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ELMO’S INVENTION: CHAPTER 9, ELMO FINDS A USE FOR HIS MACHINE
CHAPTER 9
ELMO FINDS A USE FOR HIS MACHINE
But first, a message from my poet friend, Steve.
Local poet Steve Kupferschmid has published a poetry chapbook with Kelsay Books entitled “Weight of Water.” The thirty-one poems in the collection reflect upon the joys and sorrows of youth and age, of love and loss. Compact in form yet rich in imagery, this collection offers an enjoyable, memorable read. Available from Amazon or any bookstore.
I have heard my friend, Steve, read his poems and they call to mind the poems of Billy Collins. Poems which tell a story, but at the same time, have a deeper meaning
The day after Kingsley’s visit Mildred called. Elmo answered the phone expecting more trouble, “Hello.”
“Hello. It’s me. I miss you so much, but I just couldn’t take the conflict and uproar. I’m coming home. I hope all the protests are over.”
“It’s all over, Mil. My invention is history. I’m not even going to patent it, it’s done.”
Mildred could hear the disappointment, the depression in his voice. She loved him so much and wanted to comfort him in his loss. She said, “Elmo, I’ll be home as soon as I can. I love you.”
He responded, “I love you too, Mil. And I realize more than ever how much I need you. Hurry home.”
After hanging up the phone, Elmo immediately felt better, but at the same time, he felt disappointed that his efforts had resulted in a failed device, and when an unintended use was identified, an angry mob descended on Los Alamos. Would the folks of Los Alamos ever forgive him for causing so much disruption in their community? Would society ever understand that he thought his machine might help and not harm? How long would it take for his life to return to normal? All these thoughts were on his mind as he waited for his love to come home.
Mildred arrived the next day to the open arms of her husband.
The city cleared most of the trash, but there was no way that things would be back to normal for a long time. Mounds of debris still littered the front yard and the curb. Neighbors passed by and shook their heads. Cars passed by and slowed down to take in the site of the event that marred their community.
Mildred said, “I can’t wait until all this disruption is over and our life returns to what it once was.”
Elmo loved Mildred so much, yet at the same time, he wanted the efforts he put into his invention to have some purpose. But he also realized that to pursue that purpose would mean more misery for him and his wife. Society just wasn’t ready for the radical change his invention would provide. Elmo now knew that changes that affected people’s paychecks were difficult for society to swallow. Money was more important than progress.
* * *
Elmo’s machine still worked fine, although not as he had intended. And for that matter, he did not understand why it worked the way it did. And with this unsolved mystery he wanted to continue to use it in some capacity.
One day he said to Mildred, “Maybe I’ll contact Nate Brooker. I matured eggs into chickens in the past; maybe I can do that and gain something in return.”
The next day Elmo drove out to Brooker’s Farm. Nate was repairing some fencing, saw Elmo, and waved a gloved hand. The two men walked to meet.
Elmo said, “Nate, could I set up a deal with you to mature some of your eggs in my invention? Five for one. I mature five eggs, and you give me one chicken, cleaned and ready to cook.”
Nate said, “I know all about the protests out at your place. You sure did stir up a hornet’s nest. You’re a good man, Elmo, and this sounds like a deal that could help us both. I’d be glad to give you a chicken for fertilized eggs you turn into chickens, but how will I know the chickens will be normal?”
Elmo scratched his head, and then said, “Do you have to submit chickens for inspection?”
Nate responded, “Why yes I do, on occasion.”
“Then submit one of the chickens I age and see what the results are. I can almost guarantee you that there will be no problems.”
“Well, I trust you, Elmo. And what could go wrong? You’re just aging the damn eggs into chickens. Just speeding up the natural process.”
Nate’s expression suddenly became pensive, and then he asked Elmo, “I’ve just been thinking about aging. Have you thought about what else you could age, say cheese or wine? Another idea, I don’t know the size of your machine. Could you age cows? I sure would be willing to buy calves and, in a matter of minutes, have full-grown cows. The environment guys would love it. No more methane-producing cow farts. I, of course, would share the profits with you. Maybe help you make more machines.
Elmo responded, “These are great ideas.”
Elmo’s eyes brightened as he considered the prospect of finally having additional purposes for his invention. But then he thought some more, and the happiness was replaced by dread, how much conflict would occur when he got involved in the cheese and wine industries? Before his mind’s eye were protests from those livelihoods depending on raising cattle, aging cheese and wine. There would be picket lines set up by those involve in any industry involving the aging process. And didn’t cowboys carry guns? Elmo realized that, with the exception of his chicken farmer friend, he could not think of a way to use his machine that would not endanger someone else’s livelihood. He had yet to consider the anger of other chicken farmers. And if they found out what he was doing for Nate, would they demand the same service? That would set chicken farm managers and coop builders after him. Anyway, he wanted to build a time machine, not an aging process. He mused to himself and smiled, at least I’ll be able to provide the occasional chicken for the dinner table, but he wished for so much more for his efforts.
ELMO’S INVENTION: CHAPTER 8, ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE
CHAPTER 8
ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE
It was the morning of the sixth day after The New York Times people left town. The article about Elmo and his invention was published in The Los Alamos Herald and was the impetus for the visit from the Times. Much to Mildred’s joy and astonishment there were no immediate repercussions from the article in The New York Times. The residents of Los Alamos had already had their feathers ruffled by the topic and there were no further reactions. Elmo and Mildred began to relax, confident that all the problems involved with the invention were behind them. That morning Mildred asked Elmo, “Could you run out and get the paper? I’ll make you a nice breakfast before you go to work.” Mildred had mellowed and Elmo’s life was back to normal, but that was about to change in seconds.
Elmo opened the front door, took a few steps and then slowly backed up and closed the door. Their usually quiet street was overflowing with cars, buses and a great mass of people milling around appearing to anticipate something. Elmo had no idea what was going on but had a very bad feeling. Mildred was not going to like this. He peered through the window, and it was then he caught sight of a placard where his name appeared being carried towards his house.
Elmo had little choice. He had to let Mildred know that something was going on. If he didn’t, it would be like trying to hide a herd of elephants taking up residence on their front yard. He gently called, “Oh Mil, there’s something I think you should see. I’m sure it won’t amount to much.”
She entered the front room and asked, “What won’t amount to much?”
As she approached the front window Elmo pushed back the curtains. Mildred stood as if paralyzed, and then shouted, “I knew it! I told you talking to The Times was a big mistake. But no, you were going to save the world.” She stormed out of the room leaving Elmo alone with his thoughts of how this would all work out.
Soon more placards appeared identifying the various organizations present. There was The Friends and Relatives of Prisoners. They were joined by The Society of Prison Guards and another group representing ex-cons. A large group of construction workers were present, their group wearing hard hats, were involved in the building of prisons. Along with their signs, they paraded with a scarecrow suspended from a pole with of picture of Elmo’s face attached to the head.
Keeping to themselves, Elmo spied another small group which stood out like a sore thumb. Outfitted in expensive suits and equally expensive shoes, they held professionally manufactured signs proclaiming them as The Society of Defense Lawyers. Their main beef was the possible elimination of endless appeals which kept them supplied with their expensive attire.
Elmo found it strange, but not disappointing, that this great milling crowd of protesters was not protesting. He also noticed that a buffer zone was carefully observed between the house and the crowd. The answer to his observation of inactivity soon became clear when the news trucks began to arrive. What was the purpose of a protest if there was no one there to record it? Elmo thought it was something like that tree falling in the forest and no one heard it. He noticed something else most disturbing. There was a secondary crowd forming in the distance away from the main body of protesters. He could not recognize individual faces, but he knew who they were. They were the residents of Los Alamos coming to witness the spectacle. This would anger Mildred even more.
Once the cameras were in place and the reporters had their makeup on and were holding microphones, the crowd began to come alive holding up signs and voicing their respective opinions.
But all was not quite finished. The icing on the protest cake was the arrival, with as many lights flashing as possible and sirens wailing, of the Los Alamos police. Four police cars came to a skidding halt on Elmo’s front yard creating deep tire tracks. The chief of the Los Alamos police, John McFurdy first went over to the press and diligently spelled his name for them. Then he went to Elmo’s front door and knocked. Elmo asked the chief in and offered him a cup of coffee. Sitting at the kitchen table, McFurdy said, “All the groups out there obtained permits to protest. There is nothing we can do but ensure that no damage happens to your property.”
Elmo recalled the deep groves he had observed in his front yard.
Chief McFurdy continued, “State police have formed a perimeter around you house to ensure that no one without a permit enters the protest zone.”
