Pinball (23 page)

“I’m sorry,” Steven said, seeing the concern on their faces. “I knew about some of this from what Callie had told me, but hearing it all laid out like that…”

“I understand,” said Andrew. “It must be rather overwhelming.” He smiled again, this time a genuine, warm smile. “I’m sorry, Greatfather,” he continued. “I’ve been distant, and you don’t deserve to feel as though you are an outcast.”

“I’m curious,” Steven said. “Why do you call me Greatfather?”

“Uh… that is the traditional term in AmerAsia for a male ancestor,” Andrew said hesitantly. “You are highly honored among our family. I hope that Lulu — Callie, I mean — has shown you the respect you deserve.”

Steven looked over at Callie, who clearly was hoping he would confirm that she’d treated him well. “Of course she has,” he replied. “She’s been nothing but respectful to me.” Callie heaved a sigh of relief. “I do have a couple of questions for you, though, if I may,” he said to Andrew, who smiled and nodded. “First, you mentioned Callie ‘pinballing’ my writing career… do I dare ask what that meant?”

“You are familiar with a game known as pinball, which, I believe, would have been popular when you were a boy?”

“Sure,” replied Steven. “I used to play every Saturday at the bowling alley in the town where I grew up.” The strains of The Who’s
Pinball Wizard
began playing in his head.

“We use that term to refer to the practice of attempting to manipulate our present by making changes to past events,” said Andrew. “Many times one change begets another, and yet another, not always resulting in the desired effect, so it is common for those who attempt it to have to repeatedly try making small changes until they either get the result they were after or they give up, much like bouncing a pinball off the bumpers of one of those old machines.”

“I get it now. The other question I had has to do with how I am related to
you?
”

“We aren’t related by blood,” Andrew replied. He hesitated a moment, then said, “You won’t remember any of this anyway, once all of these anomalies are repaired, so I suppose it won’t do any harm to tell you. My name is Andrew Steadman. I am married to Callie’s mother’s oldest sister, Suzanna. They have a brother whose name is Steven — and yes, he’s named after you. Callie’s mother is named Maria. Callie is the youngest of her five daughters, and, according to my studies, the last of our line, unless we get your timeline repaired —”

“So that my wife and I can produce another child.”

“Precisely,” said Andrew.

“Well then, I suppose we’d better get after it.” 

Chapter 89

The sun rose on a November day in 2013, and shone on a beautiful, green, empty stretch of land northwest of Three Forks, Montana. The tall grass waved in the wind as birds and other wildlife went about their daily routines, searching for food and maintaining their nests.

Chapter 90

Andrew was conversing openly with Steven now. “I have been interested in kronophysics — the science of time manipulation — since I was a University student,” he said as he opened a program on Callie’s computer. “Scientists first began to delve into this field in the late 2100s with the discovery of the trifold nature of kronos particles. Essentially, if a kronos particle, which is a type of subatomic particle, is spinning one direction — some people use the old terms “clockwise,”or “right spin,” — it is moving into the future; if it’s spinning in a retrograde direction — counter-clockwise or left spin — it’s moving into the past, and if it’s stable, it stays in the present.” Steven vaguely understood, and tried to follow as best he could.

“If you create a field of kronos particles that are all attuned to either clockwise or counter-clockwise, that produces the Gate effect. As I understand you have experienced, opening a Gate without further tuning simply means you have a tear in space which leads to what we call Gatespace, or some call it interspace or warp space,” Andrew went on. “However, with the introduction of six intersecting energy fields, each of which is composed of a different type of energy and affects one parameter of the travel in space and time, it’s possible to pinpoint your travel directly through Gatespace, opening a Gate at your destination so that you simply enter a Gate
here
and come out
there,
without all the floating in green nothingness nonsense in between.”  

Steven closed his eyes for a moment, still slightly overwhelmed. Andrew spoke of these things as if they were as simple as hopping in a car and driving to town, and Steven supposed that to Andrew, they were. He looked at Andrew, who was still intently working on the computer, then at Callie, who was watching the both of them with a slight smile on her face.

