Temporally Out of Order

by Unknown

  We went back in time again, back to the mountaintop. This time, though, instead of telling us that the natives were restless, Christopher looked up. “Ah, everyone? What happened to the telescope?”

  We looked up. Sure enough, the telescope wasn’t there anymore. I took a look at the multiverse. This time I saw Naomi. She and I were together again and it was wonderful.

  I could see her beautiful face, touch her soft, dark skin, make love to her again. She got pregnant, and we were having a girl. We were both so excited, and everyone else was too. For the first time, I truly felt like I belonged, that I was part of the family, not just Kitty’s friend who everyone else was forced to be nice to.

  Naomi glowed with pregnancy, and I’d never been so proud and hopeful in my life. I loved this timeline. I wanted it to be real. I wanted to make it real and keep it forever.

  But then the world ended horrifically, with the entire galaxy turning into a gigantic black hole that sucked the rest of that universe up. My child was never born, and Naomi and I died, like everyone else, quickly and helplessly. This was definitely not my idea of a happy ending.

  Another loop, another change in the timelines I was seeing as we zoomed back and forth along them. Our world was dying earlier and the whole “we end as a black hole” thing was happening quicker. After a point, it didn’t even matter if Naomi lived or died—the world ended in the same horrific way, just faster and faster.

  We looped again and as we did, I realized that, improbable though it was, without the telescope that shouldn’t be here, time was fragmenting. I was the only one who could see it happening, and that meant I was the only one with a chance of fixing the situation. Nice to be important, I guess.

  This time, as we looped, I focused on the telescope. We needed it here—meaning I had to do something to get it back. And as I concentrated, the looping slowed, then seemed to stop. I could tell it hadn’t, not really, but at the same time, I wasn’t with everyone else on an alien planet anymore, being used as a human Cerebro device for our enemies.

  I was somewhere else.

  oOo

  An office. A very messy, cluttered office. With a blackboard in it. I recognized the figures scribbled on that blackboard.

  There was a woman. Cleaning lady, I thought, maybe the housekeeper. She wasn’t that old, probably around thirty. Pretty. And I could tell by how she was dressed I was somehow in the late 1940’s.

  She wasn’t cleaning, she was studying the blackboard.

  I studied it, too. I was sure it was Einstein’s work on the generalized theory of gravitation. There had always been debate about it, but as I stared at the blackboard, something seemed off from the formulas I’d memorized when I was in grade school.

  The woman cocked her head and moved closer to the blackboard. She put her hand up, then seemed to feel me in the room, because she spun around, looking guilty. “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were in here.”

  “Ah, I didn’t mean to startle you.” She seemed to recognize me. There wasn’t a mirror around so I couldn’t look to see if I’d hopped into Einstein’s body or someone else’s.

  She looked guilty. “I know you told me not to disturb anything in here, Professor, but I just can’t stop looking at that formula.”

  She’d called me Professor, so I went with the idea that I’d body hopped somehow. But I didn’t know what to say. Went with my training—when in doubt, interrogate. “Why are you looking at it?”

  She hung her head. “Because it looks wrong to me. Still. I know you told me yesterday that it was fine, but …”

  I looked around the room, hoping to spot something, anything, that would give me a clue for who she was and who she thought I was. Before I could speak, someone called out. “Elizabeth, I need you for a moment, please.” The voice had a German accent, and I’d heard it before, but only in recordings. Now, right now, I was hearing Albert Einstein’s voice in reality. I did my best to keep my expression calm.

  The woman looked up. “Please don’t tell him,” she begged me. “I know you’re angry with me—”

  “No, I’m not. Help him and then come right back. I want you to tell me what you think should be fixed. I … I think I was wrong yesterday.”

  Elizabeth nodded, then hurried out of the room. I waited, being careful not to do what I wanted, which was to touch everything, take a scrap of something with me, and go look at Einstein. Me pawing things would undoubtedly make Elizabeth upset or worse, taking anything could upset timelines that were already in a bad state of flux, and Einstein seeing me—whoever Elizabeth and he might think I was—was a bad idea.

