Tear In Time (14 page)

 
"Actually, two years ago - 1860 that is – a microbiologist named Louis
Pasteur discovered germs in his laboratory in France. It's going to be a couple
of years before the concept becomes more widely accepted, and many more years
after that before a handful of doctors and scientists learn to control most of
them. Actually, we still struggle today to understand them – I mean in 2005. We
have many cures for the worst offenders, like pneumonia, smallpox, typhoid,
cholera and many others, but we still don't have a cure for the common cold,
ironically."

 
"Typhoid? Cholera? Pneumonia? My God, man, do you have these cures
memorized?" Dr. Morgan asked anxiously.

 
"I'm sorry, doctor, but they typically aren't salves, poultices or the
standard cures of the 19th century. The cures are usually scientifically
engineered, complex drugs that are impossible to create with today's limited
technology." David replied. He thought for a moment then continued,
"Come to think of it, it might be possible for me to create penicillin
from simple mold. Of course, I'd have to build the right equipment for it. It
could be done the more I think about it, although like everything else, it
would take a month to produce - too long in this environment, I'm afraid,"
he finished with pessimism.

  Dr.
Morgan hunched his shoulders at the disappointing news. He looked at David and
said, "Is there nothing we can do?"

 
"We're doing it now. Killing the germs is the only solution, so boiling
our instruments, washing our hands with soap and boiled water, and sterilizing
the wounds with various strengths of alcohol is the best medicine we can
provide under these primitive conditions," David said optimistically.
"As we have already seen, the results are impressive."

 
"Amazing. This is truly an amazing discovery," Dr. Morgan stated, his
spirits and optimism lifted once again. "Who would have guessed that
cleanliness truly is next to Godliness? From this day forward, I will endeavor
to kill the germs prior to surgery."

  David
added, "Not just prior to surgery, but during and especially after too.
Washing your hands and instruments prior to changing bandages will help to
prevent infecting the wounds during the healing process."

 
"Very good, David. I will take note of that too," Dr. Morgan replied
resolutely.

  By the
glow of the smoldering embers, David elaborated into the late evening on the
topic of germs. Fascinated, Dr. Morgan asked an endless barrage of questions,
upon which David happily answered them all in detail. Like an inquisitive child
and a patient father, the session of questions and answers continued until they
heard the sound of the bugler’s horn playing ’taps’, thereby marking the end of
the evening. Dr. Morgan, now energized by the topics of futuristic science and
discoveries, reluctantly followed the bugler’s subtle orders to turn in.

 
"Well, lad, might I press you for further education tomorrow?" Dr.
Morgan asked graciously.

 
"Dr. Morgan, it's always a pleasure to discuss these topics with someone
as enthusiastic as you. The pleasure is all mine," David replied.

 
"I am at your service," Dr. Morgan smiled.

  As the
two bid each other good night and entered their respective tents, both recalled
the stimulating conversation and enjoyment of each other's company. With the
final smoldering embers releasing their scant bit of light for the evening,
David rested on his stomach and watched their hypnotic glow from inside the
campfire while he reflected on the day. As the embers slowly faded to black,
David could no longer resist the weight of his heavy eyelids. He closed his
eyes and. like a member of a church choir, he added to the night’s chorus with
his own distinctive tone of snoring.

---- ----
---- ---- ----

  Early
morning, shortly before dawn, under a clear night's sky, the ambient temperatures
had dropped to an uncomfortable fifty-five degrees. David, with only a woolen
blanket for protection from the elements, shivered while he tossed and turned
on the cold, hard ground, as he desperately shifted his weight from one side to
the next, trying to find comfort and warmth. He drifted off once more as
exhaustion from interrupted sleep supplanted his need for comfort.

5:00 AM –
REVEILLE!!

 
Offensive, intrusive and effective, reveille sounded from the bugler's horn
sharply at five o'clock, just as the sun's caress, nearly undetected, extended
its reached into the soldiers’ canvas homes. The sound from the universally
hated shiny brass instrument jarred the entire valley from its peaceful rest,
waking every living thing with a violent barrage of detestable racket.

  David
immediately woke and slowly emerged from his tent. With his woolen blanket
still wrapped around him, he watched as the company sergeant moved from tent to
tent, gruffly waking his soldiers for early morning roll call.

 
“Morning, sir,” the sergeant stated officially as he hurried by David and onto
other soldiers under his supervision.

  “Good
morning,” David replied slowly as his mind fought its way out of lethargy. Too
late; his reply fell on deaf ears, as the sergeant moved out of listening
range.

  “Good
morning, lad,” David heard from behind him. Spinning around, he saw Dr. Morgan,
bright-eyed and smiling as he buttoned the last few buttons on his top coat. “I
trust your sleep was satisfactory?” Dr. Morgan asked genuinely.

 
“Actually, it was the worst night's sleep I've ever had,” David immediately
replied on impulse. Detecting a disappointed expression on the old doctor's
face, David realized his offending response and added, “Sorry, doc, I didn't
mean to sound so negative right out of the gate. I guess I'm still
half-asleep.”

  With a
slight smile, showing his genuine sympathy, Dr. Morgan replied, “That's quite
alright, my boy. It does take a little getting used to.” He looked down at the
spent campfire and motioned to David for some kindling behind him. “How about a
fire? Could you hand me some of those twigs?” He motioned to an even smaller
pile beside David’s feet.

