Remember Me (32 page)

drink of water before I sat down opposite him again. I ran my left hand through my hair and sighed. Suddenly I had lost my feeling of excitement, and I felt deflated, tired. “Honestly, both,” was the answer I finally gave him.

“Naturally,” was all he said.

He continued to hold the phone in his hand, sliding the

screen open and closed, using one hand, just like the pro’s of my time. I believe the silence between us was what convinced him to trust me. “I still need your…”

“I’m in!”

“…answer.”

“When do I start?”

“Whenever you are ready,” I said.

“Conditions? Other than my silence of course.”

“A few.” I responded

“I have some as well!”

“I’ve no doubts about that.”

“Under no circumstances will I work or contribute to the advancement of the military and their war machines.”

“Agreed. Your commitment to E.M.J. is permanent and

life-long; even if I die you will be the guiding soul behind the company, a watchdog of its technology within and out in the world. It also comes with a commitment that includes watching me.”

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He winced at the notion of permanent, “Who watches me?”

he laughed as he said it, and I knew we were already building an extremely strong bond. We were both men of vision, and it sure felt like we were thinking along the same lines.

“Peter Pan,” I retorted. It was the first thing that came to mind. He chuckled, and so did I. “I don’t have all the answers, and I’m sure you have more questions than I can answer. I haven’t completely trusted anyone with everything there is to know…not yet anyway. To tell you the truth, this isn’t how I expected our interview to run. I have no pretenses. I understand the gravity of what I know, and what the technology within the phone you hold in your hands could ultimately do to the history of the world.”

“Ah…a phone,” he said earnestly.

“Not just a phone, a digital camera, web browser and MP3

player too. It has a sixteen gigabyte memory chip and sells for ninety-nine dollars with a two year service agreement,” I explained to him, sounding like a cellular phone salesman.

“Damn! Straight on,” he added.

“Ok…here’s the skinny,” I began. I put both my hands on

the table in front of me. “I’m here totally by accident. There’s no way back that I can foreseeably fathom. I could sit here on my hands and do nothing. I can ruin the world with what I know for pure monetary gain, or I can try to make it better the second time around. Money, yes…lots of money to make,”

I paused, “But money isn’t my driving force. I have an ulterior motive also. Just maybe…before I’m too old to care, someone might be able to figure out how to get me back to my time while it still matters to me.”

I saw a genuine caring in Stebben’s eyes. I think we both understood that the company would need to be responsible for the technology it would produce, and to safe-guard that technology for the sake of the world. He and I would have to S 240 S

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be committed to a singular destiny…together.

“What are the short-term plans?” he asked, popping one of his momentarily forgotten Starbursts in his mouth.

“I have an industrial engineer on board. He doesn’t know the story. He is also a personal issue of mine.” Burkle raised an eyebrow. “He is good at what he does, but trusting him is not a use of better judgment for anyone. His future wife is…was…

will be my greatest love in twenty-plus years.”

“Got it…keep your enemies close!”

“Sort of…maybe…close enough.” I fidgeted in my chair

and then I went on, “Jasper Thurington is a Physics professor from Iowa State University. He knows and is part of those ulterior plans.”

“I read his book,” Stebben broke in, “He’s got some interesting assumptions, and I’m sure you being here is lending more weight to them than against them.” Stebben snickered as he said it. “I don’t know what it is with that generation of profs, but they seem to be extremely arrogant about themselves.”

I couldn’t stop myself from snorting. I was feeling that God most assuredly had a hand in my path. Or at the least a strong push at my back. I liked Burkle. It would be easy to see us building a strong friendship. He was pretty much “black and white.” All I needed do was be upfront with him.

From the table on the third floor of the Science building, we headed back to my car. We went to dinner at a sandwich shop on Winston Street. He might have been thin, but he ate like a three-hundred pound fat man. I was wondering if I might be able to pay him in food, but seriously believed it might cost me more money in the long run. While he ate his second “Poor Boy” I told him my story. Not once did he interrupt, only a slight head nod between bites. Only after he came back to the table, with a dish of orange sherbet, did he ask me any questions.

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“Ok…lightning struck…metal all around you and then

the black hole…did it…
a big bite of sherbet…
appear all at once or open like a door?”

“It was just there, if that makes any sense.”

“And you lost consciousness before you were sucked into

it or after?”

“I could feel the air being sucked right out of my lungs before I entered. My last vision was of the blackness, but I could still see the ground beneath my feet.”

“Interesting, give me a few years to sleep on it, and I might be able to write a book to master Thurington’s.”

We both laughed, and I grabbed my soda, downing the rest of what was left. “Last thing,” I said and my speech became straight forward. “Before I leave I need to know what it is you are going to want and need, both in equipment and money.

The money I need to know more for right now. I want to have Stacy work it into a contract for you.”

“A onetime payment of five million and two million per

year,” he said scooping up the rest of his sherbet and shoving it into his mouth.

My jaw nearly hit the table and I began to sputter, “Five million…two per year…no way I can do that upfront…I”

“Kidding,” Stebben broke in. “I wanted to gauge your reaction and see just how much you had really profited so far.”

When my heart came back down out of my throat I replied, “I would do it if that’s what it takes.”

“I believe you would and that’s enough for me,” he smiled and let the grin expand on his face. “I’ll take twenty percent of the company, the right to hire my own personnel and two-fifty the first year and negotiable annually thereafter.”

“Ten percent and negotiable every three years with the

stipulation that you can’t make more than me,” I shot back. It was my turn to smile.

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“Fifteen and two!”

“Done!” I reached across the table and shook his outstretched hand. We both knew I was getting him cheap, but it really wasn’t about the money. The equipment was going to cost E.M.J a pretty penny. I told him that I would have something for him to sign by the middle of next week.

