The story begins with a fairly smart individual who decided to build a time machine. Remarkably, as intelligent as Charles Mason was, he decided to use it. When Charles first entertained the idea to himself and his friends, he was fortunate enough not to have any friends, and merely went ahead with the project. After years of research in quantum mechanics and astrophysics, Charles quit it all and started to study city and regional planning. One day while contemplating the extraordinary lengths people go to in order to disrupt the perfectly uninteresting lives of city council members, he was struck with the key to time travel. Unfortunately, he never explained that to me, so I still have no idea how he did it. Regardless, I know for a fact that on the morning of the day he left for the past, he bought several cans of coconut milk and batteries. Refer to Appendix A for notes on the uses of coconut milk in time travel. I think the batteries were for his camera.
At any rate, he told me that morning that he was off on his whirlwind adventure into the past. I told him that he should give me access to his brain when he died so I could download his experiences, then write about them at a later date. He said, “No”, and went on his way. I followed him back to his apartment where he had been constructing the time machine. It was a standard boxy affair; several windows allowed one to view the standard boxy affair next to it. As he opened the door, I snuck into his living room and watched as he fiddled with the machine. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but thought I distinctly heard the sound of splashing coconut milk (see Appendix A). As he finished, he stepped onto the platform, for it was a platform type of time machine; none of this fancy sitting garbage. He punched in several buttons on the frame and the machine began emitting a slow purring sound. It was at this time that I snuck up onto the platform with me. It would be advantageous to the reader to know that I had developed an invisibility shield and was currently employing it. The shield drew its power from the massive convenience it lent to the narration of this story. Very fortunate.
the apartment . the machine
As the purring grew to a soft mewing, arcs of light began streaking across the apartment. As someone who knows nothing about physics, I would have to say the show was less than impressive but slightly more than average. C- for Affect. Just then, the machine kicked it up a notch, jolting slightly more than suddenly, and rising several inches off the floor. And then we were sitting in the middle of a field…well, not really sitting, we were standing on the platform, as was the custom of the type of time machine.
In direct disobedience of customs, Charles sat down and began to rejoice in the dim glow of his success; it seemed to be dawn. Almost immediately, Charles shot up and took off for the nearest town, which was several kilometers off to the northeast. I followed closely behind, careful not to make loud noises that would alert Charles to my presence. The vastness of the land resembled the great desserts of Africa, such as the tiramisus of Chad or Libyan chocolate cream pie. Both delicious and deadly. An hour later we had reached the crust of the pie and caught our first glimpse of the city and its inhabitants. Apparently, Charles had set his machine to transport himself and a handsome stranger 100 years into the past! I think…
This past seemed much lousier than any other past I had been to. Not only was nobody wearing a smile, but they were all giving off a very negative vibe. Something was off, though. I knew that we had come back about one hundred years, yet this looked nothing like the tri-city area of the 1920s. Where were the old timey cars? Where were the rambunctious flappers? The city looked much bleaker, as if the Industrial Revolution had been merely a passing fancy. I could see the people were in handmade clothes and were selling cheap wares from carts. It looked more like Python/Brooks movie than anything else, something that I found secretly exciting.
Charles noticed much the same as I did (I think, maybe not the movie thing) and kept his distance from the people as he reached the first building. He ran his hand along the poorly made brick structure, wondering at its banality, its datedness. As he turned the corner to spy on the population, I felt the wall and discovered the brick to be of much less quality than I had thought. It almost crumbled beneath my touch, of course, I couldn’t be sure of the exact texture due to my invisibility shield (whose power source was in no way diminishing).
“Watcha lookin’ at, sonny?”
Charles and I whipped around at the same time to a strict looking law enforcement agent twirling a nightstick. I then realized how mundane stereotypes were and waived the absence of flappers.
“Well, good afternoon officer”, Charles replied.
“I don’t want to hear about it. What are you doing round back here?” the policeman queried.
“The…good afternoon, of course”, Charles replied.
“A funny man, eh? Well, we have a place for funny men like you.” The policeman twirled the
nightstick a bit faster.
I grew tired of this quick exchange even quicker, and punched the officer square in the side of the head. After tripping sideways over his shoes, he smacked headfirst into the brick wall, definitely crumbling it beneath his touch.
Needless to say (although I will say it), Charles was shocked. Imagine, if you will (and I do hope you will), a brick wall so weak that a 175 lb. man falling into it would break it. I would be shocked, and in fact, I was. It was curious then, when Charles was examining the unconscious (at least) officer, and not the fairly large hole in the cheap brick wall. Maybe we just have different priorities.
I could see from the back of Charles’s head that he was frantic. Distinct hair swirling patterns and subtle follicle shifts (see Appendix B) alerted me to the fact that Charles was, in fact, panicking. However, with a slight flick of follicle section D-5 (Appendix B), I saw him make the decision to quickly stuff the body into the brick building. The sun was right above me in the sky, amplifying the noon-ness of the place. I was hungry.
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