A Day With Roger

People call me Roger, I suppose. My day yesterday wasn’t all that eventful. My days hardly ever are which makes me a horrible person to want to hear a story from. But if you insist then I guess I can talk about my dog, Cash. He’s a good strong dog, a real puppy at heart though you probably couldn’t tell if you were around him as much as I am. You see, he spends most of his day sleeping around the house. He’ll lie down on the back porch in the sun and if it gets too hot he’ll hop on the sofa beside me and he’ll go back and forth until it’s time for his walk. The one exception is when I find the time to actually exercise. His tail will wag uncontrollably; he’ll hop around and want to play. It’s actually kind of cute.

Cash knows when it’s time to walk when I reach for his leash. If he’s nowhere in sight, usually under my bed (which is unusual but I’ll get back to that in a bit) you can hear his paws scurry across the hardwood floor straight to me. Sometimes he gets so excited that I he’ll head for the front door before I’ve even gotten his leash on. When we’re finally out the front door he’ll zig-zag his way around the sidewalk sniffing here and there, eating grass every so often, and doing what dogs do when they need to relieve themselves.

Sometimes I’ll see other people walking their dogs, a lot of the dogs about Cash’s size run around with no leash. I don’t think I could ever do that. I’d be too scared that Cash would take off and leave me. Stuff like that’s happened to me before and it’s the worst feeling in the world. But it works for those people and I just wish I could do it with Cash is all.

Every so often there will be dogs that are leashed but their owners will go out of their way to avoid Cash (and other dogs too). It’s kind of sad really because Cash is a very friendly dog and wants to get to know everyone: other dogs, people (he loves kids and old folk), and sometimes cats. My dog’s weird that way with cats sometimes but I suppose other people know their pets better than I do and they might not be as friendly as Cash, they might be even scared of him. I understand, but that’s sad is all I’m saying- that you would have to limit who your dog can socialize with because he or she might hurt them. My dog wants to get to know everyone but not everyone wants to get to know him.

Cash couldn’t hurt anyone if he tried. His teeth aren’t nearly as sharp as some other dogs’ and I feel bad that if a bigger dog with a horrible temperament came around, Cash wouldn’t be able to defend himself. Other than the leash thing, that could be why I’m so protective of him. I just don’t think he’d make a good alpha dog is all. For all his posturing, he wouldn’t be able to hurt a kitten even if it were by accident. I used to take him to the dog park and he didn’t play rough enough. He was heartbroken every time so now I walk him every day. That’s more of his speed.

When we get home, he’s tired and happy and while he won’t show it he’s awfully hungry so I pour some of his food into his favorite bowl. You can tell he wants to run to it but he spent most of his energy on the walk so he just wags his tail so hard his hind legs can’t walk too straight. It makes me laugh every time. As he’s eating his food I change the water in his bowl, as I do throughout the day, and sometimes he’ll lap up about half of it when he’s through eating. It kills me each time he does that because the sound it makes as his tongue hits the water sounds so perfect. I’ll make dinner for myself and he’ll always lean his head on my leg whenever I do because I used to give him my scraps but the vet said that was bad for him for some reason. I haven’t given him any table scraps in a while but you’ve got to love Cash for trying.

Afterwards, I usually watch some television and Cash curls up next to me on the couch again and he falls asleep until I head into my bedroom. It gets pretty cold where I sleep, much colder than the rest of the place, so I usually let him sleep on my bed. I really don’t mind. Cash calls it a night much earlier than I do. But sometimes while I’m writing away at my desk working on some story or poem or jotting away at my journal I’ll see him at the corner of my eye, shivering away. Even if I don’t feel like sleeping yet, I’ll put everything away and get in bed. He’ll wake up and usually shake off some of the sleep before yawning and cuddling up close to me, usually under my arm. Then it’s back to sleep.