Elmo knew that the perimeter was not that great. His neighbors had already broken it. The term ‘protest zone’ made the hairs on the back of Elmo’s neck stand on end.
After McFurdy left, Elmo noticed that six officers had stationed themselves between Elmo’s house and the press. There was a hushed silence. The first camera lights came on and it was as if someone threw a switch: All hell broke loose.
The once silent crowd instantly created a roar. Each group shouted their rehearsed chants. Soon after the beginning of the protest, Elmo’s effigy burst into flames. The various groups began to hurl eggs and tomatoes at Elmo’s house and the police. The lawyer’s contingent hurled non-libelous insults and carefully recorded what they said. A few rocks were thrown, later determined to come from the area populated by the ex-cons, but no real damage was done to the house or bystanders including the police.
The protest went on for two days while the press conducted interviews. One woman came forward and held up a copy of The New York Times pointing to the before and after pictures of Elmo’s demonstration shouting, “My son is in prison. I don’t want him turned to ash.” Behind her stood a grizzled ex-con, his shaved head glistening in the sun. “Nobody is putting me in no fucking death chamber,” indicating his life of crime was not yet over.
After the media had their film and interviews they began to pack up and leave. With the media gone the protesters lost their enthusiasm and quietly slipped away leaving a mess of litter and protest signs. There were some portable toilets available, but not nearly enough to handle the large crowd, so the area around Elmo’s home was not only a mess but also a health hazard.
* * *
Once the protesters had left, Kingsley Dasher slowly made his way to Elmo’s residence not knowing what he would find. He climbed the front steps and knocked on the door. The Elmo that greeted him was one he didn’t know. The man appeared beaten, the image of a lost soul. Before he could stop himself, Kingsley asked, “How are you doing, Elmo?”
Elmo stood with slumped shoulders, and dark-rimmed eyes answered with a raspy voice, “I’ve been better.”
“May I come in?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t mind a little company right now.” Elmo led his friend into the living room and offered him a seat.
Kingsley said, “You had to endure quite a ruckus, Elmo. I feel guilty that I was the one who pointed out the obvious use of your invention. I suspected something might happen once the existence of your invention was made known, but I never imagined the level of hostility. The reality is our society is a fickle society. It professes one set of values, but it is mere lip service. The values that are actually in practice are completely different from those voiced.
“Money is the value our society holds dearest.
“Your invention would have saved millions of dollars, perhaps billions in doing away with the prison system and at the same time providing swift justice for the guilty. But at the same time, it would have deprived hundreds maybe thousands of people of their livelihood. Construction workers and prison guards would suffer and let us not forget the lawyers with their endless appeals. Society has problems with such sudden changes no matter how beneficial they are.”
Kingsley then took a moment to look around and wondered where Mildred was. “How is Mildred handling all this?”
“Not very well. The day the protests began she left for her sister’s home in Santa Fe. I call but she refuses to talk to me.”
“I’m sure she’ll come around once all this is over. It will just take some time. This whole experience was quite a blow for both of you. To say it was a life-disrupting event would be putting it mildly.”
The two men sat in silence for a while and then the phone rang. Elmo jumped up hoping it was Mildred, but he was to be extremely disappointed and further upset.
“Hello,” he said.
Kingsley watched Elmo’s face and immediately knew the news was not good. Elmo had little to say during the short call. After hanging up, he told Kingsley, “That was a representative of the American Civil Liberties Union calling to notify me that they are issuing a class-action lawsuit on behalf of prisoners, families of prisoners and ex-convicts. Apparently there are organizations of defense lawyers also preparing lawsuits. This whole thing is just getting worse and worse.
I was hoping to patent the device and make some money. Now it appears it may cost me everything I have. This is definitely not going to bring Mildred home.”
Kingsley knew that Elmo needed to be alone. He rose and said, “I would suggest you issue a statement saying that upon further consideration, you’ve decided to discontinue any further attempts in patenting or selling your machine.
“Your science was sound, Elmo. Society just wasn’t prepared for such a sudden advance.”
Kingsley left Elmo sitting on the couch, a man in love with science and defied by society.
ELMO’S INVENTION: CHAPTER 7, TIME MACHINE, BIG NEWS
CHAPTER 7
TIME MACHINE, BIG NEWS
The following Wednesday Elmo went to work and immediately became aware that something was not quite right. Everyone stared at him as if he had two heads. His usually friendly coworkers were avoiding making eye-contact with him, were uncomfortable to be in the same room as him. Someone finally handed Elmo the latest edition of the Los Alamos Herald, published that morning.
Elmo was shocked at the headline, shouting in huge bold print, Scientist, Elmo Baker Has Invented a Prison that will Change Humanity. He couldn’t believe it. He kept muttering to himself, “They promised not to publish.” He read on and found to his dismay all the details he shared with Nate Bush. How would this change his life? He was sure it would not be for the better; trouble was surely down the road, and he had a feeling the road would not be a long one.
After sitting in his cubicle, he immediately phoned Nate. “You promised not to publish anything about my invention. I trusted you.”
Elmo could hear the guilt in Nate’s voice as he answered, “I wanted to honor my promise, but the managing editor insisted I publish the article. Circulation is down and he wanted something that would catch the readership’s interest. All we ever get to report is the local news, and with the gossip in this town, most people know what we publish before we publish it. This story is big.
“But I trusted you. People at work look at me as if I’m some kind of freak. What are the rest of the people in Los Alamos going to think?”
“Take it easy, Elmo. I’m sure this will blow over in no time at all and everything will return to normal.”
The next day Elmo’s life would change in a big way.
* * *
The Los Alamos rag was read by the locals for local news. Because interest in the paper’s stories appealed to former Los Alamos residents, stories were posted with a wire service. That’s how Elmo’s problems reached a new level.
The Friday morning after the story appeared in The Los Alamos Herald, Elmo and Mildred were sitting at the kitchen table enjoying a breakfast of eggs, bacon and toast. Mildred asked, “Things calmed down in work, Elmo?”
“Things are better now. I explained, to anyone interested, that I discovered the ‘prison’ by mistake, that I’m not really sure that it has any practical purpose and that’s the truth. I can’t picture the thing being used, and Kingsley Dasher hinted that there may be problems down the road even though he was the one who first envisioned the device as a prison. I sure didn’t tell anyone that it was a time machine that I really wanted to invent. I can just imagine the response I would get from that bit of information.”
Elmo was about to continue when the ringing phone interrupted him.
Mildred said, “I’ll get that. Hold your thought.”
Elmo watched as she answered the phone. At first she had a puzzled look on her face, and then her eyebrows knit, and her forehead wrinkled with shock and confusion. She said to the caller, “Yes, Mr. Slattery, this is the residence of Elmo Baker. He’s right here.”
Elmo was puzzled. He didn’t know a Mr. Slatterly.
Mildred held her hand over the mouthpiece and whispered, “He’s a reporter from The New York Times.”
A film of sweat broke out on Elmo’s forehead. He knew this was going to be trouble. He slowly took the phone from Mildred. “Hello, this is Elmo Baker. How can I help you?”
“Dr. Baker, this is Joe Slatterly from The New York Times, the paper is extremely interested in the wire story published by The Los Alamos Herald. I’d like to come to New Mexico and interview you and take some pictures of your machine. It could change the penal system as we know it. We feel that the public needs to know about your invention.”
Elmo thought about the reaction that the locals had when they read about his invention. He could not imagine what it would be like if the entire country, no wait, the entire world knew about his invention.
Elmo said, “I don’t think I’d be comfortable letting the world know about my invention. The reaction locally was not the best. I’d rather forget about the whole thing.”
“But Elmo. Can I call you Elmo?”
“Sure, Elmo’s fine.”
“You could change society for the better. The convicted could fulfill their debt to society and not experience the degradation and dangers of prison life. There would be less recidivism. Prisoners could get on with their lives without the scars of prison life.”
Elmo began to weaken. “I suppose my machine could serve a benefit to society.”
“I’m sure it would. Have you thought much about patenting and selling it?”
“I do plan to patent it, but after that, I don’t know. I’m just now getting over the shock of how the news was taken around here.”
Slatterly talked fast. He didn’t want to lose Elmo. “Well, an article in The New York Times would certainly provide a great deal of publicity. It might cause some rough spots for you, but it would definitely make the public aware of your device, especially potential customers. And you know what they say. ‘There’s no such thing as bad publicity.’”
Mildred listened to Elmo’s end of the conversation and could tell he was wavering and began to think he would do what the reporter wanted him to do. The gleam in his eyes was beginning to frighten her. See had seen that look too many times before.
After a few more minutes Elmo finished his conversation by saying, “That would be fine, Mr. Slatterly. I’m looking forward to seeing you the day after tomorrow.”
