Just a matter of time

Just a matter of time


"The only thing more absurd than that DeLorean," Sam sneered, as the credits started scrolling up the big screen, "is the locomotive they used in this movie.  A flying, time traveling train engine?  Get real!"

"It's just a movie, Sam!" replied Jessica in an exasperated tone.  "And anyway," she continued, "if you think it's so ridiculous, why did you want to come see it?"

"Because Chris Lloyd always cracks me up," retorted Sam.  "He was easily the funniest guy on that cabbie show, and that movie with the little blond kid was a modern-day 'Ransom of Red Chief'."

"Well, if you were designing a time travel device, what would you use?" a voice asked quietly.

Sam and Jessica turned in their seats.  In the row behind them sat a man of average appearance, probably somewhere in his thirties.  He had shortish black hair, and was wearing rimless glasses, jeans, and a gray sweatshirt with "E=mc2" on the front.  Behind the glasses, his eyes appraised them calmly even as his face showed clear interest in whatever answer Sam might give.

"Did you just ask me how I'd design a time machine?" Sam asked, somewhat incredulously.

"Yes, I did," the man replied.  "The name's Errel - like that actor, Flynn, but 'e' instead of 'o' - Mavetti.  You've seen at least two movies with this plot device and you seem to disagree with how the filmmakers executed the idea.  So, I wondered: how would you do it?"

"Okay," Sam answered, "I'll play along."  He was silent for a few moments, then he said, "If the time travel's going to happen right here on Earth, as opposed to out in space or something, I think it would have to be some sort of stationary device, maybe something like that sled Rod Taylor built in 'The Time Machine'.  You have a whole different set of problems to solve, if your time machine has to be moving when it makes the... 'transition', I guess... to the new time.  I think you'd still be moving when you arrived, and would have to worry about running right into something."

Jessica stood up.  "I'm going to the bathroom, and then down to the food court," she declared.  "You two can stay and talk for a bit, if you want; I'll tell the manager.  I'm sure he won't mind, since the next show doesn't start for an hour, and since he's my brother."  She walked up the aisle and out the doors.

Another thought occurred to Sam.  "I would try to make it more portable, too.  Taylor had a real hard time moving that sled around."

"Portable," repeated Errel.  "You mean portable, like this?"  He pointed to what looked like a large, multi-function sports watch on his wrist, then rotated the face a bit and pressed its center.  Instantly, the theater - and the seats - vanished, and both men went from sitting to sprawled on the ground.

Errel got right up and began dusting himself off; stunned, Sam stayed where he was.

"What... what...," Sam finally stammered.  "What happened to the theater?  What happened to everyone?  WHERE ARE WE?"

"Everything and everyone is right where - and when - we left them," Errel calmly replied, "and we are right where we were; we're just not right when we were.  You are now where you'll be sitting exactly thirty years from now."

"We traveled thirty years back in time?" Sam exclaimed.  "That's impossible!"

"I find 'impossible' to be a relative term," Errel answered drily.  "You're a link in a long chain, Sam," he went on.  "You have, and you will have, some good ideas.  But you've been pretty discouraged for awhile, so I got permission to take you on this little trip.  You won't actually remember it, of course; too dangerous.  You will retain that exhilarating feeling of adventure you're starting to experience, though, and that will be enough to keep you inspired for a long, long time."  He led Sam a few feet up the gentle slope, then took what looked like a thick pen from a small case on his belt.

"You're kidding, right?" Sam snorted.  "You're going to use that thing to erase my memory, just like-"

"Sam," the other interrupted, "not every device of the future is based on some science fiction film prop."  The pen flashed.  "But some are," he said, smiling to himself.

***

"Well, I think we've kept your lady friend waiting long enough," Sam heard, as he found himself focusing on the conversation, instead of letting his mind wander off to wherever it had been.

"It was nice chatting with you, Sam.  See you around, perhaps."  The man rose, walked up the aisle and disappeared through the doors.  After a few moments, so did Sam.

That evening, Sam beckoned Jessica over to his computer.  "I found this the other day," he said, "Look."  He entered "http://wordsmith.org/anagram/index.html" into the browser window; a moment later, the program's main page appeared.

"You type in a word or a name, and the program creates anagrams from the letters.  Let's see what we get from your name."  He typed 'JessicaBell' into the text box and clicked the 'Get anagrams' button; eighty-four combinations popped up.  Sam read the first one and almost choked with laughter.  Somehow, Jessica seemed less than amused, that the first word it had made was 'scabies'.

"Okay, I'm sorry.  I'm sorry!" Sam apologized, mirth still evident on his face.  "Wait a minute, how about that guy we met at the movies.  What was his name?  It was kind of odd, so we should get some pretty interesting anagrams out of it."

"His name was Errel Mavetti," Jessica finally said, glad someone else's name was about to be mangled.  Sam typed in the name and clicked the button.  The third entry - RELATIVE TERM - echoed in his head, but it was the fifth one that caught his eye: TRAVELER TIME.

"Now isn't THAT interesting."


[987 words]