Entry for The Friday Challenge for 6/26/09
MS OPEN WINDOW
"Roberta will be down presently, Mr. Nuttel," said a very self-possessed young assistant; "in the meantime you may look over any of the brochures on the side table, or you may try out some of our products on the computer wall."
Framton Nuttel endeavoured to say the correct something which should duly flatter the assistant of the moment without unduly discounting the H.R. Director that was to come. Privately he doubted more than ever whether these formal visits on a succession of total strangers would do much towards helping the nervous breakdown cure which he was supposed to be undergoing.
"I know how it will be," his therapist had said when he was preparing to migrate to this new city; "you will bury yourself down there and not speak to a living soul, and your nerves will be worse than ever from moping. I shall just have your recruiter set you up with a series of interviews with all the companies in the area likely to be hiring at the moment. You should have a job in no time."
"Are you familiar with any of our VR products?" asked the assistant.
"Hardly at all," said Framton. "My sister talked about buying one, but I don't believe she did."
He made the last statement in a tone of distinct regret.
"Then you know practically nothing about our company? Have you met Roberta yet?" pursued the self-possessed young lady.
"No, I have not even talked to her. The only information I have about the company is what I was able to find on line.”
"Her great tragedy happened just three years ago," said the assistant.
"Her tragedy?" asked Framton; somehow in this modern, bustling building tragedies seemed out of place.
"You may wonder why we keep that computer displaying a window with an unmoving, empty scene," said the assistant, indicating the wall-sized screen showing a large French door that opened onto a lawn.
"It looks like a security camera," said Framton; "but has that window got anything to do with the tragedy?"
"Three years ago to a day, Roberta's husband and her two young brothers went off for their day's shooting in beta VR Shoot. They never came back. All the engineers and VR architects searched through the code and the video for weeks, but they never found the virtual hole they fell into." Here the young woman's voice lost its self-possessed note and became falteringly human. "Poor Roberta always thinks that they will come back some day, they and the little brown spaniel that was lost with them, and walk in at that door just as they used to do. That is why the window is kept open around the clock. Poor dear Bertie, she has often told me how they went out, her husband with his white waterproof coat over his arm, and Ronnie, her youngest brother, singing 'Bertie, why do you bound?' as he always did to tease her, because she said it got on her nerves. Do you know, sometimes on still, quiet evenings like this, I almost get a creepy feeling that they will all walk in through that window--"
She broke off with a little shudder. It was a relief to Framton when Roberta bustled into the room with a whirl of apologies for being late in making her appearance.
"I hope Vera has been amusing you?" she said.
"She has been very interesting," said Framton.
"I hope you don't mind the open window," said Mrs. Sappleton briskly; "my husband and brothers will be back directly from beta testing in the shooting VR, and they always come in this way. They've been out for snipe in the marshes to-day, so they'll make a fine mess over the virtual carpets. Or at least they should, if the VR is doing its job."
She rattled on cheerfully about the testing and the scarcity of good VR developers, and the prospects for VR Shoot becoming a best seller. To Framton it was all purely horrible. He made a desperate but only partially successful effort to turn the talk on to a less ghastly topic; he was conscious that his interviewer was giving him only a fragment of her attention, and her eyes were constantly straying past him to the open window on the computer screen. It was certainly an unfortunate coincidence that he should have scheduled his visit on this tragic anniversary.
"The doctors agree in ordering me complete rest, an absence of mental excitement, and avoidance of anything in the nature of violent physical exercise," announced Framton, who laboured under the tolerably widespread delusion that total strangers and chance acquaintances are hungry for the least detail of one's ailments and infirmities, their cause and cure. "On the matter of diet they are not so much in agreement," he continued.
"No?" said Mrs. Sappleton, in a voice which only replaced a yawn at the last moment. Then she suddenly brightened into alert attention--but not to what Framton was saying.
"Here they are at last!" she cried. "Just in time for tea, and don't they look as if they were muddy up to the eyes!"
Framton shivered slightly and turned towards the assistant with a look intended to convey sympathetic comprehension. The young lady was staring at the open window with dazed horror in her eyes. In a chill shock of nameless fear Framton swung round in his seat and looked in the same direction.
In the deepening virtual twilight three figures were walking across the lawn towards the window; they all carried guns under their arms, and one of them was additionally burdened with a white coat hung over his shoulders. A tired brown spaniel kept close at their heels. Noiselessly they neared the building, and then a hoarse young voice chanted out of the dusk: "I said, Bertie, why do you bound?"
Framton grabbed wildly at his keys and briefcase; the lobby door, the concrete walk, and the parking lot were dimly-noted stages in his headlong retreat. A car turning into the entrance had to run onto the grass to avoid an imminent collision.
"Here we are, my dear," said the bearer of the white mackintosh, coming in through the window; "fairly muddy, but most of it's dry. Who was that who bolted out as we came up?"
"A most extraordinary man, a Mr. Nuttel," said Mrs. Sappleton; "could only talk about his illnesses, and dashed off without a word of good-bye or apology when you arrived. One would think he had seen a ghost."
"I expect it was the spaniel," said the assistant calmly; "he told me he had a horror of dogs. He was once hunted into a cemetery somewhere in VR Vampire by a pack of wild dogs, and had to spend the night in a newly dug grave with the creatures snarling and grinning and foaming just above him. Enough to make anyone lose their nerve."
Romance at short notice was her specialty.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
The Guitar, Chapter 5
Entry for The Friday Challenge, 6/12/09
Jorn couldn't help running on his way to the lodge. It would be his last time to meet with Elcor and play guitars together before leaving for Amber. He knew this past year of music with Elcor had improved his playing immensely, and he would sorely miss it. But of course, Amber would make him even better.
He slowed down as he neared the lodge, being cautious in this time of growing evil. Ambushers were more bold than he could ever remember. He noted the smoke curling up out of the chimney and the dark green scarf draped over the door handle. He was reassured, but still got out his pipe and sounded his personal signal. A few seconds later he heard Elcor's signal coming from inside the lodge, so he stepped up to the door and knocked.
Elcor opened the door and pulled him in, shaking his hand enthusiastically. Jorn suddenly noticed another man sitting at the small table in front of the fire. Elcor introduced him with a proud smile. “This is Justor, my son. He has been at Amber for a year now, and he has volunteered to help you settle in. I'm sure your mother will appreciate a companion for your travels.”
Jorn's grin matched Elcor's, who had only met his mother once, but knew her fears. It had taken him quite a while to persuade her to let Jorn go to Amber. He decided his mother would approve of Justor and be glad he had an elder friend.
“Well, let's get some playing in!” remarked Elcor. He picked up his old guitar while Jorn unslung his from his shoulder. Justor pulled a beautiful, dark red guitar out of the bag at his feet. It had black and white inlaid mosaic trim around the edge. Jorn could hardly keep his eyes off of it while they were running through the first song. Someday he would have a guitar like that! He would be proud to play it for the king. In comparison, his own guitar seemed childish and embarrassing. With a great effort, he brought his mind back to the music. It was really good. Justor played very well, better than Jorn himself, but not better than Elcor.
The time flew by while the three musicians reveled in their artistry. Both of the young men were used to playing with Elcor, and it was easy for them to fit their music together. After a while, Elcor stopped and put his guitar down on the table.
