The Pocket Watch
Page 31
Donald’s face reddened. He growled and fought against his invisible grasp.
Hunter pushed both hands forward, sending the man straight back into the wall. He cried out in pain and fell to the floor, landing on his side.
Hunter took a step toward his boss.
Donald tried to get up into a crawl.
The young man with Midas pointed his hands at the table and pushed it into Donald’s legs. He cringed. Hunter pushed harder, fixing the legs between the wall and the table.
Donald heaved, exasperated, cringing from the pain.
Hunter smirked. “Caught yourself in a little trap?” He asked softly. “You rat.”
Donald placed his hands on the floor and lifted his upper half.
Hunter flicked two fingers to the left, sweeping Donald’s hands off the floor. He collapsed, and the side of his face knocked against the concrete. He groaned, now lying still.
“The answer is yes, I will take your place in Eclipse’s chain of leadership.” Hunter smiled coldly.
Donald flared his eyes at him, unable to do anything.
“The pocket watch is delicate. Not to mention, time travel itself is extremely fragile. This operation must be taken seriously. It cannot be rushed. It cannot be viewed lightly. Only when it is handled with care will it be a worthwhile endeavor. And of course, it will be quite lucrative.” Hunter traced the circle of the watch with his eyes. “I’ve seen what it can do to people. It is one of the most amazing things I’ve ever encountered, but it is far from perfection. And from now on, that is what will be demanded. Perfection. No harmful effects or physical maladies. No inconsistent performances from the device. We will examine it from every angle, and we will improve it on every level.”
Donald grimaced and reached down toward his legs.
Hunter forced his arm down against the floor.
Donald squinted and grit his teeth. “You won’t get your way, Calhoun,” he seethed.
“I’ve considered everything. There is not a possible reason that I wouldn’t get my way.”
“I’m not the highest up in Eclipse, you idiot.” Donald winced from the pinching of his legs. “The other executives will-”
“Will what?” Hunter squeezed his legs harder, just for emphasis. “You noticed it yourself, Donald.” He dawned a menacing smile. “I’m the one with the Midas touch.”
Donald shivered, letting out an uneasy breath.
“I learned something interesting the other day,” Hunter spoke calmly. He knelt down in front of Donald. “Sometimes, I get distracted online. You’ll find the most interesting pieces of information there.”
Donald forced painful breaths through his teeth.
“You’ve heard of the Bubonic plague, right?”
Donald winced with the pressure of the table upon his legs.
“It struck during the fourteenth century, and its result was millions of casualties.” Hunter tilted his head. “They called it the Black Death. It was a disease carried by rats.”
Donald watched him. He trembled, terrified.
“One manifestation of the disease is an attack on the lungs, which makes the afflicted unable to breathe.” Hunter stood back up straight and took a gentle step toward Donald. He towered over him now.
Donald’s lips shook against each other.
Hunter laughed, glancing at the blueprints for the pocket watch. “Amazing.” He turned his head toward Donald. “So much damage, for such a little rat.”
Donald swallowed, a lump in his throat.
A moment of quiet passed.
Hunter suddenly thrust both his hands toward Donald, lifting his torso up and pushing him back. The man’s legs came free from behind the table; he sat with his back against the wall.
Hunter’s fingers bent slowly.
Donald’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. He watched Hunter’s fingers, and his breaths began to wheeze.
The fingers tightened further. Hunter tilted his head down and grit his teeth.
Donald struggled to breathe. He rose his hand to his chest, feeling something within him tighten.
Hunter let out a furious yell.
Donald gasped for air. His upper body convulsed violently, banging against the wall. He clawed at his chest, tearing his shirt.
Hunter made a vicious growl and clenched his hands into fists.
Donald’s spine arched back. He coughed up blood. It splattered onto his shirt and the floor in front of him.
Hunter stood over him, his hands still in fists. He breathed short breaths in and out through flaring nostrils. His teeth ground together.
Donald Lane breathed no longer. His lungs were crushed. The life left his eyes, and his two pupils were left staring up at his killer.
Hunter Calhoun slowly loosened his fingers and lowered both hands back to his sides. He took a moment to take in Donald’s empty stare, then turned to the table. “You’re right. This will make a great fortune for Eclipse.” He lifted the paper. “In the right time, that is.” He faced Donald and continued to speak, as though the man could hear him. “I must be patient. The time will come for this to be revealed to the world, but the technology will have to be refined. By that time, people will find it irresistible, and my friend Jon will already be dead. I can make sure of that.” He strolled to the side, dodging any blood that was on the floor with his steps. “The only other thing is image. I will need a name under which I can release the miracle of time travel. Something that people will pay attention to.” He cracked his knuckles and examined his fingers. “A name that people remember.” His eyes rose up, and he stared forward. “A name that already turns ears.” Hunter Calhoun took a deep breath, and a wide smile spread across his face.
“Jonathan Ashe.”