After Elmo hung up Mildred immediately asked, “Elmo, what are you doing? Are you going to talk to that reporter even after how our neighbors and friends reacted after they found out about your machine? How could you?”
Doubt passed over Elmo’s face, but he quickly recovered. “Mil, I could help society, free-up money for uses more important than prisons, like education and medical research.”
“Oh, I see, Elmo. You are going to save the world while we become lepers in our own community.”
“That’s a little harsh, Mil.”
“We’ll see,” Mildred said as she stormed out of the room.
* * *
Two days later The New York Times reporter, along with his photographer, appeared at Elmo’s front door. They called ahead from the airport before they left New York to let Elmo know when he should be expecting them. When the doorbell rang Elmo wanted to get to the front door before Mildred, who had been moody ever since the reporter’s call.
Elmo opened the door and extended his hand to the young smartly dressed man before him. “You must be Joe Slatterly from The New York Times.”
“That’s right, sir. And this is my photographer, Larry Hitchcock. I’ve been looking forward to this interview and seeing your machine.”
Elmo began, “First, call me Elmo. Let’s go down to the cellar. I’ve been planning a demonstration for you.” Elmo led the way to the cellar door and found Mildred standing close to it. She was civil to the two men from The New York Times, Elmo knew she would be. What he feared was how she would react and what she would say after they left.
As the group descended the stairs to Elmo’s laboratory, Elmo said, over his shoulder, “I’ve arranged a little demonstration to show you how my device works.”
Once in the cellar, Larry said, “Look, Joe, an old iron lung. I haven’t seen one of those in years. Elmo, do you collect old medical equipment too?”
Slatterly was in a hurry. He wanted to see the demonstration, talk to Elmo and get out of Hicksville as soon as possible. “So,” Slatterly asked, “where is your machine?”
Elmo pointed to the iron lung, “That’s it, gentlemen. I needed a chamber that would fit a human. Although it may not look like much, what makes this iron lung unique is the electronics I’ve incorporated. Let me show you how it works.”
Walking to a cage at a far wall, Elmo extracted a rat, which he had recently obtained, and returned to the iron lung. He put the rat in the chamber and motioned for Larry to approach. “Larry, you might want to take a ‘before’ photo of the rat.”
“Sure, Elmo.”
Once the photo was taken Elmo said, “I will conduct this experiment in two stages. This rat is about four months old. The lifespan of a rat is about three years. I will first set the time dial to two years and the length of the experiment to one minute.” Elmo pushed the initiate button and said to the men, “Please observe.”
They stepped closer to the chamber and saw that a white mist had enveloped the rat, and then quickly disappeared. The rodent appeared to be slightly bigger than before.
Elmo said, “As you can see, the rat has increased in size. Now I shall set the time dial to twenty years.”
Once again Elmo initiated the sequence and once again the chamber filled with a white mist. As the mist began to clear, Nate and Larry could see the rat shrivel. It became no more than a husk and then collapsed into a mound of dust and bones. Elmo told Larry, “You can take the ‘after’ picture now.”
Joe and Larry were speechless. Both expected this claim, for a device which could serve as a prison, to be the fantasy of some demented scientist, but here was the proof before their eyes. They were truly amazed at what they had witnessed. Larry took the picture but still couldn’t believe what he had seen.
Joe, still mystified at what he had witnessed, asked, “How did you do that, Elmo?”
“Well,” Elmo began, “the science is rather complicated. Let’s just say that the theory and principles behind this device are based, for the most part, on Einstein’s work.” Elmo could not reveal, in reality, that he did not truly understand how it worked and that it was meant to be a time machine.
Joe asked, “So this thing will kill the occupant?”
Elmo was shocked and quickly answered, “Oh no, no. As you witnessed, the first run only aged the rat. I wanted the rat to expire in order to demonstrate that time, in the chamber, had truly advanced. I wasn’t sure if you would believe, with the first experiment, that the rat had aged.
“If a human had been in the chamber he would have aged twenty years in a matter of minutes. His debt to society, paid.”
After a few more questions for Elmo, Joe said, “I guess we’re finished, Elmo. This will make a great story, and the pictures should really open the eyes of the public.”
Elmo felt apprehension with the last comment.
Joe asked, “Elmo, could we get a photo of you standing in front of your machine?”
Elmo hesitated, but finally said, “I guess it would be all right.”
Larry took the picture, and the trio then walked up the stairs out of the cellar. Joe and Larry said their goodbyes and drove away.
As Elmo closed the door he could hear Mildred walk into the room behind him. This was the moment he dreaded.
“Well, Elmo, were those fellas impressed by your machine? Did they get the story they wanted?”
“Yes, dear, I think things went rather well. I demonstrated the device, and they were most impressed.”
Mildred turned and, as she left the room, said with coldness in her voice, “We’ll see what happens when the story comes out. I hope I’m wrong about bad things to come and soon the entire matter just fades away.”
Elmo began to think that this was going better than he had hoped, but that thought was short lived.
ELMO’S INVENTION: CHAPTER 6, ELMO MAKES THE NEWS
CHAPTER 6
ELMO MAKES THE NEWS
Mildred watched as the members of the Tinkerer’s Club ascended the stairs from the cellar and prepared to depart. Harold Kinter, William Dupree and James Forsyth bid her goodbye. Much to her surprise, Kingsley Dasher took her hand and said, “Elmo has a marvelous intellect, and his invention could someday garner you a great deal of money. Only time will tell.” With that he walked out the door and was gone.
Elmo was the last to depart the cellar and Mildred could immediately tell that things had not gone as well as he had anticipated. She was puzzled by Elmo’s downtrodden appearance and Kingsley’s departing comment. Wanting to question her husband, she asked, “Elmo, why don’t I pour us some coffee and we have some dessert?”
Elmo, distracted by his thoughts, after a moment, replied, “That’s fine with me, my dear. I have a great deal on my mind, and perhaps talking would help. Things did not go as I had hoped during the meeting, and I need to gather my thoughts. I am confused about the future of my invention. Nothing is going as I had planned.”
Mildred set the kitchen table with two steaming mugs and plates of Elmo’s favorite dessert, spice cake. She watched Elmo sip his coffee and then push the dessert away. Now she knew something was definitely wrong. Elmo never refused spice cake. “What happened in the cellar?” Mildred asked.
Elmo hesitated, and then began, “I demonstrated my time machine using the kitten and the results were as I expected. To everyone’s surprise, Kingsley made a comment after the experiment. As he began to speak, I expected him to give insight into why the machine was not working, but to my surprise he said that it was working. Only it was working in a manner not that I appreciated. He said that I had invented the perfect prison and that my machine had the potential to change society.”
Mildred sat deep in thought remembering what Kingsley had said before departing. Suddenly her face lit up, “He’s right. I never would have made the connection. The man’s a genius. I’m so proud of you, Elmo. Your invention will change our society.”
This did not serve to heal Elmo’s fragile ego, instead, Mildred’s comment only served to increase its fragility.
Elmo had invested a great deal of effort in planning and then building his machine. Now, not only did it not work, but someone else had discovered its use.
Mildred could see that her husband was deeply upset. She extended her hand across the table and said, “Come to bed, my dear. Perhaps there is something I can do to improve your mood.” Mildred was successful, but it wasn’t long before matters took a drastic turn. Once again it was something that Kingsley had hinted might happen, but even he could not predict the extent of the turmoil Elmo’s machine would cause.
* * *
To this day Elmo doesn’t know how it happened or who was the one to break the secrecy surrounding the meeting of the Tinkerer’s Club. For a moment he thought maybe Mildred, but no, she would never break his confidence. He was sure it wasn’t Kingsley. Kingsley had trouble communicating with the members of the club. Elmo could not picture him going to the press or even breaking the club’s confidence with a friend. Elmo doubted he had few friends outside the club. That left James Forsyth, William Dupree and Harold Kinter as the culprit. He questioned them all and everyone denied that they talked about the machine. Elmo knew one of them was lying. His money was on either James Forsyth or William Dupree.
James was a people person and loved being the center of attention. He also enjoyed talking about his work and Elmo could just picture him letting slip the nature of the Tinkerer’s meeting. James’ tongue was often ahead of his brain when he really got going in a conversation.
William was also a suspect. Being short, and as most short people, he feared being ignored, feared being lost in a crowd – literally. So how better to avoid being lost than becoming its center. Elmo could picture him trying to impress people. Telling them of a great new device that would do away with prisons and save society billions of dollars. And after explaining all this, whispering, “Now promise that you won’t tell a soul.”