“We should be going to your house, Jorn. It will be supper time soon. But before we do, I have a gift for you.” He opened Justor's bag and pulled out a beautiful, new, dark green guitar with the same black and white mosaic trim, and set it down on the table beside his old, worn one.
“I'm giving you a guitar, and you may choose which of these two you would prefer.” He motioned to the new dark green one and his old one.
“They were made by the same guitar master, both fine instruments, but one has never been played, while the other has been played every day for many years.”
Jorn's mouth had dropped open in surprise when the green guitar had been placed on the table, but now he could only stand still in complete amazement, at a loss to pick one. The green one was so beautiful. He would be proud to have it. But he had admired the old one ever since he had met Elcor and first played with him. He knew its sweet sound well.
All he could say was, “I don't know.”
Elcor chuckled at his confusion. “Perhaps it would help if you tried them both. Play a little bit of your favorite song and see which one suits you best.”
Jorn reached out slowly and picked up the green guitar. He played a few notes. It sounded perfect, and he saw both of the other men were nodding in appreciation. “Yes, that one suits you. You will do well with it. Now try the other one.”
He put the guitar back on the table and picked up the other one. Again he played a few notes, and their heads were nodding. “Yes, that one is good, too. Which one do you want?”
His arm began to move to put the old guitar back on the table, but then he knew he didn't want to let go of it. It was old and worn, not as pretty as the green one, but it could teach him things. And it would be a bit of Elcor to go with him to lights school. He looked up at his friend's face. “You would really give me your guitar? Won't you miss it?”
“Perhaps I will miss it a little, but I'm going to become friends with this new green one.” He picked up the guitar and packed it in his bag.
Jorn hesitated, looking down at the smooth, worn surface of the old guitar. “I don't know if I can do it justice.”
“You will put your heart into it,” replied Elcor, “and that will be a great honor for it. Someday you will play it for the king. I'm sure of it.”
“Yes!” shouted Jorn. He slung the chosen guitar over his shoulder and raised his fist into the air. “I will play for the king!”
Justor looked startled, but Elcor laughed joyously. They chattered and laughed all the way to Jorn's house, and continued the celebration during supper and after, when the three played their new guitars together, and Jorn's parents danced until they were too tired to dance any more.
Jorn couldn't help running on his way to the lodge. It would be his last time to meet with Elcor and play guitars together before leaving for Amber. He knew this past year of music with Elcor had improved his playing immensely, and he would sorely miss it. But of course, Amber would make him even better.
He slowed down as he neared the lodge, being cautious in this time of growing evil. Ambushers were more bold than he could ever remember. He noted the smoke curling up out of the chimney and the dark green scarf draped over the door handle. He was reassured, but still got out his pipe and sounded his personal signal. A few seconds later he heard Elcor's signal coming from inside the lodge, so he stepped up to the door and knocked.
Elcor opened the door and pulled him in, shaking his hand enthusiastically. Jorn suddenly noticed another man sitting at the small table in front of the fire. Elcor introduced him with a proud smile. “This is Justor, my son. He has been at Amber for a year now, and he has volunteered to help you settle in. I'm sure your mother will appreciate a companion for your travels.”
Jorn's grin matched Elcor's, who had only met his mother once, but knew her fears. It had taken him quite a while to persuade her to let Jorn go to Amber. He decided his mother would approve of Justor and be glad he had an elder friend.
“Well, let's get some playing in!” remarked Elcor. He picked up his old guitar while Jorn unslung his from his shoulder. Justor pulled a beautiful, dark red guitar out of the bag at his feet. It had black and white inlaid mosaic trim around the edge. Jorn could hardly keep his eyes off of it while they were running through the first song. Someday he would have a guitar like that! He would be proud to play it for the king. In comparison, his own guitar seemed childish and embarrassing. With a great effort, he brought his mind back to the music. It was really good. Justor played very well, better than Jorn himself, but not better than Elcor.
The time flew by while the three musicians reveled in their artistry. Both of the young men were used to playing with Elcor, and it was easy for them to fit their music together. After a while, Elcor stopped and put his guitar down on the table.
“We should be going to your house, Jorn. It will be supper time soon. But before we do, I have a gift for you.” He opened Justor's bag and pulled out a beautiful, new, dark green guitar with the same black and white mosaic trim, and set it down on the table beside his old, worn one.
“I'm giving you a guitar, and you may choose which of these two you would prefer.” He motioned to the new dark green one and his old one.
“They were made by the same guitar master, both fine instruments, but one has never been played, while the other has been played every day for many years.”
Jorn's mouth had dropped open in surprise when the green guitar had been placed on the table, but now he could only stand still in complete amazement, at a loss to pick one. The green one was so beautiful. He would be proud to have it. But he had admired the old one ever since he had met Elcor and first played with him. He knew its sweet sound well.
All he could say was, “I don't know.”
Elcor chuckled at his confusion. “Perhaps it would help if you tried them both. Play a little bit of your favorite song and see which one suits you best.”
Jorn reached out slowly and picked up the green guitar. He played a few notes. It sounded perfect, and he saw both of the other men were nodding in appreciation. “Yes, that one suits you. You will do well with it. Now try the other one.”
He put the guitar back on the table and picked up the other one. Again he played a few notes, and their heads were nodding. “Yes, that one is good, too. Which one do you want?”
His arm began to move to put the old guitar back on the table, but then he knew he didn't want to let go of it. It was old and worn, not as pretty as the green one, but it could teach him things. And it would be a bit of Elcor to go with him to lights school. He looked up at his friend's face. “You would really give me your guitar? Won't you miss it?”
“Perhaps I will miss it a little, but I'm going to become friends with this new green one.” He picked up the guitar and packed it in his bag.
Jorn hesitated, looking down at the smooth, worn surface of the old guitar. “I don't know if I can do it justice.”
“You will put your heart into it,” replied Elcor, “and that will be a great honor for it. Someday you will play it for the king. I'm sure of it.”
“Yes!” shouted Jorn. He slung the chosen guitar over his shoulder and raised his fist into the air. “I will play for the king!”
Justor looked startled, but Elcor laughed joyously. They chattered and laughed all the way to Jorn's house, and continued the celebration during supper and after, when the three played their new guitars together, and Jorn's parents danced until they were too tired to dance any more.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Alien slave
Cynthia stared at the immense green lawn without really seeing it. Her body was frozen, but her mind was going a mile a minute, running over and over and over the shock of what she had found out.
What was it exactly? There was no proof of anything. Undoubtedly her wonderful husband and her equally fabulous parents would dismiss her conclusions as another of her weird fantasies, giving her that look that said she was not only mentally defective, but just plain bad. Bad through and through, like a rotten tomato. (Have you ever experienced a rotten tomato? They really stink!)
For a minute her conviction wavered and she thought she had really lost it this time. How had she gotten to this conclusion that aliens were taking over earth? But then she went over it again, and it all added up to the same thing. The worst part was that she suspected, no, she was sure that her husband and her parents were in it somehow. They had always seemed like old friends from the first time they met.
"Wow, I'm really getting paranoid these days, finding conspiracies everywhere. And I'm talking to myself, too. Actually, I'd rather be crazy than right about this."
