Sliptime

by Jeffrey Grode

  A green mist enfolded them as they jumped to the future.

  Ben’s feet landed in ankle deep snow outside of Brandon’s patio door. A dark and cloudy sky hid the stars, but a string of small white lightbulbs illuminated the wooden deck above. A cluster of young people gathered on the upper deck as music leaked from inside the house. Nervous giggles emanated from three guests beneath the deck as they passed around a doobie. A boy with a green cap inhaled the pungent smoke.

  Jack’s hand squeezed Ben’s shoulder as if to say still here.

  “Do you see her?” Ben whispered. He wondered if she might appear, or act, noticeably different from the last time he’d seen Terra’s Lori. Would she wear too much makeup or appear callous? He couldn’t imagine Earth’s Lori ever hurting anyone.

  Jack scanned the crowd. “No. Let’s go inside.”

  “Okay, but don’t break contact.”

  They squeezed through the ground level patio door and were careful not to bump into anyone. The big screen television provided the only light in the dim basement. As Ben’s eyes adjusted, he recognized familiar faces—all busy talking, making out, or watching an old vampire movie. Others hung around the bar as Vic mixed drinks. No sign of Brandon or Lori.

  “Fight!” someone screamed upstairs. A chant ensued one level up, “Fight, fight, fight.” Partygoers in the basement chimed in and raced for the steps. “Fight, fight, fight . . .”

  Jack nudged Ben toward the corner to avoid the rush. “Hold on,” he whispered.

  Ben felt an elbow in his back, turned, and came face to face with the dude wearing the green cap. The boy’s red rimmed eyes grew wide when he saw Ben and Jack appear. “Whoaaaa. Where did—”

  Ben pushed ‘green cap’ back into the rush of people scurrying to the floor above.

  “That’s it,” Ben whispered to Jack. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “No,” Jack demanded. “We go upstairs as planned and finish this.”

  Ben took a deep breath and saw the stairway had emptied. “All right.” He led Jack single file up the steps and immediately flattened against the wall when Trudy dashed past them crying. Why is she here? Hadn’t Terra’s Brandon already dumped her? Ben’s troubled eyes followed Trudy down the stairs. His heart ached to see her in pain.

  “Keep moving.” Jack squeezed Ben’s shoulder.

  Beer cans, bottles, and plastic cups littered the kitchen table. Corn chips and pretzels lay crushed and scattered across the sticky floor. Techno-rock music played as people squeezed into the living room. Ben and Jack, still invisible to those around them, followed.

  Brandon held someone in a headlock in the center of the living room. Someone who looked a lot like Jack after losing a fistfight.

  Ben stopped in his tracks and glanced over his shoulder. Jack still held onto Ben’s shoulder, but Brandon held Jack’s future-self like a limp puppet.

  “Balls up, that’s me.” Jack whispered.

  Ben shook his head. “Future you. Looks like you went all in.” Ben discovered his future-self sprawled on the floor holding an empty cup, and very drunk.

  Brandon gave future-Jack a squeeze. “You, my friend, have a lot of nerve showing up at my house and getting froggy with me.”

  Brandon’s hair looked tousled and his right eye bruised. Lori stood with her arms folded and scowled at a bloodied Jack. Her eyes, bright as a torch, radiated both anger and contempt. Charmaine stood on Lori’s right. No one stepped forward to help.

  Brandon continued. “You don’t get to touch Lori. Ever. Lay a hand on her, or me, again, I’ll break your fucking legs. See if Pitt will let you keep your fancy scholarship then.”

  “Some friend you are,” Jack squeaked through the chokehold. “You stole my girl.”

  “She came to me. Besides, you’re the one who left.”

  “Let’hem go, Brando,” future-Ben blathered from the living room floor. “He shtill lovessher.”

  Brandon threw Jack down to the floor next to Ben’s future-self. “What do you know about love, Charlie Horse? You crash the party and steal a kiss from Trudy, while Ruth sits at home crying over you. You could have at least visited Ruth once in a while. You’re a piece of work.”

  Charmaine huffed. “More like Charlie Pig. Ruth’s having your baby, and you’re hitting on her sister?”

  Vic entered the room and started a group chant. “Pig, pig, pig, pig . . .”