The more he thought about who the culprit might be, the more Elmo became sure that William was the guilty party, but William, as well as the rest of the members present that night, emphatically denied speaking about the machine to anyone.
The manner in which Elmo discovered that the secrecy of the Tinkerer’s Club meeting had been broken was a phone call he received from a local newspaper. Published only once a week, The Los Alamos Herald was primarily concerned with community events, births, weddings and funerals. Most of what was news in the town of Los Alamos was Top Secret so there really wasn’t much to report. When word of Elmo’s invention began to spread through the tight-knit community, the paper was all over it.
One evening, while Elmo and Mildred were enjoying their supper, the phone rang. “I’ll get it,” said Elmo as he rose to answer. This was long before the age of telemarketers, and for that matter, answering machines. When the phone rang you knew it was something important. Elmo answered, “Hello.”
A voice on the other end said, “Hello, this is Nate Bush calling from The Los Alamos Herald. I’d like to speak to Dr. Elmo Baker.”
Mildred watched Elmo and saw his expression range between puzzlement and fear.
Elmo said, “Elmo here. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve been told you’ve invented a rather unique machine, a machine that may do away with prisons. Could you comment on this device?”
Elmo did not know how he should answer. He thought the events of the meeting would remain confidential. He now felt anger and frustration and did not know where to direct it. He had to respond. He couldn’t lie for he would soon be filing a patent for his machine. “I have built a device that can age the occupant to a predetermined age.”
“How long does this process take?”
Elmo responded, “Oh, just a matter of minutes.”
“How exactly does it work?”
Elmo was not about to admit that he really didn’t know that it was intended to be a time machine and that something went wrong, so he answered, “I’d rather wait until I patent the device before I divulge its workings. Also, I’d appreciate it if you would postpone writing any article until I receive the patent.”
Nate was disappointed at this request but felt he had to respect Elmo’s wishes. He responded, “I’ll write-up the article and wait until I hear that your patent has been granted.”
Elmo, somewhat relieved, said, “I would appreciate that a great deal. I’ll give you a call when the patent is approved.”
After hanging up the phone, Elmo said to Mildred, “Someone broke their word. That was The Los Alamos Herald, and they want to know about my invention. I can’t believe all this is happening about something I truly do not understand.”
* * *
Later that day George Holkum walked over to Nate’s desk. The paper was losing money and George, the managing editor, needed to turn that around.
He asked Nate, “How did that prison thing interview go? Are we dealing with a nutcase or what?”
Nate began to perspire. He knew that the paper was in trouble and needed sales. He also knew he had a fantastic story, but he had given his word. Nate said, “I think it’s the real thing. The man is a scientist, and he wants to keep things quiet until he gets a patent.”
George said, “Publish the story. Maybe it will increase our circulation. We’re not in a position to not publish something important. We have a responsibility to the stockholders.”
Nate responded, “But boss, I gave my word.”
“Your word won’t sell papers. Publish your story!”
ELMO’S INVENTION: CHAPTER 5, ELMO’S PRISON
But first, a message from my poet friend, Steve.
Local poet Steve Kupferschmid has published a poetry chapbook with Kelsay Books entitled “Weight of Water.” The thirty-one poems in the collection reflect upon the joys and sorrows of youth and age, of love and loss. Compact in form yet rich in imagery, this collection offers an enjoyable, memorable read. Available from Amazon or any bookstore.
I have heard my friend, Steve, read his poems and they call to mind the poems of Billy Collins. Poems which tell a story, but at the same time, have a deeper meaning.
CHAPTER 5
ELMO’S PRISON
When Kingsley rose, everyone looked in his direction. It was not unprecedented that he would speak at a meeting, but it was a rare occurrence. What Kingsley said to the group would usually solve the problem at hand. Elmo prepared to hear great things from Kingsley and gain insight on how to fix his machine.
After once again clearing his throat, whether to gain everyone’s attention or because he found talking to be an effort, no one was sure, he began to speak. “Elmo, you must be rewarded for your effort. Although you have not accomplished what you set out to accomplish, and perhaps never will, your invention could possibly change the course of society. I have no doubt that mankind will greatly benefit from your invention, if they choose to embrace its benefits is a different matter. Only time will tell.”
Elmo, along with the rest of the group, was both puzzled and full of anticipation.
Kingsley continued, “However, I am a mathematician and not an ethicist and cannot predict the consequences of your discovery.”
Elmo said, “I am totally lost. You say I have made a great discovery, yet at the same time say that its use will produce ethical problems.”
“That’s correct, Elmo. Your invention, in my mind, would be the perfect prison.”
Elmo, along with William and James, stared at Kingsley in total disbelief, and then slowly began to understand what he was saying.
After a few moments of deep thought, Harold Kinter voiced his thoughts to the gathering, “Of course, I can see it now. Elmo, your invention, though unintended, could do away with prisons as we know them. Year-long sentences could be served in a matter of minutes. It would save society millions of dollars and save prisoners from the dangers inherent in incarceration.
“Think of it! No matter what the length of a prisoner’s sentence, the punishment could be delivered in a matter of minutes. Your invention could funnel money into projects that benefit society and save prisoners from harm.”
They all looked at Elmo. His visage was one of disappointment and disbelief. “I meant my invention to be a time machine; instead, you say I invented the perfect prison. I failed.”
Kingsley stepped totally out of character and attempted to comfort his colleague. “Elmo, some of the greatest discoveries in the world were made by accident. Look at all the lives that were saved by the discovery of penicillin. If Fleming had not noticed that petri dish with mold and dying bacteria, who knows how long it would have taken for someone else to discover that life-saving antibiotic.
“Think of the value of your discovery, and someday I am sure that you will determine the principle behind the device. With your invention, no matter the length of a prisoner’s sentence it could be served in minutes with virtually no expense to society. And when it comes to a death sentence, your machine can accomplish that too, but a death sentence is a death sentence no matter how it is accomplished.
Then James Forsyth began to speak, “I can think of another question which requires an answer. After a prisoner serves his term in your machine, what is his mental state? Is his mind the same as it was before the prison term? Or does his mind age along with his body? Although I cannot imagine how the mind ages with the lack of experience.”
Elmo said, “I can think of no answer to the question of mind aging. I feel this can only be determined with the test of a human subject. But I must add I owe a great deal of gratitude for introducing important questions I had not considered.”
“Your device could save society millions, perhaps billions of dollars and funnel the revenue into efforts that would better society. Education, medical research, providing for the elderly and that is only the tip of the iceberg of what could be affected by this machine. But I fear there will be obstacles to this scenario which I cannot anticipate.
“You see, our society is inconsistent. It professes one set of values yet lives by another. We say how important education is, but we do not support it the way we should, not to mention that the key to education is parental input. We pay lip service to medical advancement, but do not fund the conjecture that could become reality. And when a discovery is made, many times it is beyond the reach of those who would benefit. We say we value the elderly yet turn away when we could make their final years more comfortable.
“I fear there will be great objection to your discovery but cannot anticipate the form it will take. Good luck, Elmo. You have a difficult path ahead of you.”
ELMO’S INVENTION: CHAPTER 4, THE TINKERER’S CLUB
CHAPTER 4
THE TINKERER’S CLUB
With the experiments completed and his understanding of what he had observed, there was only one thing to do: Call a meeting of the Tinkerer’s Club.
Elmo moved in a circle of physicists, mathematicians and theoretical scientists at Los Alamos. They referred to themselves as the Tinkerers, one member or another constantly came up with ideas to explore and devices to construct. There were approximately ten members, the numbers would vary with interest and transfers to other parts of the country. Gatherings of the members would take place with as little as two or as many as all current members. It all depended on what the members’ specialty was or were too busy involved in their own ideas. They would ponder on their own time; ideas no one would pay them to ponder. The opportunity to contribute to the knowledge of man was their driving force, also if successful, develop a second income. They referred to their efforts as ‘cellar science’, although they did not all have cellars, but the original members all did. What they all had in common was the joy in letting their imaginations run wild without restrictions. They didn’t all work in cellars, some worked in garages and some in rented space, but they all shared a scientific curiosity.
Elmo was the youngest member. Age was not a factor for being accepted into the group, only a passion for science and a high level of intelligence. Most of the members had projects in progress, or theories they wanted to explore. When a member felt his work had come to a milestone he would call a meeting to be held in his laboratory. Those who would attend would study the results and give advice, if they could, but there was almost always encouragement to press on with the project.
Elmo took a week to prepare his presentation. It would usually involve the members’ theory, applications of the project and any problems which needed to be solved
On the night of the meeting four members arrived to analyze the conjecture Elmo would present.
