I am Reggie (Reginald) Townsend, and this is my tragic story.
Maybe I’m one of those mad scientist guys who gets obsessed or, perhaps possessed by a single idea and can’t get it out of my head.
Time Travel. That’s my obsession. As a youth I watched all the movies and TV shows dealing with time travel. Eventually, I read all the time travel books in the local library, then the city library, and dozens of books. I read them before school, during school, and after school. I didn’t have a girlfriend in high school because I was more interested in science and time travel. High school was a breeze. It was so easy that, for Christmas, in my Junior year I demanded that I get a certain book as a present. The book? Mechanical Engineering Machine Design and Materials. Mom and Dad only had to pay ninety-five dollars for it; a drop in the bucket for them. I read and studied that book more than I did my school subjects. I needed great grades and I got them, even if I had to cheat to get that extra point that I needed to get a perfect grade; too smart to get caught, also. The teachers were all simpletons.
When MIT and Stanford University came calling, I chose Stanford to get away from the east coast and go to the west coast, from New York. Stanford offered an excellent mechanical engineering major. That’s what would help me with building a time machine. I graduated with honors; of course, but still felt I didn’t have enough education to get started on my time machine ideas.
During my senior year at Stanford I was getting magazines from Popular Mechanics, Innovation and Tech Today, and I bought the audio book entitled, The Unwritten Laws of Engineering. It was cheap. Plus, for Christmas, I had my parents buy another book for me, 101 Solved Mechanical Engineering Problems. That book cost them one hundred- thirty dollars. My dad is an engineer, also, but most of his knowledge was antiquated; not much use to me since his thoughts are mostly about the past and not the future. Mom is a high school math teacher – no comment. Anyway, I graduated at the top of my class receiving a Bachelor of Science in Mechanical Engineering.
When I was reading the Innovation and Technology magazine, I came across an article that talked about Swiss engineers working on a time machine and how excited they were. My eyes bugged out at the article. I researched the Internet for more information, but the details were secret. However, the chief engineer’s name was Luca Muller, and he attended the Federal Institute of Technology in Zurich (FITZ).
I applied to FITZ as quickly as possible. I didn’t think I’d have trouble being accepted into the master’s degree program for Mechanical Engineering. I didn’t have any trouble, naturally, and was accepted for the fall term. Two years later I had that master’s degree.
Then I immediately went for my PhD and found out that the chief of the department, Noah Muller, was the father of Luca Muller. I did my best and applied myself, but there was one bastard who kept besting me with his test grades and hands-on laboratory performance. He was a German named Ben Bossard. I noticed that his last name was almost spelled “bastard.” That figures. The son-of-a-bitch was in my way. I needed Mr. Muller’s attention to get a superb recommendation so I could get hired by Luca Muller.
That turned out to be surprisingly easy. I paid a girl that I knew well a lot of money to accuse him of rape and he was dismissed from the university. Did Mr. Muller give me a good recommendation for his son? Damn right, he did. A few months later I not only had my PhD but was working with Luca in an expensive private laboratory owned and supported by the International Watch Company (IWC) of Schaffhausen, Switzerland. It turns out that they were loaded with money (billions) and were investing in the time machine. Seems appropriate, I think.
When I finally saw the machine, I was so excited I almost peed my pants. I was now in the IWC laboratory. Eight men were working feverishly, like worker bees, doing things that must be related to the time machine.
In movies, I remember the inane, confusing, pathetic, and inconceivable time machine vehicles, the tangled wiring, blinking lights, the whistling noises with twirling objects, plus the hectic, chaotic movements of its manifold parts.
The T-machine was not as large as I had expected. It was a specially made, clear glass tube about two feet in diameter and four feet long. I laughed when I saw that the shape looked like a huge, clear pill capsule. Luca looked at me, not happy, until I explained what was so funny, then he laughed also and explained it to the other men, some of whom didn’t speak English. Then laughter filled the room, but it was almost a serious blunder on my part. The touchy assholes had their egos attached to the machine. Can’t say anything naughty about it.
Luca said, “The revolutionary kinetic architecture allows for ease of movement. The engine inside the glass tube filled about three-fourths of the space. Each end of the tube opened to allow the engine to roll out on tracks that looked much wider and sturdier than a kid’s hobby train-tracks.”