Someday, she thought, her husband would come home from work or wherever and announce that he was an alien, and she could choose to become (become? no, remain) his slave, or to be terminated. Great choice!
And her parents... She had never known what to think about them, but she knew she was on the outside, and she was so different, almost like she was the alien. She had never been good enough for them. They methodically taught her she was an unwanted failure. At least now she knew why. The aliens had been infiltrating earth for many years, sending their messages of worthlessness, making humans ready to be willing slaves. It was almost time for the harvest. Humans had become ripe for the picking, pathetic people pleasers. (Alien pleasers)
There was no reason to live anymore. Hadn't been for quite a while. The same intense longing swept over her that always came when she thought about that. Would she never really be loved, really love another person? Was there any love anywhere to joy in?
A soft breeze touched her face, and a whisper spoke in her mind. "I am here, Beloved Treasure. Come with me and share my joy."
Cynthia's face changed from surprise to delight. She reached up toward this Lover, ready to get out of her chair, but then her arms dropped and she slumped over. Her head rested on the table, her mouth curved in a smile, and her eyes closed peacefully. She stood up and looked down briefly at her body, then took His hand and danced happily out into the air, gliding toward her new home.
What was it exactly? There was no proof of anything. Undoubtedly her wonderful husband and her equally fabulous parents would dismiss her conclusions as another of her weird fantasies, giving her that look that said she was not only mentally defective, but just plain bad. Bad through and through, like a rotten tomato. (Have you ever experienced a rotten tomato? They really stink!)
For a minute her conviction wavered and she thought she had really lost it this time. How had she gotten to this conclusion that aliens were taking over earth? But then she went over it again, and it all added up to the same thing. The worst part was that she suspected, no, she was sure that her husband and her parents were in it somehow. They had always seemed like old friends from the first time they met.
"Wow, I'm really getting paranoid these days, finding conspiracies everywhere. And I'm talking to myself, too. Actually, I'd rather be crazy than right about this."
Someday, she thought, her husband would come home from work or wherever and announce that he was an alien, and she could choose to become (become? no, remain) his slave, or to be terminated. Great choice!
And her parents... She had never known what to think about them, but she knew she was on the outside, and she was so different, almost like she was the alien. She had never been good enough for them. They methodically taught her she was an unwanted failure. At least now she knew why. The aliens had been infiltrating earth for many years, sending their messages of worthlessness, making humans ready to be willing slaves. It was almost time for the harvest. Humans had become ripe for the picking, pathetic people pleasers. (Alien pleasers)
There was no reason to live anymore. Hadn't been for quite a while. The same intense longing swept over her that always came when she thought about that. Would she never really be loved, really love another person? Was there any love anywhere to joy in?
A soft breeze touched her face, and a whisper spoke in her mind. "I am here, Beloved Treasure. Come with me and share my joy."
Cynthia's face changed from surprise to delight. She reached up toward this Lover, ready to get out of her chair, but then her arms dropped and she slumped over. Her head rested on the table, her mouth curved in a smile, and her eyes closed peacefully. She stood up and looked down briefly at her body, then took His hand and danced happily out into the air, gliding toward her new home.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
What happened to February 30th?
This is an entry for the Friday Challenge for May 15, 2009.
It's gone. February 30th, that is. And I'm the one who did it. I had every justification, though. I'll tell you everything that happened, and you'll agree.
There I was, minding my own business... Well, I was also minding a few other peoples' business, but they were my children, I had every right. You see, I had always been afraid that a disaster would come along and destroy me. I worried about it constantly, and that made me watch what I did very carefully. I spent time every day in thought about what I could do to ensure my safety and the safety of my family. I was never foolish, never reckless. I investigated all possible insurance before insurance was even invented. But it didn't do any good. The disaster came anyway.
When I was a child, I was taught many things, and the most important thing was that there is a God, and he created everything, and he rules the earth and controls everything. I figured out that if I wanted to be happy, I had to please God, so he would give me a good life. I became very picky about obeying the rules. If I messed up the slightest bit, I had to make up for it by sacrificing an animal. That was what you did back then when you broke a rule. It would pacify God so he wouldn't punish me by sending a disaster.
Trouble was, I broke the rules so often. Mostly it was little stuff, but I couldn't take any chances. After a while I got into the habit of sacrificing every day, because even if I couldn't remember breaking any rules that day, I knew I wasn't perfect, and I couldn't imagine going through a whole day perfectly. Sometimes I would sacrifice on behalf of my children, in case they forgot. They didn't seem nearly as worried about it as I was.
After several years of sacrificing every day, I stopped worrying so much, because it seemed like it was working. I was happy and successful and rich, I had a big family, and I couldn't think of anything else that would make me any happier. I concluded that God was pleased with me.
That's when the disaster arrived. It was so sudden I couldn't believe it. All my money and investments were stolen, and on the very same day, all my children were at a party, and a tornado ripped through the building and killed them all.
Only my wife remained, and that was truly a mixed blessing, because she screamed questions at me night and day, asking me what horrible thing I had done to displease God so much that he took away her children. She didn't believe my denial of all horribleness. She said she wished God would strike me dead.
I sat alone in the dark and tried to think what I had done to deserve this. I couldn't think of anything. All I knew was that what I had been dreading all my life had finally happened, and everything I had done to prevent it had been useless.
And if that wasn't enough, I woke up with oozing, infected sores all over my body. They were terribly painful, and I couldn't find any position to rest in. It hurt to sit, it hurt to stand, and it hurt to lie down. It even hurt to talk. I said nothing for days, while my mind scrambled to find a reason for all this suffering.
I found no answer. I had done nothing.
It was then that I got rid of February 30th. I stood and cursed it aloud, before all my friends who had come to comfort me.
Let the day of my birth be erased, and the night I was conceived.
Let that day be turned to darkness. Let it be lost even to God on high, and let no light shine on it.
Let the darkness and utter gloom claim that day for its own. Let a black cloud overshadow it, and let the darkness terrify it.
Let that night be blotted off the calendar, never to be counted among the days of the year, never again to appear among the months.
Let that night be childless. Let it have no joy.
Let those who are experts at cursing--whose cursing could rouse Leviathan--curse that day.
Let its morning stars remain dark. Let it hope for light, but in vain; may it never see the morning light.
Curse that day for failing to shut my mother's womb, for letting me be born to see all this trouble.*
Of course, you know that's not the end of my story, but it was the end of February 30th, my birthday.
* Job 3:3-10 NLT
Card:
It's gone. February 30th, that is. And I'm the one who did it. I had every justification, though. I'll tell you everything that happened, and you'll agree.
There I was, minding my own business... Well, I was also minding a few other peoples' business, but they were my children, I had every right. You see, I had always been afraid that a disaster would come along and destroy me. I worried about it constantly, and that made me watch what I did very carefully. I spent time every day in thought about what I could do to ensure my safety and the safety of my family. I was never foolish, never reckless. I investigated all possible insurance before insurance was even invented. But it didn't do any good. The disaster came anyway.
When I was a child, I was taught many things, and the most important thing was that there is a God, and he created everything, and he rules the earth and controls everything. I figured out that if I wanted to be happy, I had to please God, so he would give me a good life. I became very picky about obeying the rules. If I messed up the slightest bit, I had to make up for it by sacrificing an animal. That was what you did back then when you broke a rule. It would pacify God so he wouldn't punish me by sending a disaster.