  She returned quickly. “He just needed some tea and couldn’t remember where it was.” She smiled. “He’s such a dear, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, he is. So, tell me what you wanted to change.”

  “I told you before, Professor. You said I was wrong.”

  Whoever she thought I was probably had thought she was wrong. That didn’t mean he was right, however. “Yes, but tell me again. Let me hear it fresh.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Fine.” She went to the blackboard. “This is shown to be E, but, I believe that it should be R.” She went on to explain why, and her reasoning was quite sound.

  And she was right, at least as far as my memory of the equation confirmed. “What did he say about it?”

  “He hasn’t looked at this for days.” Elizabeth looked worried. “I think he knows it’s wrong but has been too close to it to see the fix.”

  “How did you see it?”

  She blushed and looked down again. “I’ve read all his papers.”

  “Good. Keep on doing that. Because you’re right. Fix it. Match his handwriting if you can.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive.” I was. I’d been sent back here for a reason, and this reason seemed obvious. If Einstein had this wrong, then many things would be more wrong as time went on, even though this wasn’t considered his most definitive theory. “Change it, but don’t tell him you’ve changed it.”

  She nodded. “I don’t want to lose my job.”

  “That’s not why. Either he’ll realize it and think he fixed it himself and forgot, or he’ll come back to it, see it corrected, and be happy about it. But, either way, I think you need to aim higher. Because if you could see what was wrong with this theory, then you shouldn’t be spending your days finding the tea.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Thank you. I enjoy working for him. But … maybe someday.” She reached her hand out. “Thank you, Professor. We’ve enjoyed your visit. And thank you for not being angry with me anymore.”

  I took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I was having a bad day yesterday. Today it’s all much clearer. And you need to use your mind for higher math and science.”

  “Elizabeth, dear, I cannot find the sugar,” Einstein called.

  She smiled again. “I’ll stay until he knows where the tea and sugar are without me, Professor.” She leaned up and gave me a kiss on my cheek, then she hurried out of the room.

  As I took one last look around, I felt the pull of the time loop and Einstein’s study faded from view.

  oOo

  I didn’t go back to the mountaintop like I’d expected. Instead, I was on a street in what looked like an old movie version of a big city. Only it looked and smelled real.

  I’d landed at the mouth of an alleyway. I took a look behind me—no one and nothing of interest there—so I stepped out and turned right, because why not? There were no cars on the street I could see, but there were lots of horses pulling buggies and similar. However, the way everyone was dressed was more modern than in the 1800’s.

  There were victory ribbons hanging from the window of a small dress shop. They didn’t look brand new, but they weren’t ancient, either. I listened—the people were definitely American.

  I looked at myself in the reflection of the shop’s window—I looked like me, but I was dressed differently. So, if I was body jumping, I could only see
myself, not who I was supposed to be. How Quantum Leap of whoever was in charge of this, myself included, if it was me doing it somehow.

  Kitty was better at fashion than I was. She might’ve been able to tell the era based on the clothing. I wasn’t. The dresses were long and elaborate, but this could mean any time before the 1960’s, really. I stopped staring at the dresses—whenever I was, they probably frowned upon men staring at women’s clothes.

  There was a diner next door and I stepped inside. They had a calendar on the wall—1819. Just after World War 1, which explained the ribbons and clothing, and just before cars became common, which explained their absence.

  I looked around. I’d been sent to Einstein’s study for a specific reason and to interact with, as near as I could tell, a specific person. But no one in here looked familiar and all that was on the blackboard behind the lunch counter was a listing of the specials of the day.

  The pretty hostess asked me if I wanted a booth or the counter. I chose the booth, simply because I had no ideas and figured I could think better if I was alone.

  She led me to one in the back. I put my back to the wall to see the rest of the diner. No one looked out of place, or like a scientific genius who needed my presence. Many of the people seemed tired and somewhat beaten—the Roaring Twenties weren’t going to show up for a couple more years, and it showed in this diner.