Few things amaze me, but this was fantastic, much better than I had expected. I noticed that there was a dial, attached to the tube, for dialing the year you wanted to travel to. There were other small meters attached like: oxygen level, which precise part of the engine was overheating, a gamma ray detector and shield for protection. The gamma ray protection was unique and came from the tube really being a tube within a tube and having a hollow space between the two of them as you would find in double-pane windows. When gamma rays were detected, the machine automatically sprayed minute particles of lead into the hollow space, fast circulating air preventing the particles from settling, thus shielding the machine. However, the time traveler had to wear a special suit for his protection.
How could these guys have made it so small, with such precision? Immediately I was amazed and jealous. Are some of these guys smarter than I am? I wondered.
The glass tube was anchored to a rigid support-stand which was about three-and-one-half feet off the floor. The time and years displays were amazing. All a traveler had to do was wear the special suit, stand in front of the machine, push a button to start the engine, and then push the lever to indicate the year and time he wanted to travel to. Then he would stand there while the visor of his suit changed from clear to black to prevent dizziness and confusion as he went backward in time to the year that he had indicated.
Shit! I screamed internally. So, what the hell did they need me for? I was hoping to be more involved with the making of the machine. But they were so secretive that I was unaware of their tremendous progress. Luca told me that they were almost done; with a couple of minor adjustments to the levers, dials, and meters, and that a maiden voyage was already planned for tomorrow. Luca said the suit with a special visor was ready, too, as he pointed to a metal cabinet for hanging clothes.
“The machine is nearly complete,” I said to Luca. “Why am I here?”
“For the future, of course,” Luca explained that if the T-machine worked, then I was needed for modifications in design, not only to make the machine more efficient but to make it smaller and smaller for commercial, individual use. You’ll be involved in all that. My dad said that you had some interesting ideas; out-of-the box ideas that I’m interested in.”
“Wonderful, absolutely wonderful. I can’t wait to get started.”
Luca looked at me, smiled, then said, “Help me finalize the dials, meters.”
“What’s the hurry?” I responded.
Luca laughed and through that laughter he repeated, excitedly, that “Tomorrow is our big test, our maiden voyage. I’ll be the first one to use it, but I don’t want to go back in years too far, just see what life was like in my country in the year 1930.” I’m excited, too, Reggie. Oh, I forgot, the machine is only programmed to be gone for three days, then you must get back to it because the T-machine will return here automatically.
I thought I’d rather travel to the pyramids being built. Maybe I could solve the conjecture of whether the builders were slaves paid workers, or both.
My jealousy threatened to boil over when I was tightening and oiling the lever that controls the year a person wants to travel to. Once you picked the year the engine automatically started, warmed up, then the red engine light would change to green.
My mind started frenzied activity. What if I were the first one to time travel? Wouldn’t I be famous and rich? Damn right, I would be. Holy shit, I could do that. I have the code for the front door. I could sneak in during the night, put on the suit, make the machine adjustments, pull the lever and off I’d go.
Don’t wait. At the end of the day, prepare, set your alarm, leave the apartment, walk quickly to the laboratory, and become famously rich. Damn, I’m smart. I’ll leave these guys in my shadow.
At 2:00 in the morning, I dressed and departed my apartment and walked to the laboratory. The door code worked, and my retina and fingerprint scan were simple.
As I was putting on the suit, I saw latex gloves, plus rubber to put over the soles of shoes to protect them from wetness. I took the gloves even though I didn’t think I would need them. I was wearing rubber soled shoes, so I did not need the rubbers.
Now I was standing in front of the time machine. The meters, dials and lever all looked good. The start-engine lever is all I had to pull. With a smile as big as the moon I hurriedly pushed but jammed the lever too far.
“Oh no,” I screamed furiously. I’d pushed the lever too far. I had put too much oil on it and, with latex gloves making the lever extra slippery, I had pushed the gear lever to the extreme end. The engine was warming up as I worked with the lever desperately trying to pull it back. The green light came on. Too late, I thought, my brain screaming at me, STUPID! STUPID! STUPID! over and over until I had to rub my temples to ease the pain. I looked at my watch and it was spinning backward so fast that I could hardly see the hands. The vibrations made standing still rather rough, so I hung onto the stand. I would have to suggest placing hold handles on the stand for that purpose.
