Distant Waves (8 page)

"And
he's divorced," Thad said, nodding, "Their problem might help Tesla, though. He's trying to get in to see Astor before he sails off on his honeymoon. Ever since the last World's Fair, they've been great friends. They have a lot in common because Astor is a sort of amateur scientist himself. He's had articles published and even holds a patent on a moving sidewalk he invented. Astor was one of Tesla's backers on the Niagara Falls project."

"If they're such good friends, why is Tesla having so much trouble communicating with Astor?" I asked.

"It's this Madeleine Force romance. Astor and Madeleine are lying low in his mansion in Rhode Island to avoid the press. The papers are having a field day with the scandal."

I put down my fork and attempted to use the chopsticks by my plate. Studying Thad, I gave it my best attempt. I didn't have much luck.

He chuckled good-naturedly and took them from my hand. "Like this," he instructed, arranging my fingers in the proper position. With his hand on mine, he worked the sticks, scooping up the food and lifting it to my lips.

To tell the truth, I was so pleasantly unnerved that I forgot to open my mouth!

"Oh! Sorry!" I said, laughing nervously when I realized the food was hovering in front of me.

"Now you try," he advised.

My second attempt went more smoothly.

"I guess the timing is bad for Tesla," I remarked as soon as I was eating well enough with the sticks.

"There are rumors that Astor is going to run off and get married," he replied. "If Astor disappears on a prolonged honeymoon, it will be a disaster for Tesla. He won't be able to catch up with Astor to persuade him to finance his next idea."

"What is his next idea?" I asked, finally spearing a piece of egg pancake with the end of my chopstick and getting it to my lips.

Thad shook his head sadly. "I can't tell you that."

"I won't tell anyone," I promised.

"Oh, no?" He smiled. "Aren't you writing a newspaper article?"

"I guess so." I smiled back. Electricity.

Thad held it for a moment, just the two of us looking at each other, the air charged between us. Then, just before it went on a beat too long, he said, "When we go back, Tesla will probably be awake. I'll ask if he'll talk to you and see what he says. Then, if he wants to tell you, it will be up to him."

***

M
y long walk from Thirty-fourth Street to Central Park went quickly because I was so fascinated by the variety of people passing me. No doubt I was conspicuously the gaping rube, drinking in every face that passed. New York City seemed to me like a reflection of the entire world. I loved its excitement.

Thad had instructed me to meet Tesla at the entrance to the park at Columbus Circle. I was to walk with Tesla while he fed the pigeons in the park, a ritual he carried out every day, rain or shine.

As I stood by the grand entrance to the park with my Tesla scrapbook tucked under my arm, my mind wandered ... and I have to admit that it was Thad whom it veered toward. Our lunch together had been the first time I'd sat alone with a fellow and, honestly, I'd found it exciting. I liked everything about him: his sympathy for the common person; his interest in science; his independence in striking out for New York City on his own. And I couldn't get those vivid blue eyes out of my mind. Or that white scar on his forehead, that handsome imperfection.

I spied Tesla hurrying across the traffic circle carrying a brown paper bag. With a nervously pounding heart, I hurried toward him as he came near. "Sir, I'm Jane Oneida Taylor. You agreed to let me interview you?"

He stopped and scrutinized me. "Is Oneida really your middle name?" he asked.

"My mother adopted it in honor of the native people who lived near us," I explained.

"You are from northwestern New York, then," he surmised.

"Not far from Niagara Falls. I know you're familiar with that," I said.

This brought a fond smile to him. "Indeed, I am. You have done your homework."

"Yes," I replied. I had been doing it for the last twelve years. "I know everything that has been printed in the newspapers, at least." I lifted my scrapbook to show him. "It's all in here."

He took it from me and perused it briefly. "Then, no doubt, you know many things that are not true," he commented. "Newspapers are not renowned for their accuracy."

"That's why I wanted to talk to you."

"Come. We will walk while I feed the pigeons." He nodded toward his paper bag. "This is my own blend of birdseed. A pet store makes it to my specifications. It has all the nutrients a pigeon needs. Sometimes I feed them 
at Bryant Park behind the New York Public Library and other times here in Central Park."