Harold Kinter promised to attend the meeting. He was forever the first to a meeting for he had only one thing in his life, and that was his science. Physics was his field, and he had occasion to work with Elmo. A few years older than Elmo, Harold was portly and a bachelor and would likely remain so all his life. He spent his workdays and after work hours contemplating esoteric theories to occupy his mind. In another life, he could well have been a model for Sherlock Holmes. Although his habits did not readily welcome others into his world, he was not a loner. He chose to surround himself only with those who could stimulate and impact his thoughts.
Another member, James Forsyth, also agreed to come. Forsyth was also a physicist but the direct opposite of Harold. James was so gregarious that when someone met him, they immediately thought he was a salesman. He had the life of an average guy, married with two children. In his mid-forties, his chestnut hair had begun to gray at the temples. It was only when someone asked him what he did for a living that the impression of James Forsyth changed. He would begin talking about physics and couldn’t stop. Only when he opened his mouth about work did those around him realize he was far from the average guy.
Also due to arrive was William Dupree. He was a mathematician who also craved human contact. Now in his mid-fifties, and a bachelor, he was exceedingly short. At just over five feet tall, he found himself often ignored. Desperately wanting his voice to be heard, he found the Tinkerer’s Club an avenue to have a more intimate relationship with his colleagues.
Elmo was surprised when Kingsley Dasher also agreed to attend. Kingsley rarely attended meetings. When in attendance, he would make Harold Kinter appear to be the life of the party. Kingsley defined the term ‘loner’. Tall and thin, with a shaved head, he was at least sixty but no one knew for sure, well, no one also knew if he was married, had children, or anything of his background and education. Although he rarely attended meetings, when he appeared he was more than welcome by the presenter for Kingsley was considered ‘the brain’.
He would sit alone and listen to the presentation and arguments. Often during the course of a meeting, he would not say a word. When the presentation and discussions were completed, at times he would merely rise and leave, never saying anything. However, when he did speak there was total silence to grasp every word he uttered.
Two days before the meeting was scheduled to occur, Elmo informed Mildred that the Tinkerer’s Club would arrive to discuss his time machine. She responded, “I’ll have a pot of coffee and dessert ready for them.” She knew the coffee would be consumed, along with perhaps a second pot, but the dessert hardly touched, except for Harold Kinter. He definitely would enjoy a dessert.
The day of the meeting, Elmo made a decision on his way home. Mildred made him get rid of the rats and he agreed to. In reality, they were beginning to smell up the entire house, so he had no problem in agreeing. Also, it was work to maintain them. However, now he needed a subject to demonstrate his machine. Elmo recalled that his wife had, for some time now, been aching for a pet cat. She loved cats and often told Elmo, “If I had a cat it would keep me company while you’re at work.”
With this in mind, he stopped at an animal shelter on his way home and selected a six week – old orange and white tabby kitten. When he arrived home and walked into the kitchen carrying a cardboard box, the kitten inside began to meow. Mildred ran to Elmo and took the box he was carrying and peered inside.
“Oh, Elmo, you brought me a kitten.” She lifted the kitten out of the box, and hugging it to her breast, and was rewarded with instant purring. “Elmo, she’s beautiful. Thank you so much.”
Elmo asked, “What will you name her?”
“I’ll have to think about that for a while. I just hope you can tolerate the damage she’ll do until she’s old enough to be declawed.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem, Mil. You’ll be able to have her declawed tomorrow.”
“I can’t do that tomorrow. She’s much too young. She must be at least … Oh no, Elmo, you’re not putting her into your chamber, are you?”
“Dear, you made me get rid of the rats.”
“They were stinking up the cellar and I could smell them in the house every time you opened up the cellar door.”
“Mil, I need to demonstrate the time machine tonight to the Tinkerer’s Club. Look on the bright side; she won’t have a chance to cause damage with her claws.”
“Elmo, if anything happens to my kitten there will be hell to pay.” Mildred looked down at the little ball of fur and scratched her ears which intensified the purring, saying, “I’ll miss your kittenhood, but in all honesty, not the damage you might cause with those front claws.” With a final squeeze she gave the kitten to Elmo who put her back in the box and took her down to the cellar.
After dinner the Tinkerers began to arrive. The first was Harold Kinter, as was the custom. He accepted a steaming mug of coffee and a plate of cake and then descended into the cellar. In rapid order, James Forsyth and William Dupree appeared at the front door, accepted mugs of coffee, and then joined Harold in the cellar.
The last to appear, as also was the custom, was Kingsley Dasher dressed in a suit and tie. All the rest of the members were dressed casually. Kingsley had never been a casual person. Mildred was ready for him. “A cup of Earl Grey, Kingsley?” She knew he preferred tea.
“Why, that would be much appreciated,” he answered. After obtaining his beverage, he joined the rest of the group in the cellar to witness tonight’s presentation. He took his usual location of choice away from the rest of the group. He would appear to be indifferent to the entire event, but all the members knew he would be listening intently and would only comment when he thought his input would be of value or steer the meeting in the direction which was required. Stationed in an old recliner in a corner of the cellar, Kingsley tented his fingers and closed his eyes.
In the meantime, Harold, James and William gathered around Elmo’s machine with great anticipation. Elmo was identified as a valued member for his curiosity and intelligence.
Elmo began, “What you see before you, my friends, is my attempt to produce a time machine. I chose to construct it around an iron lung so that a person, a time-traveler, could comfortably recline inside. The intention was to have the time-traveler travel forward in time and return after a preset interval, however, the machine would remain here.”
Elmo went on to explain his theory for time travel and his calculations. The group was amazed as he discussed the basis of his theory for time travel. Kingsley listened through half-closed eyes. Elmo continued, “However, there is a problem and that is the reason I called this meeting. I have tested my device on a variety of animal subjects, including fertilized eggs. It was with the eggs that I determined the flaw in my machine. You see, the subject does travel forward in time but does not leave the machine. Rather, they age, and after the preset interval of the journey, they do not return to their original state but remain at their future age. Fertilized eggs become chicks. Chicks become chickens. Given the required length of time, rats become skeletons. I would now like to demonstrate this phenomenon.”
“Before you demonstrate your device,” Kingsley asked, “How does it create mass? As you describe your results, mass was created with your egg experiments and where did mass go when you produced a rat skeleton?”
Elmo’s face showed puzzlement. He had not thought of this question before.
The mass question produced total silence in the group. They all knew of the balance between mass and energy. That the formation of mass should result in a tremendous drain of energy from somewhere. By the same token, the loss of mass should result in a dramatic increase in energy. Enough energy to obliterate the area surrounding the experiment. The question of the production and loss of mass stymied the Tinkerers.
Suddenly Harold Kinter began to smile. He thought he had a possible answer to the mass question. He began, “There is only one possible explanation. Somehow, and I’m sure no can answer how, Elmo’s machine has been able to tap into the realm of dark matter and dark energy. I feel that can be the only explanation.
“The existence of this strange form of matter and energy is postulated and may someday be proven as fact. And can be the only explanation for the creation and deletion of mass which I can think of.”
The entire group pondered this explanation and were unanimous in their agreement.
Elmo then went to the cardboard box and picked up the kitten which immediately began to purr and lick Elmo’s hand. “This kitten, six weeks old, is tonight’s subject. I will set the journey into the future to six months. The length of the experiment will be five minutes.”
He deposited the kitten into the chamber, and after adjusting a few dials, initiated the process. As usual, the chamber lit up and filled with mist. After the haze cleared there stood a nearly full-grown cat with the identical markings of the kitten. Elmo lifted the feline out of the chamber and went upstairs to deliver the nearly mature cat to Mildred.
When he returned, Harold, James and William were excited and at the same time puzzled. Harold began, “This is truly amazing, Elmo. I’m sure you are not far from inventing a true time machine.”
William and James concurred with Harold’s observation. James added, “When the problem is worked out, this could be an invention of unimaginable proportions.”
Much to everyone’s surprise, Kingsley cleared his throat and began to speak.
ELMO’S INVENTION: CHAPTER 3, NEW TEST SUBJECTS
CHAPTER 3
NEW TEST SUBJECTS
The next day Elmo drove to Brooker’s Egg Farm. He pulled into the small, graveled parking lot. He liked old-man Brooker. He was a no-nonsense kind of fellow. Getting out of his car, Elmo surveyed the property. Row upon row of low-slung chicken sheds took up most of the land, and the air was full of the constant clucking of the residents.
Nate Brooker, owner of the farm, left his office and walked toward Elmo. Nate was ancient, grizzled and walked with a limp. He was a ‘take no shit’ kind of guy. If you tried to feed him a line or make small talk, he would shake his head and say, “For Christ’s sake, get to the god damned point, will you. I ain’t got all day.” And if you didn’t, he would leave you standing there, alone. Elmo was not talkative, and that suited Brooker just fine.
