Sliptime

by Jeffrey Grode

  “This little lab?” He exhaled tobacco smoke through pursed lips.

  “This lab exists out of time. It’s safe and impenetrable.”

  Albert frowned. “Out of time?” What is he yapping about? He may be the one who is out of time.

  Patrick explained his recent work with the robots, microprocessors, and finding the bogey. He’d once again helped save Earth and Terra by destroying the Erdian beacon, but the government wanted his working models and schema. “I’m afraid what will happen if I share the tech.”

  Albert finished his drink and waggled the glass for more. “What despair doth greed visit upon man?” Albert smiled at Patrick’s blank look. “It’s Billy Chafespear from ‘Midas Burns’. Never mind. You’re from a different world.” Albert smirked. “But even here, secrets can get you killed.”

  “How have you handled your new tech?” Patrick refilled Albert’s drink.

  “The Commonwealth employs Earth’s computer and internet technologies to transform how we share information and communication on Terra. They’re controlling the process and gathering essential security information.

  “My current project uses computers to redesign and reprogram electronic implants for humans. We’ve been incredibly efficient at fast tracking the process through Commonwealth testing and health approvals. I own the patents on my new products and licensed manufacturers have lined up to pay the price. The Commonwealth and Unizol share in a joint partnership. We have world-wide distribution rights.”

  Patrick smirked. “Less than a year ago, the Commonwealth hunted you. Sounds like you’ve made fast friends of formal rivals. But, tell me, how does your progress benefit humankind?” Patrick stared over the top of his dark rimmed glasses.

  Albert leaned forward. “You of all people should understand, but perhaps you are simply trying to bait me.” Albert’s hand brushed against his shirt pocket and the razor within.

  “Not at all.” Patrick blinked against the strong lights. He removed his glasses and wiped them with a cloth. “Please continue, but in simple terms so even I can understand.”

  Albert nodded. “Of course. We’ve become more efficient, smarter, and healthier. We don’t have to rely upon drugs to stay healthy. We’re improving upon our human design electronically. New implants can be updated wirelessly and without surgery, and with a higher level of control. You won’t believe the amount of data we can store up here?” He pointed at the equations all around the room then tapped his head above his left ear. “Instant recall as well as analytics.”

  Patrick shook his head. “Sounds like you’re turnin’ yourselves into machines. Does that make you better humans?”

  “Yes.” Albert puffed out a smoke ring and let a smile spread across his face.

  “Do you have a cranial implant?”

  Albert’s eyes crinkled. “Yes.” He puffed another ring through the first.

  Patrick shrugged. “Ok. If you’re so smart, what did you learn here?” Patrick pointed at the white board.

  “Challenge accepted. Well . . . you’ve created a lab that exists out of . . . phase, invisible and secure. Impressive. I see . . . a theory and the schematic for a mechanism to move through—

  Time travel? Ooh. Dangerous, but priceless. “When did you become so clever? Still searching for your deceased wife, or have you abandoned . . . Betty?”

  Patrick glared at him.

  A treacherous look, no doubt. Albert continued. “If it works, then you’ve rivaled the gods and created the ultimate conundrum. How much is too much? Give man everything he wants and hand him his doom. You asked me how my work helps humans. Ha. Your discoveries, if shared, would create pandemonium, a struggle for power, control, war, and death.” He flicked his ashes onto the floor.

  “And yours don’t?” Patrick pounded the table with a closed fist. “What’s to stop the Commonwealth from takin’ control of the people’s minds through their implants? What if terrorists hack the implants and direct someone to do terrible deeds? I think we each share a similar conundrum.”

  Albert shrugged. “Science is pure, people are not. No matter what we achieve, there are those who would misuse, or abuse, our achievements. Your discoveries, however, are far more dangerous than anything I’ve done.”

  Patrick grinned. “Far more important, you mean. Monumental. I surprised you, didn’t I?”

  Albert snuffed out his cigar in his drink. Asshole.

  Patrick eyebrows rose above his dark rimmed glasses. “You’re pissed. Jealous maybe?”

  Albert frowned. “No. Yes. A little, you smug sonafabitch. At least I have Betsy.”