As Black Monday approached, I watched Tom closer than

I ever had before. I over-heard him talking, no bragging, to Stebben the first week he was there, about how much money he’d made in the stock market the last couple of months. It was curious, because later that same day Stebben asked me if I’d been giving out stock tips. I shook my head and told him all of my investments were in U.S. government bonds. He smiled and nodded and then smiled some more.

Tom didn’t care much for Stebben personally. It was easy to read the dislike on his face. He did acknowledge his abilities and intelligence. On one particular occasion, it took great resistance on Tom’s part not to come to blows with Stebben.

After a heated debate on a Tom’s proposed warehouse layout, Tom had to eventually give in and come to terms with Stebben.

The next day, toting his own revised drawing of Tom’s original design, Stebben was able to highlight two errors that Tom had made on his original. It was a bitter pill for Tom to swallow, and I knew with certainty that he would find a way to get even with Stebben some day.

Not only did I like Stebben, but Amy continually praised me for nabbing him. She spent as much time with him as she did with Tom. In truth that was Tom’s fault. He was all business at the warehouse and avoided Amy most of the time. It didn’t take her long to get the message, and her stops at E.M.J.

became less frequent. Tom and Amy had purchased, or rather Tom had bought an old farm house with ten acres, just north of Des Moines. Tom lived there now, and Amy moved in a good S 243 S

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portion of her possessions, but still maintained her room in the apartment complex close to campus. His intent was to refurbish the house before they got married. The date had finally been set, July sixteenth of next year.

I knew the wedding was going to happen, but I was hoping it would be much, much later. I wanted to hang on to my fleeting hope for as long as possible that she would see the light. Tom didn’t tell me, Amy did. After she told me, I could tell she read on my face what I couldn’t say out loud. I couldn’t hide the look on mine—disapproval. She saw my eyes reflect both sadness and anger. She looked away, hurt by my reaction.

We were eating sandwiches together in the trailer when she brought it up in conversation. Tom was out running errands in Des Moines proper and rarely ate lunch at the warehouse. He was busy working on obtaining the proper permits for remodeling the warehouse.

“I’m sorry,” was all I said, not congratulations, or I wish you the best. I instantly regretted it the moment it came out, but sometimes you really do need to say exactly what you think.

“Why is it you hired Tom, when I can tell you really don’t like him very much?” she asked. Her voice was quiet, and the enthusiasm she had shown when she first announced the engagement was gone.

“I won’t lie,” I responded, waiting just a few moments to collect my thoughts before continuing. “I’ve been around guys like Tom my whole life, full of themselves. The truth is they never outgrow it.” I’d hit a nerve, and Amy cast her eyes down and away from mine. I immediately felt bad, but went on, “In the time I’ve gotten to know both of you, I don’t like the way he treats you, you deserve better, but who am I to judge love.

I can also see how much you love him and adapt to be what he needs or wants. It’s a futile path that you are trying to walk.

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do. And if you are waiting for him to change for the better, you have better odds of winning the jackpot on a slot machine.”

Amy’s face reddened, and she got up to leave. “That’s a

very brash statement from a man who lives alone! Give me some credit for being smarter and more aware of my surroundings than you think I am. I have no delusions about Tom, and I know exactly what I’m capable of and what I’m getting.

He has his finer points, just like I have my own weaker ones.

Inside…he is a good man!”

Twenty years from now she would be telling me just the

opposite. It wasn’t my time or my place to impart judgment.

Before she could exit the trailer I said, “I apologize; it was rude and offensive of me to suppose anything. I know my place, and I know how very special the woman is that Tom is going to marry.” I said the last part with every bit of my heart. Amy’s face instantly registered uncertainty, and her eyes softened a bit. That bond was there between us even now. There wasn’t any denying that years dividing us and worlds apart, she and I still had a connection. I understood it, but it was extremely confusing to her. She had no idea how to respond. I searched out her eyes and said, “Trust yourself and all of your instincts.

Don’t accept partial answers and always know that if you ever have any concerns you can come and talk to me.”

Amy blushed and sat back down, not knowing what else to

do. When she regained her composure she only said, “Thank you.”We ate the rest of our lunch in an awkward silence. If the air could have been sampled and analyzed around us, it would have shown two inner spirits tentatively reaching out toward each another. It was killing me to not reach over and grab her, crush her in my arms and embrace her with my years of missing her. After lunch, she said a simple goodbye and left E.M.J.

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hoped that I hadn’t permanently damaged our friendship.

The week before the market crash, news of impending

doom swirled around the world equity markets. Just like every other crash to come, very few would get out until the worst had already happened. The stock market had a few down days in a row and many were betting on its quick recovery. I over-heard Tom telling Stebben about a recent purchase and how it was going to make a killing for him. All I could do was to shake my head. My gut wanted to protect Amy, but my dislike for Tom seemed to over-ride it.

Tom rode the tidal wave down with thousands of others. His face was ashen all day on Monday, the nineteenth of October. A very small part of me felt ashamed…only a small part. After two of the remodelers left for lunch, I strode over to Tom at the far end of the warehouse. “You don’t look so well today, I hope you didn’t have a lot invested in the market!

What an awful day, worst day since the great depression.” It was mean even saying anything to him, but I also wanted to know how bad it was.

Tom looked my way, “I sunk nearly everything I had into

the market and put it into high risk stocks. Right now, I’ve lost nearly sixty percent of what I started with.” He started to hyper-ventilate.

I thought he was going to throw-up and reached out to

put a calming hand on his shoulder. “It’s going to come back, it always does. I bet it even recovers a good portion of the losses by the end of the year. The stock market is more resilient than the investors are. My best advice is to ride it out and don’t do anything drastic.”

“That’s not the worst part…I bought some of my stock