When You Fail The Test Of Time
“Sorry, this is the real world, not science fiction! You can’t do time travel!” I told him adamantly.
“Agreed, I can’t send you back, or forward, 300 years or anything like that, but I tell you, time distortion of a few minutes, giving the effect of time travel, is possible. Look, I showed you that when I sent that package five minutes into the future. It disappeared, because it was no longer there, and then reappeared five minutes later, which is where I sent it.”
“I reckon you just hid it behind an internal screen, then at the right time, the screen raised, and, lo and behold, the package!”
“So how do I prove to you that I can distort time with my machine, so that you’ll believe me?”
I looked at the large chamber, and wondered if this was the moment for the big double bluff. “If it’s that good, send me forward in time, just by 5 minutes or so, enough that my watch will show the difference, but not enough to have any dramatic effect on my life. That would prove it.”
To say he looked doubtful at that idea, was putting it mildly. “But ... but, I’ve never tried it on anything more than a box, or case, or similar items, not even an animal as yet. I know it comes out looking the same, but I have no way of telling if that’s really the case. It could change the whole cellular structure, it could do anything to it.”
“It could, but you keep telling me its safe, and it doesn’t. So ... ? Of course, if your machine really is nothing more than a magic box, I’ll then know that, won’t I? It would spoil all your wonderful illusion, if I discover I’m here all the time, just hidden by a screen, wouldn’t it?” I assumed it was just a trick of the eye, and that at this point he would admit the fact, and that would be it. However, I was wrong, seemingly.
“Well, if its the only way I can prove it to you, you’d better go in the chamber, and experience time travel. Just don’t blame me if its a bumpy journey, that’s all. Five minutes, did you say?”
“I did. I have no desire to spend half my life traveling through time, thank you very much.”
“Technically you wouldn’t anyway; it will be you, as you are now, traveling through time, so in theory you could arrive in 2060, and still be 25.”
“Gee, thanks for that news. I feel so much better for that, but that had better not be the case!”
“It won’t be, I promise you. Right: its 7.16 in the evening now, given it will take me a couple of minutes to power this up, I’ll set it up to send you back here at 7.23, is that fine?”
“Yes, I think I can live with that somehow.”
I entered the chamber, and laid down on the table there. Normally, it was just a package put on it, but it seemed more than strong enough to take my weight.
Apparently, what he didn’t notice when setting up the time for me to return was that the software package had reset itself, and, instead of reading hours and minutes, it was reading years. And, of course, as it was using the 24 hour clock... But I certainly didn’t know this, and, seemingly, neither did he.
“Right, I will see you in about five minutes or so” was the last I heard before the chamber sent out a blinding flash of light, and it felt like I’d been hit with a knockout punch.
Finally … finally … I started to come round again, and something didn’t look right. Not only was I not in the chamber, I clearly wasn’t in the lab, either. It looked like a very basic apartment: poorly lit, no television, and laying on a bed that, while comfortable enough, looked more like something out of an old advert than my comfortable divan.
I could hear the sound of vehicles outside, so I went across to the window, to take a look. Hey, I didn’t realise a vintage car procession was taking place in town today! I looked around for Mark; he was nowhere to be seen. Probably just as well. I’d have told him off for dumping me in a place like this, given the chance.
Snag was, the moment I went outside, I felt out of place. Not in as I wasn’t in New York; I was, but this wasn’t modern day New York, I quickly realised. It wasn’t just the clothing everyone was wearing; it was the buildings that were the giveaway on that. As for when I saw the billboard proclaiming Charlie Chaplin’s new movie, that was when I knew something was wrong!
I hastened to a newspaper stand. That would give things away, even more so when he asked for a cent for the paper! Thankfully he didnt notice the date on the coin, or we might have had real fun. Ah well, at least I knew now. It was still 19th March, just that it was 1923, not 2013!
Oh, wonderful! How the hell do I get back, or indeed can I get back, as I assume the chamber is still in 2013. The silly thing just threw me back 90 years! Alright, even with a couple of hundred dollars in my purse, I’m rich beyond imagination back here, but I like my modern life and its little luxuries all the same. Fine, at least I have somewhere to live, but ... I want my Internet back!