  Patrick smiled. “Indeed. She’s a lovely woman.”

  He mocks me. “I know you’ve bedded her. The next time you see her, if you live that long— she won’t even remember your name.”

  “What have you done?” Patrick jumped up from his chair. “Where is she?”

  “You won’t have the chance to find out!” Albert stood and pulled open his straight razor. “You are going to die, here, tonight in your so-called ‘safe lab.’ Drip by drip.” He took a step toward Patrick, who backed away and around the table.

  Albert pointed his razor at the white board. “I’ll bring your discoveries to the world as my own. Ha! I’ve already memorized your equations. I’ll control the information, the wealth, and the world, with Betsy at my side.”

  “Albert, stop!” Patrick cried. “You’re acting crazy. I’m your friend, remember.”

  “But, not a very good one. Watch me cut your throat.” He lunged toward Patrick.

  “Amo!”

  Vsshhhh-click.

  Albert felt a sharp blow to his head above his left ear. The equations he’d memorized grew blurry. Meaningless. He fell and darkness surrounded him.

  Chapter 9

  The flow of time seemed relative to Ben’s thoughts as the Earth rotated around the sun. Although all of his classes lasted approximately fifty-five minutes; those he enjoyed, like AP Physics and Trig flew by, while French class seemed painfully slow. The time remained constant, but the experience varied relative to his degree of interest and the teacher’s ability to entertain as well as instruct. Conjugating French verbs reminded him of falling into a never-ending time loop while playing the War Banshee add-on, Exodus from Hell. Bien jouer ou mourir!

  When it came to sports, football practice felt long, but a game flew by quickly if the score stayed close. His individual wrestling matches lasted six minutes, if neither opponent was pinned. During those six minutes, he moved as fast as he could and expended every ounce of strength and will to win. At times during those six minutes, his mind slowed as muscle memory, developed from hours of practice, automated his moves and counters as if he watched himself from somewhere above the mat.

  Today, the whole school day crawled like a millipede—fast feet but slow progress. He worried about Jack’s situation with Lori on Terra, Trudy’s earthy expectations regarding him, the FBI surveillance encounter, and his hope to visit GranPat tonight.

  Ben planned to slide to Carmichael via p-medallion from school, and knew better than to ask his parents for permission. They would tell him it was too risky, but he really didn’t want to waste time driving up there this weekend. He would just pop into the cellar’s coordinates and ask GranPat if he could stop the FBI from snooping. Regardless of the outcome, he needed to visit Terra tomorrow. Jack needs me.

  Sixth period wrestling practice helped burn off his stress. Afterward, his muscles ached, but the shower cooled him down. Ben dressed and left the boys’ locker room with his heavy knapsack full of books and papers. His hair wet, but combed, he stopped by the pool facility and ducked inside during the girls’ swim team practice.

  Trudy stood in her red swimsuit on the diving board. She squared up for a dive, took a step forward, saw him, and stopped suddenly. The board vibrated. She waved at him and a few of her teammates giggled.

  “Out, out, out!” Coach Delbert called, walking toward Ben, her silver blonde hair pulled into a
tight ponytail. She pointed toward the door. “This is a closed practice.”

  “Sorry.” He waved back to Trudy and smiled. She looks good.

  Trudy blew him a kiss and several girls squealed.

  He hesitated. Most of the girls looked better in swimsuits. Wow. Look at Jennie Peterson. The air seemed to grow warm, and his pants felt a little tight. Everyone watched him.

  Coach Delbert blasted her whistle in a series of chirps, as he escaped out the door. He blushed as students in the outer hall gawked at him. That was brilliant.

  He wound his way through the school to the library. Once inside, he meandered to the language lab, and found an empty booth. The room, the size of a closet, was completely enclosed and contained a desk, chair, and computer. The only sunlight filtered through a small glass window in the wooden door.

  Ben plugged in his earphones and listened to his French conversation assignment. Two Parisian girls discussed whether it was better to ride bicycles, or take a taxi to the Eiffel tower. They took a taxi. The driver had a silly “Oh-ho-haw” laugh, which Ben practiced several times.

