The Nick of Time

by Mike Parker

  “Do you think we’ll be able to re-establish a link with the Little Bird?” Ainsley asked.

  “It’s really hard to say, sis,” Carl answered honestly. “I sure hope so.” At that moment, his cell phone dinged signaling a new message had come in. He quickly read the message and then, holding back a shout, informed the others, “We get access to the beam at nine o’clock, Friday morning!”

  “Well, if there’s nothing more to be done here today, I should really go help my teacher’s assistant grade some of my exams,” the doctor said with a grin. “I’ll see you two Friday morning.”

  “Bye Doc,” the siblings warmly said in unison.

  After the door had swung closed, Ainsley asked, “What if we can’t get him back?”

  “Then we’ll keep trying until we find a way to do it,” her brother said comfortingly.

  “I know we’ll do everything we can, but what if he’s gone? Is there any way we could go back to just before Nick left and tell him not to go?”

  “I’ve wondered that myself,” Carl admitted. “The problem is the Nick who left already changed the timeline. Therefore, even if we could go back, he wouldn’t be there.”

  “What about stopping the overload?” the reporter suggested.

  “That has a little more hope of succeeding, but not much. According to my scans, when the overload occurred, just as the B.I.R.D. was attempting to retrieve Nick, it created a temporal burst. Any attempt we might make to go back to there would most likely send us ricocheting off to some random moment in time.”

  “Well,” a disappointed Ainsley said, “Let’s hope Nick just shows up when we flip the switch on Friday.”

  The next two days crawled by, but finally Friday morning arrived. At 9:00 the beam came online right on cue. Carl turned on the reconstructed B.I.R.D. which hummed to life just like it had always done in the past. “The Phoenix is up and running,” the physicist announced.

  “The Phoenix?” the doctor inquired.

  “That’s right,” Carl said with a satisfied grin. “What else would you call a B.I.R.D. that rose from the ashes?”

  “Of course,” Dr. Stevens said. “Clever.”

  “Guys,” Ainsley called out. “Is it working?”

  “Everything seems to be functioning within normal parameters,” the scientist announced. The Phoenix ran through its full cycle and then powered down. “Moment of truth,” he said solemnly as he opened the chamber door.

  “It’s,” the reporter stammered, “It’s empty.”

  “What do we do now?” the doctor asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Carl replied. “I was worried this might happen. I’ll need to run some tests, but it is quite possible that Nick is still perfectly fine. If the Phoenix is working properly all we have to do is find a way to re-establish the link to the Little Bird, then we should be able to bring Nick back.”

  “But how are we supposed to do that?” Ainsley asked. “We don’t even know where he is.”

  “Or when,” the doctor added.

  “Pennsylvania, November 19, 1863,” the scientist answered. “The B.I.R.D. was not able to bring Nick back before the overload occurred, but it did manage to download data from the Little Bird”

  “1863, that’s the middle of the civil war,” the doctor informed the rest of the team.

  “Pennsylvania,” the reporter scanned all the data in her brain, “November 19th, that’s the Gettysburg Address!”

  “Why would we send him there?” the doc asked.

  “Suffice to say, the event we remember is not what was in the history books when we sent Nick off,” Carl explained. “Anyway, why he was there is not nearly as important as how we get him back.”

  “And how exactly do we do that?” his sister inquired.

  “With this,” the physicist declared, picking up a small wooden box. He opened the lid revealing a slim wristband, similar to the Little Bird, only slightly smaller and sleeker looking.

  “What is that?” Dr. Stevens asked curiously.

  “I call it the Turtle Dove,” Carl stated. “It’s for you,” he added handing the box to his sister.

  “Why me?”

  “You’re the logical choice. Doc has his classes to teach and lab to run and I have to be on this end to make sure the Phoenix functions properly. Besides, you have the best knowledge of history of any of us.”

  “He’s right about that,” the doctor agreed.

  “Exactly what do I need to do?” the nervous reporter probed.

  “We will send you back to Nick’s last known time and location,” Carl laid out the plan. “With any luck, he’ll still be there. All you have to do is touch the Turtle Dove to the Little Bird and they will sync with one another, downloading the needed information to link Nick back to the Phoenix.”

  “Alright, I’ll do it,” she declared resolutely. “When do I go?”

  “I have beam time on Monday,” Dr. Stevens informed. “I’ll have it transferred to your brother and I’ll get the Anthropology department to get on your wardrobe ASAP.”

  “I’ll make more phony greenbacks and study the historical record to see if there’s any hint of where Nick was or what he was up to,” the reporter decided.

  “Looks like we have a busy weekend ahead of us!” Carl smiled and encouraged his teammates to get to work. Although confident that his plan should work the scientist knew that it would be very easy for things to go astray, further astray that is. Losing his best friend was incredibly troubling, but to lose his sister as well would be absolutely devastating. He would spend every waking moment of the next three days making sure that every calculation exactly right before Monday morning arrived.

  At 10:59 on Monday morning the reporter Ainsley Ryan stepped into the Phoenix and her brother closed the chamber door. There had not been a lot of fanfare or many words. Simply a few quick hugs and last minute instructions. Most important were some vital changes to the Turtle Dove’s operation.

