Posts tagged ‘short story’
ELMO’S SOJOURN: CHAPTER 6, REVELATIONS FROM VALMID
ELMO’S SOJOURN
CHAPTER 6
REVELATIONS FROM VALMID
Valmid invited Elmo to walk with him and discover the beauty of Roth. As they opened the door, the dingo plants were pulling back their last extended strands of nighttime growth. The sky, colored the deepest lavender Elmo had ever seen, was dotted with fluffy clouds of lemon yellow. This world was so different yet so beautiful. Elmo sniffed the air and detected the salty tang of the ocean. Valmid nodded yes. “We are near the sea.”
A path from the house led to a slight rise. As they set out Valmid shortened his stride, enabling Elmo to stay by his side. Zytex followed them, his roving eye taking in the sights of the home he had almost lost. They passed other Rothians along their climb up the rise. Valmid greeted them with his whining turbine voice and nodded to Elmo, appearing to tell the other aliens something of him. As soon as Valmid finished, Elmo noticed relief in the faces of the others. Once they had climbed to the top of the rise, the beauty of the seascape below struck Elmo with peaceful thoughts of home. An expanse of ocean, deep blue, stretched into infinity, the water turning shades of turquoise and green close to shore. “At least,” Elmo thought, “the ocean looks like home.”
A few solitary islands broke the horizon and alien pleasure craft dotted the surface, accompanied by an occasional sail billowing in the wind. The beach was the darkest black Elmo had ever seen. He thought there might be black sand on Earth, but he had never seen a beach this color. The scene was beautiful, with sights both familiar and entirely new, enhanced by aliens from another world enjoying a peaceful day by the ocean.
Elmo’s day was spent observing what life was like on planet Roth. The streets were mostly deserted except for the occasional Rothian car zipping by and the high-pitched whine of the Rothians greeting one another. Would he ever grow accustomed to that sound? Elmo spent a pleasant day with Valmid, walking and discussing Earth and Roth, the similarities and differences between the two planets. Zytex was never far behind, although he would sometimes stray. Valmid would then shout to him and grin as Zytex’s eye looked skyward and his small arms shot up as if to say, “Who me?”
As they walked the streets, Elmo noticed that a few structures similar to Valmid’s home seemed deserted. Just as on Earth, when a caring hand does not tend the property, it shows.
Valmid’s mind blanked as they passed these abandoned dwellings, as if there was something about the properties he wished to conceal. Elmo enjoyed being with Valmid, felt he could trust him, but at the same time felt there was something Valmid was hiding. But there was so much for Elmo to learn and experience in such a short period of time that the thought of some secret being kept drifted to the back of his mind.
The day went by rapidly for Elmo on this new world. The clouds took on a hint of emerald as the two followed by Zytex, headed home. Approaching the house, Valmid screeched a greeting to Cal standing in the doorway.
Elmo sat down to another Rothian meal of unfamiliar but tasty food. He wondered what type of animal and plant life he was consuming – there was still so much he wanted to learn of this planet. While Valmid and Elmo were gone, Cal had programmed the computer to display various scenes of Roth on the wall mounting, and as each scene was displayed either Valmid or Cal provided a narration. Elmo saw vast canyons and spectacular mountain ranges. He considered the differences between the inhabitants of Earth and Roth but acknowledged that the biology was basically the same. Now he realized that along with the biology, the geology of Roth must also roughly correspond to that of Earth.
The three talked late into the night, the only real sound the occasional report of the dingo plants as some small critter trespassed near the house. The fullness of the day and the quantity of information Elmo had absorbed took its toll and he began nodding off. He bid his friends goodnight and bounced up stairs that made him feel as if he were a toddler. Upon entering the bedroom, he was pleased to see the bed turned down and his pajamas laid out. Soon he was under the covers and fast asleep. But his rest did not last long. Howling and screeching pierced the night accompanied by the shrill voices of Valmid and Cal. Another sound accompanied all this turmoil, a metallic noise that rang throughout the house. Elmo soon discovered the source of the clanking as thick sheets of metal slid over his windows, leaving him sitting in total darkness, unable to imagine what was happening.
Elmo stumbled from his room into the hallway, only to encounter Valmid and Cal in an extreme state of distress. He noticed perspiration on Valmid’s brow. Since Elmo arrived on Roth Valmid had exhibited such a serene, calming countenance that to see him upset made Elmo’s uneasiness grow even deeper. He followed Valmid and Cal downstairs, and shortly they were all sitting around the kitchen table with mugs of a warm beverage resembling tea before them.
Valmid gazed at Elmo. “There is something I have been keeping from you my friend,” he said. “Something that threatens this planet and might once again threaten Earth. What you heard tonight was the alarm sounded by the dingo plants to an invasion by the inhabitants of the planet Gylex, a distant planet revolving around a star in much the same way Roth and Earth do. The inhabitants of Gylex have also discovered the secret of time-space travel, but their intentions are most nefarious.”
“You see,” he continued, “our homes are not surrounded by dingo plants to prevent crime – there is little crime on Roth. Rather, these plants surround our homes to sound the alarm if invaders from Gylex are nearby. We do not fully understand the relationship between the dingo plants and these beings, but when a Gylexan is in the vicinity of a dingo plant, the plants emit a piercing scream. We propagate these plants to warn us of invasion. We have cameras mounted outside the house to record these intrusions. Let us see if they recorded anything tonight.”
They all went into the living room and sat facing one of the wall hangings. Valmid pushed buttons on a remote and the pleasant scenes of the planet Roth were replaced by the view from the house. While doing this, he told Elmo, “In the short time you have been with us, I feel I have gotten to know you. You have experienced so much since you arrived. I was going to wait until tomorrow to tell you how you could be of benefit to my planet. Now I will show you.”
ELMO’S SOJOURN: CHAPTER 3, ELMO ARRIVES ON ROTH
ELMO’S SOJOURN
CHAPTER 3
ELMO ARRIVES ON ROTH
When Elmo awoke, he had no idea where he was. His eyes beheld a landscape both strange and beautiful, a rolling countryside of vegetation and a nearby dwelling, but unlike any he had ever seen. Then, he recalled entering his time-space machine with his newfound friend. As he ran his fingers through his thick black hair, he wondered where he was. His body felt youthful. He must be forty years younger. He contemplated the shift in time and enjoyed his renewed youth.
Waiting to be transported back to his basement, Elmo had no way of knowing his adventure had caused the greatest blackout in history. He was hesitant to move and change the coordinates he had entered into the time-space machine sitting in his basement. Eventually curiosity won out and he began to explore his surroundings. At the same time, he felt a growing fear. He wondered if this journey was a good idea and if he would ever see Mildred again.
As he stood near his traveling companion, he saw the creature’s funnel shaped mouth form a grin, happy to be home. The soil was the color of the soil back home with green vegetation, but vegetation that defied what he knew of plant life. There were trees in the distance, but they towered like mountains over the landscape. The giant redwoods he recalled from his vacations would reach only a third the way up the trunks of these behemoths. He stood in a tiny bare spot of ground. Stepping upon a green field, he heard tiny screams and immediately retreated. Vegetation was obviously advanced on this planet, felt pain, and could utter distress. There were trails leading everywhere so that one could avoid walking on the plant life. He must remember to tread lightly on this planet. His eyes left the landscape and gazed at a brilliant lavender sky studded with crimson clouds although it was not yet dusk. Crimson must be the normal color of clouds in this world. Elmo also found that here a small hop would carry him far. His companion, too, was much more active in gravity one-fourth than of earth.