  After he finished his assignments, he peeked out the little window. The library looked almost empty. He donned his knapsack, pulled out his portal medallion, and set the coordinates for GranPat’s cellar. But before he could open a portal, a loud knock rattled the door.

  His heart jumped. The librarian peered at him through the window. Her thick glasses made her eyes resemble large green grapes.

  “Who’s in there?”

  “Just me,” Ben said with a slight tremor in his voice.

  “Library’s closing in five minutes,” she said through the door. “Best be gone. The lights go out at six.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Ben nodded through the window.

  He sat down and fished a protein bar from his pack. After gnawing open the plastic wrapper, he took several hungry bites of his Chewy-Choco dinner. He chipmunked the last two bites into his cheeks, and opened a portal from inside the language booth.

  GranPat’s cellar lay awash in darkness, except for the thin stream of moonlight leaking through the cellar window. Ben stepped through, closed the portal, and hoped to surprise his grandfather who knew nothing about the visit. Standing in a dark corner, Ben watched GranPat ghost into the cellar through the far wall near the furnace—without using a visible portal.

  GranPat stood in the moonbeam searching the darkness. “Hello? Are you there?”

  Dumbfounded by his grandfather’s mysterious entrance, Ben crouched and hid in the darkness. What is going on here?

  A moment later, a real portal opened across the room by the steel basement door. GranPat turned toward the new portal, and Albert stepped through.

  “There you are!” GranPat chuckled and exchanged greetings with his Terran doppelganger. “Been a while.”

  “Maybe too long,” Albert said.

  His grandfather turned away from where Ben hid unseen, and led Albert and back toward the furnace. “Come this way. I have a secret to share with you.” GranPat pressed a small red button near the furnace.

  Ben silently watched from the shadows, as GranPat and Albert walked through the wall and disappeared without a discernable portal. One second later, GranPat reappeared half carrying a dizzy, disoriented, and injured Albert.

  GranPat fiddled with his p-medallion. “Let’s get you home.” A visible portal opened to Albert’s basement lab. “And try not to bleed all over me.” GranPat helped Albert walk through, and the portal closed behind them.

  Ben stood awestruck and alone in the shadows of the dark cellar after GranPat and Albert had teleported to Terra. How had Albert been injured so quickly? What secret had GranPat shared with his doppelganger?

  Ben crossed the room and turned on the cellar lights. The room seemed the same, minus the original beacon, which he had helped destroy during the OHW. Should I follow them through the portal to Terra? No. I don’t know what, or who, I’ll find on the other side. Better to wait for GranPat to reappear.

  A long ten minutes passed, but no one returned. Ben checked the time and felt like going back home. His eyebrows rose when he spotted an open appointment book across the worktable. Ben eased around the table, bent over the book without touching it, and read today’s entry. Thursday –Meet Caliban at ANG- dawn, Bogey hunt, S&T office hours, call Albert.

  Ben waited near the steel basement door for another fifteen minutes, but his grandfather didn’t show. He leaned back against the table, folded his arms, and scanned the cellar. His eyes caught a thin trail of blood leading back to the furnace.

  Stepping gingerly around the blood trail, Ben walked to the furnace and knocked on the cement wall. Solid. His fingers reached slowly toward the red button, hesitated for a moment, and pushed.

  His leg vibrated and a Tyrannosaurus roared. Ben fished his phone from his pocket, read Mom 6:20 pm, and let her call go to voicemail. Sorry.

  He pushed on the cellar wall again, but it persisted as a solid. Maybe there was a timed interval and he’d waited too long. He pressed the red button again, turned quickly to touch the concrete wall, and . . . fell through. His upper torso lay sprawled on a white tiled floor, but the rest of his body hid beyond the wall.

  Worried he might get stuck, he crawled forward quickly, stood, and found himself in a brightly lit laboratory. Whiteboards adorned with multi-colored scribble covered the walls. A feint odor of cigar smoke and synthetic oil filled his nostrils. He saw two empty glasses on the center of the worktable, a sink, refrigerator, microwave, shelves, microscope, cot with pillow and blanket, and an examination table. A dried spatter of brown droplets trailed across the floor.

