Authors: Kathy Bell
In for the requested blood work
for serotonin, she had not realized there were other tests on the
panel. She absently rubbed the birthmark on her hand. “Nothing?”
She had wondered if the plasmid had anything to do with her
predicament. Negative test results would indicate
otherwise.
“
Nothing out of the
ordinary. Those serotonin levels are still a bit wacky, but you’re
just my regular little girl. No, my amazing little
girl.”
“
I love you,
Dad.”
“
Love you too, kid.
Let’s finish this coat before it gets tacky.”
Journal of Doctor Nicholas Weaver
September 3, 98 P. I.
There were once those
who described time as an eternal tapestry stretching into infinity.
Woven from the lives of each individual on our planet, the tapestry
of their imaginings grew in a linear fashion as time progressed.
You would travel through time in this model by folding the fabric,
bringing two temporal points together. They were wrong. You do not
bend time to travel through it.
Instead, human time is
a circle, a path upon which the Earth travels. Finite, the cycle of
time lasts three hundred sixty years-give or take four or five. The
tapestry is eternal but the fabric is recycled, making room for the
next generation. This is why time travel as hypothesized is
impossible, and also why no human will ever live beyond one hundred
eighty years of age.
The fabric of time is
not a simple single layer. The depth of the fabric extends from
pole to pole, each layer of time slightly different than the one
above. Many of the threads are identical. The key to time travel is
to use those parallel threads to change layers within the circle of
time. The right amount of pressure applied at a key moment will
dislodge a thread from its resident layer. The unbound thread is
drawn automatically to certain points on the identical thread
below, allowing a transfer of awareness. Only awareness, or
consciousness, not matter, can move between the different planes of
existence. This is what I do. I manipulate the threads.
Standing outside the doors of her alma mater, Adya embraced
the nostalgia which threatened to bring her to tears. Echoes of
laughter shared with friends long unseen became tangible as Jackie,
Stacey, Becky and Lorri surrounded her.
“
Guys, it feels like
decades since I saw you all.”
Jackie’s black hair flashed red
roots as she jumped and squealed. “Love, I missed you all summer,
how could you go and get injured?” She hopped back after an
enthusiastic hug. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“
Naw, just my head got
hurt. I’m pretty hard headed, though.”
“
What was it like in
the hospital? Any cute guys?”
“
The one tech was cute
who took me down to the brain scans. They did find something in
there when they tested, at least. What’d you do this
summer?”
“
Oh, man, I got in so
much crap. Mom caught me sneaking out. I got grounded for a month.
It was worth it, though cause-”
“
That’s nothing,”
Stacey interrupted. “I had to work the whole time, I didn’t have
any fun.”
“
Me and Jim broke up…”
Becky lamented before quickly smiling. “But…I met Darren at the
Carnival. He’s a grade eleven, can you believe it. Oh, here he
comes…don’t act stupid, ‘kay?” The girls dutifully turned to look
in the direction of the approaching boyfriend and his companions. A
jolt of shock struck Adya to see the chosen one was the boy who
grabbed her when she left the psychic’s tent. He acted like he had
never seen her before, so she did the same. Taking Becky’s arm with
a smirk, he glanced at the girls.
“
Hi, Becks, are you
going to introduce us to your friends?” His friends
leered.
“
Darren, this is Adya,
she’s the smart one…”
“
Oh, thanks, Beck, for
that glowing introduction.” With an exaggerated scowl, she avoided
Darren’s eyes.
“
Well, you are. That’s
Jackie, she’s our clown.” Jackie rolled her eyes. “Stacey here’s
our worker.”
“
What does that make
you, Becky?” Darren asked insinuatingly before leading her toward
the doors. Becky tossed a quick “Goodbye, see you in home room.”
over her shoulder.