This newly youthful Elmo sat down with his traveling companion at his side and studied the landscape for a very long time and thought of his journey. He noted that although his age had noticeably changed, the appearance of the creature next to him had not. This must indicate a longer lifespan. Then he smiled, realizing that if the journey had been made with a Galapagos tortoise, the effect would have been the same. Elmo considered the implications, both scientific and personal if his theory about age was correct. The personal consequences made his eyes run with tears. His companion seemed to understand his grief, and its tiny arm hugged his shoulder. Elmo once again gazed at the sky and drank in the glory of another world. Dusk approached, and the sky held three moons of varying diameters. As the sun set, the crimson clouds held hints of green, becoming a deep emerald as darkness approached.
Night fell. Lights began to dot the landscape. In the darkness, the door to the nearby structure opened and a tall, gray-skinned figure approached Elmo and his eye-roving friend. Elmo’s first reaction was to run. But where would he go? He knew nothing of his surroundings, and, after all, this adventure was meant to learn about alien life. The approaching creature was clad in a flowing, blue robe-like garment. As it came closer, Elmo’s traveling companion began to execute flips and emit sounds similar to the purring of a cat. Suddenly Elmo realized what he thought was the dominant life form was actually a pet.
As the strange being approached, Elmo appreciated its height, which was well over seven feet, and its regal bearing. The head of the creature was very large, larger than his seven-foot plus height would require, and completely hairless. Its ears were mere holes in the sides of the head, the nose being a simple hole also. Its eyes were the most amazing aspect of its face. They were huge, elliptical and able to rotate on their center. The eye movement of this planet’s inhabitants was strange indeed. The being who now stood before Elmo and the fire hydrant-shaped creature smiled and patted the creature’s head, causing its purring to increase and leading Elmo to believe he had brought the little fellow back home.
The tall, gray-skinned figure did not seem at all surprised at Elmo’s arrival. “Receiving visitors from other worlds must be a common occurrence here,” thought Elmo. “There are so many questions I want to ask. But how do I communicate?”
Thoughts raced through his mind, and Elmo soon found himself unable to concentrate. That was when the breakthrough occurred. As his mind went blank, Elmo’s head was suddenly filled with thoughts that were not his own. His emotions went from shock to disbelief to understanding. These beings communicated by thought transference! When his mind was full of his own thoughts, there was no room for the thoughts of another. He must clear his mind to receive the thoughts of this being. Instead of alternating between thinking and listening, they alternated between thinking and making their minds a blank slate. When his mind had been racing, he’d noticed the alien wince and wrinkle his brow; now he knew why.
“I am Valmid, and this is the planet Roth, third planet from our sun,” it said. “Thank you for returning Zytex. He has been with our family for many years, and I was sad at the prospect of losing the little fellow.” Zytex’s eye wandered around his head as he purred incessantly, taking in Valmid and Elmo.
“You must meet my wife,” thought Valmid, and with that he turned towards his home. He next emitted a sound that reminded Elmo of a high-pitched turbine, interrupted by a clicking noise. Out of the house came a figure even taller than Valmid but obviously female.
ELMO’S SOJOURN: CHAPTER 2, ELMO’S ADVENTURE BEGINS
ELMO’S SOJOURN
CHAPTER 2
ELMO’S ADVENTURE BEGINS
As Mildred returned her thoughts to the present, she wondered if the lights dimming had anything to do with Elmo’s shouting. What she didn’t know was that the lights had also dimmed in most of that region of New York and most of eastern Canada. The electrical company had never experienced a power drain like this before and was struggling to get things under control.
Now, as she opened the basement door, Mildred wondered if perhaps all those years Elmo worked in the basement unsupervised was really a good idea. She peered down the stairs He began jumping like a little boy, not the seventy-five-year-old man that he was. “I don’t have a problem. I did it! I did it!” he shouted over and over.
“I completed my first experiment,” Elmo answered and pointed to the Plexiglas chamber. Through the mist Mildred began to detect a shape. At first she thought it was a large fire hydrant but then it began to move. The fire hydrant was mottled red and green with skinny arms ending in suction-cupped fingers. Its tiny legs also ended in suction cups. The creature’s mouth resembled a funnel, which constantly opened and closed. It was breathing.
The most peculiar aspect of this creature was its eye. It had only one and it blinked constantly. As Elmo and Mildred talked, the eye followed their conversation, traveling from one to the other, as the eye physically moved around the perimeter of its head. Mildred watched as the eye moved from one side of the thing’s head to the other. She giggled as she imagined a stadium full of these creatures following a tennis match but soon got control of herself. Actually, the single eye wandering all over the alien’s head was starting to give her the creeps.
“You can’t keep it,” she said.
Elmo responded, “I don’t want to keep it. I want to go back with it.”
“You’re kidding Elmo, and where did it come from anyway?” asked Mildred.
Elmo explained, “You see my dear, you and I and all living beings in the universe are a series of chemical reactions. The cosmos is one huge chemistry set. I thought that if there was a star, similar in size to our sun, and if there was a planet with a distance similar from that star as the earth is from the sun, that life might exist there. These days, astronomers are always discovering new planets revolving around distant stars. So, I just waited until one was discovered with the right conditions and aimed my time-space machine at that planet and the results are in the chamber. But notice how our friend can barely move his arms or legs. The gravity on his planet must be much less than it is on earth. I need to go back with him and see what it’s like.”
Mildred shook her head. But she knew arguing with Elmo was useless.
“I’ll show you how to run the machine, but first get our camera,” Elmo said.
By the time Mildred found the camera and returned to the basement, Elmo had entered the chamber and had his arm around the visitor. Mildred took a picture, then another for insurance. Then Elmo exited the chamber to demonstrate the workings of the machine to his anxious wife.
“Okay dear, first you turn the machine on with this switch. Next, you turn this rheostat. To get him here, I had to set the rheostat to half maximum. To get us back, you’ll need to turn it to full. Give me about ten minutes and then bring me back.”
“I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” muttered Mildred.
“Don’t worry Mildred, I’ll be back before you’re done cooking dinner.”
Elmo entered the chamber and Mildred followed his instructions. As soon as the rheostat reached max, there was a blinding flash, the chamber filled with a milk-white fog, and Elmo and the creature were gone. Shortly after they disappeared the lights in the basement went out.
Mildred sighed. “Oh Elmo, you may be gone a little longer than you expected,” she muttered and climbed the stairs to fix dinner.
What Mildred didn’t yet know was her town, the entire state of New York, along with most of the northeast, a good portion of the Midwest and a large part of Canada were also without power. Fifty million people were plunged into darkness. Elmo’s experiment had precipitated the largest blackout in history. He was going to be very very late for dinner.
ELMO’S SOJOURN: CHAPTER 1, CELLAR SCIENCE
ELMO’S SOJOURN
CHAPTER 1
CELLAR SCIENCE
“I have a problem! I have a big problem!” Elmo shouted from his cellar laboratory. Mildred shook her head, wiped her hands on her apron and headed for the basement door. After fifty years of marriage, Elmo never ceased to amaze her at the trouble he could get into.
“Could he garden like other men his age? Oh no, he has to do physics experiments,” Mildred muttered as she walked down the cellar stairs.
