Written in Time (27 page)

Alan probably put it down to awe of his personage and that was why people were so reticent around him.
 

Everything possible had been taken into account to compensate for almost two years having passed between the initial incident and the experiment to be undertaken this day.
 

Vagaries in atmospheric electrical charge, potential effect of nearness to solar maximum, relative position of the Earth in its orbit and, of course, the weather.
 

Ball lightning had, as expected, proven impossible to realistically duplicate, but somehow, Horizon’s physicists had worked their way around that, learning to generate an electrical field that was generated of such enormous proportions as to compensate for whatever effect the ball lightning might or might not have had. Firing the light array for as long as ten seconds was routine. All evidence indicated that the power created by the bank of enormous industrial generators was enough to send large objects back in time.
 

Jane waited quietly, sitting in a chair beside the control truck. Rather than resting, and to avoid conversation with Peggy and Clarence, she had driven south on the day after her late-night one-sided conversation with Alan, driven to the small cemetery where the remains of her late husband were buried, gotten down on her knees to be nearer to him, lain atop his grave and whispered that she loved him and, if there were an afterlife, would join him sooner or later, perhaps much sooner.
 

Crying, she had driven back to the site and lain awake all night, wrestling with every detail of the experiment.
 

In the morning, Jane ate a very small breakfast (it wouldn’t do to get motion sick inside an armored stainless-steel capsule), showered, washed her hair extra well, dressed in her favorite comfortable clothes and set off to rendezvous with her coconspirator, Alan. Her backpack was filled but not stuffed with some essentials, should she survive. She used no special medications, and, if she survived, when Clarence and dear Peggy joined her in the past, she would have the services of a fine physician at her disposal. The essentials, rather than the usual things women of her somewhat advanced age might bring along, consisted of two favorite books, the small leather photo album with pictures of herself and her late husband, two changes of underwear and stockings, a long nightgown (in preparation for mixed company until everyone was settled), a flashlight, extra batteries, a Swiss Army Champion with every sort of blade imaginable, a topographical map of the immediate area and a lensatic compass, bought as G.I. surplus.
 

Alan had met her at the control truck, asked her if she’d like to come in—she declined—and helped her to the canvas-backed folding chair in which she sat. He had told her, his voice held to a conspiratorial tone, that he had contrived a wild-goose chase for Clarence and Peggy, so that they would not be in the area when the time transfer experiment took place. Jane Rogers thought that quite wise.
 

Lost in reverie, she was vaguely surprised when Alan was by her side again and asking her a question.
 

“Did you just ask if I wanted a gun?”
 

“Well, there are wild animals in these mountains, even today, and more so a century ago. And in the past, of course, you might encounter some disreputable person and—”
 

“Alan, I have no quarrel with persons who choose to own, use or even carry firearms. It is a Constitutional right, as it is my right to profess total ignorance of the use of firearms. So, were you to insist that I lugged along such a contrivance, it would be of little use to me, unless it were shaped like a softball bat or a frying pan, both of which I know how to use in my own defense.”
 

“I see.”
 

Alan had excused himself to attend to some technical details, he said, but was gone for fewer than five minutes. Upon his return, they set out toward the capsule.
 

The capsule was roughly the size and shape of the space capsules utilized by the Mercury astronauts in the early days of the United States space program, but would be more comfortable.The interior was littered with precious little instrumentation, merely two television monitors with which to view the surroundings of the capsule at almost any angle, a blood pressure and heart rate monitor and an oxygen tank and mask.
 

“Who ordered the oxygen tank!?”
 

“I thought that it might be—”
 

Jane was determined not to let Alan outtalk her. “If the Naile family arrived alive, they did so without oxygen tanks and masks. However, from the wreckage photos, it appears that there was some sort of fire, perhaps electrical. A fire extinguisher, yes. Oxygen! I should say not! I have no wish whatsoever to be incinerated, young man.”
 

“Yes, ma’am.” And he shouted over his shoulder toward the knot of technicians, “Deep-six the oxygen, guys!”
 