  Ben swallowed hard. Ruth’s pregnant? But I haven’t . . . Oh my God. Phased-Ben felt someone pull on his shoulder.

  “C’mon. We have to go. Now,” Jack whispered.

  Ben snuck a last look at their future-selves. Boy, did we fuck up.

  Jack grabbed his arm and pulled him through the foyer and into the empty sitting room. “We can fix this. Take us back now.”

  Ben used the origin setting to return to the past. The green light swirled and they were back to Jack’s kitchen, a second or so after they’d left. Ginger barked as they materialized.

  Jack flopped down onto the kitchen chair. “Was that really us?”

  “That’s us if we go to the party.” Ben’s fingers shook as he found a glass from the cupboard and filled it with tap water.

  “I must have hit him good. Did you see his black eye?” Jack wore a sad smile.

  “I did. You got the worst of it. He could have snapped your neck.”

  “I know.” Jack’s brows furrowed. “I fucked up. Did you see the way Lori looked at me? Like I was some dick-weed asshole!” Jack lowered his head in his hands. “She didn’t lift a finger to help me.”

  “She’s changed, bro. You gotta let her go!”

  Jack’s eyes pleaded with him. “We can fix this. We need to try again.”

  “No we don’t. You saw what happened. Nothing good will come of going back again. Shit. You hit Brandon!” Ben grit his teeth. “We fix this by not going to the party at all.”

  “Not go? That’s ridiculous! Now that we know what’ll happen, we can act differently. What if I never touch Lori or hit Brandon? Maybe, I get him to beat me up and . . . Lori will feel sorry for me. I could win her back.”

  “My brother would never have settled for pity. You saw Lori’s eyes. Did you see a hint of compassion?”

  Jack sighed. “Not one bit. You’re right. She’s changed.” He pulled a cold beer out of the fridge, popped the top, and took a sip. “What happens if we don’t go? Will that mess up the future?”

  “Don’t think so. At least not for us. Skip the party and skip the drama. None of that will have even occurred.” He sipped his water.

  “What about that timeline?” Jack took a deep swallow of beer.

  “Never happened. Froggy Jack and Drunken Ben don’t get to exist.”

  “Wow. We erased them. Isn’t that the same fate Amo saved us from today?” Jack took another swig. “Sounds like we’re playing God.”

  Ben felt nauseous. “No. Remember, it hasn’t even happened yet. I’m just using science, and trying not to hurt anyone.”

  “Not intentionally, but it happens. So what do we do now?”

  He grimaced. “Did you know about Ruth’s pregnancy?”

  “Oooh, sorry,” Jack said. “Nobody shared that secret with me. I would have told you if I’d known. I even—”

  “Warned me about having sex with her last summer. I remember and . . .” Ben sighed. “I have to see Ruth.”

  Ginger whined and walked toward the back door.

  “Are you sure? I mean do you still have feelings for her? It’s been what . . . four months? Why didn’t you ever go back to see her?” Jack got up and let Ginger out the back door. A blast of cold air whistled into the kitchen.

  “You know we had to lay low with FBI watching us. Look, I live in another universe. Trudy is my girlfriend back home. Ruth isn’t . . . I mean, I’m not . . .” He hung his head. “I’m still responsible, aren’t I?” He met his doppel-brother’s eyes.

  “Yes, you are.” Jack took another swallow. “What if you zip back in time and . . . tel
l your past self to skip the sex with Ruth? Make it so it never happened. You’d both be free.”

  “Now who’s playing God?” Ben stood and began to pace. “I’m only in high school. How could I be a good father . . . I don’t even live in this world?”

  “You can visit her anytime now.”

  “Yea. I know.” Ben stopped pacing and leaned on the counter.

  Jack folded his arms. “Do you love her?”

  “I thought so at the time.” Ben frowned. “She’s very nice but, now there’s Trudy back home.” Not to mention . . . Lori. No. Don’t even go there.

  “You should see Ruth. Tonight. You owe her that much.”

  Ben sighed. “You’re right. Okay. I’ll go see her.”

  “It may not go well. Want me to go with you?” Jack chucked the empty can into the recycle bin.