Trouble was, I broke the rules so often. Mostly it was little stuff, but I couldn't take any chances. After a while I got into the habit of sacrificing every day, because even if I couldn't remember breaking any rules that day, I knew I wasn't perfect, and I couldn't imagine going through a whole day perfectly. Sometimes I would sacrifice on behalf of my children, in case they forgot. They didn't seem nearly as worried about it as I was.
After several years of sacrificing every day, I stopped worrying so much, because it seemed like it was working. I was happy and successful and rich, I had a big family, and I couldn't think of anything else that would make me any happier. I concluded that God was pleased with me.
That's when the disaster arrived. It was so sudden I couldn't believe it. All my money and investments were stolen, and on the very same day, all my children were at a party, and a tornado ripped through the building and killed them all.
Only my wife remained, and that was truly a mixed blessing, because she screamed questions at me night and day, asking me what horrible thing I had done to displease God so much that he took away her children. She didn't believe my denial of all horribleness. She said she wished God would strike me dead.
I sat alone in the dark and tried to think what I had done to deserve this. I couldn't think of anything. All I knew was that what I had been dreading all my life had finally happened, and everything I had done to prevent it had been useless.
And if that wasn't enough, I woke up with oozing, infected sores all over my body. They were terribly painful, and I couldn't find any position to rest in. It hurt to sit, it hurt to stand, and it hurt to lie down. It even hurt to talk. I said nothing for days, while my mind scrambled to find a reason for all this suffering.
I found no answer. I had done nothing.
It was then that I got rid of February 30th. I stood and cursed it aloud, before all my friends who had come to comfort me.
Let the day of my birth be erased, and the night I was conceived.
Let that day be turned to darkness. Let it be lost even to God on high, and let no light shine on it.
Let the darkness and utter gloom claim that day for its own. Let a black cloud overshadow it, and let the darkness terrify it.
Let that night be blotted off the calendar, never to be counted among the days of the year, never again to appear among the months.
Let that night be childless. Let it have no joy.
Let those who are experts at cursing--whose cursing could rouse Leviathan--curse that day.
Let its morning stars remain dark. Let it hope for light, but in vain; may it never see the morning light.
Curse that day for failing to shut my mother's womb, for letting me be born to see all this trouble.*
Of course, you know that's not the end of my story, but it was the end of February 30th, my birthday.
* Job 3:3-10 NLT
Card:
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Tornado at Work
Entry for the Friday Challenge for 4/03/09
Tornado at Work
This coming Monday will be April 13. Weather dot com is predicting rain and thunderstorms. Hopefully there won't be any tornadoes running around this time, since I am expecting a group of ladies to visit my home in the evening. Eleven years ago, that wasn't the case. In fact, I collided with a tornado that time.
I was working as a contract programmer with several part-time clients. I got a call from one of them. Someone was having a problem. I tried to talk her through some stuff over the phone, just to get more information about what she was experiencing, but she was one of those unfortunate computer users who cannot put into words what she is actually seeing on the screen. I remember another person once who kept telling me there was absolutely nothing on her screen. It was completely blank. I finally said, "Read me what your screen says." Then suddenly all kinds of error messages were gushing out of her mouth. Amazing.
Anyway, this user not only couldn't express what she was seeing, but she didn't want to take the time. She just wanted me to come and fix it. I got in my car and drove up there, but I didn't actually get to do any fixing.
The radio in the car was talking about tornadoes. Tornado warnings, tornado watches, and tornado touchdowns about five minutes before I reached my destination, and only a few miles west of where I was.
As I parked next to the back door, the employees were streaming out to go home. It was five o'clock, and they weren't wasting any time, wanting to get home before the storm hit. By the time I got in and logged on, there was only one other person left in the building with me - the CEO. I had no idea he was there, since his office was in the other side of the building. The office building was like a one-story strip mall, with the "stores" occupied by different companies.
As I tried to zero in on the problem program, I couldn't help but hear the storm outside. The room where I was working had concrete walls and no windows, but the noise kept getting louder. I decided to take a break and head for the rest room, which was the only small interior room I could think of.
Less than a minute after I settled myself on the floor in the last stall, the power went out. No windows in there, either, so I just kept sitting there wondering what was happening. That room had better sound protection. I heard a few loud bangs, but other than that I couldn't hear much of the storm. I felt my ears popping a few times, telling me there were pressure changes. It wasn't hard to figure out that there was a tornado very close at the least.
My main thought was, "What do I do now?" I actually had time to wonder what to do! That just doesn't seem right, somehow. The obvious answer was to pray. When you're helpless, there's only one place to turn. But what do you say? I mean, it's stupid to tell God that you're in a tornado, as if He doesn't know. All I could think of was, "God, I'm here."
It seemed like a long time sitting there wondering when it would be safe to come out, and then I heard a toilet flushing next door. That told me there was somebody else there, and he evidently thought it was safe, so I got out of there as fast as I could in the dark.
The CEO had watched the storm from his office, which had a full wall of window. He was very, very fortunate that all the damage was at the back of the building. The computer room where I had been working, had lost its roof, and it was raining. There was already an inch of water on the floor. We got busy carrying computers into the dryer part of the office. The AS/400 was sitting in the water, but I knew it had a few inches of empty space at the bottom of its case, so I wasn't worried about it. Days later, after everything was cleaned up and reconnected, it came back up fine.
The windows at the back of the office (past which I walked on my way to the rest room) were all broken. Shards of broken glass were stuck in the opposite wall like darts thrown at a target. There were even some in the upper part of a chair behind a desk, where an occupant's head would have rested.
I knew it was time to leave when I started smelling gas. That was when I got to see my car. It was an dark green Saturn, a beautiful emerald. Every inch of it was pock-marked by the river rocks that had been on the roof that was no longer there. Those rocks are round, reddish, about two to three inches in diameter. They were everywhere, all over the pavement, in my car, even on the dashboard under the windshield, which was the only window still in place. It was cracked badly, but still held. The other windows were all broken out, leaving broken glass both inside and outside the car.
Between the glass and the rocks on the pavement and the gas smell, which was just as bad outside as inside the building, I decided to leave my car there. That was the last straw for it, because it stayed there in the rain for two days before the cops would let me back in the parking lot to get it. The interior was soaked, and I'm allergic to mold and fungus. Time for a new car. My twelve and twelve was on the shelf under the back window, so it got soaked, too. But I dried it out, and it's okay. Warped but still readable. A reminder of God saving me again.
The weather service says:
http://www.crh.noaa.gov/lsx/climate/torcli/stlouis.php
A small tornado left a path of damage across west St. Louis County, from the WestPort area in Maryland Heights to near Ashby Road in Overland. Most of the damage was F0 in intensity; primarily damage to trees, power lines, roofs and some decks and porches. About 30 homes and 40 businesses suffered some type of damage. The F1 damage was limited to a small area near Lackland Road and Lindbergh Boulevard. The Carol House Furniture store suffered the most damage, losing part of a wall and the roof. Two nearby automobile dealerships had about 200 cars damaged. One school had roof damage and windows broken. The one injury occurred when a century-old oak tree crashed into the kitchen where a man was sitting. He was treated for head and leg injuries.