  They
both reached down and collected a couple of handfuls of the kindling, as David
observed out of the corner of his eye the correct size and shape the old doctor
was selecting.

 
Sensing his lack of skill, Dr. Morgan began to teach David the finer points of
campfire construction. With skill and speed, the old doctor built a roaring
fire in a matter of minutes, the whole time explaining his actions to David.

  With
the coffee brewing, the two sat in silence for a few minutes as they struggled
to gnaw at their flavorless hardtack crackers, each man's private thoughts a
world apart. Moments later, the bugler's horn sounded again, snapping them out
of their unconscious state, dragging them back to the realities of military
camp life. As the rush of soldiers raced past the doctors on their way to
formation, each one gave the pair a respectful morning greeting, calling out
“Doc,” as they raced by. The old doctor acknowledged their salutes with a
simple nod.

 
Shortly after 7am, David stepped into the stirrups of his newly acquired
transportation, as the two doctors fell into sequence of the marching column of
soldiers. With each trot, David felt the pain of unused muscles, sore and
inflamed from the previous day’s ride, scream as they were forced to work against
their fatigue.

 
Conditioned from a lifetime of riding, Dr. Morgan rode high in his saddle,
unaffected by the previous day's march, and once again began to contemplate
David remarks about the future.

 
“David, I believe you mentioned yesterday some innovations not yet realized.
Could you indulge me for a while?” he asked.

  David
shifted the leather visor of his hat to shield his eyes from the sun. He
cleared his throat and began, “Well, doc, I mentioned that in 2005 we have
cars, planes and computers. I forgot to add that we also have cell phones.”

  “What
are cell phones, lad?” the old doctor asked inquisitively.

  “Cell
phones? Probably the worse curse on humanity since the invention of the
automobile,” David replied sarcastically.

  “Hmm.
Are these cell phones curable in your time?” Dr Morgan asked, incorrectly
assuming that ‘curse’ meant disease.

 
“Sorry, doc; that was just my sarcasm showing through. Actually, cell phones
aren't diseases at all. They are an invention. Years from now, in 1876, a man
named Alexander Graham Bell will invent the telephone, a device that can
transmit sound over a strand of wire. These wires and phones will be strung all
over the country, allowing people to talk from one end of the country to the
other,” David said.

 
“Amazing,” Dr. Morgan exclaimed. “Must be an evolution of the telegraph, I'm
guessing.”

 
“Exactly,” David replied, then continued, “So, man can now communicate much
faster, which means progress and technology advance much faster. A man in
Massachusetts can now confer with a man in California to resolve issues in
design. The end result is innovation and progress happen at a much faster
rate,” he elaborated.

  “I
see. This is wonderful. Requisitioning supplies by telegraph could take weeks.
I've performed many a surgery without the use of chloroform due to the delay of
resupply – quite a discovery, I must say,” Dr. Morgan stated.

  “Yes;
well it would be nice if the telephone was used solely for humanitarian
purposes. Later, well after its discovery, the invention of the ‘telemarketer’
is born,” David said with a distasteful tone.

  “What
is a telemarketer, David?” he asked.

  “He,
or she for that matter, is like your snake oil salesmen of today. They are
charlatans that invade your privacy with the dial of a button on the telephone,
trying to sell you everything from land to lineament. They intrude upon your
life with callous impropriety, never apologetic and always as aggressive as
they are obnoxious and rude, with a single-minded intent of siphoning away your
hard-earned cash. They've degraded a wonderful invention for their own selfish
private gain. They are ubiquitous and I hate them,” David admitted openly.

  “Well,
that is quite a bold statement to make about these telemarketers. I fear your
explanation of the cell phone won't fare much better.” Dr. Morgan replied.

 
“Unfortunately, you are correct. The cell phone is a telephone without the
wires,” David said.

“Without
wires? How does it work? By magic?” Dr. Morgan asked seriously.

  David
chuckled to himself for a moment at the doctor's response, then replied, “Not
by magic, my good doctor. It's a little hard to explain, but sound can be sent out
into the air with a device called a transmitter. This transmitter takes sound
and processes it through that device, sending it off as a frequency: or, in
layman's terms, invisible sound. On the other side, a person holds a device
called a receiver that takes these invisible sounds, processes them, and
converts them to real sound: so a man in Massachusetts can talk to a man in
California without having to be restrained by wires. The beauty of this is, the
device is as small as your pocket watch. The problem is everyone owns one.”

  Dr.
Morgan looked at David, stunned. He tried to comprehend this marvelous
invention. Finally, he spoke. “Just imagine if our boys owned one of these
devices. He could call for help when wounded. The lives that could be saved...”
the doctor said, now drifting off in thought again.

  “Yes,
well, again, if they were used for humanitarian purposes that would truly be a
wonderful invention. Unfortunately, they have replaced normal human interaction
and communication. Too often you see two friends walking side by side, talking
to someone elsewhere about something completely unimportant and inane, and all
the while ignoring the very person that they chose to spend time with. This
behavior in future society is epidemic, and is getting worse with each passing
day that this behavior is tolerated and accepted as proper etiquette and
manners,” David said, now visibly showing his disdain.

  “How
extraordinarily selfish and self-centered. You have actually witnessed this act
where two people are joined in company, yet choose to communicate with others?”
Dr Morgan asked.