The best way to stave off cold at night is to press up against a warm body so we press up against each other every night, especially during the winter when it gets really cold. Cash will usually stay in bed until I get up after which he’ll ask to be let out so he can take a nap in the sun and we repeat the whole thing again. That’s what so unusual about Cash being under the bed sometimes. He would only be under there when he’s left home all alone. But it’s nothing to worry about because he’s only under the bed every once in a while.

Unmade Bed

Mary closed her eyes hoping this night would be different from last night or the night before or every night before for the past week. The fatigue set in and dragged her shoulders more easily than gravity ever could. Her head was pounding to the beat of her heart which felt restless in her chest though she only felt pain in the former. While they lived just twenty minutes from the beach, the air that found its way into her lungs seemed to have come from a much higher altitude. She had the urge to gasp and force more air, maybe even scream. But Mary knew that would be impractical and she didn’t want to wake up Henry, her husband, who reassured her that this would all pass with time and she knew that he was right but she had hoped that, at the very least, she would be used to it by now.

One more deep breath through the nose and slowly out through the mouth, she told herself before finally opening her eyes. Mary turned her head to the side to look at the clock on her nightstand and tragically only thirty minutes had passed. She had hoped that she had somehow stumbled upon some sleep but it was not meant to be this night. She reached over and turned on the lamp slowly, hoping the clicking of the switch didn’t wake Henry. He stirred but didn’t wake up. Mary then took the worn out book beside her clock and put on her glasses and began to read. The words strung together to resemble something like sentences, and she was sure that that was the author’s intent, but after another half hour of reading and rereading the same three pages she decided to put the book away.

Her feet wandered around aimlessly at first, searching for her slippers. She enjoyed the frays of the nylon carpet just barely touching the skin on the soles of her feet. It was almost hypnotizing. Her toes found her slippers and she gently lifted herself from the bed. Her first thought was to do some stretches. She stretched her arms out and brought them in, touched her toes and reached for the sky, and she rolled her head around back and forth and forth and back. Another deep breath and she still had no more desire to sleep than she did an hour before. She made her way out of the bedroom, leaving the nightstand lamp on behind her.

The kitchen always seemed colder than the rest of the house when it was cold outside and warmer than the rest of the house when it was warm outside. It was an odd thing that Mary never noticed before a week ago. Quiet, especially Mary’s newfound quiet, has a way of making one more sensitive to the smaller details that would otherwise go unnoticed. She took some milk and poured some into a small pot and turned on the stove. She listened to the gentle hiss of the gas as it heated the white liquid and she took another deep breath. The cold air seemed to fill her lungs a bit easier. When the milk just began to develop subtle wisps of steam above its surface, Mary took it off the heat and poured it into a mug. She washed the pot and let the milk cool for a bit.

Her hands looked tired and her eyes felt that way too as did the rest of her body. She was tempted to lay her head on the dining table where she sat, thinking that sleep would find her then. Instead she looked at her fingers and scoffed at her fingernails, which had long been removed from any manicurist’s station. Mary’s tired blue eyes traced the skin on the back of her fingers to the thin, gnarled veins that wrapped around the back of her hand. Turning over her hands she saw that they were more like leather though far from leathery and had far less calluses than she thought they should have had. With her palms facing her, she buried her hands in them but still couldn’t tire herself out. She drank the rest of her milk, washed the mug and shut off the kitchen light as she made her way back to the bedroom.

The hallway was lit with a single naked bulb whose flickering was not the fault of the manufacturer but of the faulty wiring of that particular fixture. Mary hated how poorly that hallway was lit and mentally made a note to tell Henry to get it fixed this weekend. Instead of going through the door on the left to go back to bed, she opened the door to the right into the other bedroom and flicked the light switch on. The light buzzed and gradually turned on. It was slightly cooler in this bedroom than the other. Mary shivered and made her way to the unmade bed, sitting down and staring at the curtains hanging over the small window.