The day was bright and clear, the sky a perfect blue punctuated by marvelously fluffy white clouds and higher, thin wisps of cloud, these in long, graceful tendrils stretching in series almost like protein chains from horizon to horizon.
 

Alan, handsome lad that he was, suggested, “I think, Dr. Rogers, that it might be best to get started.”
 

“Time is money,” she told him, thinking herself mean-spirited for saying so.
 

“Not at all. I merely want to make certain that we’re well underway, at least, before Clarence and Peggy might return. Clarence’s temper, you know.”
 

“Of course. I meant no slight. Will you see that the results of my initial studies and the work of your personnel are properly documented and published?”
 

“Documented, to be sure. Published? Perhaps not advisable, unless you want 1898 to get awfully crowded.”
 

“Well put, young man. Well put.”
 

“May I kiss you, Dr. Rogers?”
 

“Are you that afraid for me?”
 

“Either way, it is good-bye, and I hate saying good-bye to a beautiful woman. Always a failing of mine and a worse failing with my great-grandfather.”
 

“Really—”
 

“Please? Not to be mercenary, but you wouldn’t be here on the threshold of discovery without my help.”
 

“Really!”
 

“Then, as a memory of a voyage I shall never take?”
 

“Do you always get your way with women?”
 

Alan smiled wolfishly. “Actually, you probably wouldn’t want to know.”
 

“Shame on you. Yes, a solitary—”
 

Despite the difference in their ages, Jane Rogers almost fainted as this marvelously handsome young man folded her into his arms and all but crushed her lips under his. She wanted to protest, but was embarrassed because she liked it. As Alan raised his mouth from hers, he whispered, “That will be something I will always treasure as a memory. My great-grandfather wasn’t much for a belief in God when he set out for the past, but he learned otherwise, and the habit has stuck with the family since. So, in all sincerity, God bless you.” And he kissed her hand as he ushered her into the capsule.
 

Jane Rogers’ heart was fluttering.
 

Inside the capsule, she found an aluminum softball bat and a cast iron skillet. She felt a smile cross her lips. He was a very nice young man, Alan Naile, and she was not surprised at all that he had his way with women, whatever that way might be—and she didn’t want to know.
 

A very intelligent and very pretty blond-haired girl named Mary Cole—blonde jokes notwithstanding—was in charge of the capsule’s systems. In this capacity, Mary Cole was also in charge of the last minute check. “Now, Dr. Rogers, all you have to do is sit tight and relax. With this one control, you’ll be able to check any of the video.” She placed the remote in Jane Rogers’ hand, and then took an instant to refix her ponytail. “The reason, once again, that this is not a wireless remote is that we don’t want to risk any signal disruption as you travel. Actually, as we’ve discussed, you should be there in the blink of an eye, or less. This is the primary control for blowing the hatch. Remember to flip the guard away. As with everything aboard, there’s a backup and a redundant backup. God bless.”
 

She leaned over and gave Jane Rogers a soft little peck on the cheek and stepped backward out of the capsule.
 

Jane also had a panic button that she could hit if, at the last minute, she got cold feet. She had no intention of using the panic button.
 

Instead, she played with the buttons on the remote. There were redundant backup screens, and she watched all of them, each flashing the same picture as she switched from one camera’s perspective to another then to another. Although she couldn’t hear the generators through the walls of the capsule, she could hear them perfectly over the monitors. Should sound become a problem during the time transfer, the pickup microphones in the cameras would automatically cut out until a safe decibel level had been reached.
 

Everything seemed just as it should be.
 

Jane Rogers felt like she had to piss, but that could wait ninety-six years. It wouldn’t be the first time that she had squatted in the woods. She looked around at her surroundings again. First-aid kit mounted on the bulkhead. Emergency rations in a small chest mounted to the deck. A survival kit, which she imagined held some sort of firearm and, more useful, a flare gun.
 

Her backpack was secure in a chest about the size of the rations chest, this mounted to the deck on the opposite side of the capsule.
 

Jane Rogers wanted to look at her watch, to see if time actually would move backward. But she did not want to miss the show for something that unlikely.
 