The rest of the girls followed
through the double entryway. Halls lined with red, black and gold
lockers gleamed with a fresh coat of paint. Squeaking sneakers,
clanging locker doors and the raucous sound of one thousand
exuberant voices created a pleasant cacophony Adya had forgotten
was part of high school life. She made her way to the classroom
listed as her home form on her printed schedule. White cinderblock
walls in the room were punctuated by an occasional vibrant poster
encouraging students to succeed or admonishing them with ‘There is
no I in team.’ or ‘Understanding takes U.’ Students seated
themselves haphazardly around the room, some with spiky hair while
others sported teased poufs or long greasy mullets. Sid van Diem
sported his infamous Mohawk in brilliant blue; Adya stifled a laugh
as she recalled his later career as a stuffy, stiff-necked
accountant.
“
Welcome to high
school, minor niners. Today you need to realize you are the bottom
of the totem pole in this school, you are pond scum dirtying our
illustrious waters.” The senior student addressing the class wore a
suitably arrogant sneer on his face as he attempted to intimidate
the newly arrived students. “For the next two hours, you will be
under my control. Your morning will be spent completing torturous,
humiliating, disgusting activities all in the name of entertaining
we the senior students who will leave behind a legacy of urban
legends.” His partner began to distribute cards.
“
Slugs, you will
follow me.” He pointed at the other boy. “Algae, you will follow
Colin. We are going to the gym where you will begin today’s
festivities. Regular classes will be held in the afternoon on
shortened periods.” He raised his voice. “Welcome to Grade Nine
Initiation.” A collective groan rolled out of the grade nine
students as they rose to follow their assigned group leader. Other
grade nines were leaving their home forms to head to the gym as
well.
Stacey whispered on her way past,
“Adya, what are you?”
“
I’m a−” She was
interrupted by her leader.
“
No talking, slime.
Just for that, you’ll be the first victim in today’s activities.”
Colin took her aside as they entered the gym.
“
Please note,
everyone, I will make an example of this peon who dared to talk out
of turn. What’s your name, scum?”
“
Adya
Jordan”
“
Jordan, hit the
floor.” She dropped down, prepared to do push-ups. “No, on your
back.” Puzzled, she flipped onto her back. Another senior arrived
with a tall, lanky pimple-faced boy.
“
Hey, I’ve got another
rule violator here.”
“
Great.
Name?”
“
Jason Sleagle.” Two
more leaders joined the group around her.
“
Ok. Give me the
plate, Kate.” Kate, the only female senior present, handed Colin a
paper plate, which he covered with whipped cream before passing
down to Adya. “Place this on your chest. Good. Sleagle, get down
and give me twenty.” The boy lay on the floor beside her. “Oh, no…I
mean over top of her.”
“
What!” They shrilled
in unison.
“
You heard me, now do
those twenty push-ups. Make that twenty-five for insubordination;
you don’t question us leaders. Now do it.”
“
Yes, sir.” Jason
positioned himself over her and began the exercise, attempting to
avoid the pile of white topping between their bodies.
“
Sorry,” he
whispered.
“
No talking. Five
more, Sleagle.”
She quirked a smile at him in
sympathy, seeing the strain as his slender arms began to shake from
the exertion. At twenty two, his chest touched the fluffy mess. At
twenty four, he collapsed and whipped cream splattered both of them
as he fell on top of her. She squealed and he jumped up.
“
I am so
sorry.”
“
It’s okay; it’s not
your fault. It’s theirs.” She glanced at Colin. “Bully.”
He grinned maliciously. “Oh, ho,
she shows spirit, this one. Well, we’ll break that by the end of
the morning. Time for apple bobbing, m’dear.” The rest of the
morning Adya was the target for many of the activities but took it
all in good spirits. She figured she was preventing some of the
more reserved students from getting harassed. Orientation had
eventually been phased out of the school system because of the
intimidation practiced by some of the senior students but was still
occurring in 1985. She finally had the chance to wash up before
enjoying the lunch provided by the seniors, who gave full apologies
and peace offerings to the grade nine students they had spent the
morning devising tortures for.