* * *
They had moved into this rural house in Upstate New York ten years ago, right after Elmo had retired from his job at Los Alamo Laboratory. He was a physicist at the laboratory, part of a think-tank that planned experiments. But Elmo enjoyed the lab work too. He had accumulated a lot of ideas and discarded equipment. Mildred gazed out the window of her country home. Nearby, tall electrical towers obstructed some of the bucolic scenery, but Mildred liked the house just fine. Elmo brought along the junk he had accumulated over the years, mostly discarded apparatus from failed experiments, equipment useless to everyone except Elmo. The items included large magnets and four six-foot-tall Tesla coils, specialized high voltage transformers three feet in diameter and wrapped with miles of thin copper wire. They resembled giant candles, coming to a point with electrical connections at the apex. Elmo transported all this equipment into the basement and fiddled with it for years. He then had a large Plexiglas chamber built, which set them back a bundle. He stood the Tesla coils in each corner, then mounted the magnets in the floor.
The next step in the construction of Elmo’s experiment Mildred found most undesirable. Elmo told Mildred, “I’ll need a great deal of power for my research. Soon I’ll need your help making the electrical connections for the project I’ve been working on.”
A few days ago, a truck had delivered a huge spool of heavy insulated wire, another great expense, and now Mildred was getting a bad feeling. Once it was dark, Elmo emerged from the basement wearing rubber boots and heavy rubber gloves. “Get your coat Mildred, we’re going out.” The spool of wire was in the bed of Elmo’s pickup. They drove to the base of the nearest electrical tower and parked.
“What are you going to do Elmo?” Mildred asked in a voice full of apprehension and a touch of impatience.
“I’m going to climb the tower and connect this wire which you’re going to feed out,” came his reply. Mildred shook her head and wished Elmo would act his age.
After that illegal task was accomplished, Elmo spent most of his time in the basement tinkering with his invention. He called it his Time – Space Chamber, and when Mildred asked just what he was doing Elmo explained, “I’ve always thought that if I could create an electrical field, then move those electrons in a magnetic field to approach the speed of light, I could create a wormhole to a distant time and place. I could aim at the wormhole and transport matter. The secret is the size of the magnetic field. It must be small, not like the giant cyclotrons they construct in the desert.
All Mildred could say was, “If it makes you happy dear.” It kept Elmo out of her hair for years.
ELMO’S INVENTION: CHAPTER 11, A TINKERER GOES INTO THE FUTURE
CHAPTER 11
A TINKERER GOES INTO THE FUTURE
Kingsley talked to Elmo on the phone and agreed to come over and view the time machine the next day. The excitement in Elmo’s voice was obvious. “It works! It works!” Elmo repeatedly shouted. Kinsley didn’t have to ask what works.
The following night at 6:00PM sharp Kingsley showed up at the kitchen door, punctual as usual. Mildred had a steaming mug of Earl Grey ready for him.
“Hello, Kingsley. Elmo is so excited to talk to you about his time machine. I’ll be honest with you Kingsley; I think it really does work but what kind of disruption it will cause in our lives I can only imagine. I just want a nice quiet life here in New Mexico.”
Kinsley said, “I’ll do my best to keep the existence of the machine quiet until Elmo and I have thought through the ramifications it might pose.”
Elmo appeared at the top of the cellar stairs and said, “Kingsley come quick. I want to demonstrate my time machine.” Elmo rushed down the stairs so fast that Kingsley was afraid he might miss a step and fall.
“All right, Elmo, I’m coming.” Kingsley looked back at Mildred and she just stood there shaking her head.
Elmo led Kingsley down to the iron lung. “Kingsley, I found a loose wire and after consulting my wiring diagrams, I reattached it. And what do you know; it now works as a time machine.”
“How can you be sure, Elmo?”
“Why, I tested it and journeyed into the future. Now I’d like you to see the future.”
This caught Kingsley by surprise. “I don’t know, Elmo. What happens if it’s only a one-way trip?”
“That won’t happen. I came back. And even if it did, I’m only sending you to tomorrow morning. Trust me, Kingsley.”
That declaration was a huge jump of faith in Kingsley’s mind. Will this device work every time. And what happens if a traveler is caught in the ‘in – between? He respected Elmo’s enthusiasm and love for science but had trouble erasing all doubts of success. But after thinking of the prospect of traveling into the future, Kingsley said, “Okay, Elmo, send me to tomorrow morning, but make sure you bring me back.”
Elmo smiled and said, “Don’t worry. It’s foolproof.”
Kingsley stared at Elmo.
Elmo opened the lid to the iron lung and had Kingsley climb in. Before he closed the lid he said, “First the chamber will fill with a dense mist. That’s normal. When the mist clears. I’d like you to go upstairs, open the kitchen door and pick up the paper. Bring the paper along with you when you get back into the chamber. The return process will begin automatically when you close the lid of the iron lung. You’ll be gone for a total of fifteen minutes.” Elmo closed the chamber and initiated the process. Soon Kingsley was lost in a cloud of mist.
Within the chamber Kingsley could see only the dense white fog which soon dissipated. He climbed out of the chamber and found that Elmo was no longer there. Kingsley climbed the cellar stairs. Just a hint a daylight beginning to lighten the kitchen window. Mildred stood before the stove, spatula in hand, cooking breakfast. Elmo sat at the table and was the first to see Kingsley. Then Mildred saw him. Shocked at Kingsley’s suddenly appearing so early in the morning and greatly confused for she had not seen him enter the house, she asked, “What are you doing here?”
Kingsley sheepishly said, “Getting the paper.” Which made no sense to Mildred. All this time Elmo sat at the kitchen table and had a huge grin on his face. Began quietly laughing. Elmo remembered yesterday.
Kingsley retrieved the paper, smiled, and returned to the cellar leaving a bewildered Mildred and hysterical Elmo. Once in the cellar, he opened the lid of the chamber, climbed in and settled down ready to go back to today or rather yesterday. The return process was initiated, and he was lost in a cloud of mist.
When the mist cleared he opened the lid of the iron lung and there stood Elmo. He helped Kingsley out of the chamber and Elmo was excited to see him holding the newspaper which Elmo opened with great anticipation. There it was. Tomorrow’s date. He slapped Kingsley on the back and said, “Now you’re a time traveler.
This experience presented Kingsley with an eerie feeling of possessing knowledge he should not have. He was once again dwelling in today with knowledge of tomorrow.
Kingsley was lost in wonder at what Elmo had accomplished. He built a machine that, until now, only existed in the realm of science fiction. He said, “Elmo, I’d like to keep this paper. There’s some thinking I must do about your startling device.”
“Sure, keep it”, Elmo said.
Kingsley suggested, “Let’s get together in a day or two and discuss the potential impact your machine may have on everyday life. Think things out. I’m sure you and Mildred do not want any more protests.”
“Sure Kingsley, sure. I’ll see you in a couple days.”
The next morning Elmo absently minded went out the kitchen door to get the paper as Mildred said, “Elmo, you won’t believe it but Kingsley already picked up our paper and went into the cellar. Wait a minute, you should believe it because you were here. I’m so confused.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” said Elmo and smiled broadly, amused by Midred’s confusion. Which under the circumstances was normal. For there had never been circumstances like this before.
ELMO’S INVENTION: CHAPTER 10, TIME MACHINE REPAIRED
CHAPTER 10
TIME MACHINE REPAIRED
One day after work Elmo stopped, once again, at Brooker’s farm for fertilized eggs.