A storm chaser says:
http://www.siue.edu/~jfarley/chase413.htm
Tornado at Work
This coming Monday will be April 13. Weather dot com is predicting rain and thunderstorms. Hopefully there won't be any tornadoes running around this time, since I am expecting a group of ladies to visit my home in the evening. Eleven years ago, that wasn't the case. In fact, I collided with a tornado that time.
I was working as a contract programmer with several part-time clients. I got a call from one of them. Someone was having a problem. I tried to talk her through some stuff over the phone, just to get more information about what she was experiencing, but she was one of those unfortunate computer users who cannot put into words what she is actually seeing on the screen. I remember another person once who kept telling me there was absolutely nothing on her screen. It was completely blank. I finally said, "Read me what your screen says." Then suddenly all kinds of error messages were gushing out of her mouth. Amazing.
Anyway, this user not only couldn't express what she was seeing, but she didn't want to take the time. She just wanted me to come and fix it. I got in my car and drove up there, but I didn't actually get to do any fixing.
The radio in the car was talking about tornadoes. Tornado warnings, tornado watches, and tornado touchdowns about five minutes before I reached my destination, and only a few miles west of where I was.
As I parked next to the back door, the employees were streaming out to go home. It was five o'clock, and they weren't wasting any time, wanting to get home before the storm hit. By the time I got in and logged on, there was only one other person left in the building with me - the CEO. I had no idea he was there, since his office was in the other side of the building. The office building was like a one-story strip mall, with the "stores" occupied by different companies.
As I tried to zero in on the problem program, I couldn't help but hear the storm outside. The room where I was working had concrete walls and no windows, but the noise kept getting louder. I decided to take a break and head for the rest room, which was the only small interior room I could think of.
Less than a minute after I settled myself on the floor in the last stall, the power went out. No windows in there, either, so I just kept sitting there wondering what was happening. That room had better sound protection. I heard a few loud bangs, but other than that I couldn't hear much of the storm. I felt my ears popping a few times, telling me there were pressure changes. It wasn't hard to figure out that there was a tornado very close at the least.
My main thought was, "What do I do now?" I actually had time to wonder what to do! That just doesn't seem right, somehow. The obvious answer was to pray. When you're helpless, there's only one place to turn. But what do you say? I mean, it's stupid to tell God that you're in a tornado, as if He doesn't know. All I could think of was, "God, I'm here."
It seemed like a long time sitting there wondering when it would be safe to come out, and then I heard a toilet flushing next door. That told me there was somebody else there, and he evidently thought it was safe, so I got out of there as fast as I could in the dark.
The CEO had watched the storm from his office, which had a full wall of window. He was very, very fortunate that all the damage was at the back of the building. The computer room where I had been working, had lost its roof, and it was raining. There was already an inch of water on the floor. We got busy carrying computers into the dryer part of the office. The AS/400 was sitting in the water, but I knew it had a few inches of empty space at the bottom of its case, so I wasn't worried about it. Days later, after everything was cleaned up and reconnected, it came back up fine.
The windows at the back of the office (past which I walked on my way to the rest room) were all broken. Shards of broken glass were stuck in the opposite wall like darts thrown at a target. There were even some in the upper part of a chair behind a desk, where an occupant's head would have rested.
I knew it was time to leave when I started smelling gas. That was when I got to see my car. It was an dark green Saturn, a beautiful emerald. Every inch of it was pock-marked by the river rocks that had been on the roof that was no longer there. Those rocks are round, reddish, about two to three inches in diameter. They were everywhere, all over the pavement, in my car, even on the dashboard under the windshield, which was the only window still in place. It was cracked badly, but still held. The other windows were all broken out, leaving broken glass both inside and outside the car.
Between the glass and the rocks on the pavement and the gas smell, which was just as bad outside as inside the building, I decided to leave my car there. That was the last straw for it, because it stayed there in the rain for two days before the cops would let me back in the parking lot to get it. The interior was soaked, and I'm allergic to mold and fungus. Time for a new car. My twelve and twelve was on the shelf under the back window, so it got soaked, too. But I dried it out, and it's okay. Warped but still readable. A reminder of God saving me again.
The weather service says:
http://www.crh.noaa.gov/lsx/climate/torcli/stlouis.php
A small tornado left a path of damage across west St. Louis County, from the WestPort area in Maryland Heights to near Ashby Road in Overland. Most of the damage was F0 in intensity; primarily damage to trees, power lines, roofs and some decks and porches. About 30 homes and 40 businesses suffered some type of damage. The F1 damage was limited to a small area near Lackland Road and Lindbergh Boulevard. The Carol House Furniture store suffered the most damage, losing part of a wall and the roof. Two nearby automobile dealerships had about 200 cars damaged. One school had roof damage and windows broken. The one injury occurred when a century-old oak tree crashed into the kitchen where a man was sitting. He was treated for head and leg injuries.
A storm chaser says:
http://www.siue.edu/~jfarley/chase413.htm
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Friday challenge for 3/27/09
This is an entry for the Friday challenge for 3/27/09
The Yellow Time Machine
The time machine was ready, he knew it! Jack had held back his excitement dozens of times now and gone over all the calculations in his mind, looking for any flaw, even the tiniest one, but it had been many days since he had found and fixed the last error. It was perfect. Now all he needed to do was test it.
There was the guinea pig test. That worked exactly right on this end. The cute little brown and white guinea pig had popped back into existence at the very moment he had programmed the machine to send it back. Of course, there was no way to tell if Bunny (who would name a guinea pig “Bunny” anyway?) had gone to the place and time it was supposed to. Or how long it had stayed before automatically returning.
At least he had the returning part down. And Bunny was still alive and healthy. All that would help when he was persuading a person to participate in a test. (To be a human guinea pig.) Hmmm. The thought of looking for someone named Bunny seemed weird, but it fit. He typed “Bunny” into the search box and hit enter. 71,700,000 results. Very helpful. Wait, the first one mentioned the Easter Bunny. There was an idea! There should be lots of those running around right now.
He looked up costumes in the yellow pages and found a store that rented costumes less than a mile away. He wrote down the number and called. It didn’t take long to find out they did have some Easter Bunny costumes, but they were all rented out. He hung up and dashed out to his car. Some things had to be done in person.
At the store, Jack was a master of persuasion and innocence. He explained that he was doing research for a class project in psychology. It was a study of what kinds of people rented costumes and required that he interview several. Since the clerk was young and female, he used all his charm and smiles, and she became very helpful. He ended up with the names of three people who had rented an Easter Bunny costume, two men and one woman. The three were college students with addresses near the campus. He immediately paid a visit to all three.
The two men were reserved and uncooperative. He suspected they didn’t believe his story. But the woman, a beautiful redhead named Sandy, was much more friendly. He was able to set up a time for the “interview” next week.
“I can’t do it this week, because I’m practicing for the Earth Day drama this weekend, and my parents are coming in town to attend the festivities with me,” Sandy explained. At Jack’s look of interest, she invited him to watch the drama, too.
“Thank you, I think I will. It will help my project a lot.” He smiled even more charmingly than before.