There was a small desk against the wall just below the window, drawings strewn carelessly on top of it and broken crayons sprinkled on top of that. Mary’s eyes looked up and down the pink walls of the room and remembered where each and every sticker on it had come from. She heard footsteps behind her but she didn’t turn around. Henry didn’t say a word. He just sat beside his wife on the child’s bed and rubbed his hand on her back in large circles until she leaned her body back against him. She lay down on the bed and Henry wrapped his arm around her as he sat on the floor since he couldn’t fit in the bed with her. Mary closed her eyes and dried her cheeks on her husband’s hand as she finally succumbed to sleep. Henry let his head hang down loosely as went to sleep as well, his wife’s tears drying against the back of his hand.

A Conversation on the Way to the Surface

“Christmas?” the kid asked the old man.

“A snow-covered pine cone,” the old man answered.

“Halloween?”

“Cheap candy and burning pumpkin flesh.”

“That’s two things. I said to pick only one scent that recalls that holiday.”

“Okay,” the old man responded unfazed that he had forgotten the one rule of the game. He skillfully picked his footing gesturing to the kid to follow his every step as he changed his answer. “For Halloween I’d have to go with burning pumpkin flesh, definitely.”

“That’s a bit morbid,” the kid stuttered not out of fear of the old man but because he was preoccupied with getting the right footing.

“Halloween’s supposed to be morbid,” the old man responded, “But morbid in a fun way, though. Know what I mean?”

“I really don’t. But then again I’ve never celebrated any surface holiday.”

“That is true. Besides, there are so many other holidays that cheap candy makes me think of anyway. That leaves me with only the one choice.”

“Fair enough. What about the first day of school?”

“That’s not a holiday.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Enlighten me.”

“I might not ever know what life is like on the surface beyond foraging for food with you and hopefully, one day, by myself. And I hear school was different back then.”

The old man was unsure how to respond. He never liked school and realized that the kid would never hate school the same way he grew up hating school. The old man decided to play along. Besides, he liked having someone to converse with, especially about surface life before the dark days.

“Very well then,” the old man said as he spotted a rock that the two could rest on safely for a few minutes. Experience has blessed the old man with the ability to sense and cater to the needs of others without having to put them in an awkward position to ask for his help. The kid needed a breather, possibly from all the talking. “First day of school… The answer would have to be freshly sharpened pencils.” The old man took out his lantern with the halogen lamp, turned it on and set it against one of the smaller rocks. He turned around and grabbed the kid by the arm helping him up onto the rocky abutment. The kid turned on his lamp and laughed as if he had just escaped death. The old man thought the laugh was premature. But he liked him and smiled anyway.

Foraging was a job usually reserved for those who had lived on the surface. Unfortunately, one of the last few surface dwellers young enough to still go on supply runs was the old man. It soon dawned on everyone else that a new generation of foragers had to be trained. There were too many factors that could cut off their supply of food, water, and medical supplies. One could easily get lost if they didn’t know the layout of the streets or the land. There were wild animals everywhere many of them dangerous if encountered. And the sheer space of it all aboveground, the openness of the sky and air could easily intimidate someone who had lived an entirely subterranean life. And of course there were the remnants of the war which had ended some time ago but battles still continued.

The two sat for a few minutes and the kid took out his canteen and took a swig of water into his mouth before digging into his rations. They had more than enough to go on a supply run but the old man couldn’t help but laugh at the kid’s gluttony.

“Do you actually like that stuff?” the old man asked.

“It’s all right, I guess,” the kid answered.

“So, why are you eating it?”

“I was in the mood for a snack,” the kid answered nonchalantly before shooting back up and wrapping up his half eaten ration. “Why? Can we run out of rations before finding everything?” Even though the old man nodded in the negative, the kid put away his snack and took one last conservative sip of water.

Normally, the old man wouldn’t have even bothered taking a breather but he knew that the kid wasn’t used to the physical demands of the job. The kid looked around and saw no other rock other than the one he sat and leaned on. It was just shadow everywhere else. They might as well have been floating. This underground world the kid had grown up in felt enormous and claustrophobic in a way that just increased his anticipation to see the surface.