“What are you smiling about,
Lulu?
” Steven grinned.

“I’m just having a great time listening to you two,” she said, smiling at the use of her nickname. “Uncle Andrew, how are things coming there?”

“Very well indeed, Lulu,” Andrew replied. “I think I am close to having all the echoes suppressed, and it doesn’t seem to have caused any further anomalies. Of course, we won’t know for certain until we actually get the Greatfather back to his proper time.” 

“So I’ll be back home soon?” Steven asked.

“Hopefully so,” Andrew replied. “Just give me a few more minutes here.”

Chapter 91

The sun was at its highest point near noon, crossing the sky in a lazy Autumn arch. The temperature in south central Montana was in the mid-40s, the huge dome of the sky a brilliant, clear blue with isolated cumulus clouds stacking their cotton skyscrapers to the heavens.

A few miles away, a semi-tractor driven by one Melvin Settlemoir passed by on Interstate 90, on its way to Spokane, Washington. Settlemoir was becoming rather hungry, but decided to push on to Butte, some 55 miles away, before stopping to eat.

Chapter 92

Andrew looked up from the computer at last. “I am basically finished here, with the exception of setting the parameters for the Gate that will take you back to your home location and time,” he said to Steven. “If all goes as planned, you should have no memory of any of this.”

Steven’s brows arched a little. “Are you doing some kind of Undo thing? That didn’t go so well before.”

“No, this is a slightly different procedure,” Andrew replied. “I’m going to pass you through a field called a temporal filter as you go into the Gate, which will hopefully erase from your mind all memory of any events that are future to your timeline.”

“So I won’t remember you? Or Callie? Or even having been here?”

“I’m afraid not, Greatfather. It could have lasting repercussions if you retained the knowledge you have gained here.”

“I understand,” Steven said, his face somber. He really had enjoyed getting to know his descendants, if only for a few hours.

Andrew powered up a small device that, to Steven, resembled a DVD player. It generated a shimmering silvery field that filled most of the room. Then he entered a command on the computer’s screen and the green vortex of a Gate appeared at the far side of the room. Steven understood now; to enter the Gate, he would have to cross through the temporal field, and apparently it would scrub away any memories of these events. He wondered if he would feel anything. “Will it be painful?” he asked.

“You may feel a tingling sensation, but apart from that, no, not at all,” Andrew said.

He shook Andrew’s hand and thanked him, and then crossed to Callie and took her hands in his.

“I’m really gonna miss you, Lulu,” he said. “You’re something special.”

“Thanks, Grandpa Steve,” she said with a huge smile. “I’m gonna miss you too, but you won’t even remember having met me. Go home and write the novel that will make your career explode… Greatfather.”

Steven looked at her and suddenly wondered why it was so important to her that he succeed. “This all started because you were trying to boost my career,” he said. “What’s up with that? I’m just a guy that’s written a few books… I don’t know why it’s a big deal.”

“Uh… we just want to see you do well,” Callie said. “Are you about ready to go home?”

“I could spend years here learning about your society,” said Steven, “but yeah, I guess I’d better go.”

“Farewell, Greatfather,” said Andrew.

“Have a safe trip, Grandpa Steve,” Callie said, “I… I love you, Greatfather.”

Steven looked at her, a little surprised. He smiled. “I love you too, Lulu.”

He walked into the temporal field and felt a curious sensation, almost like someone was scrubbing the inside of his head with a toothbrush. He strode forward through the field and walked into the Gate.

Chapter 93

Irene pulled her truck into the Denver’s driveway and Lynne caught sight of the turquoise Jeep Cherokee. “Oh, good, it looks like Steve’s home,” Lynne said as they drove up the gravel driveway. “I wonder why he didn’t pick us up? Well, thanks for the ride. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Have a nice evening,” Irene said.

“I’ll call you later,” said Nancy. “I need to get the recipe for your good lasagna. My mom is coming down next week and I want to make it for her. You make it with turkey sausage, right?”

