Remember Me (22 page)

and space. One could even say it is purely a dream rather than a basis for scientific reality. Paradoxes, God, destiny, and a general lack of proof fill the dream camp. You can’t go back and S 162 S

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kill your parents…a paradox that compliments many theo—

rems. History is what it is, and if you somehow did manage to travel back in time, you would be bound by the physical nature of what had already transpired. Quantum mechanics suggest the possibility of multi-universes. This negates the paradox theories. You don’t really travel back to the same time curve you came from, thereby allowing for the possibilities of different outcomes. The world won’t explode because you kill your father!” Thurington let out a big belly laugh with his last comment.

If nothing else, Thurington was an engaging speaker. He had me enthralled with his theatrics, and his voice was completely hypnotic. I eagerly waited for him to continue. I couldn’t take my eyes off the mirrors. He was sliding them back and forth on either side of the pen holder.

“I tend to fall in the multi-universe camp. If you have ever been to the circus, you might remember visiting the “Hall of Mirrors.” When you stand in the middle of all the mirrors, you see hundreds of reflections of yourself, seemingly reflecting your image endlessly outward. What you see are the reflections of a reflection, of a reflection, and so on. What if you move?

Is there a delayed reaction within the multitude of images of yourself? If you could see to the end, does the last image seem to be moving independently of the original? When you shine a light on the mirror from an angle, some of it is absorbed into the reflection of the mirror. The rest is refracted off to another spot.” Thurington looked up at us. I could see the depth of his convictions on his face. He was well in to it, and I didn’t think it mattered who happened to be sitting across the desk from him. I liked this version of Thurington. For now, the egocen-tric and belittling Thurington was gone.

He continued, “This is my vision of time travel. There are layers upon layers of possibilities…time streams for lack of a S 163 S

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better description. The underlying question behind the notion of time travel is whether or not the layers can be broached, or are they interdependent from one another. Do they somehow need each other to be cohesive and move forward? How are they connected? If we can understand the connection, then you might find a way to time travel. Move from the point of origin to the millionth…billionth reflection in the mirror. The last reflection would be somewhere in the past.”

“One idea for the possibility of time travel is the notion of time-slips. They are weakened spots within the mirrored reflections. This could even be one possible cause of wormholes.

Something has caused friction between two of the mirror layers. They have rubbed together or one has somehow pierced the other. It would most likely be a one-way trip and last for mere seconds.”

I finally found a reason to interject, “If that is true, what is the possibility that someone who travels back in time to another version of the past would again, at the same time in the future, see the re-emergence of the same wormhole that brought him to the past in the first place?”

Thurington took a long look at me and then answered,

“Not very likely, but not improbable. It becomes more of a question of the make-up of wormholes. Are they isolated incidents, as I suggested—a connection between only two mirror levels, or could they possibly be more inclusive and penetrate all the levels. Others have put forth the notion that wormholes are “time roads.” They are stationary passages between the different universes. It’s hard to accept this notion because we would have encountered a time traveler by now. I believe we have a folding of time and space. What I mean is that time is all present in all forms simultaneously, past…present…future. If on the other hand, all the universes are aging at the same pace, then theory would presume that time travel will only happen S 164 S

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after the future is reached where the mechanics of such travel have been developed.”

“Dr. Thurington…Jasper, is it possible that there have

already had been time travelers, just not to this particular mirror reflection as you so eloquently put it?’ Stacy asked.

“Good observation.” Thurington smiled at Stacy and for

an instant I saw the lecherous side of him creep out again. It quickly vanished, and he continued, “more than possible. In my theory of mirrored reflections and multiple universes it would be likely. I equate it to the notion that there must be life on other worlds, the probabilities support it. We just have no evidence to prove it…not yet! And as I said earlier—man doesn’t possess the ability to manipulate time. It would have to be something that happens more by chance.”