****************************************************************************
It was when Jack was on his way to the Earth Day events that the accident happened. He was walking up to the entrance of the park, when he heard screeching of tires and the crashing of large metal objects colliding. There were three cars involved. Apparently one had run a red light and crashed into two cars going through the intersection in opposite directions.
Jack and several other bystanders ran over to the mass of crumpled metal. He knew immediately it was Sandy. The Easter Bunny was slumped half way over the front seat, not moving. The ambulances and paramedics arrived quickly, and before he had even recovered from the shock, Sandy and her parents were on their way to the hospital, along with two other injured people from the other cars.
****************************************************************************
He went to visit Sandy at the hospital a few days later. She was recovering nicely from her injuries, which were mostly bruises and surgeries to remove her spleen and repair a few other internal things. However, her parents were both killed. He didn’t quite know how to talk to someone who had just lost her parents, but he figured she had to need some friendly faces right now, and he wanted to make sure she saw at least one.
He was the only visitor she had, so he kept coming back. Sometimes he found her in tears, and she burst forth with the sad details of her life. She had discovered her parents had not had insurance, and the emergency medical bills were eating up what savings they had. It was quickly becoming evident that she would not be able to continue school. The house was heavily mortgaged, and she would have to sell it to pay that debt.
“I don’t know how they could afford to give me any money for school,” Sandy sobbed one day. “And how could they not have insurance? I just don’t understand.”
Jack did his best to comfort her during his visits, and gradually she stopped sobbing and became silent and moody. That was why he was very surprised one day to find her yelling and shaking her fist at the TV in her hospital room.
“She is such an idiot!” Sandy was glaring at the TV. Seeing Jack’s surprise, she explained. “That crazy singer, that Lady … somebody, I can’t remember her name. She thinks she was born in the wrong era, and she wishes she could go back in time and seduce John Lennon and keep the Beatles together so they could have produced more songs and still be alive and singing.”
Jack just looked at her, at a loss to know what to say. “Why are you so upset?” he finally asked.
Sandy quieted down. “I think it would be wasted on her. She has everything she needs. She shouldn’t get to go back and try to change history.” She was silent for a moment, then a small smile peeked out on her face. “Listen to me! As if I could go back in time and change things. I’m sillier than she is.”
Jack couldn’t believe his ears. Was this going to fall into his lap, without all his planned manipulations and persuasions? “Well, maybe that’s not as impossible as you think.”
****************************************************************************
Two months later, Jack was preparing the time machine for its first big test: sending a human back in time. At last he would have the answer to the question of whether or not history could actually be changed with time travel. Well, he would have that answer some time today. The deal he had worked out with Sandy was that she would go back for a short test first, and if everything went okay with that one, then she would do a longer test and attempt to change history.
He was still mystified by her enthusiasm, or rather, her stubborn determination. The first test was for Sandy to go back to her parents’ house the day before she was born. He could understand how cool that would be, going to meet your parents when they wouldn’t recognize you, but he was afraid she had ulterior motives.
The doorbell rang, and Jack opened the door to find a very conservatively dressed Sandy. She was wearing a gray suit, had her hair pinned back, and carried a briefcase. “Who are you going to be?” he asked.
“An insurance sales person,” Sandy answered, pushing her way past him. “I need to convince them to buy insurance for their daughter in case something happens to them.”
Jack could see by the look on her face that no one was going to get in her way, and now he understood her purpose in wanting to help him test the time machine. He hadn’t wanted her to try to change history on this first test, but he shrugged. It was actually a good idea, just trying to change one specific thing.
“Okay, that’s good. I want you, no, I want both of us to write ourselves a note saying what you’re doing and what you’re going to attempt to change. I don’t know what will happen if you succeed. Will we remember the way it was before? The notes will show us what it was like before, in case we don’t remember.”
Sandy frowned slightly as she thought over what he had said. “But if we change history, won’t that mean the note will disappear?”
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.”
****************************************************************************
Sandy walked briskly up to the door of the house she had grown up in. It wasn’t a very big house, but she had many good memories of her life there. It looked very much the way she remembered it, but the tree in front was much smaller, and the door was a different color. She pressed the doorbell and waited.
The woman who opened the door was quite a bit younger than the way she was used to seeing her, but she knew her mother immediately. Sandy took a breath and prepared to launch into her sales pitch, but before she could even get the first word out, she stopped, paralyzed in shock. Her mother was not pregnant!
“Oh hello! I’m so glad you could make it after all. I’m Joan.” Sandy’s mother was holding out her hand. Sandy automatically took it, but her brain was lost in a whirl of questions. “Won’t you come in? Would you like some coffee?”
Sandy followed her mother in to the living room, running on auto-pilot, turning down the coffee, and sitting in the chair her mother pointed out, hardly listening to the torrent of words pouring from Joan. She’s more nervous than I am, she thought.
“I was hoping you could tell me some details, like will you call us when the baby is born? We want to know if everything is alright, and we want to know how much she weighed, and what time she was born, and what color her hair is, and all those things. I have a baby book here on the desk, and I’m going to fill in everything.” Joan jumped up and almost ran over to the desk to pick up the baby book.
“Oh yes, I’m sure you will be notified,” said Sandy, while she was frantically casting about for something to say that would fit in with this situation. She had to get around to the insurance. “Actually, I discovered there are a few things that haven’t been covered yet in your file, so I was hoping we could go over those.”
“Oh?” Joan looked surprised. “What things?”
“I don’t see any record of you and your husband having life insurance. You know, that’s very important to have, in case something happens.”
“Oh yes! We will definitely take care of that. You’re right, it’s important. I guess we just haven’t thought about it.”
“Will you promise me you will do that today?” Sandy persisted.
“I promise,” Joan said with a smile. “Anything else?”
“Well, there isn’t a very thorough note here about why you are doing this,” Sandy said impulsively. She very much wanted to know about her adoption, since her parents had never said a word about it to her.
Joan looked distressed. “Oh. Well, I can’t have children. I know I told the other case workers that. We have waited so long, hoping against hope that the doctors were wrong, but we can’t wait any longer. I’m almost 40 now. And Jim is 41.”
“Did you try fertility drugs or anything else like that?”
“No,” said Joan quietly. “We asked about it, but the doctors wouldn’t consider it, because of …. of what happened.”
“Because of what happened?” repeated Sandy.
Joan looked even more distressed. “I was gang raped when I was thirteen. They were very brutal. It took weeks to recover, and the doctors said I would never be able to have children.” She burst into tears.
Sandy moved quickly over to sit beside her mother on the couch, and she held her and rocked her for a long time, while Joan let her anguish spill out after all those years of keeping it bottled up. Sandy listened in horror to the tragic story.
Joan’s parents had taken her to England for vacation, along with several of her cousins. They were eager to experience the wild music of Liverpool, from which the Beatles were emerging. One late night, Joan had gotten separated from the others and pulled out into the alley by a group of teenage boys who were drunk and looking for excitement. After the police interrupted their assault on Joan, it came out that the boys had felt their girlfriends were paying too little attention to them and too much attention to the Beatles. They had decided to get their revenge on any girl who was in the Beatles’ audience.
****************************************************************************
Sandy popped back into Jack’s lab with fire in her eyes. He took a couple of steps back, not knowing what to expect.