Adya’s first class was math taught
by her favourite teacher, Mister Carmichael. He explained he had
become a teacher later in life and regaled the students with
stories of his misadventures in the world of small
business.
“
Man, if you can’t do
math you’re in trouble. My buddy quit his drywall business because
every time he quoted a job he messed up the math and ended up
paying for materials and labour out of his own pocket to finish the
jobs. Not a way to run a business. So, how many of you ‘Grade Nine
Advanced Mathematics’ plan on attending university?” The majority
of hands around the room were raised.
“
Why?”
The students exchanged puzzled
looks before offering tentative answers.
“
Because my dad is
making me.”
“
Because I want to be
a doctor and they have to go to university.”
“
Because that’s what
you do.”
“
To make more
money.”
“
Because if you don’t
you’re a loser.” Sid smirked.
“
Well…” the teacher
checked his seating plan, “Sid, I’ve got news for you. Academic
success does not automatically equate with financial success or
personal success. If you walk into the houses of fifteen of
Stamford’s wealthiest people, you will find ten of them don’t have
high school diplomas, much less university degrees. Even Abraham
Fairfield and Mordecai Bloomburg, founders of Three Eleven, began
the company right out of high school and don’t have any official
university degrees. They were lucky, though, to have affluent
families to back their ideas and get the company off the ground.
Anyway, let’s say you went through four years of university. It
takes you till age forty-one before you catch up to your
counterpart who enters the trades after high school. Let’s do the
math.”
He drew a comparison of the
financial status of two individuals on the board, one paying
tuition fees while the other earned wages, concluding they had
equivalent lifetime earnings at age forty-one after which point the
university graduate finally began to get ahead. Adya only listened
with half an ear, trying to recall if she had ever heard the
company name Three Eleven in the previous timeline. She wrote out
the name in her binder, tapping her pencil beside the letters.
Finally she wrote three elevens side by side, staring at the
numbers for a minute before gasping out loud.
“
Yes, Adya?” Mister
Carmichael gazed at her as the rest of the class turned their heads
toward her seat.
“
Sorry, just got a
paper cut.” She sucked on the end of her finger as if it was cut
and the bell rang to signal the end of the class.
In to the next classroom, compact
notebook computers were stationed at each desk. This was 1985 yet
the notebook computers in front of her were nothing like the Sharp
PC5000 portable computer she remembered. She sat at the machine
with her name and opened the cover. The LCD screen, mouse and most
especially, the internet keys were all 20 years ahead of their
time, and the Dvorak keyboard a surprise. She was somewhat familiar
with the more ergonomic layout since her husband had used it on his
work machine.
“
I’m not the only
one.”
“
What?” The boy at the
desk beside her glanced at her. She smiled artificially.
“
Oh, nothing.” Her
heart raced with the knowledge someone else had to be back in time
to have changed computers to this degree. The mysterious Three
Eleven Corporation likely had something to do with it. A date never
to be forgotten in her life.
The bell rang and their teacher
walked to the front of the classroom.
“
Good morning,
everyone. I’m Mister Simmons, your technology teacher. Welcome to
Grade Nine Integrated Technology at Stamford Secondary. Those of
you still standing, please find your name beside your machine and
take a seat. Bear with me while I take attendance.” He completed
the attendance then distributed the course overview.
“
Before you turn on
those machines I am required to give you the background. Every
secondary school in every country in the world had received one
classroom set of computers from the ‘11,11,11 Company’, also known
as the ‘Three Eleven Corporation’. The only manufacturer of
computer equipment on the planet.” He delivered his speech in a
monotone, oozing boredom and scorn. A wall mounted screen displayed
his presentation as he began an introductory note on the history of
computer technology. From the first basic electronic adding
machines, he tracked the progress through to magnetic data storage
and graphical user interface operating systems. The timeline of
computer technology development had been advanced significantly
right from the initial inception more than twenty years before. The
other person had to have been in the past for quite some time to
enact those technological advances.