I looked over at Stacy and she returned my gaze. I’d heard enough, and even though I personally found reason not to like Dr. Thurington, I believed he provided insights which would be important to my personal future. I nodded at her, and she opened her personal satchel with the document of confidentiality.

Thurington had a bemused look on his face as Stacy handed him the one-page paper she had removed from her satchel.

He started to read it, and then laughed out loud. He put it down on the desk and said, “You aren’t serious?”

“Please read it all the way through,” Stacy quickly shot back.He rolled his eyes but continued to read. I watched as his eyes moved back and forth over the written words. When he finished it, he immediately began to reread it. Stacy and I sat in silence and waited for him to finish.

“You aren’t here about a movie or a book? So, if I sign this, I will be entitled to five percent of the profits from a company I’ve never heard of. Of course, I need to keep whatever it is S 165 S

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you are doing confidential; or suffer extreme circumstances for not complying. Five percent of zero is zero in my book. I think our time is up!” Thurington angrily announced to us. The agitation was clearly in his voice as he pushed the paper back across the table to Stacy.

“Suit yourself,” I countered, rising from my chair and heading towards the door. Stacy was right at my elbow. “Oh…I almost forgot,” I said, turning to face Dr. Thurington, “I planned on showing you the latest project that E.M.J. is developing.” I reached into my pocket and withdrew my cell phone.

I held it up so Thurington could see it. “This is my personal cell phone with a lithium battery and a 16 gig memory chip. It has a touch screen and internet connection. It also doubles as a personal music player, a 3.0 megapixel digital camera—which also takes digital videos. I am sincerely sorry that you aren’t interested.” I turned back towards the door…

“Wait!”

I kept walking.

“I’ll sign it.”

I looked over at Stacy, and she had a devious smile showing.

I knew it well. It was the same one she used to give me when we were kids. It meant: “I got you and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I’ll sign it,” Thurington repeated, a bit more pleading this time.“Jasper,” Stacy drew out his name, “so glad to have you aboard.” She handed him the document, and he raced to sign it. As soon as he did, she pulled out her Notary Stamp, and had me sign it and date it as a witness, thus making it airtight and legal. A look of bemusement ran across Stacy’s face. The look in Thurington’s eyes was priceless. He’d just lost another possible way out, and he knew it.

Now it was my turn to control the conversation. “Jasper, S 166 S

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please hear me out. What you are going to learn will quantify much of what you believe to be true.” I turned on my phone and laid it on the desk so he could see it. He watched the phone as it booted up. When the lock pattern showed up on the screen, I slid my finger across in the prescribed pattern to unlock the touch-pad. I completely had Thurington’s undivided attention. To prove a point, I opened the
Tilt
application on my phone. It was a video game representation of the classic wood-maze game. With the actual physical game you turned two dials which pivoted the inner-table either front and back, or side to side, sometimes both simultaneously. A metal ball rolled with the slope of the table. The pitch was controlled by the player turning the two knobs. The object was to maneuver it around holes in the top of the table and to snake your way through the maze until you safely reached the end.

Once the game loaded I handed it to Thurington, “Jasper, you ever play
Tilt
?” He nodded. “Here, try your luck with this one.” His eyes shot open, and his face turned pale as he watched me control the on screen ball by tilting my phone in different directions. The sound alone perfectly mimicked the real thing. I tried to hand him my phone, but he wouldn’t take it. I shut down the program and started the camera. I flipped the picture of a switch to video with my fingertip and started recording him. After twenty seconds I stopped. I hit the replay button and turned it so he could see. I didn’t think it was possible, but the “grand” professor looked overwhelmed.

I slid open the phone to reveal the keyboard underneath.

I opened my messaging program, already anticipating his next comment. “What year?” was all he asked.

“Two thousand and ten,” I answered back. I showed him the last text message I’d sent to Amy the day before I disappeared.

At the bottom was the time and date stamp for when it was sent. My phone still showed May 18, 2010 on the front screen.