“Yeah,” said Lynne. “It’s got a lot less fat that way. Just give me a buzz whenever you’re ready to take notes, or I could just e-mail it to you.”

“Oh, that’d be great, Lynne,” said Nancy. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Lynne said. She got out of the Durango and walked up the steps onto the small front porch, waving to Irene and Nancy as they backed out of the driveway. She opened the door and walked into the living room.

Chapter 94

Steven Denver sat drinking his coffee, staring out the window at the Bridger Mountains in the distance. He was trying to come up with an idea for his third novel, the one that would make or break his career. He wasn’t in full panic mode. Not yet.
I can do this,
he told himself, running his hand through his thick brown hair.

He stared at the keyboard and frowned. He’d had an idea the day before for a tale about a pathetic little man named Arthur Ball who woke up one morning and decided to change his life, but now that idea seemed insipid.
What the hell am I going to write about?

Now there was a knock at the door. What the hell, he thought. No one ever came to their door. If it’s a Jehovah’s Witness, he thought, I swear to God I’m gonna go find something sharp and pointed.

It wasn’t a Jehovah’s Witness, however; it was a woman from the Parent-Teacher-Student Association at Lynne’s school. There had been a board meeting at the school during the lunch hour, and the caterer had delivered too many hams, so they decided to draw from a hat with all the teachers’ names in it to see who would get the leftover hams, and Lynne’s name had been one of those drawn. Steven thanked her and put the ham in the refrigerator; at least the family would have a nice dinner tonight.

He went and sat down in front of his computer again and stared out the window, letting his mind wander.

In
On Writing,
Stephen King counsels budding writers to start with the premise, or what you might call the “what if?”

What if an average Joe had the opportunity to travel to the Moon?

No.

What if a family was taken hostage by terrorists?

He shuddered. Too much like real life.

What if I found a dimensional gate that allowed me to travel between locations in space and time?

Huh. Where had
that
one come from? It had struck him like an errant fastball. That one had real possibilities, though.

He heard the front door open, and Lynne’s voice. “Hi, honey,” she called to him. Steven got up and went in to greet her.

“Hi, baby doll,” he said. “Are you home early?”

“Uh… no,” she replied. “It’s 4:15. Nancy and I waited for you for like half an hour. Did you forget us?”

Steven looked at the clock and realized that six hours had elapsed since the last time he remembered checking the time. “Oh, shit, honey, I’m sorry,” he said, “I totally lost track of time. This whole day seems like it’s been one huge blur.”

“It’s okay,” Lynne replied, “Irene gave us a ride home. I was just worried that you’d had car trouble or something.” She frowned as if trying to remember something. “I can’t even remember why you kept the car today.”

Steven looked puzzled. “That’s strange… I can’t seem to recall either,” he replied. “Must have been real important, huh?”

They looked at each other, and Steven felt a sudden impulse to embrace his wife. He gave her a long, passionate kiss. “I’m glad you’re home,” he said.

Lynne looked at him, even more puzzled. “What brought
that
on?” she said.

“I… I don’t really know,” Steven said. “I just love you.”

“I love you too, honey.” She went to begin preparing dinner, pleased at the gift of the leftover ham.

The kids arrived home soon after that and Steven returned to work. He began with the first thing that came to his mind:

Charles Sherman sat at his kitchen table reading the paper. The day was gloomy and wet, and he knew there was no way he’d be able to mow the grass, which was what he had originally planned to do today. 

Suddenly there was a horrible roaring sound coming from outside. It sounded like Mecha-Godzilla was outside. “I’ll go peek out the window and see what’s going on,” he thought.

There was some kind of huge monster machine devouring the ground right down to the bedrock, headed right for his house.

Steven grinned. He had no idea where the spark for this idea had come from, but he liked it.

Charles ran outside, staring up at the thing as it approached. Mecha-House Eater looked down at him with a gleaming red metallic leer, and he read a silent message in its solitary eye:
I have come to devour you and everything you own.
He was a little taken aback.
Well, shit. I was hoping for a polite “Oh, sorry. I must have the wrong address.”