Then all was quiet, no vibrations, with the engine stopped. I took off my suit. I looked around and only saw a vast garden; a plush garden, verdant trees, flowers of all sizes and colors that made the garden appear to be a rainbow of light. There were all sorts of vegetation, most of which I did not recognize. The plants all gave off a mixture of pleasing odors. It was all certainly beautiful if you like gardens.
Fruit trees and vegetation surrounded me. The soil must have been exceedingly fertile because there were no dead plants, not even partially dead plants.
I walked toward the center of the vast garden. I took a deep breath. The air smelled different, cleaner maybe. I looked all around me until I spotted what I thought was a huge bush towards the center of the garden. The bush had red dots all over it. Berries, I thought.
I looked at my watch. Broken. The hands had snapped off. Odd. I would guess that it took about forty-five minutes to get to the bush, which was not a bush at all, but a wide branching, verdant apple tree. Pristine apples lay on the ground. Glossy red, and no bruises, no cuts, no insects were evident. I’d never craved an apple so much in my life. Then I remembered the apple in my pocket. I pulled it out of my pocket and bit into it again. The taste had changed. It tasted old and the skin was a dull color. I saw bruises, and the white meat had turned brown. I threw it on the ground, kneeled, and picked up an apple. It had the sweetest, juiciest taste of any apple I had ever eaten.
I heard a noise and looked over my shoulder. Two shy-looking and naked people appeared. I was startled so I just stared at them and thought, what the hell did I do? Did I travel to a nudist colony?
The man pointed to the ground where the apples lay, then at the apple in my hand. He looked at the woman and they both looked at me as if they didn’t want to say anything.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” the man said.
“Oh yeah? You shouldn’t be walking around naked, asshole, and neither should she,” I said, sarcastically.
“This is how we live,” the woman added.
“So, why should I not have bitten the apple? There’s plenty and they look delicious. They’re on the ground so they’re free. I took one. So what?” I said aggressively, then scowled at them and asked, “So who the hell are you?”
“I’m Adam,” he said.
“I’m Eve,” she said, then added, “Who are you? I thought that we were alone here in the garden.”
“Adam and Eve,” I said through my loud laughter. What a coincidence. Adam and Eve playing in the garden.” My laughter intensified.
“I’m Reginald Townsend,” I screamed at them, saliva spraying from my mouth.
“Adam and Eve, huh? In a garden, you call Eden, huh? You’ve got to be kidding or you’re trying to play me for a fool. Too big of a coincidence to be true, so, really, tell me the truth, where am I and what year is it?”
“We really are in the Garden of Eden, Mister Townsend,” Eve stated, demurely.
“And you bit into that apple,” Adam said incredulously.
WTF, I thought. “What’s going on here? Where is this place, really, and what year is it?”
“You’re in the Garden of Eden,” Adam said in a puzzling sort of voice. “I don’t know that word you said. The one that sounds like ‘ear?’” He pointed to his ear.
“Not ear, you two morons. I asked what year it is?”
They looked at each other, confused. “We don’t know what that word means,” Eve responded.
A couple of idiots I thought. Then, shit for brains.
Suddenly I felt physically uncomfortable, and then the pain came. My whole body ached from head to foot. I was sweating profusely, and feeling incredibly weak. I fell to the ground and curled up in pain. Then I became horrified as my arms started shriveling, then disappearing. The same happened to my legs until only my torso lay on the grass. I screamed with shock as I felt my body elongating at both ends and taking on a much different shape. Oh my God, I’m turning into a snake. I felt dizzy, confused, panicked. My snake body began crawling up the apple tree. No! Stop! This can’t happen to me. I’m going to be rich and famous. This has to be a nightmare, but more importantly, how do I get back to the laboratory in Switzerland?”
“You won’t be going back, Mr. Townsend,” said an ancient-looking man who I thought must be the caretaker of the garden.
“Why not? What’s happening? Why are you dressed like you’re a Hare Krishna jerk? You know what it means, the long hair and beard? Are you a hippie? And what’s with the baggy bathrobe and sandals?? Christ almighty, answer me!” I screamed angrily and impatiently.
“You will be famous, but never rich,” the caretaker answered. Future generations will read about you in a holy book, in which you will be despised.
I tried to struggle, but the only result was that my head got bigger (why would I get a big head?), I grew a long, forked tongue inside an unusually large mouth (Why such a big mouth?) and, finally, my tail got longer. I felt the gagged bark of the tree scraping into my skin as I lost all consciousness of the genius that I thought I was.
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