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With no way to pick up signals the clock flashed Five-zero-two. I reached behind me and pulled out my wallet. I took the five dollar bill out of it, along with my driver’s license. They both had dates of two-thousand and nine. I handed them both to Jasper. This time he took them from my outstretched hand.

His hands began to shake as he looked them over. His brain was digesting what he believed to be true…versus the conventional wisdom that said it shouldn’t be so. I knew he wonder if everything was an elaborate hoax, or if the possible proof of his theory was actually sitting across from him. “What if I need more proof to believe you?”

Stacy and I had anticipated this very question. I was now wondering if it would still be wise to do what we had discussed.

After some of the comments Dr. Thurington had mentioned

earlier, I was having grave doubts. I went ahead with our plan.

“My younger self is here in Iowa. He knows nothing about me. It would not be too difficult for you and Stacy to take a fingerprint sample from him. You can have one from me and then compare them.

Thurington nodded his head like a bobble-head doll,

“Good, that would work.” He continued to nod his head. A little color was starting to return to his face. The light bulb suddenly went off inside his head, and he asked the question that I had expected would come: “How?”

I sighed and sat back in my chair. The excitement of the moment had begun to fade. I could feel the familiar pain of what had once been, take its place. Stacy reached across the armrest of her chair and gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “It was the day before my fiftieth birthday. I was mowing the lawn behind our house, trying to beat the rain. I got off my mower by the big pile of metal on our acreage. There was an electrical storm overhead. A lightning bolt struck the ground by the “junk” pile.

The next thing I knew I was pulled into blackness…”

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Keep your enemies close.

May 10th, 1987

The last couple
of weeks have flown by in a blur. I checked into a hotel in downtown Ames the week after Stacy returned to her home. I was still dreadfully afraid of being conspicuous, so I stayed at the Motel 6 in the southern part of town. For two days straight, Jasper spent every free moment he had with me. The dollar signs in his eyes had returned with renewed vigor. I was becoming more and more resentful for ever having confided in him. I seriously believed that including Thurington in our plans had been wrong. It was more than my personal dislike of him. He was someone that should never be trusted.

Stacy continued to impress upon me the need for his insights, and the potential he could bring to our plans.

Thurington had no doubts I was who I said I was. He never asked me to go the fingerprint route with my younger self.

When I answered all of his questions, he found more to ask.

He was never satisfied. The main unresolved issue for him was the actual event itself. He had no clear justification for why I hadn’t been torn apart coming through the wormhole.

He couldn’t come to a plausible conclusion. At times, the perplexity showed on his face, and he would lapse into a pro-longed silence. I grew tired of him repeating his questions. It was always: “what did I remember before, during, and after the wormhole appeared?”

The previous night we ate dinner at one of the campus bars.

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It became obvious why…celebrity status and ego enhancement of the Great Thurington. All the pretty coeds stopped by our table to say hi and nauseously flirt with Thurington.

Every movie I’d ever seen about students doing favors for grades passed through my mind. Thurington was undoubtedly brilliant, and he played it out very well to the underlings, however, it was sickening to me. I tried to keep myself focused more on the positive side of things. Stacy and I had committed to Thurington, and as part of our agreement, I would make myself available for his questions. He hoped that I would be able to give him all the insights he needed for a new book. He, in return, would have to wait two years before publication, thus enabling us time to build the foundation of E.M.J. He wasn’t happy about it, but the thought of losing five percent kept him at bay. The “all mighty dollar” hard at work.

He had rightly guessed at how I made the money to start

my company. He persistently hounded me for some potential insights. He wanted me to give him a few surefire things.

“I’ll keep you posted,” was all I’d say. I smiled and then smiled some more. I would not be giving him squat. He and I would never become friends, and I’d be damned if I’d give him anything more than was necessary. What I wanted from him was his brain…and distance. I figured if I gave him enough research money, then just maybe he would use it wisely. He was very intelligent; I had to give him that. He really might be light years ahead of the others in the field of quantum physics.