrow, Orville will fly in front of a crowd for thirty-four minutes, but today's the day everything changes. And later on, after they fly it, they'll make changes and eventually dismantle the flyer. In 1947 Orville will rebuild it for an exhibit, but he'll only have about sixty percent of this plane. There's a historical society that wants to check the rebuilt plane against this one."
And right then, Wilbur stepped out of the open door of the hangar. "This has gone on long enough. Madam, you should be ashamed of yourself, filling this boy's head with nonsense in order to get him to help in your espionage." He held out his hand to Homer. "Give me the camera, son."
"Espionage?" Louise lifted her cane so it served as a barrier between the man and Homer. "I don't know what you're talking about, but the opera glasses are mine and I'll thank you to leave them alone."
"I overheard everything and though your story is designed to play upon the fancies of a boy, I could hear the elements of truth." He reached over the cane and snatched the opera glasses from Homer's hand.
"Hey!" Homer pushed Louise's cane out of the way and stepped toward the man. "Give that back."
"We've been at pains to keep our invention out of the wrong hands" He brushed past both of them and hurried across the field, waving the opera glasses.
Homer ran after him and caught his coat. "Please, Mr. Wright. I was just funning with her. I didn't think anyone would take me seriously."
Louise hurried after them, focused more on the uneven ground than the man in front of her.
Wilbur shrugged off Homer's hand and shook his head. "We didn't advertise this test flight, so how do you suppose that she knew to come out here today, except through spying?
Louise laughed to hide her discomfiture. This was the sort of thing that it would have been nice for the Time Travel Society to let her know. "You can't think that people aren't talking about this in town, can you?"
"The people in town aren't out here snooping around. Who looks at things up close with opera glasses?" Wilbur lifted the opera glasses and mimed snooping.
The moment he looked through the opera glasses he cursed and jerked his head away from the eyepiece. Slowly he put it back to his eyes. His face paled. Wilbur wiped his mouth, lowering the opera glasses to stare at Louise. "Who do you work for?"
"I'm just a woman that's interested in seeing you fly." She could barely breathe for fear of the moment. "You're making history here."
"History." He snorted. "You were talking to the boy about time travel."
Before Louise could think of a clean answer, Homer said, "She disappeared earlier. Utterly vanished. I . . . I think she's telling the truth."
"And if she is?" Wilbur turned the glasses over in his hands. "I look at this and all I can see are the number of inventions that stand between me and the ability to do . . . If I weren't holding it, I should think it impossible."
Louise could not think of a thing to say to the man. He looked as if his faith had been as profoundly shaken as a small boy discovering the truth about Santa Claus. Louise shook her head. "All I want is to watch you fly, once I've done that I'll be gone and you won't have to worry about the pictures I took."
"This is why you were so certain the flyer will work today, isn't it?" There was no wonder his voice, only resignation.
"Yes, sir."
"And what you told the boy, about Orville rebuilding the plane. True? So, we'll be enough of a success that someone builds a museum and sends a time traveler back to visit. That's something, even if I'm not around to see it."
Startled, Louise replayed the things she had told Homer. "Why do you think that?"
"Because everything you said was about my brother. At some point, I'll stop registering on the pages of history." He twisted the glasses in his hands. "Is the future fixed?"
Louise hesitated. "The Good Book promises us free will."
"You have not answered my question." He took his bowler off and wiped a sheen of sweat from his scalp before settling it back in place.
When he looked back at her with eyes as blue as a frozen river, she could see the boy she'd read about. Self-taught and brilliant, he had been described as having a voracious mind. Everything
she said would go in and fill his mind with ideas.
"You understand that I'm a only traveler and don't understand the science? If you think about time like a stalk of broccoli, what Mr. Barnes's machine does is it takes a slice of the broccoli and shuffles it to a different point in the stalk. My past is one big stalk. My future is made up of florets. So the only places I can travel back to are the ones that lead to the future I live in. If I tried to go forward, they tell me that the future will be different every time. Which I believe means that you can do things different and wind up in a different stalk of the broccoli, but I'll only ever see the pieces of broccoli that lead to my present." She shook her head. "If that makes any sense to you, then I'll be impressed."
"It makes sense enough." Wilbur lifted the glasses to his eyes again and with them masked said, "I'll thank you not to intimate this to my brother."
"Of course not." Louise shuddered.
"Very good." Wilbur spun on his heel. "Well, find a spot to watch."
"But Miss Jackson's opera glasses . . . " Homer trotted after him.
"I'll give them back after I've flown." Wilbur Wright grinned. "If your history is going to lose track of me, then perhaps the future needs to be reminded."
On the far side of the hangar, the other men were still celebrating the flight. Eighteen minutes and forty-two seconds precisely. She'd recorded their joy but whenever Wilbur looked at her, Louise got the shivers and finally given up to wait out her remaining time out of sight. She leaned against the side of the hangar, studying her watch. Time was almost up.
At a run, Homer rounded the corner of the hangar with the opera glasses in his hands. He relaxed visibly at the sight of her. "I was scared you'd be gone already."