“I hear it’s horrible up there,” the kid finally remarked, “Like, it’s nothing but ruins and ash up there. You know, from the war?” There was no response, the old man just nodded no.

“That’s what all the other guys my age said.” The kid’s voiced softened as he realized this was the farthest he had ever been from home, “But how would they know, right?” The old man nodded yes as he stood up to stretch, antsy from not moving up the wall as quickly as he was used to.

“I hear war’s a pretty glorious thing to see. People fighting for something they believe in.” The old man just glared at him. But his eyes wandered to something behind the kid.

The old man’s eyes widened. He walked towards it. The kid was nervous, thinking there was some strange creature preying on them. The old man seemed to form a smile the closer he was to the kid. Without looking he took the kid’s hand and lifted it over the kid’s head.  The kid flinched, only half resisting, thinking he would end up losing a finger or two but he only felt a subtle warmth at the palm of his hand. It was a kind of warmth he was not familiar with. It wasn’t the subtle warmth of holding a girl’s hand or the intense heat of holding his hand over the fire. There was no way he could describe it so he opened his hand and saw a white circle drawn on his hand.

“It’s sunlight,” the old man said. “It means we’re close to the surface. We should keep going.”

The two didn’t say much to each other the rest of the way save for a few words from the old man telling the kid where to plant his feet or dig his fingers. The sounds echoed differently the closer they were to the surface. There were even a few moments where the kid would dig in extra deep into the rock so that when he let his grip go he would let the pebbles drop into the dark abyss and he’d just listen to the dull pings against the solid earth.

Just before they reached the crevice where the sky was visible, the kid made the mistake of checking on his progress and looked down. The sunlight reflected off of the top of the entrance into the surface and the kid could nearly see all the way down since his eyes hadn’t fully adjusted to sunlight just yet. In that moment he realized how precarious a height they had climbed and it was dizzying. The vertigo struck the kid who nearly lost his grip and if it wasn’t for the old man’s gruff barking, the kid would have.

“Never look back,” the old man grumbled, “Easiest way to fall off is to think too much.” The kid caught his breath and climbed back up, close to the old man. Once the kid got a good look at his progress he kept thinking of how close he was to falling to his demise. That incessant fear of what could have been must have occupied the part of the brain that controlled his hands and feet for a brief second. But now they were at the surface.

The sun was even warmer than he had imagined. The smell of the air without the moist, stale smell of earth was unfamiliar to the kid. There were flying creatures around that he had never seen before. The larger ones were called birds, the smaller buzzy ones were called insects, the old man said. The kid looked around and could barely fathom the idea that the blue above them was infinite sky and not a dome of rock and stone. All the tastes and smells and the feeling of a cool breeze with the warm sunlight was all so overwhelming for the kid who barely held back a single tear from rolling down his face.

“It’s gorgeous up here!” the kid exclaimed. “Absolutely gorgeous! It’s incredible!”

“What were you expecting?” the old man asked, looking around for something the kid was oblivious too.

“We were taught that we were driven underground by this Great War but it’s beautiful up here!” The kid saw a butterfly and wondered if all insects were that beautiful and delicate. The butterfly flitted its way across the field from which the kid and old man emerged. There was a small ridge lined with more colorful flowers where the butterfly was headed. The kid was eager to be the butterfly’s companion for a few more seconds and followed it up the ridge.

In the distance, the kid saw a dilapidated road leading to a great city in the distance, perhaps 30 miles from where the kid stood. Structures resembling perfectly symmetrical rocks jutted out from the ground. They were called skyscrapers, the old man said, and that’s just what they looked like. Not only had nature instilled awe in the kid’s eyes but the man made wonders as well.

“It’s a city,” the old man continued, “Depending on the size, thousands or even millions could live in a single city.”

The wind picked up considerably.

“Why don’t we all just move back up here? In that city?”