We entered the park, ambling along the winding paths as I asked him questions and furiously scribbled his replies in the blank pages of my scrapbook. I learned that he'd been born in Austria-Hungary in 1856. I quickly calculated that it meant he'd been forty-two when I had first met him and was fifty-four now. He spoke Serbo-Croatian, Czech, French, Hungarian, Italian, and Latin, as well as English. He loved animals, especially cats and pigeons, and was a vegetarian.

He explained to me why alternating electrical current was superior to the direct current advocated by Edison. "This is something the public has come to agree with me about," he said with a hint of pride, "even though Edison did his best to convince them otherwise. Even to this day, Edison has not forgiven me for this defeat. It eats at his arrogant soul. All he cares about is making a profit."

"Don't you want to make money?" I asked.

By then we had stopped at a boulder along a path. At the first sight of their faithful benefactor, the pigeons immediately fluttered to Tesla's feet, and he began scattering seed for them. As he swung his arm in a smooth semicircle, an expression of such far-off absorption crossed his face that I could not tell if he was considering my question, was ignoring me, or had forgotten about my presence altogether.

Finally, after several minutes, he spoke. "Jiva is Shiva," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"It means each person is divinity itself," he explained without taking his gaze away from the pigeons. "I met Swami Vivekananda when I was demonstrating at the Chicago World's Fair back in 1893. Between demonstrations of my rotating egg, which turned by magnetism, I went to the pavilion where the swami was speaking. It was his belief that only tireless work for the benefit of others is the true mark of the enlightened person. No one can truly be free until all of us are."

I thought of the framed photo of the swami that sat in our front parlor, his dark, piercing eyes staring out at us. "And what the swami said influenced you?" I surmised.

"Profoundly," he replied earnestly. "It was at the fair I also first demonstrated wireless lighting. As the globes lit and my experiment was a success, I knew that wireless technology was the wave of the future and that energy from space could give all nations the advantages of free power."

"Give?"
I questioned.

"I could be a rich man, Jane. Right now, just like the rest of them. George Westinghouse, the owner of General Electric, wrote me an extremely large check to develop electric power for him. But I knew that by accepting that money I would immediately elevate the cost of 
providing the electricity, so I ripped it up. No one wants to invest in free power, because then how would the investors become rich?"

In my life I had always accepted that there were rich and poor and those in between. I had never questioned the right or wrong of it nor what kinds of things all people should be entitled to. Now Thad and Tesla were changing that.

Was charging for electricity truly like charging for air?

The subject seemed larger than I could really comprehend, and I suddenly wanted to get off it. "Is it true that you made contact with creatures from another planet?"

"Alien life forms? I believe so."

"Do you think that's really possible?" I questioned skeptically.

"It is certainly possible. Probable, even," he confirmed. "Do you not think your mother would agree?"

"My mother?"

"Does not she want to contact other life forms, though in her case it is the other side, those who have passed over?"

"You know who I am?" I cried, gasping.

"It was the sight of you that brought on my episode and sent me to my bed," he said. "My mind was struggling to locate your first appearance and it was causing a sensory overload. But I got it eventually, once I was able to dream. I saw you as a little girl. You were caught in my earthquake."

"Yes! Yes! That was me -- and my sister who's with me, too."

"I know. I placed her, as well. I have a photographic memory, and you do not look so different than you looked then, more mature, of course. Is that why you have come to see me now, Jane? Does it have to do with that day?"

I'd thought I was merely there to interview him, but I suddenly realized that it was more than that. "I don't know," I admitted softly, an unexpected emotion in my voice. "I have always remembered you and felt that somehow you would be important in my life, in my future."

His eyes locked on me as though he were peering into my mind -- or my heart. "Do you want to travel with me to the future to see if I make a difference to you?"

"What?" I asked, not understanding. "What do you mean?"

"It comes down to physics, and there are several theories about this. My thinking on it is that, using something I created called a magnifying transmitter, I could create electrical waves that travel one and a half times the speed of light. Once you pass the speed of light, time changes."

"In what way? I don't understand."

"Of course you don't understand. Few people do, It's an extremely complex application of quantum physics. But, it's too dangerous still."