  “I’ll be okay.” Ben tilted his head. “What’ll you be doing?”

  “When?” Jack peeked out the kitchen window.

  “You’re planning to see Lori, aren’t you?” He cannot go to that party.

  “Yup. But sooner. Before she goes to the party.”

  “Okay,” Ben said. “Here’s what we do. We call them first and make appointments. I’ll wait for you in the car, and you’ll wait for me. We make sure that neither of us goes to the party.”

  “Done.” Jack nodded. “Let’s make those calls.”

  Chapter 17

  Patrick sat on a padded stool in the phased lab and examined Amorphous. The bright light revealed the extensive damage to Amo’s legs.

  “Where will you find replacement legs?” Amo asked. “Not all robotic parts are interchangeable.”

  “We found a robot just like you buried beneath my yard. Must have been covered by dirt and debris durin’ the battle. Fortunately, it doesn’t look damaged. We can either transplant his legs onto you, or plug your microprocessor into his port. You could just wake up in his body.”

  “What color were his eyes?”

  “Green.” Patrick tilted his head. “Why?”

  Amo blinked his blues eyes. “This may be problematic. Though the robot may look similar, it will likely have alternate programming and internal components. The green-eyed model belongs to the Kommunikation Direktive, created to facilitate communication, transportation, and recently, teleportation. I entered the portal with one such robot named Zander.”

  “What was Zander’s mission?”

  “Secret,” Amo said. “I did not have access.”

  Patrick picked up the grey metal orb he’d removed from the green-eyed Zander. “Will this help us find out?”

  Visshhh-click. “Yes. We will need an interface to protect my circuits.”

  “You have a spare port under your right arm. Could we use that?”

  “No. Too dangerous. We must first determine the level of encryption and defensive attributes before we plug it into my port. There may be a failsafe virus, an explosive trigger, or command codes meant to override my programming.”

  Patrick shook his head. “We can’t take that chance. What kind of interface do we need?”

  “A computer you could sacrifice and a spare robotic port from your inventory.”

  “I have an extra telework computer in my cellar no one will miss it if it explodes, but I’ll need to slip into the S&T lab for the robotic port. That could be a problem. They’ll be lookin’ for this.” He tossed the orb in the air and caught it on the way down. “There might be trouble.”

  “You may remove my spare port for the interface.” Amo’s blue eyes blinked. “I will be safe as long as it is unattached.”

  “Wait.” He scratched his head. “Won’t you still be vulnerable to a wifi or radio signal?”

  “Do not worry. I have radio wave jamming defenses. Please proceed.”

  Patrick stood and adjusted the lab’s time modulation. “Thank you, Amo. Luckily, we have plenty of time in the phased lab to decipher this before Dr. Caliban will even miss me or Zander’s microprocessor.”

  He moved toward Amo with a screwdriver. “Lift your arm please.”

  “Please be careful, Commander. I am ticklish.”

  Patrick’s eyes opened wide. “Really?”

  “No. Just kidding. Was I funny?”

  Patrick threw back his head and laughed. “I needed that.”

  Albert sighed as Betsy put her arms around him. He’d worried she might remember seeing him during the surgery, but she hadn’t recalled anything that occurred during the procedure. So far her re-programming had been successful. Patsy seemed cheerful as well. He hugged them both.

  “Patsy, would you mind packing my overnight bag, I have a few last minute things in the lab that need my attention?”

  “Okay, but don’t lose track of time. I want to reach Carlston before dark,” Patsy said.

  Earlier that morning, he’d found a way to open the stolen bronze medallion and peel back the circuitry and components. Patrick’s teleportation and communication circuits were similar to those in his silver medallion, aside from the tiny microprocessor component he hadn’t recognized.

  Albert examined the exterior dials and recognized the functions for location, frequency, and teleportation, but two new functions were linked to the microprocessor. One had a small “p” indicator, and the other expressed date and year.

  Remembering Patrick’s exuberance regarding the creation of his phased laboratory, Albert surmised the “p” stood for “phase.” What might happen if you phased a person? Albert frowned. “Patrick, damn your luck!” he shouted in the basement laboratory where only the mice could hear. Invisibility!