“Yes, it worked,” Sandy said abruptly. “It didn’t hurt, and I remember what I wrote in the note. Where is it?”
Jack held it out, and Sandy snatched and read it. “I remember this. It says I was going back in time to find out why my parents adopted me, and why my mother killed herself when I was thirteen. I found out.”
Jack read his own note. It said the same thing. “So we know the time machine works, and it doesn’t do any damage, although we should get you checked out by a doctor before you travel again. We’ll do the next test as soon as we have the doctor’s okay. And this time you’ll try to change history. Do you know yet what you are going to change?”
“Yup. I’m going to kill the Beatles.”
Jack protested in surprise. “Wait a minute! You can’t do that! They’ll arrest you.”
“Okay, then I’ll just demolish their group. That should do it. I’ll do the opposite of what that Lady Gaga wants to do. I can seduce John Lennon just as good as she can, only I’ll just seduce him right away from the group, out into oblivion.”
****************************************************************************
Sandy was ready to time travel back to Liverpool. Jack made them write notes again, both of which said she was going back to prevent the Beatles from becoming a famous group by seducing John Lennon away from Liverpool and music. She had packed a wad of money in old bills from her insurance money. If nothing else, she would pay him to go away with her.
****************************************************************************
Sandy popped back into the lab with a lost look about her. She also looked older. She had been gone three months in the time she went to, although it was only three days in this time.
“You okay?” Jack asked. He was concerned that she looked so much older. “Were you gone three months, or was it longer?”
“Yeah, it was three months. I’m fine. It was hard this time, though. If I hadn’t known how important it was, I don’t think I could have gone through with it. He wasn’t the nicest man in the world to be with, but after three months with him, I was beginning to like him.”
“But you succeeded in protecting the president. That’s worth a lot more than any frustrated rock star wanna-be. They’ll be giving you medals for this one.”
“They can keep the medals. I just want the money. Gotta keep my Bunny in the tastiest cat food, ya know. You did remember to feed her while I was gone, right?”
“Yeah, yeah. I went over there every day. I even petted her. She’s a sweet kitty. Where did you get her?”
“I picked her up at the Humane Society the day I got out of the orphanage. They never let us have pets there, so that was the first thing I wanted to do when I left.”
“Well, we’re about done here, except for reading the notes. Does yours check out? Mine does. I remember writing this. You were going back in time to kill John Lennon to prevent him from coming over to the U.S. and shooting President Bush on the street.”
Jack looked up expectantly.
“Yes,” Sandy replied. “Mine says the same thing, and I remember writing it.”
****************************************************************************
The Yellow Time Machine
The time machine was ready, he knew it! Jack had held back his excitement dozens of times now and gone over all the calculations in his mind, looking for any flaw, even the tiniest one, but it had been many days since he had found and fixed the last error. It was perfect. Now all he needed to do was test it.
There was the guinea pig test. That worked exactly right on this end. The cute little brown and white guinea pig had popped back into existence at the very moment he had programmed the machine to send it back. Of course, there was no way to tell if Bunny (who would name a guinea pig “Bunny” anyway?) had gone to the place and time it was supposed to. Or how long it had stayed before automatically returning.
At least he had the returning part down. And Bunny was still alive and healthy. All that would help when he was persuading a person to participate in a test. (To be a human guinea pig.) Hmmm. The thought of looking for someone named Bunny seemed weird, but it fit. He typed “Bunny” into the search box and hit enter. 71,700,000 results. Very helpful. Wait, the first one mentioned the Easter Bunny. There was an idea! There should be lots of those running around right now.
He looked up costumes in the yellow pages and found a store that rented costumes less than a mile away. He wrote down the number and called. It didn’t take long to find out they did have some Easter Bunny costumes, but they were all rented out. He hung up and dashed out to his car. Some things had to be done in person.
At the store, Jack was a master of persuasion and innocence. He explained that he was doing research for a class project in psychology. It was a study of what kinds of people rented costumes and required that he interview several. Since the clerk was young and female, he used all his charm and smiles, and she became very helpful. He ended up with the names of three people who had rented an Easter Bunny costume, two men and one woman. The three were college students with addresses near the campus. He immediately paid a visit to all three.
The two men were reserved and uncooperative. He suspected they didn’t believe his story. But the woman, a beautiful redhead named Sandy, was much more friendly. He was able to set up a time for the “interview” next week.
“I can’t do it this week, because I’m practicing for the Earth Day drama this weekend, and my parents are coming in town to attend the festivities with me,” Sandy explained. At Jack’s look of interest, she invited him to watch the drama, too.
“Thank you, I think I will. It will help my project a lot.” He smiled even more charmingly than before.
****************************************************************************
It was when Jack was on his way to the Earth Day events that the accident happened. He was walking up to the entrance of the park, when he heard screeching of tires and the crashing of large metal objects colliding. There were three cars involved. Apparently one had run a red light and crashed into two cars going through the intersection in opposite directions.
Jack and several other bystanders ran over to the mass of crumpled metal. He knew immediately it was Sandy. The Easter Bunny was slumped half way over the front seat, not moving. The ambulances and paramedics arrived quickly, and before he had even recovered from the shock, Sandy and her parents were on their way to the hospital, along with two other injured people from the other cars.
****************************************************************************
He went to visit Sandy at the hospital a few days later. She was recovering nicely from her injuries, which were mostly bruises and surgeries to remove her spleen and repair a few other internal things. However, her parents were both killed. He didn’t quite know how to talk to someone who had just lost her parents, but he figured she had to need some friendly faces right now, and he wanted to make sure she saw at least one.
He was the only visitor she had, so he kept coming back. Sometimes he found her in tears, and she burst forth with the sad details of her life. She had discovered her parents had not had insurance, and the emergency medical bills were eating up what savings they had. It was quickly becoming evident that she would not be able to continue school. The house was heavily mortgaged, and she would have to sell it to pay that debt.
“I don’t know how they could afford to give me any money for school,” Sandy sobbed one day. “And how could they not have insurance? I just don’t understand.”
Jack did his best to comfort her during his visits, and gradually she stopped sobbing and became silent and moody. That was why he was very surprised one day to find her yelling and shaking her fist at the TV in her hospital room.
“She is such an idiot!” Sandy was glaring at the TV. Seeing Jack’s surprise, she explained. “That crazy singer, that Lady … somebody, I can’t remember her name. She thinks she was born in the wrong era, and she wishes she could go back in time and seduce John Lennon and keep the Beatles together so they could have produced more songs and still be alive and singing.”
Jack just looked at her, at a loss to know what to say. “Why are you so upset?” he finally asked.
Sandy quieted down. “I think it would be wasted on her. She has everything she needs. She shouldn’t get to go back and try to change history.” She was silent for a moment, then a small smile peeked out on her face. “Listen to me! As if I could go back in time and change things. I’m sillier than she is.”
Jack couldn’t believe his ears. Was this going to fall into his lap, without all his planned manipulations and persuasions? “Well, maybe that’s not as impossible as you think.”
****************************************************************************
Two months later, Jack was preparing the time machine for its first big test: sending a human back in time. At last he would have the answer to the question of whether or not history could actually be changed with time travel. Well, he would have that answer some time today. The deal he had worked out with Sandy was that she would go back for a short test first, and if everything went okay with that one, then she would do a longer test and attempt to change history.