Extending his hand, Brooker asked, “How you doing, son? Come for a dozen of my fine eggs?”
Brooker was surprised when Elmo said, “Not today. Today I need six fertilized eggs.”
“Fertilized eggs! Are you gonna be raising your own chickens and stop buying from me? Maybe selling eggs yerself. You must be shittin’ me. Get your ass back in your damn car and get the hell off my damn property.”
To say that Elmo was taken aback would have been putting it mildly. “No, sir,” Elmo said. “I need the eggs for an experiment. I have no intention of raising chickens.”
Elmo knew about Brooker’s reputation, but this was a side of the old man he had never personally been exposed to.
“Well, young fella, I guess that’s okay. But if I find out that you’re shittin’ me, they’ll be hell to pay.”
“I assure you; the eggs will just be for an experiment.”
“I’ll hold you to your word, son.”
As they walked to one of the chicken sheds, Brooker asked, “How many you need?”
“I should think about six,” Elmo answered.
They entered the low-slung building, and Brooker pointed out, “This is where we keep the hens for mating.”
Elmo noted the roosters screeching at the top of their lungs.
Brooker began gathering eggs, about a dozen, and then motioned for Elmo to follow him to a small room. “This is where we candle the eggs to see if they’ve been fertilized.” He held the eggs up to the light, and after testing nine, had six fertile ones. “Here you are, son.” He handed Elmo a six-egg carton.
“How much?” asked Elmo.
The price surprised him. He was charged three times as much as he usually paid for a dozen eggs.
Brooker walked Elmo to his car and remade his point, “You sure you will use these eggs for an experiment and not hatch them. And what kind of experiment are we talking anyway?”
Elmo hesitated before answering, “Nate, the experiment is kind of complicated.”
“Well, what the hell isn’t nowadays,” Brooker asked.
“And, Nate, if my experiment works, some of the eggs will hatch.”
“Shit, I knew it.” Brooker was developing a slow burn, so Elmo rapidly said.
“Tell you what,” said Elmo, “if any of the eggs do hatch, I’ll bring the chickens back to you along with the empty shells. Also, I’ll return any fertilized eggs I don’t use.” Elmo thought this would assure Brooker that there was nothing but an experiment going on.
“No, son,” Brooker said. “For some stupid reason I guess I can trust you. I’m sure you won’t start a chicken farm. You’re not the type.”
Elmo could see a slight change in Brooker’s demeanor, the man appeared to relax, somewhat, and said, “Okay, son, I’ll hold you to your word.” With that Brooker walked back to his office and Elmo had his subjects for his next experiment.
Elmo was relieved to observe this vote of confidence. He walked to his car and was about to drive away when he realized he forgot to ask some very important questions. He got out of his car and went to the office, opened the door, and saw Brooker at work sitting at his desk.
“Mr. Brooker,” Elmo asked, “how long will it take the eggs to hatch, and what is the lifespan of a chicken?”
Brooker said, “Fella, you sure do ask a lot of questions for someone who does not intend to raise chickens.”
Elmo could see doubt replacing the relaxed expression Brooker had had before. Elmo quickly said, “This is just information I need to conduct my experiment.” And said once more, “ I am willing to return the chickens, if you want.”
With some trepidation, Brooker said, “That’s okay, son. If you screw me, I’ll find out about it and there will be hell to pay.” Brooker answered the questions and returned to his work.
Elmo was worried that he had asked too many questions. I could have looked that information up in a library,” he muttered.
The day Elmo purchased the eggs was a Friday. The following morning, after a hearty breakfast, and then lingering over coffee, Elmo said to his wife, “Mil, I think I have some grip on the question of what is happening in my time machine, but I need to perform three more experiments. Please, dear, come into the cellar with me. I want a witness to what I am about to attempt. You may be witnessing history.”
Mildred had been through this scenario so many times before. She loved Elmo, but knew how he would react when the experiment did not work, and she was sure that it wouldn’t although the fact that Elmo thought it kind of worked still baffled her. She did not understand his excitement after the rat experiment. With the prospect of something going wrong she knew he would sulk for days and remain to himself, and this was the beginning of the weekend, the only time they spent extended time together. Trying to inject some enthusiasm in her voice, she said, “Okay, Elmo, but don’t get too disappointed if you don’t achieve the results you expect.” She saw the usual glazed eyes before Elmo performed an experiment. He turned and went down the cellar stairs. She followed him not knowing what to expect.
After arriving at the bottom of the stairs, Mildred immediately noticed, sitting near the ‘Time Machine’, a half carton of eggs and said, “Elmo, these eggs should be in the fridge.”
“No, my dear, these are very special eggs, historic eggs, and putting them in the cold might kill them.”
“Oh, Elmo, how can you kill an egg?”
“Mil, these are special eggs. They have been fertilized.”
Elmo looked at his wife and from the expression on her face knew an explanation was required. “You see, Mil, I think I can explain the results of my rat experiments. I’m about to attempt the definitive experiments that will confirm my theory.”
Mildred smiled and prepared herself for the worst. She was beginning to plan what she would do for the next two days without her husband. That’s at least as long as it would take, she thought, him to get over a failure.
Elmo, not catching the doubt on Mildred’s face, placed two eggs into the chamber and began adjusting dials, and then started the process. Once again the interior of the chamber produced great flashes and filled with mist. When it cleared, there stood two baby chicks.
Mildred looked with wonder at the results, and said, “Oh, Elmo, they’re so cute. Now your machine can kill rats and hatch eggs.” She was quite afraid to ask the next question but couldn’t help herself. “Elmo, are you happy with the results?”
“Extremely, my dear. There are two more experiments to perform which will completely verify what the machine is doing.” With that he selected two more eggs, was about to remove the chicks, but decided to leave them in the chamber. Once again he adjusted the dials, and began the experiment, once again the chamber filled with sparks and mist. When it cleared, there stood four chickens clucking their heads off.
Mildred saw the manic gleam in Elmo’s eyes. She saw the same look when her mother’s china teacup disappeared. “Maybe that’s enough,” she said to Elmo. What she was really saying was maybe he should quit while he was ahead, if he was ahead. She actually couldn’t tell. But she also knew nothing she could do or say would stop him now.
She could see the joy in Elmo’s face, and he began doing his little dance, as he shouted, “It worked! It worked!”
Mildred did not understand the reason for Elmo’s excitement. “Elmo, I thought the subject of the experiment was supposed to travel into the future, or perhaps the past. Something definitely happened, but they stayed in the chamber.”
“I know, Mil. There still remain some details to be worked out, but don’t you see, time changed within the chamber. Granted, the subject was supposed to leave the chamber and travel through time, but for now, the time change is occurring in situ.
Mildred was confused, she asked, “In whatto?”
“In situ into the future, and then reappear after the end of the experiment, at the end of the, my dear, it means in place. The subject in the chamber was supposed to disappear preset length of the trial, exactly as he was before he left.”
Mildred said, “Okay, Elmo, but that didn’t happen. The eggs didn’t go anywhere. They just hatched in the chamber.”
“Thanks for noticing that little detail,” Elmo responded. “Granted, this experiment is not free of problems, but I feel I am on the right path to creating a time machine. You see, the subject ages in accordance with the time set for the subject’s journey. That is why, in my first series of experiments, when I sent the rat twenty years into the future a rat’s skeleton was the result.
Leaving the four chickens in the chamber, Elmo reset the dials and then stood back with great anticipation. He began the experiment and when the mist cleared all that was left were four chicken skeletons.
Mildred began to hate this infernal machine, whatever entered it would eventually die, rats, chickens, what was next? She believed in her husband, and something was definitely happening, but whatever it was it wasn’t good. She was amazed when Elmo began jumping up and down and dancing around the cellar. He shouted, “It works! It works! He then grabbed Mildred continuing to dance and shout.
THE UNIVERSE IN BALANCE: A SHORT STORY, NATURE RULES
Accepted for publication by The Corner Bar in March 2024. One of the first stories I wrote, and it took me many years to get it right.
God does not play dice with the universe.
—- Albert Einstein
God not only plays dice; he also sometimes throws the dice where they cannot be seen.
—- Stephen Hawking
THE UNIVERSE IN BALANCE
Prof. Maxwell Lowman sat in his MIT office deep in thought. It was mid-afternoon, the blinds were lowered and closed creating the setting he desired. The sole illumination a reading lamp on his desk, a desk littered with books, research papers and correspondence. His office, lined with bookshelves contained works reflecting his eclectic interests running from poetry to the latest volumes in astrophysics.