  Carl had added two new features to this model. The first was a manual override to the recall function. If for any reason, Ainsley was not ready to return when her 24-hour window was up, the override button would reset the clock giving her another twenty-four hours before her return trip. A message would be sent to the Phoenix verifying that the override had been used and rescheduling the return beam on that end of things.

  The second, and equally valuable, addition was a very primitive voice messaging function. This would allow Ainsley to record up to a sixty-second message that would be sent back to the Phoenix in the event that the override was engaged. It also allowed Carl to record a similar message which would be sent through the same data stream back to her should the override function be used.

  As she listened to the Phoenix powering up, she chuckled to herself recalling her brother’s last words, “When you find Nick, tell him I blame all this on that kiss.” She knew he had only said it to take her mind off of the seriousness of what was about to happen, and she greatly appreciated the gesture, which, incidentally, had worked – at least for the moment.

  When the bright light faded the reporter found herself in the same bluff of trees just outside of town Nick had arrived in thirty hours earlier. She made her way into Gettysburg and found it abuzz with talk of Lincoln’s magnificent speech. In her research, she had read an obscure mention of an attempted assignation at the house of attorney David Wills. One reporter mentioned the questionable involvement of a man identified as James Bond. Of course, it was technically possible that there was a man named James Bond who just happened to be in Gettysburg that night, but Ainsley’s money was on it being Nick instead.

  She wandered through the streets looking for the Wills house. When she arrived, she discovered a great party going on both inside and out. She casually approached a man sitting alone on the porch doing his best to get to the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. “Pardon me, sir,” she said softly.

  “What? Who? Oh, hello young lady,” the inebriated man said followed by a loud belch. />
  “Good sir, I am looking for my friend,” she couldn’t believe what she was about to say, “James Bond. You wouldn’t happen to know him, would you?”

  “Sure!” the man exclaimed cheerfully. “I gave the ol’ boy some advice last night on how to become a great orator, like me. Edward Everett’s the name. I gave one of the most eloquent speeches of my life today. It was two hours of utter linguistic brilliance.”

  “Well done, sir,” Ainsley tried to redirect the man back on track. “About my friend, have you…”

  “But that’s not what all this hoopla is about, Oh no!” Everett said, slurring his words slightly. “All anyone cares about are the bloody two minutes Awesome Abe delivered.”

  “I see, sir.”

  “I spent weeks putting that speech together. I fine-tuned it to a tee. I picked every word, every syllable with the most detailed of care. Along comes Mr. Whoopti-doo President who whips up a paragraph or two last night before bed and who is it that gets five thunderous ovations? Not this guy, I can tell you that!”

  “Yes sir,” Ainsley interjected more forcefully this time. “I can see you are quite the wordsmith, but I really must find Mr. Bond. It is terribly important. Do you have any idea where he might be?”

  “Sure,” Everett said with another loud burp. “I heard he was staying at the hotel down on Main Street. He’s a nice fellow. I gave him some advice on how to become a great orator like me last night, you know.”

  “I’m sure he appreciated it too, sir,” the reporter said, backing away from the man and moving back toward the street. “Good night Mr. Everett.”

  The evening was passing more quickly than she had anticipated. By the time she located the hotel and convince the woman at the front desk to give her Mr. Bond’s room number it was nearly midnight. Ainsley knocked on the hotel room door but did not hear any response. She knocked a second time, significantly louder. She heard some sounds of rummaging around inside the room. “Nick! Are you in there?”

  “Huh,” a groggy voice called back. “Ainsley is that you?”

  The reporter heard footsteps approaching the door and the lock being opened, but then the room fell silent. A bright light seeped through the gaps around the door and then quickly dissipated. Ainsley grabbed the handle firmly and thrust the door open and burst into the room. She looked around frantically, but she was alone. “Nick?”

  – 21 –

  Missed Him by

  That Much

  Ainsley had scoured the room but there was still no sign of Nick. The only indication that he had been there at all was a canvas satchel next the bed stuffed with a Union soldier uniform that bore tags claiming to be ‘Property of the MIT Anthropology Department.’ There was little else for her to do, so she locked the door again and laid down on the lumpy mattress to attempt to get some sleep. In the morning, the reporter went downstairs and enjoyed a hearty breakfast at the hotel restaurant. She then went to speak to the man at the front desk.

  “Excuse me, sir, my name is” she began politely. “I am Mr. Bond’s secretary and he has asked me to inquire as to whether it might be possible for him to hold his room until this afternoon.”

  “I’m sure that can be arranged little lady,” the man replied with a smile. “We would be happy to accommodate Mr. Bond in this regard.”

  “Much obliged,” Ainsley said curtsying slightly and then returning to her room.

  Once inside the room with the doors securely locked, the reporter slid up the sleeve of her dress exposing the shiny tungsten metal of the Turtle Dove. After taking a moment to collect her thoughts she pressed the button Carl had indicated would record a message.