  Turning back the way he’d entered, he saw a red button attached to a solid wall. Cool lab, GranPat, but what happened to Albert?

  Ben focused on the brown stain. If this was Albert’s blood, shouldn’t it be red and wet rather than dry? He soaked a large sponge he found in the sink with soap and water, rung it out, and washed away the trail of blood all the way to the wall. Unsure if the injury had been accidental or not, he didn’t want to leave behind evidence that might cause GranPat trouble.

  As he scrubbed, he noticed some of the floor tiles had been gouged and damaged by something heavy. He did his best to clean the floor, table, and glasses, as well as grind the cigar stub in the garbage disposal. His stomach growled.

  After washing his hands, he checked the fridge and found an old container of milk. The expiration date seemed fine, but the milk looked chunky and clotted. On the bottom shelf lay a pizza box with three brick hard slices of pepperoni pizza. Should I nuke them? Nah. Not without carbon dating the sample first. At last he found an edible red delicious apple and crunched away. It tasted sweet and juicy.

  While he ate, he poked through a few of the cabinets. He found scientific supplies, paper towels, glass vials, blueprints, and electronic components. In the corner sat a computer desk, laptop, boxy transceiver, router, and printer. The transceiver hummed away as lights blinked on the router. The computer had gone into sleep mode, but after a couple of clicks it came to life. He wondered if he could log into War Banshee and play a few rounds with his friends.

  Curious, he set down the apple core, opened the small desk drawer and found a computer tablet and a black silk pouch tied with a pull string. He left the tablet alone, opened the pouch, and discovered three bronze medallions. He removed one and replaced the bag. Looks like my portal medallion, but larger . . . more buttons and function codes. He slid the chain around his neck.

  Visshhhh-click.

  Ben froze. He’d heard that noise before in his room. Slowly, he turned around and saw nothing unusual. Huh. He took a calming breath and picked up his apple core. Feeling its weight in his hand, he reckoned it was a two point shot from the desk to the sink. Three points if it went down the disposal drain. He lofted the apple core with a high arc. The core sailed halfway toward the sink, then hit something and fell to the floor. Something invisible. Like when his bedroom door didn’t op
en all the way. Goosebumps sprouted on his arms like orange nubs on a basketball.

  His muscles tightened. “I know you’re in here.”

  Vissshhh-click.

  “You don’t have to hide.” Ben swallowed. “Can you make yourself visible?”

  “Yes.” A large green metallic robot with blue eyes materialized. “Hello, Ben.”

  Holy shit. Ben grabbed the table to steady himself. GranPat has a freakin’ robot!

  “Do not be frightened. I will not harm you. I serve Patrick, my commander.”

  The robot’s face resembled those from the OHW, and his cyborg doppelganger, Ben-Gen. “You’re from Erde, aren’t you?

  “Yes.” The voice sounded human.

  Ben tilted his head. “How do you know my name?”

  “Patrick mentioned a grandson, Ben.”

  “How do you know I’m Ben?”

  “A logical deduction. I study and observe humans. You are of an age and possess some of the Commander’s genetic features. You have access to his home, and you carry a portal medallion.”

  “Okay. But you’ve been in my house too. Haven’t you? Maybe even helped me push a car out of the snow the other night? Hid in my bedroom?”

  “Not me. Not yet.”

  Ben grimaced. “What’s your name?”

  “The Commander named me Amorphous, but refers to me as ‘Amo.’ The two syllable moniker saves him time.”

  “Ok, Amo. So, you’re saying some other invisible robot is hiding in my room?”

  “No. The other is my future-self.”

  “But it happened already. How can it be in my past and in your future?” Ben scratched his head, but kept his eyes on the large robot.

  “Patrick will program me to be your guardian soon. I will enter your past to protect you.”

  “Whoa. Time travel? You’re fucking kidding me.” Ben’s mind flashed to the accident that had killed his brother, Jack, two and a half years ago. Could I go back and save him! He narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute. How would you even know about something that didn’t happen yet?”

  After a few moments, Amo replied. “When the commander installed the advanced time microprocessor within my body, my future-self established contact. We communicate, but there are restrictions on sharing information that might damage or otherwise alter the timeline.”