“How you doing, Elmo?” he shouted seeing Elmo as Brooker one of his coops.
“Not bad,” Elmo responded. “Not bad.”
Brooker said, “I guess you come for more eggs. Got to tell you, son, this deal is saving me money on feed and such. Hope we can keep it going for a long time.”
Elmo thought about all the effort he put into constructing his machine, and all the grief he endured trying to explore some purpose for it. And it all came down to raising chickens. He tried to mask his feelings and said, “We’ve got a pretty good deal going, Brooker. A pretty good deal.”
Elmo accepted six fertilized eggs and made his way home, his heart full of failure wondering what went wrong. He arrived home, still in a funk, and Mildred met him at the door. She was all smiles. “Elmo, it looks like we’ll be getting another free chicken soon.”
Elmo gave his wife a wistful smile and went downstairs to his cellar lab. He loaded the eggs into his machine, set the length of time of aging to one year and the duration for one minute, and then pushed the button that would start the process. He stepped back, expecting the chamber to fill with mist and eventually see mature chickens, but nothing happened.
“Now what?” Elmo shouted in disbelief.
Not only had his time machine been reduced to raising chickens, now it wouldn’t work at all. Must be a disconnected wire, he thought. He removed the eggs and went to get his wiring diagrams. Unscrewing a steel plate to gain access to the workings of the machine, he carefully began to probe searching for a fault.
After a short period of time he muttered, “Aha.” He had found a disconnected wire and immediately knew that must be the problem.
Elmo referred to his wiring diagram, and then back to the wire. He saw where the connection should be made, but to his surprise, that connection had never been completed. The wire had been soldered to a place it should not have been. He also found some burned-out resistors. That was why the device failed to operate. His mind raced. Could this be why the invention did not fulfill its purpose? Elmo made the repair, reattached the panel and retrieved the eggs.
Elmo’s thoughts went wild as he placed the eggs in the chamber, resetting the length of time to one year and the duration to one minute.
He pushed the start button.
The chamber filled with mist, and then quickly dissipated. The eggs were gone. A short time later they reappeared with no apparent change in age. Elmo reasoned, “The eggs must have traveled into the future and didn’t age.
Elmo jumped for joy, shouting, “It works! It works!”
He next shouted, “Mildred, come quick!”
Mildred heard his initial exclamation. After Elmo beckoned her, she started for the cellar with great apprehension. Sometimes things went terribly wrong down there. She flashed back to her mother’s teacup, wondering where it was now and even if it still existed. She never knew what to expect at all when she was summoned down to Elmo’s lab. But she loved Elmo and wanted to give him all the support she could – within reason.
Upon entering the cellar, Mildred found Elmo peering into his iron lung device. He turned and said to her, “Mil, it works, I think. It finally, really works.”
It was the ‘I think’ that bothered Mildred.
“Watch”, he said to Mildred and repeated the experiment. Once again the eggs disappeared in a cloud and then reappeared in another white haze.
Milder muttered, “At least the eggs returned, unlike my teacup.”
Elmo then related to his wife about the loose wire, his reference to the wiring diagram and his mistake in constructing his machine.
Mildred asked, “Is that the end of our free chickens?” She had her priorities.
The question caused Elmo to chuckle realizing his wife’s priorities were so much different from his own.
“I’m afraid so, my dear. But this is more important than chickens.
“Your teacup was part of a different experiment. The reason I called you down is to see that my invention really worked, to see that the eggs actually traveled in time. Now I must run the ultimate test to see if it worked.”
“Well, Elmo, how are you going to do that?”
After removing the eggs from the chamber, Elmo pushed a small stepstool in front of the iron lung.
Mildred said, “You’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do.”
“There is only one way, Mil, that I can think of to know if it really works. A person must be transported into the future and return and report on the experience.
“I need your help. All the parameters are set. All you need to do is push this button to initiate the process.”
Mildred knew there would be no living with Elmo if she didn’t help, and if she didn’t help, he would just get someone else. She mumbled, “All right, Elmo, but it’s the return part I’m worried about.” She added, “Remember the teacup. What happens if you don’t come back?”
Elmo disregarded that possibility.
Before he closed the lid to the chamber, Elmo said, “That was a totally different type of experiment. But remember that every experiment has an element of uncertainty. That’s why they are called experiments.
“I have to know if my machine works, and I’m almost positive that it does. I need to do this experiment to confirm that it does.”
With that Elmo closed the lid and indicated to Mildred to push the button. The chamber filled with a heavy white mist, and when it cleared Elmo was gone. After five minutes it once again filled with the blanketing mist. Once the chambered cleared, and much to Mildred’s delight, there lay Elmo with a huge grin on his face. He pushed open the lid and shouted, “It works! It works!” After all the hard work, disappointment and failure, his time machine finally worked.
“Mildred, I was talking to you fifteen minutes into the future down here in the cellar.”
“How can you know it was in the future, Elmo?”
“Well, for one thing, you don’t remember me talking to you since I entered the chamber.”
“You’re talking to me now, Elmo.”
“Well yes, but something happened while we were talking that will confirm my knowledge of the future.” Elmo waited another few moments and said, “Your roast is going to burn.”
Minutes later the first odors of burning roast filtered down to the cellar.
“Elmo, why didn’t you tell me earlier? I could have saved the roast.”
“And I would have changed the future.”
Mildred hurried upstairs in a huff. Seconds later there came a crash from the kitchen.
He said quietly, “And you’re going to burn your fingers and drop the roast. I forgot to mention that part.”
Elmo was anxious to share the fact that his time machine finally worked with someone in the scientific community. He immediately thought of notifying the Tinkerer’s Club, but that idea did not last long. The last time he consulted the club it ended in a disaster when someone leaked the events of the meeting. The only Tinkerer he trusted was Kingsley Dasher, and that’s whom he would contact.
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 1, ELMO’S WORKSHOP, THE BEGINNING OF THE TIME MACHINE
ELMO’S INVENTION
CHAPTER 1
ELMO’S WORKSHOP
“Mildred,” Elmo Baker shouted, “Come down here. I have something important to show you.” Standing at the base of the cellar stairs, Elmo was in his usual excited state when a project was completed. Of medium build, with a broad face and a mass of curly black hair, Elmo’s passion was science, physics in particular. Mildred, with great trepidation, began walking down the stairs to the cellar. At the base of the stairs stood Elmo, beaming, not a good sign, and Mildred could tell by the twinkle in his eye as she approached her husband, that a demonstration or explanation of an invention was about to take place. And that twinkle would slowly if the experiment failed, which was often the case.
The year was 1966, and Mildred loved Elmo so, but shortly after their marriage three years ago, it became clear how intense Elmo’s love for science was and that love would follow them all of their lives. Mildred loved Elmo’s sense of curiosity but not the prospect of cleaning up the destruction, the mess of a failed experiment.
“Come here, Mil, I’ve got something to show you.” Elmo held out his hand to Mildred and said, “You have got to see this. I’m ready to make the first test.”