He was still mystified by her enthusiasm, or rather, her stubborn determination. The first test was for Sandy to go back to her parents’ house the day before she was born. He could understand how cool that would be, going to meet your parents when they wouldn’t recognize you, but he was afraid she had ulterior motives.
The doorbell rang, and Jack opened the door to find a very conservatively dressed Sandy. She was wearing a gray suit, had her hair pinned back, and carried a briefcase. “Who are you going to be?” he asked.
“An insurance sales person,” Sandy answered, pushing her way past him. “I need to convince them to buy insurance for their daughter in case something happens to them.”
Jack could see by the look on her face that no one was going to get in her way, and now he understood her purpose in wanting to help him test the time machine. He hadn’t wanted her to try to change history on this first test, but he shrugged. It was actually a good idea, just trying to change one specific thing.
“Okay, that’s good. I want you, no, I want both of us to write ourselves a note saying what you’re doing and what you’re going to attempt to change. I don’t know what will happen if you succeed. Will we remember the way it was before? The notes will show us what it was like before, in case we don’t remember.”
Sandy frowned slightly as she thought over what he had said. “But if we change history, won’t that mean the note will disappear?”
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.”
****************************************************************************
Sandy walked briskly up to the door of the house she had grown up in. It wasn’t a very big house, but she had many good memories of her life there. It looked very much the way she remembered it, but the tree in front was much smaller, and the door was a different color. She pressed the doorbell and waited.
The woman who opened the door was quite a bit younger than the way she was used to seeing her, but she knew her mother immediately. Sandy took a breath and prepared to launch into her sales pitch, but before she could even get the first word out, she stopped, paralyzed in shock. Her mother was not pregnant!
“Oh hello! I’m so glad you could make it after all. I’m Joan.” Sandy’s mother was holding out her hand. Sandy automatically took it, but her brain was lost in a whirl of questions. “Won’t you come in? Would you like some coffee?”
Sandy followed her mother in to the living room, running on auto-pilot, turning down the coffee, and sitting in the chair her mother pointed out, hardly listening to the torrent of words pouring from Joan. She’s more nervous than I am, she thought.
“I was hoping you could tell me some details, like will you call us when the baby is born? We want to know if everything is alright, and we want to know how much she weighed, and what time she was born, and what color her hair is, and all those things. I have a baby book here on the desk, and I’m going to fill in everything.” Joan jumped up and almost ran over to the desk to pick up the baby book.
“Oh yes, I’m sure you will be notified,” said Sandy, while she was frantically casting about for something to say that would fit in with this situation. She had to get around to the insurance. “Actually, I discovered there are a few things that haven’t been covered yet in your file, so I was hoping we could go over those.”
“Oh?” Joan looked surprised. “What things?”
“I don’t see any record of you and your husband having life insurance. You know, that’s very important to have, in case something happens.”
“Oh yes! We will definitely take care of that. You’re right, it’s important. I guess we just haven’t thought about it.”
“Will you promise me you will do that today?” Sandy persisted.
“I promise,” Joan said with a smile. “Anything else?”
“Well, there isn’t a very thorough note here about why you are doing this,” Sandy said impulsively. She very much wanted to know about her adoption, since her parents had never said a word about it to her.
Joan looked distressed. “Oh. Well, I can’t have children. I know I told the other case workers that. We have waited so long, hoping against hope that the doctors were wrong, but we can’t wait any longer. I’m almost 40 now. And Jim is 41.”
“Did you try fertility drugs or anything else like that?”
“No,” said Joan quietly. “We asked about it, but the doctors wouldn’t consider it, because of …. of what happened.”
“Because of what happened?” repeated Sandy.
Joan looked even more distressed. “I was gang raped when I was thirteen. They were very brutal. It took weeks to recover, and the doctors said I would never be able to have children.” She burst into tears.
Sandy moved quickly over to sit beside her mother on the couch, and she held her and rocked her for a long time, while Joan let her anguish spill out after all those years of keeping it bottled up. Sandy listened in horror to the tragic story.
Joan’s parents had taken her to England for vacation, along with several of her cousins. They were eager to experience the wild music of Liverpool, from which the Beatles were emerging. One late night, Joan had gotten separated from the others and pulled out into the alley by a group of teenage boys who were drunk and looking for excitement. After the police interrupted their assault on Joan, it came out that the boys had felt their girlfriends were paying too little attention to them and too much attention to the Beatles. They had decided to get their revenge on any girl who was in the Beatles’ audience.
****************************************************************************
Sandy popped back into Jack’s lab with fire in her eyes. He took a couple of steps back, not knowing what to expect.
“Yes, it worked,” Sandy said abruptly. “It didn’t hurt, and I remember what I wrote in the note. Where is it?”
Jack held it out, and Sandy snatched and read it. “I remember this. It says I was going back in time to find out why my parents adopted me, and why my mother killed herself when I was thirteen. I found out.”
Jack read his own note. It said the same thing. “So we know the time machine works, and it doesn’t do any damage, although we should get you checked out by a doctor before you travel again. We’ll do the next test as soon as we have the doctor’s okay. And this time you’ll try to change history. Do you know yet what you are going to change?”
“Yup. I’m going to kill the Beatles.”
Jack protested in surprise. “Wait a minute! You can’t do that! They’ll arrest you.”
“Okay, then I’ll just demolish their group. That should do it. I’ll do the opposite of what that Lady Gaga wants to do. I can seduce John Lennon just as good as she can, only I’ll just seduce him right away from the group, out into oblivion.”
****************************************************************************
Sandy was ready to time travel back to Liverpool. Jack made them write notes again, both of which said she was going back to prevent the Beatles from becoming a famous group by seducing John Lennon away from Liverpool and music. She had packed a wad of money in old bills from her insurance money. If nothing else, she would pay him to go away with her.
****************************************************************************
Sandy popped back into the lab with a lost look about her. She also looked older. She had been gone three months in the time she went to, although it was only three days in this time.
“You okay?” Jack asked. He was concerned that she looked so much older. “Were you gone three months, or was it longer?”
“Yeah, it was three months. I’m fine. It was hard this time, though. If I hadn’t known how important it was, I don’t think I could have gone through with it. He wasn’t the nicest man in the world to be with, but after three months with him, I was beginning to like him.”
“But you succeeded in protecting the president. That’s worth a lot more than any frustrated rock star wanna-be. They’ll be giving you medals for this one.”
“They can keep the medals. I just want the money. Gotta keep my Bunny in the tastiest cat food, ya know. You did remember to feed her while I was gone, right?”
“Yeah, yeah. I went over there every day. I even petted her. She’s a sweet kitty. Where did you get her?”
“I picked her up at the Humane Society the day I got out of the orphanage. They never let us have pets there, so that was the first thing I wanted to do when I left.”
“Well, we’re about done here, except for reading the notes. Does yours check out? Mine does. I remember writing this. You were going back in time to kill John Lennon to prevent him from coming over to the U.S. and shooting President Bush on the street.”
Jack looked up expectantly.
“Yes,” Sandy replied. “Mine says the same thing, and I remember writing it.”
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