21st Century Man

The Time Traveler tossed the last piece of bread to the ground and watched as the mass of pigeons scrambled furiously for possession of the morsel.1

He would often come here to the park and sit for an hour or so in the morning just to collect his thoughts. This day, however, he had spent all day here, wandering aimlessly through its gardens and around the big pond, feeding the ducks and pigeons from a brown paper bag full of the previous week’s stale bread crusts. Today was the day-of-days and as he had wandered he had rerun all his calculations, ensuring that everything he had thought to be sound was checked and doubly checked. 2

And now, as the sun had begun to set below the London skyline, he was ready.3

He left through the heavy wrought-iron gates that would soon be locked for the night by the Park Keeper. Made his way down Carnby Street and crossed over the junction of Essex Road, carefully avoiding the bustle of carriages and coaches as they rattled and clacked their way along the thoroughfare, their horses breath billowing in white clouds around their heads and their drivers bundled in heavy overcoats against the chilly evening air.4

The street his home and laboratory resided on was still lit by gas lamps and the smell of coal gas hung heavy in the air as the lamp lighter made his way from lamp to lamp carrying his step-ladder in one hand and his lamp-lighter in the other. It was a welcome and familiar sight and the man touched the tip of his cap politely as he spotted the Time-Traveler passing by beneath him.5

The three reporters were waiting for him on the steps to his front door. They caught sight of him as he rounded the corner and immediately made their way towards him like a hungry pack of Barracuda.6

“Professor, can we get a comment,” said the first one to reach him, a stubby pencil poised over a note pad of paper.
“Is it true,” said the second reporter before the Time Traveler could respond, “Have you built a time machine? Do you really think you can travel through time?”
“Could you get me the winner of tomorrow’s twelve-thirty steeplechase?” said the third. A comment which elicited a burst of raucous laughter from all three of them.7

The Time Traveler felt a bolt of anger explode through his veins but he held his tongue, knowing full well that anything that he said in anger to these scurrilous dogs would appear in the gutter press the very next morning. And he most definitely did not need any more attention. Instead, he held his anger, tipped his hat to them and with a muttered “Good evening to you, gentlemen,” he pushed his way past the smirking group of reporters and made his way briskly up the steps to his front door, slamming it shut behind him, silencing the world and the laughing fools beyond it.8

He had left early that morning, not bothered to light a fire, so the house was cold but as he made his way down the wainscoted corridor leading to his laboratory he felt beads of sweat prickle his forehead. Nerves, he thought. He had not felt this disquieted in a very long time and yet, beneath the churning of his stomach that he tried to ignore, a feeling of exhilaration, exciting and thrilling, had begun to replace the tension and nervousness.9

A great deal rested on tonight’s experiment; not least of all his credibility and reputation as a legitimate scientist. The rags that passed themselves off as newspapers had dragged his name into the gutter, labeling him a ‘quack’ and a ‘pseudo-scientist of the worst possible sort”. But tonight - tonight he would prove them all wrong. He had invested all of his meager savings into this project, if it failed … no! It could not fail. He had worked indefatigably for the past nine years. It had to work.10

At the end of the corridor he unlocked the door to his lab with the key he kept on a chain around his neck, stepped inside, closed the door and slid two heavy iron deadbolts into place. He did not trust that the three reporters who haunted his front stoop would not let their curiosity get the better of them. He doubted that they would be averse to a little breaking-and-entering if they thought they might get a story from it.
Having no idea what forces his machine might unleash, he could afford to take no chances that a tool or some discarded material from the assembly process would throw the proverbial ‘spanner-in-the-works’ either figuratively or literally. The results of such an accident would prove to be disastrous for both himself and his machine. So, he had removed everything from the room the previous night and it was now empty save for a wooden workbench along the southern wall and a large shapeless mass covered by a blanket of oilcloth that hid his time machine. 11

He pulled the oilcloth away in one swift movement, folded it carefully and set it in the cupboard beneath the work bench before turning and gazing upon his creation.12

To most eyes it would seem an ungainly looking contraption, he knew. But to him it was a thing of beauty, the results of so many years of labor and frustration. 13

It consisted of a large wrought iron platform, eight feet in length and three wide, sitting atop a set of skids much as you might find on a sleigh, attached to the base of the machine by reinforced springs that would – hopefully - compensate for any miscalculation on his part as to his height above the ground upon landing in the future (for that is where he had decided to venture). A large coil, coated in gold and standing close to six feet in height was attached to the plain of the machine by a filigreed tube of silver sheathed around a lead core. Jutting out from each corner of the base were four arms made from similar material, each capped with a small globe of gold. A voltaic pile sat towards the rear; this would act as a stored energy source and supply him with the power to return from whence he came. This in turn was connected to a generator located in the basement of his house that, when engaged, would produce the energy required to catapult him through time. 14