Mildred was not looking forward to what Elmo might present to her. Her husband was one of the first ‘dumpster divers’. Los Alamos was the government facility known for its research of the atom, and it was where Elmo worked. And he knew that when an experiment failed, some of the materials that went into the effort were tossed, deemed trash. Lab bosses also discarded equipment they considered ‘obsolete’ to be replaced by the latest version. But Elmo thought of this trash as treasure. This was much to Elmo’s benefit and was the source that supplied his cellar laboratory. At the end of his workday at his Los Alamos lab, Elmo would back his car up to the dumpster area and go to work. On many days, he would come home with the backseat of his Chevy filled with scientific odds and ends. To Elmo, Los Alamos’ trash was the building blocks of his inventions.
Elmo led Mildred to the corner of the cellar where he had his workbench and lab of the cellar. The remainder of the room was occupied by the usual accumulation of life which now had no use but never thrown away. Below a bare overhead bulb was his invention. Which looked to Mildred like and iron lung, one she had seen delivered. Elmo could see the confusion on his wife’s face, and proudly said, “Doll, I have invented a time machine.”
* * *
Mildred kept her love for Elmo strong, although that could be difficult at times.
Elmo was two years older than Mildred. He was handsome, but that was not what had attracted Mildred to him. It was his passion for a new curiosity he discovered, usually scientific. He found the world of science fascinating, with the wonder of a child enthralled by a rattle. At times he could sit for hours just thinking and occasionally smiling. However, the toys that mystified him were sometimes slightly more dangerous than a toy.
Mildred could not recall how many times Elmo called from the cellar, “Call the fire department!” Shortly thereafter, dense smoke would issue from the open cellar door and begin to fill the kitchen. This was long before 911 existed. Mildred knew the phone number of the local fire department by heart.
She recalled the time Elmo constructed two small chambers attached by wires to an intricate control device with a host of dials and flashing lights. The device was meant to transfer objects through space. He wanted to test the machine before building the full-scale model.
Unfortunately for Mildred, she had been busy in the cellar doing some unpacking. She wanted to display in her hutch the beautiful delicate six china teacups and saucers her mother had left her. She knew exactly where they were packed and couldn’t wait to see them again.
The search did not take long, and while admiring one of the cups, she heard Elmo mutter, “I need something small.” He happened to glance at Mildred and exclaimed, “Perfect.”
Before she realized what her husband was up to, he grabbed a cup and put it in one of the chambers.
“Elmo, what are you doing? That was my mother’s cup!” shouted Mildred. “It’s precious to me.”
Elmo was only half listening as he began turning dials and focusing his attention on the chamber containing the cup. “Don’t worry, Mildred. Your cup is perfectly safe. I’m just going to send it to the chamber at the other end of my workbench.”
Much to Mildred’s surprise, her vision of the cup appeared to waver, and then disappears.
Much to Elmo’s surprise, it did not reappear in the other chamber.
“Don’t worry, Mildred. Let’s just give it some time.”
An hour later Mildred went storming up the stairs with five cups and six saucers, angry and sad at her loss.
Elmo continued to stare at the second chamber scratching his head and repeating over and over again, “I wonder where it went.” He was happy that his wife wasn’t there when suddenly he began laughing hysterically, thinking of the cup suddenly appearing someplace quite by surprise and mystifying some unsuspecting person. He was sure the cup went somewhere as matter. For if it had been converted to energy, all that would be left of his house and most of the surrounding area would be cinders.
THE BEGINNING OF THE TIME MACHINE
One day after visiting the supermarket, although in those days they weren’t very super, Mildred was pulling her two-wheeled shopping cart down the street and was amazed to see a pickup parked in her driveway. It was three in the afternoon, and four burly men stood behind the truck. They looked relieved when they saw her approach. In the bed of the truck was a huge piece of equipment. Mildred recognized it immediately. It was an iron lung.
Just recently, the newly developed polio vaccine began distribution on sugar cubes. Gradually iron lungs were no longer needed. However, Mildred had lived with the fear of polio, knew people who had contracted the disease. Some still depended on the device for their lives to continue. “Where do you want this, lady?” asked the man obviously in charge.
“I don’t want it anywhere,” answered Mildred. She had no idea why they had brought this to her home. Then her mind had a flash, Elmo.
“Does an Elmo Baker live here?” the man asked.
There it was. Her husband had bought an iron lung. Shaking her head, Mildred said, “I’m sure it belongs in the cellar. I’ll show you the way.”
After many grunts and groans, the machine rested on its wheels in the cellar.
“What could Elmo want with this thing?” pondered Mildred out loud.
Hearing Mildred one of the men said, “I don’t know nothing, lady. We just deliver.”
The crew went back upstairs and climbed into their truck and left. And Elmo had some explaining to do when he came home from work.
CATS EYES: A NEW LOOK FOR A HORROR WRITER
CATS EYES
Joe Flannelly sat with his good friend, Howard Long, at their standard table in their favorite pub. The first few rounds of beer went down easy and fast. When Joe lifted his glass and said, “Here’s looking at you, Howard.” But Joe offered his toast without his usual cheerfulness. In reality, he had offered the toast out of habit putting little thought into it.
Howard shook his head and mumbled, “Shit, Joe, can’t you come up with another toast? You say the same damn thing every time we get together for some beers. Okay for shit’s sake, I’m an ophthalmologist. I got it the first time you said it years ago.”
Joe’s expression suddenly grew serious, and he yelled, “Fuck you!” This was unlike Joe who had always appeared mellow, happy.
Taken by surprise, Howard asked, “Are you okay, buddy?”
“As a matter of fact, I’m not. I thought I might need glasses, so I had my eyes checked the other day. I have the wet form of macular degeneration, the worst type. I’ll lose the central part of my vision to the disease. I’m a writer, damn it. How the hell can I write like that? I’m only fifty-five, and my career is just beginning to come together. How do I finish the work I want to do? I might as well be dead.”
You could cut the silence with a knife.
Finally, Howard said, “Shit, man, I can’t imagine a tougher break.”
“I know, Howard, I guess my career will soon come to an end.”
Howard asked, “Can’t you dictate to the computer? I hear the programs have improved.”
Joe answered, “I guess I could, but that’s not my style. I need to see my words on a sheet of paper and think about where the story is going.”
Howard looked intently at his friend. Joe sipped his beer. He could tell Howard was struggling with a thought. Joe asked, “What’s on your mind?”
Howard took a long drag on his beer.
“I’m not supposed to tell anyone this.” His tone became hushed. “I have a friend, went to school with him. He’s an eye surgeon. He’s been experimenting with eye transplants and told me he just recently had a breakthrough.”
Excited, Joe said, “That’s great, Howard. That means there’s hope for me.”
“Not so fast, Joe. So far my friend has only experimented on animals. And the breakthrough has a major drawback. The donor eyes, to be useful, must be harvested functioning not just functional before the time of death. And the recipient must still possess some vision so that the sensory apparatus is intact. It’s not like any other transplant. The donor and recipient must be in the same room for a rapid transplant to ensure a chance of success. If the method was ever used, it would raise a host of moral questions. Taking the eyes of a living subject would leave the patient blind. That is if that had anymore life to live. I can’t imagine anyone volunteering offering their eyesight unless death is certain. Just around the corner like conditions such as euthanasia.
* * *
Joe thought constantly about what his friend had told him about the chance for a transplant and of his condition. Macular degeneration was a slow process, for some not so slow, but the endpoint was certain.