"Can you really travel to the future?" I asked.

"Forget I mentioned it. We're all inevitably traveling toward the future," he said vaguely, rolling the top of his seed bag shut.

"That's not what you meant, though." I was sure of it.

He wiped off seeds that were clinging to his coat. "It does not matter what I meant. I must end our interview now because I am due to catch a train and meet up with Colonel Astor in Rhode Island at his summer estate in --"

Abruptly cutting his sentence short, he grasped my upper arm and leaned forward, speaking in an urgent whisper. "A sinister character is loitering behind a boulder several yards behind us. He is an agent of one of my competitors."

Despite being warned not to, I shifted my gaze over my shoulder and did indeed catch sight of a stocky man wearing a full-length brown coat and a bowler hat pulled low on his forehead. "How do you know?" I asked in a whisper.

"I have glimpsed him before, several times," Tesla replied in a low tone. "In the Colorado Springs lab, I saw him fleeing the flames as I scrambled to save my research notes from the inferno."

Still holding my arm, Tesla began to walk, hurrying me along beside him. "This part of the park is very isolated," he explained under his breath. "For safety's sake, I think it best to get out among the general population."

For the first time I noticed that we'd wandered down a 
shady cobble stoned walkway thick with foliage but most definitely off the beaten path. Were we to be attacked, there would be no one to come to our assistance.

Quickly glancing behind us, I saw that the man had left the boulder and come out onto the lane. I noticed he wore leather gloves and carried a walking stick with an ivory knob at its handle end.

"I feel like Sherlock Holmes in 'The Adventure of Central Park,'" I whispered, just to lighten the mounting tension and lessen my fear.

"Sadly, this is not a detective mystery. It is all too real," Tesla replied.

The man quickened his pace, and we also began to walk faster. "What do you think he wants?" I asked.

It was only when we reached the safety of the general population that Tesla answered: "The destruction of my work. Which is, inevitably, my own destruction."

***

W
hen we arrived back at the Waldorf-Astoria, Mr. Boldt was waiting for Tesla in the lobby. "Colonel Astor married Miss Force this morning in Newport," he reported. "They left immediately on his yacht for a honeymoon."

"When will he return?" Tesla asked, clearly troubled by the news.

"He is planning an extended tour of Europe with his new young wife. The bad press and scandal have been very draining for both of them, and they need to get away for a while. I would venture to say he will not be back for the better part of the year."

"A year!" Tesla cried, throwing his arms out in frustration.

"You might send a telegram," Mr. Boldt suggested, "though it will be difficult to reach him since he will be moving from hotel to hotel."

"This is terrible!" Tesla said. "I must go upstairs to my apartment to lie down."

"Are you all right? Can I help?" I asked.

"Excuse me, Jane," he said to me. "I am overcome." I thanked him for talking to me. "It was my pleasure," he replied politely, despite the fact that his complexion had grown nearly white and a purple vein in his forehead throbbed visibly. "You are a courageous young woman with intellectual curiosity. May you never lose either trait."

"Thank you, sir. I hope you feel better."

With a courtly bow, he strode off toward the elevators. I was sad to see him go.

I gazed around looking for Mimi or Thad, but did not see either of them. I sat a few minutes looking over the notes I'd taken and then went up the elevator to John Jacob Astor's suite to find Mimi.

Ninette answered my knock and bade me to enter. "Come, look at your sister," she said to me. "She is
très
chic."

Mimi stood in the middle of the living room. Naturally, I recognized my own sister, but barely. Her hair was piled high atop her head, jeweled barrettes sparkling in the black sea of carefully sculpted curls. She had on a new satin dress so deeply blue that it seemed to shimmer. It boasted puffed sleeves from shoulder to elbow that narrowed dramatically as they continued down to her wrist. The long skirt, formed out with a black under crinoline, revealed her black-stockinged ankles. On her feet was a brand new pair of shining leather high-button boots.

Dressed like a young society woman, she was completely ravishing. "Ninette bought this for me," she said. "What do you think?"

"You're gorgeous!" I cried.