  But other than noting that I liked my time better, I had no freaking idea why I was here.

  The waitress came over. Also pretty. “Good afternoon, sir. My name is Melissa. May I take your order?”

  “Just coffee, please. Black. I may want something more in a bit.”

  She nodded, smiled, and bustled off.

  Melissa returned with my coffee. Then she went to the older man who was in the booth next to mine. His back was to the rest of the restaurant, so he and I faced each other. He looked angry and depressed, but in a very quiet way.

  “Mister Ritchey, don’t let them get to you,” she said, patting the man’s shoulder. “Why, you’ll just continue your work on your own and show them all.”

  He grunted. “What, really, is the use? Might as well just stop and raise begonias and make cabinetry. The flowers would be far more pleasant to work with and I’d have cabinets to show for the effort, instead of rudeness and disgrace.”

  “You’ll overcome it. I know you will. There’s no one else who has your skill at optics and instrument construction.” She patted his shoulder again, refilled his coffee, and moved on.

  But now I knew why I was here. I could’ve kissed Melissa, but, attractive though she was, that would probably get me slapped or arrested in this day and age.

  I took my coffee and moved to the seat opposite Ritchey. “I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but I wanted to agree with Melissa. Despite your setback, you shouldn’t give up.”

  He looked up and shot a glare at me. “Just who are you and why are you intruding? Again, I might add.”

  “I’m a fan.” This was true. George Willis Ritchey was one of the main pioneers in giant telescopes. If he didn’t continue his work, the likelihood that the giant telescopes our world used to see the galaxy and beyond wouldn’t be created. Meaning the telescope on the alien planet would never exist. “And, I’m sorry, but when did I intrude on you before?”

  “Yesterday,” Ritchey snapped. “Right outside. Told me I was right to be angry and right to show the rest of them that they needed me. Let them suffer without my expertise. Now you’re here acting solicitous?”

  I really wished I knew whose body I was in. But I didn’t, so I’d deal with this the same way I had with Elizabeth. By lying.

  “Ah, Melissa spoke to me yesterday. Gave me quite the tongue lashing for not encouraging you.”

  “Well, she worked with me, at the factory during the War. She’s a tad biased.”

  The factory he referred to was the one that made optical parts for gun sights for the U.S. government, meaning Melissa was highly skilled and, as a woman in that field, all the men at war or not, probably proficient at math, science, and astronomy. And now she was working as a waitress.

  “Biased or not, she was right, sir. The world needs your expertise, and the rest of the scientific community needs to see that a minor setback hasn’t stopped you. If you keep on, I’m sure, just as Melissa is, that you’re going to end up creating great things, greater than anything you have yet.”

  Ritchey stared at me. “You think so, do you?”

  “I know so, sir.” He wasn’t buying it, I could tell. Time for a bigger, better lie that he’d definitely believe. I heaved a sigh. “Honestly, sir, I was hired by Mister Hale to discourage you. He’s jealous of your skills, and wants to keep the glory of the work you’ve done together for himself. He’s afraid of you, sir. Afraid of the great things you might do without him. So,” I spread my hands, “he paid me to talk to you yesterday and tell you lies.”

  Ritchey stared again, but this time there was fire in his eyes. “That … I can’t say what he is but we both know the word I’m holding back, don’t we, young man? I appreciate your coming forward. It was a brave thing to do.”

  “No, sir. This wasn’t brave, it was just right. What I did yesterday was cowardly.”

  Ritchey sat up straight. “I’ll be the judge of that. Melissa!” The waitress came rushing over. “I need my bill, and put this young man’s coffee on my tab, too, please.” He gave me a small smile. “I like you. Are you looking for a job? I could use an assistant.”

  Melissa drew in her breath and her hands tightened on the coffeepot and cloth she was holding.