Joe was writing in his study, when in walked his cat, Sammy. Sammy was short for Samantha, and she was hell on wheels, or rather, paws. His older cat, Sally’s life was drastically disrupted by this new member of the family. When Sammy wasn’t running around like a maniac or sleeping; she was stalking Sally. Poor meek Sally was leading a tormented life. As Sammy entered the study, she was her usual hyperactive self. She paused to be petted, then ran about madly bouncing off the piles of books scattered around the house. In the middle of her insane race, she did something that Joe had seen both Sammy and Sally do. She stopped in her tracks, sat down, and gazed at the ceiling. She was watching something, something that Joe could not see, yet it took up her full attention. Sammy turned her head from side to side as if following a vision. After a few moments she returned to her manic activity.
What is she seeing? Joe thought. His writer’s mind began to work in overdrive. Among other genres, he wrote horror. Maybe she’s seeing ghosts, he thought. Imagine if I could see what she is seeing. Joe anticipated his next drinking session with Howard.
* * *
Joe met Howard at their usual spot and shared small talk through the first few rounds. Howard noticed that Joe suddenly became quiet and stared at him. Finally, Howard asked, “What’s on your mind, buddy?”
“Howard, I’ve been thinking about the eye transplant procedure you told me about.”
“Stop thinking about it, Joe. You have to take the person’s eyes out while they’re still alive. Except for some kidney and liver transplants, most transplants are not done until the donor is declared dead. Even for someone brain-dead, they do not begin harvesting until they pull the plug, and by then it’s too late for an eye transplant. I can’t imagine a family consenting to a transplant of a loved one’s eyes while the patient is still alive.”
Joe hesitated, and then said, “I don’t want human eyes.”
Howard cried, “What the hell, are you nuts?”
His raised voice brought stares from the other patrons who then rapidly returned to their drinks.
Joe continued, “Listen, Howard. I’ve been doing some research on my own, along with something I’ve observed in cats.”
Howard laughed, “This has got to be good,” but his body language indicated a total lack of ease.
Joe said, “I was looking up research involving cats and ran across an article published in The Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences concerning the cat’s central nervous system: how it easily repairs itself. Maybe this is true of other nerves, like the optic nerve. Maybe the optic nerve could join with that of another species and restore sight.”
Howard began to feel uncomfortable. “Where the hell are you going with this, Joe?”
“I’m going blind. That’s where I’m going. I know I won’t be totally blind, but in my profession; I might as well be.”
“Now listen, Joe. There are plenty of options you can use to continue writing. Look into them.”
“Howard, I want to continue writing as I do now, just me, a pencil and a piece of paper. I don’t want a life where I can’t sit down anywhere I want and write. I’ve also become acquainted with what is known about how cats see. There’s something else, and you’re going to think I’m crazy.”
“Joe, I’ve passed that milestone some time ago.”
“I think cats can see something I can’t, that humans can’t. I want my eyes replaced with that of a cat.”
“Shit, Joe, you are nuts.”
“No, listen, Howard. A baboon heart was once implanted into a child when there was no hope of the child surviving. Pig valves are routinely used in heart surgery. Why not transplant cat’s eyes?”
They drank another beer in silence. Joe was talked out and Howard was pondering about what Joe had said. Howard broke the silence. “Damn it, Joe. I’ll talk to my friend. I also want to find out more about cat vision. I’m not promising anything, but I’ll see what I can do. And Joe.”
“Yes?”
“I still think you’re nuts.”
Joe’s mood lifted, “Thanks buddy. You’ve given me some hope.”
After the two friends parted, Joe went home to write. Howard went home to research cat’s eyes and how their vision differed from that of humans.
* * *
Joe was in the middle of writing a story. His phone rang, which he never answered, waiting for his machine to take care of the chore. The voice coming through the phone said, “Joe, it’s Howard. Pick up.”
Running to the phone, Joe answered and said, “Howard, what’s the news?”
“Let’s meet at the bar, Joe. I’ve got a lot to tell you.”
“I’ll see you there in an hour.”
When Joe walked in, he immediately saw Howard sitting at their usual table nursing a beer. Joe went to the bar, placed his order, and then went to sit with his friend, waiting for him to speak.
Howard looked into his beer for a while, and then looked at Joe. Without saying a word, Howard reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper which he pushed toward Joe.
“What’s this?” Joe asked, although he could see it was a prescription script.
Howard answered, “It’s a script for a heavy-duty anti-rejection drug.”
Joe’s face lit up.
“Listen, my friend, there may be some as yet unknown side effects associated with taking this. To say nothing of the tons of legal requirements which have to be met making sure you won’t sue if things go south after the surgery.” Howard then ran through a list of things that ranged from mere annoyances to life threatening.
Joe listened intently as he pocketed the script. “Howard, I’m having periods of wavy and blurred vision, bad enough at times to stop me from writing. I’ll do anything to be able to see perfectly again.
“Hold on, Joe. I’ve done some research too. You won’t be able to see as a human. You will have the vision of a cat.
“First of all, you will be nearsighted. Nearsightedness enables cats to catch their prey. That can be easily corrected. You will also be able to see extremely well in the dark, but with the absence of color. The big difference is what you see in the light. The only colors you will see are purple, blue and green. It will take some time for you to adapt to having the vision of a cat.
“My friend has agreed to do the surgery. He even got permission from the N.I.H. to do it as an experimental procedure. Of course, you’ll have to sign a ton of forms as I already mentioned.”
Joe was ecstatic. “This is great news. When can we do the surgery?”
“In a few weeks. You must take the course of anti-rejection drugs, and my friend has to find a cat totally free of disease.”
* * *
The weeks went by slowly for Joe as his vision continued to deteriorate. He experienced a few side effects from the drug, but nothing serious. Finally, the day for his pre-op and conference with the surgeon arrived. He drove to the hospital to meet Dr. Greg Glassy.
After his pre-op exam, he found Glassy’s office and was soon led in. The man who rose from behind the large, cluttered desk was much younger than Joe expected. Joe doubted he was thirty-five.
Greg Glassy was tall and thin. He looked more like he belonged on a basketball court than in a surgical suite. The two men shook hands and Glassy motioned for Joe to sit down. Glassy said, “Joe, you’re about to make a great contribution to science by taking the first step in helping blind people to regain their vision. I must say that I would feel more comfortable to replace your eyes with those of a primate, but in all honesty, primates carry a host of diseases that are easily transferred to humans.”
“I appreciate your concern and help, Dr. Glassy. You’re well aware of my condition. I chose to have cat’s eyes to help me with my writing. I can’t explain it because I don’t fully understand what I will see, but I feel it will help my work.”
“Joe, you must understand that there is a huge risk of total blindness. The only reason I’ve agreed to use feline eyes is because of the article you brought to Howard’s attention. There is a good chance your optic nerves will fuse with the feline nerves.” After more discussion, Dr. Glassy rose, extended his hand, and said, “I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.”
* * *
When Joe was wheeled into the operating room, the first thing he noticed was a cat lying on a small table. It was being ventilated and sound asleep. Joe thought, When this is over, I’ll be seeing through your eyes, seeing what my cats find so interesting. And maybe, instead of going blind, a whole new universe will open for me to explore in my writing.
* * *
When Joe awoke he instantly felt for his eyes. They were covered in thick bandages. The nurse keeping watch over him quickly went to get Dr. Glassy.
“Joe, the surgery went fine. Better than I had expected. Your eyes will be bandaged for a few months to give the optic nerves time to heal and for your eye muscles to firmly attach to your new eyes.”
Joe reached out and Dr. Glassy took his hand. “Thanks, doctor. Thank you so much.”
