About the Perils of Time Travel
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It was time. Professor Edward Forsythe had finally finished building a time-travel machine and, on this beautiful Sunday in June in the year eighteen ninety-five, he was about to attempt his first journey.
His assistant, George Smythe, had spent the entire morning in the laboratory in the basement taking it apart and carrying the parts upstairs to the parlour where he proceeded to reassemble them again. Obviously, the Professor thought the laboratory was not the appropriate location for such a historic endeavour.
George was just bolting together the last of the brass tubes for the steam and cooling lines, when the Professor walked in.He wore a dark brown, plaid suit of thick tweed and a hat as if he wanted to go hunting. His short, grey beard was freshly trimmed, and his boots were polished to a shine.
"George!" he called in a loud voice, as he always did when demanding undivided attention. "I must speak to you."
"Yes, Professor Forsythe, I'm coming," George replied dutifully, putting down the pipe wrench and hurrying to his long-time employer.
"Listen, George, I'm about to embark on a journey through time."
"I know, Professor. That's so exciting. Where are you going to travel? To the future? Oh, I'd love to see how the—"
With a harsh wave of his hand, the Professor cut him off. "Hogwash. I've been traveling to the future since I was born. There's nothing special about it. But that is not the point now. I'm going to give you some instructions in case something goes wrong. Listen carefully. Whatever happens in this experiment, you will not touch the time machine. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, but, Professor...," a visibly confused George tried to answer, but again the Professor interrupted him.
"There are no buts, George. I know you're not a fool. Even if you have no idea how this machine works, you would nonetheless be able to operate it. I do not wish you to try to undo anything. Such actions can have unforeseen consequences. Consequences you are not ready for, George. Do you understand that?"
"Yes, Professor. I understand," George said unconvincingly.
"Do you?" Professor Forsythe grumbled, obviously not satisfied with this answer, and began to inspect the time machine.
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He walked up the two steps of the circular metal platform and stood in the centre. He meticulously checked the tangled tubes and high-tension wires for proper alignment while George put away his tools and fired up the boiler.
Soon after, steam could be heard hissing through the time machine's pipes. George had taken to turning the electrifying disk by hand, which would generate the necessary high voltage for the clutch wires. Once the boiler had built up enough pressure, a small steam engine would take over. But for now, the Professor wanted to find out if there were any short circuits or even arcs where they shouldn't be.
There were a few bangs, due to the formation of moisture from the steam, but this would disappear once everything was completely heated. The Professor was satisfied.
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While the time machine was slowly coming up to temperature, George was polishing the brass railing that wrapped around the outside of the platform. Meanwhile, the Professor sat in his recliner, puffing thoughtfully on his pipe. Suddenly he stood up and walked with quick steps toward the control panel, which was placed at some distance from the machine. Thick cables and hoses ran across the floor toward it.
"I've made up my mind, George. I know where I'm going to travel." With these words, he turned the knobs of the teak desk and flipped levers.
George paused in his action and asked, "Where to, Professor? What historical event have you chosen?"
"I will," the Professor began, "travel to a time, before my own birth, to..." Suddenly he paused and looked up. "No," he finally continued, "I won't tell you George, the temptation would be too great.... And stay away from the controls, do you hear?" he added sharply
"Yes, Professor. As you wish," returned George, the excitement in his face having turned to a frown.
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"Very well, then. Let us begin." Professor Forsythe strode up to the engine and began flipping levers and opening steam valves. A rising hum could be heard, which soon pushed the chugging of the steam engine into the background. Arcs of light flared up in the loops of wiring that formed an interwoven dome over the platform. The Professor checked the control panel settings one last time, then he stepped under the dome.
George waited for the Professor's signal to flip the lever that connected the DC batteries to the coils, which would ultimately begin the Professor's journey.
The excitement caused beads of sweat to form on his forehead. He saw how the Professor's hair began to rise at the side due to the high voltage, which made it clear to George why he was wearing a hat.
Slowly, Professor Forsythe raised his arm and looked in George's direction. It would be any moment now. His knuckles were bright white from firmly clutching the grip of the lever.
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The Professor gave the signal. Suddenly the door to the parlour flew open and George came running in. Flailing his arms wildly, he shouted, "STOP! The steam pipe will burst!"
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While the lever-holding George was still staring open-mouthed at his likeness, the Professor came out from under the dome, cursing.
"George, for crying out loud, what have you done?"
"But Professor, you would have die—" At that moment there was a loud bang. Parts of the machine flew through the air, embedding themselves into the floor and walls of the salon.
Left behind was a gaping hole in the dome, with a bent pipe in the middle from which steam emerged with a loud hissing noise.
The explosion held the Professor's anger in check for only a few seconds. No sooner had he surveyed the damage than he turned back to George to reprimand him. "I gave you explicit instructions, George. I am very disappointed with you."
"But Professor, you have to understand. The explosion would have killed you!"
"And my instructions applied to that exact circumstance, George! If I had survived, I would never have allowed such a thing to happen anyway. What were you thinking?" the Professor scolded him.
"But..." a meek George replied, "...it had been my fault. I didn't tighten the last connection properly after you spoke to me."
The Professor hesitated at the sight of the deeply remorseful George. It almost seemed as if he wanted to forgive him, but suddenly he shook his head and said, "Poppycock! It was my own fault. I shouldn't have distracted you while you were working. Anyway, you acted unforgivably and now I'm stuck with you twice." With these words he pointed to the other George, who was still standing at the lever. Still amazed and with his mouth open, but also with a piece of pipe protruding from his chest and blood dripping out the end. He collapsed dead the instant they paid attention to him.