She checked the seat restraints that Mary Cole had checked, and then leaned back, trying to relax.
 

“This is capsule control.” Mary’s voice cut out the ambient audio. “Time transfer attempt will commence on my mark. God bless, Dr. Rogers. Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . seven . . . six . . . five . . . We have full power for lightning strokeand carrier beam.Four . . .three . . . two .. . one. . .
 

“Discharge! Mark!”
 

Jane forced herself not to blink. There was a blinding flash of light, the cameras unable to take it, she presumed. The screens whited out, the sound of thunder rumbling all around her. The screens went black. In less than a second, the high desert surrounded her again, the monitors revealing no trucks, no generators, nothing but sand, rocks and a view of the mountains, the same view she normally saw through her telescope, but seeming farther away because she saw it through the television screen, unaided by magnification. The only difference was that the mountains had a great deal of snow on them at the higher elevations.
 

Was this it? Had she traveled through time?
 

After a review of live video from every camera, Jane deduced that this was most likely exactly the same set of coordinates that she had left, except for the time, and hopefully that was 1898.
 

Jane flipped the guard back and actuated the button to blow the hatch. The rush of air that entered the capsule was cold. She was glad she’d brought a good, warm sweater.
 

“You let her do what?” Clarence Brown hammered his fist down on the capsule engineer’s desk; Alan was perched on its edge.
 

“We had the test capsule, she wanted to go and she had the best motive— to save your lives,” Alan told his cousin many times removed.
 

“And you’re sure she’s all right?” Peggy insisted.
 

“The capsule reappeared the instant after it vanished. The interior of the capsule was fully intact, the exterior covered with dirt and moss and lots of surface corrosion. It seemed to our people that it was extremely likely the capsule had been exposed to the elements for a century or so. And look, you guys, she made the noble gesture, and it worked out. Anyway, I don’t think she wanted to be left behind. You guys are her family,” Alan supplied. “Look at the note.”
 

The note was encased within a special, hermetically sealed plastic pouch, a superexpensive version of a Ziploc bag. When Clarence held it properly to lose the glare, he could read the words through the plastic. Clarence read aloud.
 

“Dear friends,
 

“I have traveled successfully through time, I
 

think. There is snow in the mountains; so, if you
 

come, remember to bring warm clothes, as it is
 

rather nippy.
 

“I seem to have suffered no ill effects.
 

“Love and kisses.
 

“Jane”
 

“She was in great spirits when I did the last minute systems check with her. Relaxed, really.” Clarence looked across the desk at Marc Cole, as the man re-ponytailed his long blond hair. And, Clarence had the oddest sensation that there was something different about the person in charge of capsule command. But Clarence just couldn’t put his finger on it.
 

***

The capsule in which they would travel through time was more like a gigantic steel crate with fold-down ramp doors at either end. It looked nothing like a movie time machine and, in fact, wasn’t. As Jane had explained to Clarence and Peggy, time-travel had not been “invented.” What they were doing was merely slavishly duplicating the effects of an anomaly. “Think of it this way, Clarence,” Jane had told him. “When Sir Isaac Newton identified gravitational pull with his famous—and likely apocryphal— dropping of the apple, he didn’t invent gravity, but merely took advantage of it. The phenomenon existed. He didn’t float through the air, because gravity disallowed that. Neither did the apple. It’s rather as if we were living on the edge of a lovely pool of water in the shadow of some enormously high precipice, and a rock fell—all by itself, due to forces which we could not understand—from the lip of the precipice and the rock struck the pool of water, making the most beautiful rippling effect anyone had ever witnessed. Now, we wish to see that gorgeous ripple effect again. So we dive into the pool and retrieve the original rock. Then we question everyone who witnessed the event, trying to ascertain the exact spot where the rock struck. We have certain givens, for example, in that we have the original rock, know precisely from whence it originated and know that the rock accelerated at a speed of thirty-two feet per second as it fell. Therefore, we can calculate its speed as it struck the water, given that we can deduce the precise height of the precipice utilizing basic geometry.