Dr. Glassy answered, “When your bandages are removed we’ll determine how well your new eyes’ function, but I’m very hopeful.
* * *
The time came for the bandages to be removed. Joe was full of anticipation. After the long period of having his eyes bandaged, he came to realize what being blind would be like. How going from seeing to not seeing changes your life. Dr. Glassy said, “We’ll be removing your bandages now. Do not open your eyes until I tell you to. After we remove the bandages, I want you to look down and remain looking down. I want to make sure the muscles are firmly attached. The room will be in total darkness. I don’t want to expose your new eyes to harsh light.”
“I understand,” responded Joe, anxious to experience how his new eyes would function.
He could feel the bandages being unwound from his head, and then thick gauze being removed from his eyes.
“All right, Joe. Slowly open your eyes.”
Joe did as he was told, keeping his eyes down. “I thought you said the room would be dark,” his voice full of anticipation.
“Joe,” Dr. Glassy said in a rush of excitement, “This room is pitch black. I cannot see you!”
With a quivering voice, Joe said, “But doctor, I can clearly see the floor, my legs. The light is dim, but I can see.”
Dr. Glassy, almost shouting, said, “Joe, I think the surgery was a success. Keep looking down, and slowly move your eyes from side to side.”
Joe did as he was told. “I have no trouble moving my eyes,” he said. It felt no different than when he still had his eyes, his human eyes.
“Is there any pain?”
“None.”
“Okay, Joe, we’re going to slowly increase the light. Tell me if you feel any discomfort.”
The light level was slowly raised to that of normal.
Joe said, “I have no problem. I see clearly. Especially objects which are close.”
“Great, Joe. Keep your eyes down. I’m going to show you a series of colored dots. Tell me what colors you see.” As expected, Joe could see only purple, blue and green. With that test concluded, Dr. Glassy said, “Now, Joe, look up at me.”
Joe slowly raised his eyes to Dr. Glassy’s face. He saw the doctor smiling. But movement toward the ceiling caught his attention. At first he had trouble comprehending what he was seeing. Then, in horror, he realized he was privy to a host of worlds, one atop another. Realms and dimensions overlapping into what seemed infinity, inhabited by beasts never before seen by man. Joe’s brain was taken on a wild ride. In an instant he knew that cats could see what humans couldn’t. A series of other worlds, which a cat’s brain could not process so with what they were observing, they showed no fear. However, his brain revealed the terror his eyes observed.
Revealed was a multitude of dimensions never imagined by man. Occupied by beings of unspeakable character. The closest dimension was inhabited by beings with human form, but any other resemblance to man stopped there for their arms were replaced by tentacles. Others had arms issuing from their chests, ending in horrible appendages for unknown purposes. A multitude of creatures with horrible appearances were revealed to Joe’s now cat’s eyes. Misshapen heads and misaligned features dominated their features. On occasion some of these creatures, detecting Joe’s observance would venture into Joe’s dimension. But when they crossed the film between dimensions they became ghostly white with no mass. Accompanying the grotesque creatures already observed were winged insects covered with chitin-like armor bristling with deadly spikes. One of these beasts realized it was being watched and turned its many-faceted eyes toward Joe then the ghostly image flew at a dazzling pace to the unwelcomed observer.
With his mind finally able to absorb the horror his cat’s eyes revealed Joe screamed as a man possessed.
He went to tear at his eyes, then stopped. Joe’s thoughts shifted from terror to the realization that this was the outcome he was hoping for after acquiring the cat’s eyes. He also became aware that no matter how horrible the creatures in these other dimensions were, once crossing into his, they were powerless. Right before his eyes was an untold number of potential stories.
Now that he had his emotions under control he turned to Dr. Glassy and asked, “Could I have a pencil and paper?”
The End
REUNION: A STORY FOR MEMORIAL DAY
This is my first published story. Published by Enigma in 2003, a Philadelphia small publisher no longer is existence.
REUNION
The June morning was brilliant and clear with just enough of a breeze to keep you cool despite the predicted eighty-degree day. At the age of eighty-two, for Christopher Johnson, getting up in the morning was not an easy chore and had lately not seemed worth the effort. He turned his head and looked at the pillow beside him. “I miss you so much honey,” he said quietly. His wife Peggy had died less than a year ago. One night they went to bed as usual. The last words he had said to her were the words he always said to her before falling asleep, “I love you.” When Chris awoke, Peggy was dead of a heart attack. A few days later he was looking into her grave knowing a large part of his life was now buried in the cold earth. After almost sixty years of marriage, the pain of her loss was intense, almost as intense as the love they had shared all those years.
With Peggy still on his mind, he sat up and began to stretch his arthritic limbs knowing the pain that would follow. Next, he stood up and took a few steps; those first steps were the worst of the day. He winced with every movement, but soon his joints and muscles settled down to the constant pain that accompanied him these days.
He had gotten up earlier than usual, for today, unlike most of his days, he had an appointment, something to do. He opened his closet door and, in the back, he found what he was looking for: his U.S. Army ranger dress uniform, the one he had worn on his return home after being wounded during World War II. With persistent pain, he maneuvered his body into the uniform that, after sixty years, still fit his slender frame. He looked in the mirror, and the toll of those sixty years stared back at him. The hair on his head and his mustache had gone gray years ago. His eyes, once admired by his fellow soldiers for their ability to spot enemy aircraft or fortifications before anyone else, now watered behind heavy bifocals. He inspected his image, looking over the uniform for signs of moth damage. The area of his uniform he examined first was his chest; there hung the Purple Heart and the Congressional Medal of Honor. He was proud to have served his country, proud of his awards but knew that in combat, a split second could mean the difference between a dead soldier and a hero. Satisfied that his uniform had survived another year, he returned it to the closet and dressed in his usual summer shirt and khakis.
While Chris hung up his uniform, his mind still held the Medal of Honor and the events that led to its award.
The day was D Day, early in the morning of June 6th. Chris was among a group of Army Rangers that would be the first to hit the beach. Their objective was to climb and secure the cliffs overlooking the landing sites. These cliffs held guns that could hazard the ships and soldiers, and the hazard needed to be removed. German soldiers were stationed on the cliffs, ready to rain death on unprotected soldiers landing on the beach below. Chris and his three buddies, Frank Grimes, Larry Schwartz and Duck Dupont were together in the landing craft, along with twenty other rangers heading toward the beach.
Chris had begun basic training knowing no one. Soon he gravitated to three other guys who seemed to be as lost and alone as he was. The four of them gradually became friends and survived the ordeal together. Of the three, he was closest to Duck Dupont. Duck’s real name was Willard; he gained his nickname Duck during a basic training class. The class was walking past the artillery area when a practice round went off. Most of the class flinched, but Duck was on the ground with his head covered by his hands. From then on he was known as Duck.
His thoughts returned to June 6th.
It was still dark and they landed unopposed. The men quickly and quietly disembarked and headed for the base of the two-hundred-foot cliff – it would be quite a climb. When everyone was in position, they fired ropes up the side of the cliff. This brought the response they expected; Germans began firing down the cliff and rangers began to collapse on the beach. Chris and his friends were to stay together and climb along with most of the rangers while the rest provided cover fire. Soon the German fire lessened then ceased as the rangers continued their climb.