  “Carl, this is Ainsley. I made it to Gettysburg and I’m pretty sure I found Nick. However, before I could get to him he teleported away. I’m guessing it is safe to assume he still hasn’t shown up back in the lab. In which case your theory about the time burst may be right. My recall is in about two hours. I am going to use the override and attempt to track Nick down. If you have any new news please let me know. I love you, big brother.”

  As she waited for the Turtle Dove to beep indicating it was time for the recall beam, she went over in her mind the instructions her brother had given her before she had left.

  “Remember how I told you we couldn’t go back to the moment of the synchrotron overload because I suspect the surge created a temporal burst?” he had asked.

  “Yeah, what about it?”

  “If it did, that means it is entirely possible that when Nick attempted to teleport back to the lab, the burst redirected him to some other random place and time,” her brother hypothesized.

  “So how on earth are we going to find him?” she asked.

  “I’ve coded the Turtle Dove to hone in on the Little Bird’s teleport signal,” Carl explained. “In theory, it should allow you to track him through time and space.”

  “In theory,” Ainsley asked skeptically.

  “Well, it’s not like it’s ever been tested.”

  “Fair enough,” the reporter conceded. “How do I it do it?”

  “Just before you are to teleport back to the present,” the physicist explained, “Press the override button and this button here at the exact same time. This should redirect you to wherever the Little Bird took Nick instead of back here.”

  “But the Turtle Dove will still be linked to the Phoenix?” she clarified.

  “Yes,” her brother assured her. “And when the next beam is sent you should return right back here.”

  “Sounds simple enough,” she chuckled nervously.

  “There is one more tiny detail,” Carl added. “The ability of the Turtle Dove to track the Little Bird, is proportional to how close you are to the exact place Nick was when he teleported. The further you are from that spot, the further you will be from where he ended up.”

  “That’s a tiny detail?” she scoffed. “You’re saying if I’m a foot away from where Nick was standing when he teleported I will end up a foot away from where he arrived?”

  “Not exactly, think about playing pool. If your cue is lined up straight, the ball will travel the full length of the table and hit its target dead on, right?”

  “Sure.”

  “But if your cue is aimed just a tiny bit off, by the time the ball rolls the length of the table it may be off the mark by quite a bit. You might even completely miss the ball you’re aiming for or end up sinking the cue ball in one of the pockets.”

  “I see,” Ainsley pondered the analogy for a moment. “You’re telling me if I’m a foot away from where he was standing when he teleported I might end up ten feet from where he arrived.”

  “More like a hundred feet or even a quarter mile.”

  “Well, that’s not the least bit terrifying,” she stated sarcastically.

  As noon approached she positioned herself where, according to her best guess, she thought Nick might have been standing last night. He was unlocking the door at the time so he must have been standing close to it. The only question was whether he was directly behind the door or standing off to the side of it. In the end, she decided to hedge her bets and stand halfway in between the two positions. The Turtle Dove started to beep and Ainsley pushed the override button and the track button simultaneously. After a couple more beeps she was swallowed up in light and on her way.

  “What happened,” Dr. Steven’s nervously asked, staring, for the second time, at the empty chamber. The first time was not a shock since the overload came right at the time Nick was trying to teleport back. This time, however, had gone exactly according to plan. The Phoenix had functioned perfectly, but Ainsley was nowhere to be seen.

  “It appears,’ Carl said, racing over to the computer and reading the data arriving on the screen, “That she hit the override button.”

  “Why on earth would she do that?”

  “I’m not entirely sure, oh wait! There is a message coming in.” the physicist played his sister's communique over the lab speakers so they both could hear
. “Well, at least she found him.”

  “I don’t understand,” the doctor said. “How does she expect to track him?”

  Carl explained the tracking feature he had added to the Turtle Dove and then the two discussed at length where Nick might possibly have teleported to. If his destination really was a product of the time burst, he could literally be anywhere, but the both hypothesized that it would be unlikely, although not impossible, that he would travel a greater distance in time than the one hundred and fifty or so years he was attempting to return from.

  “Which likely means that he ended up somewhere between the 1860 and 2170,” Carl guessed.

  “But where?” the doctor pondered.

  “Nick’s geographic location is much more of a crapshoot,” the scientist explained. “The range of the Phoenix had never really been tested.”

  “That’s very true. I mean, thus far all of the missions have been in the northeastern United States.”

  “Right, but that is by no means a guarantee that future teleportations would be limited to that same distance.” Carl quantified.

  “Regardless of where or when they have ended up, we should record a message and have it set to transmit just in case your sister opts to override again,” Dr. Stevens suggested.

  “That’s a good idea,” Carl agreed. “If nothing else, we can assure her that we received her message and things seem to be functioning as designed on this end of things.”

  “It’s not this end I’m worried about,” the doctor quipped, “But it is likely a good idea nonetheless.”

  “I’ll take care of that,” the physicist offered. “And while I’m doing so, maybe you could go chat with Professor Michaels.”

  “Do we need more beam time?”

  “No, not at the moment,” Carl said. “But I sure would like to know more about exactly what happened to cause the overload that got us into this mess.”

  “Indeed,” the doctor heartily agreed. “I’ll wander over there and see what I can find out.”