In the Interest of Time Travel
I was inspired to write this book during my freshman year of college. My “Introduction to Philosophy” professor (if you’re reading this, Dr. Dan Peterson, thanks) went through a section on the nature of time by examining writers such as Saint Augustine and David Lewis. That’s right, a short section during a semester-long 100-level class led to this book. Given that academically, I am about as new to philosophy as one can be, I approached this story knowing that I would have neither a foundation of relevant literature nor a vast understanding of past arguments on which I could stand. However, I knew that I could give every effort to be as rational as possible, which from my one semester of Philosophy, is apparently pretty important.
I fell in love with the topic of time travel when I learned that it was more than the “zip-zap, anything goes,” kind of stuff we see in many movies (this is not to say that all other fictional treatments of time travel have been handled poorly, but rather that it is very easy to be inconsistent, especially since time travel can serve as a mere plot convenience). So, using the things I had learned about time, I became passionate about writing a time travel story that could be logically possible, mainly following a large-scale version of the Grandfather Paradox, or perhaps more closely, the Predestination Paradox.
Paradoxes
We can imagine a possible world in which the story’s time loops occur. Granted, the loops still raise questions (for example, Jonathan learns the address to the gas station because his future self told him; he never had to gain the information from anyone but himself. How?), but we can still look at the whole timeline and say, “Yeah, that works.” The world of this story holds four-dimensionalism, rather than presentism, as the structure on which time works, though neither term is actually mentioned.
Furthermore, as you came to find out by reading, in the world of this story, it is impossible to change the past; this is because I have come to the conclusion that time travel is logically possible, but using it to change the past. Also for sake of this story, I keep away from the other possibility that the character of Steven Edward (i.e. Future Jonathan Ashe) briefly mentions, the possibility of alternate universes.
To sum this up succinctly, the discussion on time travel i
s expansive and complex, and this story only touches on part of it. If this topic intrigues you as much as it did me, then I highly encourage you to do some digging of your own. Who knows, maybe you’ll find yourself writing your own thoughts!
Last but not least: faith, reason, free will, and fate
I am a man of faith. That is, I live by the book that Jonathan Ashe discovers at the end of his journey. I hold the Old and New Testaments of the Bible to be true. In this novel, I wanted to examine some of the questions that have persisted strongly into my generation, namely the compatibility of faith and reason, and the compatibility of free will and fate.
As my high school literature teacher (Dan Totten, if you’re reading this, thank you too) taught me, a story almost always communicates worldview, and this book is no exception. However, a narrative cannot often contain the full saturation of one’s rationale toward a subject. If it interests you, I’d like to briefly explain my thoughts on faith and reason, and free will and fate.
Faith and Reason
The meaning of faith is often reworded, depending on context and the person describing it, but there almost always seems to be an element of “unknown” (there is, of course, a dictionary definition for terms like this, but what I am referring to is connotation). The book to which I adhere even characterizes faith as “the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see” (Hebrews 11:1 NLT). To avoid a long thesis on the topic, I will say that this is what I have seen about faith and reason: I do not follow God with ignorance, but rather, I simply have no reason to abstain from faith. In other words, instead of believing in spite of reason, I have reasons for my faith. At risk of being redundant: I have reasons for my faith in Jesus Christ as the One who saved me from my sin.
I have asked questions, I have sought answers, and I have come to the conclusion that a Biblical worldview is the most logically possible view of the world. Granted, I say this with the knowledge that even some of my fellow believers may disagree with my diction there, but that is why it is important for us followers to remember that despite differences, we still have all “Taste[d] and see[n],” and that is what is most important (Psalm 34:8). Furthermore, by saying I have come to a “conclusion,” I am by no means claiming to have extensive knowledge by which I could look my nose down at others; in fact, I am younger than the protagonist of this book, and I have much to learn in life, just as he did in his story. All I can say is that I have faith, I have reasons for my faith, and I still understand that by its very nature, part of my faith will involve that element of “unknown.”
Free will and fate
This is a discussion as old as, well, something very old. Free will, choice, agency, “I can do what I want,” etc., versus fate, destiny, sovereignty, “it’s all been predetermined,” etc. Which is it? I would argue, as I attempted to present in the story of the pocket watch, that both are present in reality.
Some other terms not mentioned in this book are libertarianism, determinism, and compatibilism, but they are all discussed in some part. Libertarianism is the “free will” viewpoint, determinism (more specifically, hard determinism) is the “fate” viewpoint, and compatibilism holds that the two are compatible (an explanation predictable by its own name). I myself hold compatibilism to be true, and I would argue that it is a “cop-out,” as one might think. To be fair, if one were to examine my worldview more closely, he may say that I lean more toward sovereignty than free will, but in the story of Jonathan Ashe, I tried to show how they could both work together.
Final thoughts
All I have left to say is thank you for reading this book (especially you. Yes you. Thanks for reading past the end! I think those other guys are gone now. You know what I mean by “other guys:” the ones that only read to the novel’s end). I have put much thought, time, and work into The Pocket Watch, and it is my hope and prayer that it has interested and informed readers about some of the things mentioned above. And at the very least, I hope that Jonathan Ashe’s crazy journey has entertained you. We’ve got plenty of boring books; I hope you had fun with this one.
Sincerely,
Michael Shaw