Finally, at the center of his time machine was a console that allowed him to set the exact date and time that he required to travel to and adjacent to that, a seat he had extracted from an old horse-carriage that would provide some modicum of comfort and security should the ride become turbulent.
And now, he realized, he was ready. He checked his pocket watch, jotting down the exact time in a small notebook he kept in his jacket’s inner pocket: 7:18 P.M. He stepped up onto the platform and sat in the carriage chair, regarding the control panel. He deftly set the controls to the furthest time that he had calculated he could reach and safely return from using the energy reserves stored in the voltaic pile: September 15th, 2095. 15

Having completed all of his checks he took one final look around his bare laboratory and then slowly pushed a silver lever on the side of the control panel until it engaged with a pair of contacts.16

A low hum immediately began to emanate from the coil above his head. A judder passed through the machine and, for an instant, it was as though he was regarding the room from the bottom of a swimming pool or through some watery lens. The room swam and melted in the most peculiar way before it cleared and steadied once more. The odd effect was over within a matter of seconds but it was only with the utmost of concentration that he managed to avoid vomiting over his control panel.17

The hum turned into a low, base thrum that reverberated through the machine. The Time Traveler could feel it pulsing through the very marrow of his bones. As if synchronized with the sound the light in the basement seemed to dim and then brighten until, within a matter of seconds, a steady beat had been established, like the inhale and exhale of breath of some sleeping giant. 18

Thrummm! Darkness. 19

Thrummm! Light20

The rate began to pick up speed as each pulse became shorter.
Thrum! Darkne … Thrum! Light … Thrum! Dar … Thrum! Ligh Thrum! Da … Thrum! Li …21

Until finally, the sound and the light merged into one experience that defied his senses. He could neither hear nor see and yet he could feel the presence of these senses and the sum of that presence was blackness. Blackness that, save for the struggling illumination of his machine’s control panel was impenetrable. He was floating in … nothingness. 22

The sound of the machine had been replaced by something new: a rapid thumping. His heart, he realized after a few moments, beating against his ribcage in abject fear. He had expected this, although not to the terrifying extent that he was now experiencing. He was travelling outside of the normal realms of space and time, crossing boundaries that no mortal man before him had even contemplated existed let alone passed through.23

The Time Traveler took several deep breaths and as his heart rate began to slow and his breathing steady, looked down at the counter on his console. The date was moving rapidly now, days flying by in an instant, years moving by in minutes. At this rate he would be at his destination in – he quickly calculated the time in his head – thirty five minutes. Thirty-five minutes and he would have travelled almost three-hundred years into the future. 24

He occupied his time with wondering what strange new world he could expect; what wonders of humanity would he see? How much closer to perfection would his race be? Illness, would it be eliminated? Would they greet him as a hero? Could he even reveal himself? 25

A bulb on his console began to flash, drawing his attention away from his reverie and back to the reality of his situation. All his questions were about to be answered because that little red light was warning him that his trip was about to end. He flipped a switch and pulled a handle and immediately felt the steady thrum of the machine begin again, this time reversed and, like some giant kaleidoscope, reality began to reform in front of his eyes. A piece of green here, a sound there. With each passing second the patchwork image of reality began to piece itself back together, all to the steady sensual beat of his machines engine. 26

Until finally, he landed.27

####28

His machine sat half on a patch of very green grass, the other half on what looked like a concrete path. It was dark but several street lamps were placed at regular intervals along the pathway, and as he slowly became more aware of his location he could make out the shadowy shapes of what looked to be … benches. Park benches? 29

He hopped out of the seat and stepped from the pedestal of the machine down to the ground below him. The grass crunched beneath his feet and he realized that it was beginning to freeze. The cold was already beginning to bite through his thin clothing.30

“Where on earth am, I?” he said aloud and was astonished to receive an answer. 31

“Heath Park, Sir. You’re in Heath Park.”32

The Time Traveler spun around to face the source of the voice. A thin man, in his late sixties he guessed, stood before him. He was dressed in a dark uniform with a peaked cap – too large for the sparrow of a man’s head - perched awkwardly atop a head of thinning gray hair.33

“Is this Twenty-Ninety-Five,” the Time Traveler blurted excitedly.34

The man tilted his head to one side and spoke slowly, raising his voice and elongating each word as if he was speaking to a foreigner, “No… this… is… Heath… Parrrrk.” Before muttering, “And the park is closed, sir.”35

“No. No. You misunderstand me, “Said the Time Traveler, “Is this the year Twenty-Ninety-Five?”36

The old man in the uniform seemed amused, “No, sir. This is eighteen-ten and the park is still closed. How did you get in here anyways? I locked the gate not five minutes ago. And what is that?” He pointed a thin finger at the Time Machine. “I hope you haven’t damaged the park’s lawn?” The old man got down on one knee to inspect the lawn where it met the machines skids.37

“Eighteen-ten,” the Time Traveler repeated, grabbing the arm of the stranger. “That cannot be right. You must be mistaken. What day is it? What time?”38

“Sir, please” said the old man, “I’m just the park-keeper. I don’t want any trouble.”39

“What day is it?” he repeated, “What time? Please. It is very important.”40

With a sigh, the old man got to his feet and pulled a fob watch from his pocket, squinting in the dim light of the gas lamps. “It is almost twenty passed seven and today is Thursday. Thursday the tenth of October. “41