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For a moment, the Professor lost his composure. "Oh my God, George!" he cried, but quickly regained his self-control and turned to George. "Now do you see what you've done?"
George stared at the dead body with the pipe in his chest, then turned to the Professor with incredulity in his voice "Is he.... I mean, am I... dead?"
"Yes, he is dead," Professor Forsythe said, then added, "And you should be in his place. Or me, or whoever, just not George."
"But... Professor, I don't understand..."
"Of course you don't understand, that's why I gave you instructions, George. Instructions you didn't follow, and that is why you are here and George is dead!"
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George opened his mouth, but the Professor did not allow him to get a word in. "Now listen carefully. If you were both still alive, I would put a shotgun in his hand and demand that he shoot you. Now I will leave it up to you to decide what to do with yourself. I have to think now." Still angry, the Professor left the parlour through the same door George had entered only a few minutes before, leaving him to his own devices.
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When George meekly entered the laboratory a few hours later, he found the Professor standing thoughtfully before the large blackboard, which was covered all over with complicated formulas written in chalk.
"I buried him—uh, me— Professor," he said sheepishly, expecting another outburst of anger from the Professor at any moment. When he received no reply, he added, "In the old cemetery, behind the estate."
"What? Oh, yes. Well..." the Professor finally grumbled, absent-mindedly. A moment later he completed a formula on the blackboard and took a few steps back to look at his work. He didn't seem to be too pleased with the result. "Something is wrong, it can't be like this," he muttered.
"George," he suddenly exclaimed., "Tell me what happened. The machine exploded. What did you do then?"
"Well, Professor, at first I was horrified. I tried to help you, but you were..."
"...Dead, I know," Professor completed the sentence. "But that is not important now. How did you manage to travel back in time if the machine was destroyed after all?"
"Well, Professor, I knew how to assemble the machine. I brought all the parts back down to the lab and repaired it."
The Professor seemed taken aback. "You repaired it? Down here?"
George nodded with a guilty look on his face.
"Well, like I said, you're not dumb, George. At least as far as your technical aptitude is concerned. But you lack an understanding of the dynamics of time. I guess it was my fault. I should have given you a more detailed explanation, but it is too late now."
"Too late? Too late for what, Professor?" George wanted to know.
"Come," Professor Forsythe said instead of giving an answer, and left the laboratory,with George following behind.
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Upstairs in the parlour he sat down in his winged chair and asked George to take a seat opposite to him. "Well, George, tell me. How long did it take you to fix the machine?"
"I don't know, Professor. A couple of hours, I think. I did it as fast as I could."
"Can you remember the exact time? What time did you start the trip?"
"That I know exactly, Professor because it had just struck six o'clock when I pulled on the rope."
"Rope? What rope?"
"Well, I had to pull the lever and stand under the dome at the same time. So, I used a rope to do it."
"Yes, I see," muttered Forsythe, glancing once more at his pocket watch.
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"You see, George," he finally began, "it is almost six o'clock now. At this point, the other George should have started up the time machine to travel back in time. But George is dead, he did not repair the machine, and he won’t travel back in time to save me. Do you see what I'm getting at? At six o'clock, no one will come here from the past. You will not arrive here, and I will not survive. We will both disappear from time and George will reassemble the time machine. The wheel will start all over again, for all eternity."
George had bewilderment written all over his face. "Are you saying we're both going to die?"
"Die? No George, we're already dead, only time hasn't caught up with us yet, you see." Then he added thoughtfully, "Who knows how long this has been going on?"
George was about to retort something, but then the clock began chiming. It was six o'clock sharp. A cold shiver ran down his spine and he looked at his hands to see if he started disappearing.
Dong, dong, dong, dong, dong. Six beats, and nothing happened. The Professor and George looked at each other, perplexed.
Suddenly the door to the parlour flew open and George came running in. Flailing his arms wildly, he shouted, "STOP! The steam pipe will burst!"
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Epilogue:
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Two Georges waited anxiously for the results of Professor Forsythe's new calculations. He finally came back upstairs from his laboratory to the parlour, where they waited for him with inquisitive looks.
"Come along, gentlemen," he said, and walked over to the weapons cabinet in the corner. He unlocked it and took out a shotgun. "Do you remember what I told you about the eventuality that two Georges should exist?"
"But Professor, you can't be serious?" they both replied, in unison.
"Oh yes I am, George. I am perfectly serious. One of you needs to go. You are a paradox."
"But, Professor, what would be so bad about both of us existing here?"
"Well, George, to be frank, I would be able to put up with the two of you, but it is not going to end there!" The two stared at him so baffled that the Professor felt compelled to offer further explanation, "The pressure line, George! You must have hooked it up wrong. The pressure should have dropped once the person was sent on their way through time. But the way you assembled the machine, it is still under full steam. Do you understand? The pressure will never drop now in a state where time has no meaning. The machine is in limbo somewhere between the now and the then, and will continue to trigger further journeys. I have no control over it. Now hurry up. The next George will arrive at midnight, and six hours later another one and so forth. You should pray to god that it will be possible for me to find a better solution than this soon. Both of you!"
With these words he angrily thrust the shotgun into the hands of the two Georges and headed back downstairs.275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEh4tbTchTL