I hung around for a few minutes, wondering if this would all last five minutes, then I’d reappear back in the right year, but nothing happened. Well, not strictly nothing—my style attracted more than a few curious glances, and my bottom got pinched a couple of times, but, other than that ...
“Hey doll, your clothes are a bit strange, but your figure is great. Can you dance at all? The boss is looking for a couple of girls for the chorus line, and, with those weapons, you’d be popular with the men!”
That was the moment I remembered that ‘back then’ ladies didn’t tend to be well built up top. Less fatty diets, no taking cars everywhere and all that. I mean, mine were only a pair of C’s, but compared to most around me, then yes, I was top heavy! Fortunately, I could dance a bit, though, naturally, more modern stuff than I thought this chorus line would need. But I’m a quick learner, it cant be that hard, so ... “Yes, I can dance a bit, as you put it. Lead the way, darling, I could do with a more exciting job.”
He did; I passed the audition and got the job. How much was down to my dancing skills, how much was down to my bosom bouncing as I danced, well, let’s not say about that! ;) But anyway, I quickly found my place in the Follies chorus line, found the routines easy to learn, and well, I seemed to have my own apartment, too. Money was enough to live on, even without the cash I’d bought with me, so, all in all, I settled into my new life quite well, considering the basic lifestyle, and even started to forget about matters like TV, Internet, and fast food. The pill supply lasted a while, giving me a very satisfactory sex life, and after they ran out … well, I was a bit more careful!
It was about a year later it happened: a new girl joined the dance line, called Louise. Can’t say I took much notice of her; far too full of herself for my liking, it had to be said. But at the same time, she was kind of cute. Yes, I swing both ways: guys and girls are of equal interest to me when it comes to company in bed. Not that I shout the latter too loudly, but, on the other hand, it seems a few of the team feel the same way, and hey, we have fun, especially at times in the month when we ‘mustn’t’ with men, unless we want undesired consequences!
Now normally, I wouldn’t push the matter. If a girl wants to try female company, I’m happy to provide service. If they want to stick to men, then fine, too. But as I said, Louise was cute, with her boyish haircut, and pout, and I wanted to share a bed with her. But she was only interested in men, so it seemed.
Then my chance arrived. One day she arrived at the theatre as wound up as a tight spring—something about news from Kansas about her mother, or something. Anyway, in my previous life (as I now looked on it), I’d dabbled with a little hypnosis, and I offered that as a service to help her relax a little. She accepted, and it worked a treat; I seemingly hadn’t lost the touch. Well yes, and alright, I was naughty: I slipped a few things in about fancying Mary, too.
It seemd to work. At the end of the show, I got one of her more seductive looks (and believe me, she had plenty), and suggestions of a nightcap somewhere. We did just that, an alcoholic one at a club I knew, and could easily get into, and then I had a more creamy nightcap from her delectable young body. She wasn’t bad herself, but clearly needed practice! ;) I obliged a few times over the next few months, purely for her education, of course.
Then she got her big break, went west, and into the movies. Me, I settled for progressing from chorus line to lead dancer in time. Funny thing was, about fifteen years later, I met her again, both of us with wealthy men on our arms. Mine I was married to, though even then he was more than happy for me to get close to ladies every once in a while—indeed it seemed to turn him on even more when I did. Louise, I gather, was with her man just for the night, let’s just leave it at that. I did consider suggesting a threesome, but apparently my husband had already suggested it, and agreed on the fee, and, a few nights later, I tasted her again, and she was still good. Oh, and her talents were definitely improved by then, as well.
Funnily enough, I died in 1978, 10 years to the day before I was born. Ironic, isn’t it?
“Oh, what happened in 2013?” I hear you ask—or maybe not. Well, seemingly the faulty software replicated me, and five minutes after he switched on, I walked out and kissed Mark sweetly on the lips. From there we went to bed, and I kissed him sweetly, err, somewhere else! We eventually married, lived happily ever after for 45 years, and then the replica version of Mary Nicholls passed away, on exactly the same day as me, 80 years removed.
Oh, hang on, just thinking about it now, was she really the replica, or was I? Hmm ...