With his salt and pepper eyebrows and mane of unruly gray hair he looked every part of the college professor. Lowman was an expert on the ‘Big Bang’, as if anyone could claim that title, he often thought. An expert. Might as well be an expert on heaven. Another doctrine born of conjecture. He often mused, “Why did the ‘Big Bang’ take place? How did it give birth to the universe? Questions yet to be solved. And to some, the answers relying on faith. The same as the existence of heaven. But unlike heaven, there was proof, in theory, that the ‘Big Bang’ did take place but for what reason did the universe exist? The question of why the universe came into existence is unanswerable. How is a matter of conjecture.
Lowman’s mind continued on a journey he had come to enjoy. Where some unknown force, some would call God, held hands with science. How could the universe come into existence from nothing? He tried to imagine space before the ‘Big Bang’. Nothing existed. Time did not exist. Light did not exist. Before the ‘Big Bang’ did space exist. Some thought, before the ‘Big Bang’ space did not exist but then unfolded. Did anything come before the existence of nothing. He spent hours musing over these questions thinking, that perhaps, science could not and should not answer everything. Some mystery should remain.
* * *
Lowman was conducting his first graduate class of the semester covering the ‘Big Bang’. His lecture would be full of theory, but in reality, no answers. During the course of his lectures he encouraged questions. And these questions would determine the structure of his future lectures. And this year, with the important upcoming experiment, he wanted to introduce the Higgs boson.
During his lecture, one of his favorite pupils from the past year, Joe Hess, raised his hand and asked, “The ‘Big Bang’ is a mystery to me.”
Lowman said, “Well, you are not alone.”
Hess continued, “We know it happened, or else we wouldn’t be here. But where did all the matter in the universe come from?”
Lowman anticipated this question for it was asked every year. He began pacing along the front of the lecture hall to organize his thoughts for opinions were constantly changing. He began, “Stephen Hawking has a relatively new theory that all matter in the universe was created by the ‘God Particle’. In 1964 Peter Higgs predicted the existence of the Higgs boson which, in a book written by Leon Lederman, was referred to as the ‘God Particle’. The boson is central to our understanding of the structure of all matter”.
Lowman anticipated Joe’s next question, “But where did the ‘God Particle’ come from?”
“That, young man, is the question which remains unanswered. The theory is that the ‘God Particle’ populated the entire universe in the smallest fraction of a second at a speed far beyond the speed of light. Of course, it is accepted that nothing can exceed the speed of light, but we must remember, that when this occurred light did not exist. Time did not exist, so anything is possible. When the ‘Big Bang’ occurred, it is theorized that the universe consisted of equal parts of dark matter, which is now accepted to exist, and visible matter. For reasons unknown, the amount of visible matter surpassed the amount of dark matter. And that is the reason that the universe – stars, black holes and you and I – exist.
Lowman concluded his lecture by telling the class, “I am sure you are aware that tomorrow a unique experiment will be conducted. It will attempt to duplicate the material which existed immediately following the ‘Big Bang’. And perhaps create the particle which existed at the moment of the ‘Big Bang’, the ‘God Particle’. He concluded the lecture, and as the class exited the lecture hall, erased the white board of his lecture notes. One fact he saved for his future lecture was that the universe was expanding not contracting as was originally thought. So rather contracting to the point of, perhaps, another ‘Big Bang’ it will expand into single atoms wandering in space. Nature destroyed along with all the balance which once existed. It made no sense.
* * *
Lowman made his way to his office, excitement in his step. His anticipation of tomorrow’s experiment filled his mind with the possibilities it may contribute to understanding the birth of the universe. He would be counting the hours, the minutes until the experiment was initiated. Wondering at the knowledge to be revealed. It was an experiment in which MIT was a participant, along with a host of other prestigious institutions from all over the world. Prompted by his excitement, he scheduled a meeting with Dr. Volachek, head of the Physics Department, to share his enthusiasm. With a few hours before the meeting was to take place, he returned to the solitude of his office to contemplate what tomorrow’s experiment might reveal. Now he raised the blinds to the dismal gray of the winter’s afternoon.
While sitting at his desk, his eyes wandered over the bookcases lining the walls of his office. He had a love for books since he was a child. During his youth they were his entertainment, and as he grew older, his source of knowledge. He enjoyed being among the thoughts and ideas of the great minds contained in these volumes. Now, with tomorrow’s experiment, he may be witness to a great advancement in the understanding of the universe. The answers to questions great minds had pondered.
With the Hubble telescope and a host of great technologies being developed, questions were being answered and knowledge being gained more rapidly than ever before. The discovery of dark energy and dark matter, once radical concepts, have changed the science of physics. The question is, why does this mysterious dark matter and energy exist? Lowman sat in his office with the only sound the ticking of the old clock sitting on his bookshelf.
As the time of his meeting with Dr. Volchek drew close he donned his overcoat, and through the crisp winter afternoon, made his way to the dean’s office. He had known Dr. Volchek for years. The dean was a good friend and knowledgeable colleague. He entered the office and Dr. Volchek rose and welcomed him with a handshake. “Good to see you, Max. Glad to have someone with whom to share the excitement of tomorrow’s experiment.”
Lowman answered, “I just hope nothing goes wrong. It is an extremely complicated endeavor. This is an international effort with billions of dollars invested. Failure would be heartbreaking.”
The dean replied, “With every experiment there is a risk. But even a failure can produce knowledge. Now relax. Just look forward to the progress we may make in understanding the mysteries of our universe. Tomorrow that device nicknamed, The Hand of God, with gold atoms racing into one another to achieve unbelievable temperatures, will hopefully cause protons and neutrons to break apart into quarks and the gluon particles which hold the quarks together. And then, we hope, the quark – gluon plasma will duplicate the densest material ever created. The material which existed at or immediately after the ‘Big Bang’. Perhaps a Higgs boson. What a mighty contribution to physics that would be. Creating the material unknown to the universe for 18 billion years.”
* * *
That night, at home, his mind was like a whirling dervish. At dinner Max’s wife, Martha, could feel the excitement her husband generated. She said, “Max, calm down. You’re going to make yourself sick. Indigestion will not help you appreciate tomorrow.”
You’re right, Martha. You’re right.”
They finished dinner and spent the remainder of the evening reading. Later, as Martha prepared for bed, Max lie there, his mind working furiously. Once Martha was in bed, she turned off the bedside lamp, kissed Max and said, “I love you.” And he returned that thought. It was their bedtime ritual and meant a great deal to them both. In the darkened room Max turned onto his side. He knew it would take some time to fall asleep, feeling like a kid on Christmas Eve.
The next morning, having spend a fitful night of anticipation, Lowman prepared for work. Before leaving he kissed his wife on the cheek and softly said, “I love you. You make my life worth living.” Martha slightly stirred and smiled.
* * *
The drive to campus seemed to take forever. Lowman had trouble maintaining the speed limit. His excitement transferred to his foot. He parked his car and entered one of the large lecture halls reserved to watch the experiment take place on closed – circuit television and hoped for some kind of immediate results. Dr. Volchek saw Lowman and motioned for him to come over and sit in the seat Volchek saved for him.” The scientists at the ‘Hand of God’ began the introduction of those present at the site and relate a brief history of the journey which led to the experiment.
When that was completed, the experiment was initiated.
Lowman began to consider what knowledge might be discovered but that thought was never completed. In an instant Lowman no longer existed. The universe no longer existed. The balance of nature was revealed. All Lowman’s questions were answered and the answers would remain forever unknown.
Lowman had always been amazed how nature maintained balance. The balance also applied to the Higgs boson. And true to that balance, the experiment produced an anti – Higgs boson. In a thousandth of a trillionth of a second dark matter, using dark energy, compressed all the matter of the universe into the anti – Higgs boson. The entire mass of the universe was now compressed into a minute particle of unbelievable mass. This process had been repeated for an infinite number of times. For infinity. The anti – Higgs boson sat alone in the emptiness of space. And after billions upon billions of years would morph into a Higgs boson prepared to initiate another ‘Big Bang’.
THE END
AND THE BEGINNING
FICTION SEEKING TRUTH: A SHORT STORY CONTAINING A TOUCH OF REALITY
Accepted for publication by Bewildering Stories in July 2008.
For those fans of horror, you may recognize multiple incidents described in this story which are not fiction.
FICTION SEEKING TRUTH
Stewart Kingman was a very successful writer of horror stories. What made his fiction popular was that the stories contained a glimmer of truth. He always included an element of nonfiction in his fiction, just enough to add a macabre reality. His mind would wrap around events and give bizarre possibilities to a mundane world.