"Isn't she?!" Ninette said. "The moment I saw Mimi, I knew that she was a diamond in the rough. Now that she is polished, she will be a perfect companion."

"I think she's already a perfect companion," I said.

"Perhaps for you," Ninette allowed. "But now she is just right as a companion for me."

I looked to Mimi, confused.

Mimi's voice was bright but strained. "I'm going to Europe, Jane. Ninette has hired me as her assistant and companion. Isn't it wonderful?"

"Wonderful?!" I cried. "Have you gone crazy?"

***

Late that evening, I stood on the train station platform still sniffling into a handkerchief. How could Mimi do such a thing? I had pleaded with her not to go off with Ninette Aubart to Europe but she insisted. She said fate had brought her this chance and she had to take it. She'd found an escape hatch, a way to discover who she might be in another sort of world. My mind reeled with the possibilities. Would she ever come home? Might she jump ship, 
deserting even Ninette in some exotic port on the other side of the planet?

How would I live without the big sister who had always been my best friend?

It was going to be hard enough to face Mother as it was. Now I would have to tell her something immeasurably worse -- that I'd lost my sister.

I heard another announcement for a train bound for Washington, D.C. I considered taking it and just running away altogether, but I knew I couldn't do it. Not to return to Spirit Vale would have been to further compound the hurt my mother and sisters would endure at the loss of Mimi. Jane!

I looked toward the shout to see Thad hurrying toward me, his blue summer jacket flying behind him. His hair was mussed and his brow was sweaty from running. His worried expression transformed into a smile of relief as he neared me.

"Were you going to leave without saying good-bye?" he asked.

I smiled through my tears, glad to see him. Even in my misery, this was an unexpected pleasure. "I didn't know where you were," I explained. "How did you find me?"

"I saw Mimi at the hotel and she told me you had left."

My tears started to fall heavily once again at the 
mention of her name. "Did she tell you why she's not with me?" I asked.

"She did. And I also see she's upset you badly."

"She says she wants to see the world," I spoke through my salty tears. "She's not sure what her future holds -- claims that this is her fate."

He fished a worn but clean handkerchief from his jacket pocket and handed it to me so I could mop up the tears soaking my face. "Oh, don't worry," he said soothingly. "She's just dazzled by all the stuff. You know, the dresses, the suites, the decoration. A free trip through Europe is pretty hard to resist; don't you think?"

"But to travel with those two; they're not even married," I objected.

'"Judge not that ye may not be judged,'" Thad quoted the scripture lightly.

I hung my head in despair. "It's just wrong."

Thad took hold of my hands comfortingly. "We can't control what other people do," he commented. "I bet she'll be back home in no time. You'll see."

Hanging my head, I nodded and sniffed. "Do you really think so?"

"Sure," he said. His unconcern and confidence were contagious and my spirits lifted a bit. He left hold of my hand and gently whisked a lingering tear from my cheek. "I'm not concerned about Mimi. She'll have a great time," he went on. "It's you I was worried about."

I looked up into his steady blue gaze. "Me?"

Despite my upset state, my heart did a quick, delighted bounce. He was worried about me? Then the full realization of his unexpected appearance here hit me. He'd run the more than twelve blocks uptown to the station because of me. Me!

Thad had heard from Tesla about the man with the bowler hat. "Are you all right? Were you scared?" he asked.

"Terrified," I confirmed. "But Tesla is going ahead with his project, anyway. Do you think that's wise? Will he be safe?"

"I'll stick close to him like a bodyguard," Thad said confidently. I wasn't sure he'd be any match for the bowler-topped thug. "Maybe you should start carrying a walking stick," I suggested.

"I was a wrestling champ back in school," he boasted with a playful wink.

"Were you really?" I asked, impressed.

"Sure. I'm a preacher's son, remember? I wouldn't lie."

"Be careful, anyway," I counseled.

He looked deep into my eyes. Without meaning to, I leaned in closer, irresistibly drawn to his energy and warmth. I think he must have moved toward me, as well, because we somehow came to be standing very close to each other -- he still holding my hands, I looking up at him.

"I don't know exactly where you live, Jane," Thad said 
as steam from the newly arrived train billowed around us. "I want to write to you."