  Albert frowned and opened his collar. Sweat clung to his forehead in stark contrast to the frigid wind beating against the basement window. His fingers shook as he moved the dial for the date. The numerals representing days, months, and years could be moved forward and backward. “No, you didn’t.” He stared at the mechanism. “Time travel?” The sonofabitch eclipsed me!

  He experimented with the settings. The phase function made his skin itch. He walked upstairs, looked into his bedroom mirror, but saw no reflection. Ha. I’m invisible. As he moved to the stair the floor creaked.

  “Dad. Is that you? We’re almost ready to go,” called Patsy.

  “Be just another minute.” Holding his breath so he wouldn’t growl, Albert adjusted the date function back four months around the time Patrick had rescued him from the brutal incarceration by the FBI. The look Betsy had given Patrick during that rescue was both wicked and inexplicable, and Albert’s curiosity would not suffer his ignorance. Though the rescue had happened on Earth, Albert planned to visit his home on Terra at 10:00 p.m. the night before the rescue.

  A green mist enveloped Albert and transported him back in time to his foyer. Night cloaked the house in darkness, save for the tiny glow of a night-light. As he moved past the foyer mirror, he did so without a reflection.

  Faint music played upstairs. He climbed the steps slowly, but as he drew near his bedroom, he heard bedsprings squeak in rhythm with the music. Through the closed door, he heard his wife moan. The dark empty space in his heart filled with hate . . . and jealousy. I’ve never even heard such a sound from Betsy in the last thirty years.

  Waiting for them to finish proved difficult, but he had to be sure. Was it truly his doppelganger, Patrick, bedding his wife? If so, I would kill him with my own invisible hands. Poetic justice rendered through Patrick’s own invention.

  Albert ground his teeth. No. I can’t kill him now. Patrick must first suffer the devastation of his hopes and dreams, pay for his indecent transgressions, and discover the better scientist had eclipsed him and his meager abilities. Besides, if he changed the past by killing Patrick, who would save him from the FBI? A truly just end would require some thoughtful planning.

  The door opened suddenly, jolting him from his contemplation. Albert stepped back against the wall as Patrick and Betsy slipped past. Her anxious smile assailed his trust and the guarded tenderness he’d held for his wife
. She was most complicit.

  Betsy followed Patrick into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and closed the door. Dumbstruck, Albert remembered sharing a shower with her only once, and that was on their wedding night. Nevertheless, after seeing himself cuckolded, he no longer felt the least bit of shame for reprogramming her new implant. She is mine now.

  Albert set new coordinates on the bronze medallion and returned to the present.

  “Patsy,” he called, “I need another thirty minutes to set things straight in the lab.”

  “No problem,” said Patsy. “Mom’s laid down for a little nap. Take your time.”

  Once in the basement lab, he reopened the bronze medallion and set his trap.

  Lovitsky waited in his car outside the Grover Cleveland high school in Carlston. As a licensed private investigator he had several ongoing investigations, but this job was off-book. Ben had been evading him. Lovitsky hoped the new S&T scanner he had borrowed from Agent Gendrick would detect if Ben Fuller teleported anywhere. If successful, he hoped to get his FBI job back. I just need to catch a break.

  Patrick and Amo took six hours inside the phased lab to discover Zander’s mission, but only one second of real time had passed when he re-entered his basement. He could rush back outside and tell Simmons, who was probably still exhuming Zander, not to power up the green-eyed robot and why. However, since Simmons really worked for the FBI, Patrick’s discovery would only draw unwanted attention from law enforcement. They would ask him how he determined the robot’s mission so quickly and demand he relinquish the orb. FBI Agent Gendrick might feel obligated to arrest him for obstruction. He couldn’t let that happen now. There was far too much work to do.

  Patrick shaved, showered, and dressed. Through an upstairs window, he watched them load Zander onto the flatbed, cover him with a tarp, and tie him down. This green-eyed robot was more dangerous than they’d imagined. Though it had no external weapons, Zander had an internal communication beacon that could open a portal to the planet Erde. Its microprocessor had been programmed to generate the beacon signal upon tactical direction from its commander, or if it came under direct attack. But for the piece of shrapnel in its chest, Zander could have once more opened Earth for an invasion by Erde.