The four friends were the first to reach the top of the cliff. What they saw sent a shiver through them all. Before them, set back about fifty yards from the edge of the cliff, stood a series of three bunkers. The first light of dawn streamed through the trees beyond the enemy, and all seemed quiet and peaceful except for the machine guns projecting from behind sandbags. They knew they had to act fast, for if they didn’t, the rangers coming up the cliff would be cut down as soon as they reached the top. They split up into two groups; Chris and Duck went to the left – Frank and Larry to the right. The two flanking bunkers had to be eliminated before the middle position could be attacked. Each group approached the nearest bunker and tossed a grenade inside. The simultaneous explosions sent German soldiers into action. The rangers had missed one. Along with fire from the third remaining bunker, a fourth bunker opened up along with mortar fire from behind the bunker. The fourth bunker surprised the rangers and had a clear shot at them. Duck was literally cut in half by machine gun fire. Larry was attacking the third of the bunkers they had seen, having just pulled the pin from a grenade when he was shot. They never did find Frank. Chris entered the first bunker they had taken out, pushed aside the mangled German bodies and manned the machine gun. He quickly took out the bunker they had overlooked before, creeping up to the last remaining bunker; he destroyed it with grenades. The actions of the four men had saved the lives of the rangers now reaching the summit of the cliff and helped secure the landing site for the invasion.
In the early morning silence, after the heat of battle, Chris collapsed on the ground part from fatigue, part from pain, but mostly from grief – his friends were gone. Chris had shrapnel wounds in his left arm and hip. At some point his helmet had taken a hit and deflected the bullet but the impact gave him a nasty scalp wound. Blood now streamed down the side of his face and soaked his collar.
These are the memories that flooded into Chris’s mind as he put away his uniform and prepared to spend a weekend at the Mid Atlantic Air Museum as a guest of honor, something he had done for the last five years. This would be his first year without Peggy at his side. He knew it would not be the same without her, but he still looked forward to the event.
The museum had organized a weekend devoted to the history of World War II for the last ten years. It was a living history lesson with vintage aircraft flown in from all over the country, and encampments set up with hundreds of reenactors dressed in the World War II uniforms of the United States, England, France and Germany. The museum also invited veterans from the war who would give firsthand accounts of combat. But none of them told what the war was really like for their memories were selective, cleansed by time, and they all carried within them that area of memory they would never enter again.
World War II weekend started Friday morning and, although he wasn’t scheduled to give his presentation until Saturday, Chris always went Friday to wander the hanger and apron crammed with vintage World War II fighters, bombers, trainers and transports. He could remember when the skies were filled with their kind. Now there remained only a few of each. On those warm Friday afternoons, he enjoyed walking through the encampments. At one point he saw three men in ranger combat uniforms. He smiled to himself, glad to see his branch of the army represented. Chris loved strolling through the tents. In his mind, there was nothing like the smell of a real canvas tent; the open flaps were your windows, and the grass was your floor. He had seen the tents his grandchildren used when they camped, it was like camping in a nylon bag, no smell, no character. In one of those old canvass tents, he could stand, close his eyes, and the memories of his days in the army would flood into his brain.
Another reason he enjoyed Fridays was the veterans whose attendance was heavy. The old men and women enjoyed the smaller crowds and slower pace that Fridays afforded. He enjoyed conversations with his contemporaries, reliving the past and recalling the days they were once young and involved in the great adventure they shared.
Saturday morning arrived, the sky again clear and blue. He went through his morning routine, slowly struggling into his uniform and waited for his nine o’clock ride to the museum. Chris looked forward to the day. Although he had never made a big deal about his award, one day bathed in the admiration of people who appreciated the sacrifices made during World War II did not hurt him, not at all.
With his first lecture scheduled for 10:30, he was anxious to get to the museum. He found the tent for his lecture. There were about fifty folding chairs set up. He took a moment and stood there alone, letting his mind recall memories that he usually avoided, memories that he would touch slightly, just slightly today.
As he waited at the speaker’s platform, the tent began to fill up. At the back of the tent, he spied the three young men in ranger uniforms he had seen the day before, standing together apart from the crowd. Maybe today they would learn something about the uniforms they wore.
The chairs were full and people were standing in the back as Chris went into his presentation. He shared with them the events of that early morning on the French coast, sanitized, but with enough action to keep the crowd’s attention. After thirty minutes he was done and ready for questions. Halfway through the questions one of the men dressed as a ranger raised his hand and said, “Sir, I just want you to know we appreciate what you did for your country.”
That brought a smile to Chris’ face, “I appreciate that son,” he answered.
The presentation over, the tent was cleared, and it was time for a little lunch and a chance to watch the vintage aircraft flying. This was the part he most enjoyed. The drone of the B-17 accompanied the whine of the Merlin powered P-51s. He knew the planes were the big draw, not old men wearing old uniforms, but he was happy to be part of the show.
First to fly were the trainers, SNJs and T-28s. Then the observation aircraft would fly, the L-19s, followed by the transports, the C-47s and a C-54. Before the fighters and bombers took off, the reenactors took the field in front of the crowd. To the left were the men in German uniforms, to the right the U.S. Army.
The uniformed men fired blanks and mock mortars at each other. There were also smoke grenades thrown by both sides. All this action took place in a grassy area between the runway and aircraft taxiway. As usual, the fire department stood ready for the grass fires the smoke grenades always started, and this year was no exception. The grass fires were more of a nuisance than a danger, and they were always rapidly dealt with. In fact, the dense plumes were greater than any of the regular attendees of the show could remember, and the fire company quickly prepared to hose down the grass. Chris stood there with the rest of the crowd as the shroud of smoke drifted over them.
Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was one of the rangers, “Sir, we need your help.”
“Sure son, what can I do for you?” came Chris’ reply.
“Could you join us sir?” the ranger questioned. The ranger started walking towards the smoke set off by the mock battle, flanked by the two other rangers Chris had noticed before, and bewildered, Chris followed.
Soon smoke enveloped the four men. The crowd, watching the firemen putting out the grass fire saw the three reenactors on the field but could not imagine why an old man in uniform was traipsing in after them. They saw the four enter the clouds of smoke and lost sight of them.
Chris walked, not knowing where the three young men were taking him. His arthritis bothered him as he entered the smoke, but a few steps into the haze his pain was reduced and then gone. He noticed something else; he no longer wore his dress uniform but wore the ranger combat uniform, same as the reenactors. All at once he was puzzled and amazed and had no idea what their destination could be.
The three reenactors slowed down and Chris easily caught up with them. “How in the hell are you, Chris?” asked Duck. Frank and Larry were slapping his back and pounding his shoulders, his young shoulders.
“We’re on a mission and need your help,” said Frank. “We need the squad together,” he continued.
“I’m your man,” said Chris taking off his helmet and running his hand through his thick dark hair. His mind still could not wrap itself around what was happening.
Some of the crowd there to watch the flying saw four figures begin to emerge from the smoke, the figures of four young men. The men entered another cloud of smoke before them and were gone.
Chris and his three buddies came out of the haze. They were on a dirt road surrounded by a forest. They were all holding rifles, but Chris could sense no danger. They were on patrol and Chris felt better than he had ever felt in his life. He was with his best friends, men he had missed all these years and men he loved. The sky was so blue it almost hurt his eyes. The trees and grass were the greenest green he had ever seen. He set out with his three friends, easily matching their stride.
Suddenly, Chris’ eyes filled with tears. He did not know how, did not understand what was happening, but somehow, he knew his young and pretty Peggy was waiting.
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