“Impossible,” the Time Traveler roared. “Impossible.” It was still the same day and, if this man was to be believed, only two minutes had passed by since he had activated his machine, and yet his own watch indicated that he had been travelling for almost thirty minutes. He grabbed the watch from the Park Keeper; it was as he had said, seven twenty. 42

He had actually lost time. And, to cap it all, not only had he lost time but he had travelled less than a quarter of a mile. He could have walked three times that distance in the amount of time he had been sitting at the controls of this infernal machine. It was a failure. An abject failure. His heart sank and he felt a cold tear begin to slip down his cheek. 43

He was ruined.44

The Time Traveler, his head sunk to the point that his chin rested against his chest, turned and began to walk away, back towards the gates that would take him to the street. It was just a five minute walk to his house from here.45

“Hey! You can’t leave this thing here,” yelled the old man, gesturing to the time machine. 46

The Time Traveler stopped. “You keep it,” he mumbled. “It’s of no use to me.”47

“What am I going to do with a great big lump of worthless metal? Get it off my park now … or I’ll summon the police.”48

The last thing he needed now was to be arrested and dragged before the local magistrate. If he could keep this failure a secret he might be able to at least salvage something of his reputation, he reasoned. With a sigh, he turned away from the gate and walked back to the machine. 49

“That’s more like it,” said the old man. “Now, I’m off to finish my rounds. I want this thing gone by the time I get back.” And on that final note the old man walked away and was soon swallowed up by the blackness.50

The Time traveler climbed slowly back into his machine, adjusted a few dials, pressed the silver switch and within a few seconds was gone.51

####52

The old man watched from the shadows as the Time Traveler climbed into his machine and, after a few moments splintered and vanished back to where he had come from. When he was sure he was alone, he walked swiftly across the park and entered a small building set off to one side of the path. He checked that the grounds were still empty one last time before closing the door behind him and then pressing a switch on the wall. Instantly, the room filled with light and revealed the others who stood at the blacked-out window that had allowed them to view the proceedings without being observed themselves.53

“You think he believed you?” asked a tall man with curly brown hair.54

“I think he did,” said the old man as he began peeling off the prosthetic nose and removing the thick fake eyebrows that had helped to disguise the features of the much younger man beneath them. “He had me worried there for a second when he started heading to the gate but I know he bought it.”55

“Good,” said a woman who was seated at a table, her hands busily typing at a keyboard attached to a visual recording system that was playing back the whole event in triple time. “Now, all that remains is for us to ensure that the time line is unchanged. Jason, do you have an analysis yet?”56

A disembodied male voice floated through the air, human sounding yet obviously manufactured, “ Yes. I do. My analysis of the time line shows minimal disruption, the integrity appears to be holding true to its original course. ”57

“Excellent,” said the woman as she raised herself from her chair. 58

“Congratulations, Mr. Wells, you appear to have stopped a major time-line disruption. “ She reached out and shook the hand of the man who until moments ago had been the Park Keeper. “We owe you a debt of gratitude.”59

The man smiled a half-smile. “I can’t help but feel bad about this. I mean, he is the first time-traveler. He invented it for God’s sake and we just managed to convince him that his machine doesn’t work. It just seems wrong somehow, the man is a genius.”60

The tall man placed a hand on Mr. Wells shoulder, “No. What was genius was how you estimated where he would land and setting up all of this.” He swept his free hand to take in the park outside the window. “The attention to detail is fantastic. No way could we have achieved this without your meticulous research and, besides, you know as well as I that the consequences of allowing him to think that he had successfully travelled through time would have been disastrous. You know that, you saw the simulation of what happened.”61

“ I can show you the simulation again, if it would help you? ” came the synthesized voice.62

“No, there isn’t any need to do that. It’s just that knowing what will happen to him now, the ridicule and pain that he’s going to face. I mean, the man dies penniless on the street for God’s sake and I’m the one who is responsible for it.”63

“It’s for the greater good,” said the woman, “and your conscience is just going to have to deal with it.”64

The two men nodded.65

“Okay,” said the woman, a cheerier note entering her voice. “Let’s get out of here. It’s been a long day and we have homes to get to. Jason, please turn out the lights after we have gone.”66

“ Of course, ” came the reply.67

The three left through a second door and a moment after it had closed, the view outside the window flickered and spluttered and then vanished as the computer switched off the holographic projectors that had provided the simulation of the park, replaced now by the cold concrete of the empty warehouse that two hundred years in the past had been the site of the home of the first man to travel through time.68

####69

It was a strange realization for the Time Traveler to arrive back home just moments after he had originally set off. His own watch indicated that close to one and a half hours had passed for him but when he checked the clock in his living room, only ten minutes had actually gone by. His brain ached with the complications that had arisen from his journey. He had to think about this. He had to rest. 70

And with that, he climbed the creaking stairs to his bedroom and fell into a restless, dreamless sleep.71

*** THE END ***72

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