Kingman would tell his wife Talia, “I feel there is some truth behind all the stories I write. Perhaps some of the unworldly situations I create could be true. Or maybe all this horror shit is just getting to me. People read my books to escape to a world that scares the hell out of them, and they enjoy that world because they can always close the book to escape the horror. What if some of the horror actually existed outside the book? That’s the reason JAWS was so popular – the book was frightening but possible. You could close the book and jump in the ocean and fiction could suddenly become reality and your ass is shark bait.”
“Sure, Dracula had his roots in Vlad the Impaler, but old Vlad was just a weird dude, nothing supernatural. Why does all this shit get published, and some of it is real shit. I think I’m going to take a lesson from my old friend Houdini and look for the truth behind the horror.”
Kingman was fascinated by the life of Harry Houdini, living a public life spent creating illusions and a private life seeking the truth behind the illusion, performing as an escape artist and at the same time a debunker of charlatans claiming to be able to communicate with the dead. Houdini constantly tried to communicate with his dead mother and his efforts only resulted in exposing one fake after another. As he was dying, he told his wife he would beckon to her from the grave but as far as anyone knows, he never succeeded.
Stewart did not discuss his theory of the truth behind fiction any further with Talia, but she knew that he was doing research on the topic. He had a vast library of folklore he used to give him ideas for his stories. He was now spending a great deal of time rereading some of his favorite volumes.
Along with this work, he was doing something new. He had begun getting involved with his fan mail. He had a publicist with a staff of five who handled the vast quantity of mail he received. Letters arrived requesting a copy of his picture and relating how Stewart Kingman was their favorite author.
He decided to take a closer look at his fan mail himself to see if anyone mentioned a true occurrence, something that defied known reality.
Kingman rapidly discovered why he did not get involved with his fan mail. He received letters from fans who were mating with monsters, having their minds controlled by alien forces or by your run-of-the-mill witch, which might also led to mating. He corresponded with them all, seeking out the faintest glimmer of fact the wacko stories might contain, but there was none.
The letter Kingman was searching for arrived late that spring.
Dear Mr. Kingman,
I can’t say I’ve read all your books, but the ones I’ve read I’ve enjoyed.
I was wondering if you ever thought of writing a story about someone who had something happen to him and wound up being able to control the future.
Yours truly,
Frank Talbot
Kingman wrote to Talbot requesting more detail. A few weeks later another letter arrived from Talbot, a longer letter containing much more detail.
Dear Mr. Kingman,
It took me a long time to sit down and write this letter. On one hand, I can’t believe I’m corresponding with you, on the other hand, you’ll think I’m nuts.
I’m a lineman in Massachusetts and last winter we had an ice storm from hell. I was up on a pole, after working I don’t know how many hours, when I wasn’t careful and touched a live wire. My work crew told me the rest of the details. They lowered me from the pole and I wasn’t breathing. They took turns doing CPR and got me going again. The ambulance came, and on the way to the hospital I tried to leave this world again. The ambulance driver gave me a jolt with the defibrillator, and I returned to the living once more.
Now comes the weird part that you might not believe but I swear its true.
I was off from work for a couple of weeks, and it’s during this time that strange things began to happen. I was sitting in the living room when the TV suddenly came on. On the TV was a news special and the guy reading the news looked like living death, definitely a strange looking dude. Just before the set came on I was thinking about my kid brother who’s in the army stationed in Iraq and how great it would be to see him. Then this guy on the TV, looking like an extra from Dawn of the Living Dead says the 85th armor division is coming home – my brother’s outfit. The screen then went blank.
Here’s the really creepy part; the TV wasn’t plugged in. So now you’re sure I’m nuts, but I swear it’s the truth. It’s happened a few times since. My mind wanders as I’m sitting in front of the TV when Mr. Death Warmed Over comes on the air and makes an announcement. I don’t know where the broadcasts come from and I don’t know how the TV got unplugged. Maybe I had some sort of seizure and unplugged it before the broadcast began. I don’t know.
Anyway, I’ve included my telephone number if you want to call me.
Yours truly,
Frank Talbot
Kingman read the letter over and over. The guy sounded like the genuine article. He gave Talbot a call and arranged to pay him a visit. The drive from Kingman’s home in Maine to Talbot’s in Massachusetts would not take long and might be a nice getaway. Kingman loved long drives and who knew, some of this might actually be true.
On a pleasant May morning, Kingman set out for Frank Talbot’s house. He drove onto I-95 planning to take the interstate into Massachusetts. The traffic was unusually light, and as he approached the Massachusetts boarder, Kingman found that the only vehicle other than his was a tractor-trailer hauling a sailboat, shrink – wrapped in blue plastic down the highway in front of him.
Kingman had the cruise control set on his SUV and the tunes playing. He was slightly daydreaming when the daydream became a nightmare. The sailboat somehow fell off the trailer and was pin wheeling down the highway heading straight for him. The weight of the rudder caused the boat to spin faster and faster. What followed was pure luck. He swerved to the far left lane of the three-lane highway with the spinning boat rapidly approaching him. When he was sure he was going to die, the mast swept over his SUV inches above the roof. If the boat had been a little smaller and the mast closer to the ground as the boat lay on its side, he would have become a giant Kingman kabob. He pulled onto the shoulder and sat there until his shaking hands could again grip the steering wheel. The rest of the trip was uneventful.
He found Talbot’s house without much trouble and pulled into the driveway of a modest ranch. He was about to knock on the door when it opened and there stood Frank Talbot, an average looking guy about thirty years of age. Before Kingman could say hello, Talbot said, “Glad the sailboat missed you.” This caught Kingman totally by surprise.
“How in the hell did you know about the boat?” but Kingman instantly knew the answer to his own question. “You saw it on TV.”
Talbot replied, “I had to find a way to convince you that what I was experiencing was real. I must have invented the accident in my subconscious, something that would cause you no harm but get your attention. I caught Mr. Death’s broadcast just before you pulled into my driveway.”
“You definitely got my attention,” Kingman said. The two men then sat and talked for hours, and when Kingman left he already had the outline for a book. Deciding it would be fiction but with an introduction dealing with the facts behind the fiction, Kingman began writing the book.
It was late summer, and the writing was progressing well. Kingman loved walking the country roads near his property. On an August evening, he set out walking and thinking of the day’s writing and what he would put down on paper next. He never heard the approaching van.
Kingman awoke in the hospital with more pain than he had ever experienced in his life. A young doctor told him of his multiple fractures but reassured him that he would walk again. The doctor also told him that his heart had stopped twice in the ambulance due to the trauma his body had endured. “They defibrillated you,” the doctor said.
Kingman’s recovery took a long time and rehabilitation was painful. Shortly after the accident he learned that the driver of the van, already cited twice for reckless driving, blamed Kingman for the accident. He said that Kingman shouldn’t have been walking on the road. Kingman felt a rage he had never felt before. His pain was excruciating. The painkillers destroyed his writing. He spent hours just dwelling on the accident, the insane accusations of the van driver and how the whole thing had changed his life.
Fall arrived, the changing leaves brightened the countryside, and Kingman took his first steps with the use of two canes. Every step delivered agony, but now he knew he would walk again. He still hated the driver that struck him but suppressed it as he tried to overcome the pain and hoped he would be able to write soon.
The trees were now bare; fall was setting the landscape for winter. Kingman still could not write. He would spend hours thinking of plots and characters, but when he sat down to put words to paper, nothing would come.
Late one afternoon, as the shadows lengthened, Kingman sat alone in his family room. A short walk had left him exhausted and his legs were screaming with pain. Suddenly, the TV lit the room. On the screen, an announcer looking near death related the news of a suicide and produced a picture. It was a picture of the driver that struck him. Kingman glanced at the TV’s plug and a slight smile crossed his lips.
THE END
WHAT DA VINCI SAID
WHAT DA VINCI SAID
In my last post I mentioned that I worked to leave a record. I feel most creative people (I feel it takes some nerve to call myself creative) somewhere in the corridors of their mind consider that purpose while they are producing their work.
Where my thoughts on this subject began was after I read Walter Isaacson’s excellent biography of Leonardo da Vinci. If you were at all interested in da Vinci’s life and work I highly recommend this book.
It is thought that if da Vinci had been alive today he would probably been on medication. He had difficulty completing a project. His most famous work, the Mona Lisa, was commissioned by a husband as a portrait of his wife. The husband never received the portrait, and da Vinci carried it with him wherever he went for the rest of his life occasionally adding a few brush strokes.
He was known to be a hard worker and when someone asked him why he worked so hard he said, “I want people to know I was here.”
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