  Tempting though it was to stay and work with one of the greatest minds in optics and telescopes, I knew where I belonged, and it wasn’t here. But I could do another good deed in the process.

  “I’m honored to be asked, but I can’t. However, I believe that, if you look to your right, you’ll find a young woman who you already know to be more than qualified.”

  Ritchey seemed surprised by the idea. I was glad Kitty wasn’t here—she couldn’t have held back a feminist rant of epic proportions in this situation.

  “Would you really be interested?” he asked Melissa.

  “Yes, sir, more than anything.”

  “Then it’s settled.” I stood up and shook Ritchey’s hand. “It’s been an honor, sir. Make us all proud.”

  “Thank you,” Melissa said softly. She put her hand on my arm. “I honestly can’t thank you enough.”

  “Make sure he never loses the fire, and make sure you don’t, either. That’ll be thanks enough.” I nodded to both of them, then left the diner, without drinking a drop of the coffee. Which was too bad—my head was hurting again and the caffeine would’ve probably helped.

  I headed back to the alleyway and, sure enough, the moment I got there, I felt the pull again. Time to go some time else.

  oOo

  I landed in a bathroom, in a stall. This was almost normal. I’d gotten used to taking gates—alien tech that looked like airport metal detectors but transported you all over the globe in seconds—and the majority of them were located in men’s bathrooms.

  I flushed the toilet, just in case, then stepped out. I was alone.

  A bathroom meant a mirror. I couldn’t see who I was, but I could see what he was wearing, and I was wearing a uniform. I was a three star Lieutenant General in the Marines. Whoever the hell I was, I had a lot of clout. But that also meant I’d be expected to know who I was talking to and what I was talking about. Thank God I loved a challenge.

  I left the bathroom to find a young Captain waiting for me. On the plus side, he looked vaguely familiar. But I had no idea what time I was in yet, and he wasn’t familiar enough for me to say for sure who he was.

  He saluted; I did the same. “This way, sir, they’re waiting for you.” As he turned I got a glimpse of his nameplate but didn’t catch his name. It dawned on me that I hadn’t looked at my chest closely enough. I’d have a nameplate on. But looking down at it now woul
d be incredibly obvious, and there were too many people around—many of them civilians—to risk it.

  I looked at the civilians out of the sides of my eyes. The clothing was definitely not modern but not old fashioned, either. Haircuts were mostly crew cuts, high and tights, and so forth. None of this was giving me any bet for the exact year we were in, but, lucky me, we passed a photograph of Lyndon Baynes Johnson on the wall. We were in the mid- 1960’s, and therefore probably in the midst of the Viet Nam War.

  We entered a room I knew—Mission Control. Only there were no spacecraft on the screens. Instead there were a group of people surrounded by what looked like a lot of Top Brass.

  And one of those people looked like Jeff Martini.

  I managed not to ask Jeff how he’d gotten here, but only because I knew his father, Alfred. Take off several decades and, sure enough, Alfred looked like a younger version of his son. Or looked probably like Jeff had in his early twenties. Or something like that. Bottom line, there were differences and, though they were slight, they were there.

  I recognized the other men with him, too. Younger versions of men I knew—Stanley Gower, my father-in-law, and Richard White, the former Supreme Pontifex of Earth’s A-Cs and Christopher’s father. I recognized them, and I didn’t. Because they were young. Incredibly young. Like, early twenties young. Younger than I’d been when I joined the C.I.A. young.

  I knew when I was now for certain—at the dawn of Earth’s first realization that we weren’t alone in the galaxy.

  The three A-Cs looked relaxed. They had hyperspeed and were stronger than any of the humans, so there was no way they were going to be captured. But the people around them looked tense, and, exiled heir to the Alpha Four throne, exiled other more distant heir to the throne, and religious leader or not, the three A-Cs all looked wet behind the ears, meaning they probably hadn’t impressed any of the hardened military men that filled this room. If I was a betting man, I’d have said that the A-Cs weren’t winning friends and influencing people in terms of sticking around.