There was a deafening whooshing that resembled the buzz of an insect only infinitely larger. The old man grabbed the kid and tackled him down the ridge opposite of the city. Another warmth, this one as large as the sun and as intense as fire engulfed the entire area. The devastating wind changed in the exact direction and the sky flashed before turning blood red. The kid and the old man got back on their feet and back to the top of the ridge. The city had crumbled and in its place there was a cloud shaped like something the kid was used to seeing in the cave. But he had never seen a mushroom that large before. Just as impressive as humanity’s ability to raise cities, the kid thought, was our astounding efficiency in razing them. The kid just stood there in disbelief that the war still found reason to destroy something in a world so beautiful. The old man stared regretfully at the city searching for something seemingly unfazed by the carnage.

“Let’s go,” the old man finally said, “we’re going to have to get going if we’re going to find another place to scavenge supplies if we want to get back before dark.”

“Yeah,” the kid said. That’s all he could say. Something so beautiful was there just a second ago, and now it’s gone. He saw the calm in the old man’s face and realized that that wasn’t the old man’s first mushroom cloud. To be a strong forager, he would have to look past the beauty and cruelty of the surface. There would only be the supplies and the trip home.

“I shouldn’t have eaten that ration,” the kid said. “War can be a wasteful thing.”

The old man knew that the kid was aware that there were more than enough rations to last them this trip. But the old man kept walking, not looking back at the kid who followed behind. The kid fidgeted with his rations and canteen compulsively making sure everything is in order and looked back one more time at the ruins of the city just over the horizon.

The Reluctant Dweller

“Dr. Harris,” Mr. Baker said as he knocked on the open door to Dr. William Harris’s laboratory. Mr. Baker was accompanied by a tall man who attempted to mask his unfamiliarity with labs by adjusting his fashionable tie.

“Mr. Baker!” William exclaimed as he lifted his head from his workbench. “To what do I owe the pleasure of a surprise visit from the C.E.O. of these facilities?”

“Surprise visit?” Mr. Baker was confused. “I was sure my assistant contacted you about my introducing your new supervisor today.”

“What’s that?” William stared blankly just beyond Mr. Baker and his guest before the memory of speaking with Mr. Baker’s assistant returned to him. “Of course! Now, I remember! I was working on this presentation for you. If you’ll have a seat by that clear acrylic box we can begin.” William gestured toward two empty chairs by the aforementioned box, which was empty.

“Before we do that, Dr. Harris,” Mr. Baker interjected, “I’d like to introduce you to Frank Cirello. He will be taking over my duties at this facility. The company’s expanding and my presence is needed elsewhere so Frank here will be your new boss by the end of the day.” William shook his hand and was less than appreciative that Frank saw handshakes as a variation of arm wrestling.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bill,” Frank said, a smile plastered on his face.

“William, if you don’t mind, or Dr. Harris,” William responded.

“I didn’t mean any offense,” Frank replied.

“I’m sure you didn’t, but I just prefer William to Bill,” William explained. “I find it’s less confusing since there are so many Bill’s around. There’s Bill in accounting, Billy the intern, Bill the postal worker who comes by--”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Harris,” Mr. Baker interrupted, “but we’re on a rather tight schedule so if we could please continue with the presentation.” William nodded in the positive and gestured for them to take their seats. Frank noticed that the box was no longer empty. There was a block of wood in it with some scribbling on one side.

“How did--?” Frank started but William held his hand up, asking for quiet. He held up a wooden block, the same size as the one in the box by Frank and Mr. Baker but there was no scribbling on it.

“If you’ll please just sign your names on this wood sample we can proceed,” William handed the sample and a felt pen to his guests. They signed their names and William took the block and placed it in another clear box located on the other side of the room.

“What I have here, Mr. Baker, Mr. Cirello,” William said as he raised the contraption he was working on before his former and new bosses arrived, “is what I call a ‘spatial-temporal displacement apparatus.’ In effect, it shoots out a form of radiation that sends its intended target back in time.”

William placed the block in the empty box and aimed the temporal displacement ray at the sample. A low hum emitted from the device and the block seemed to melt into the surrounding air.

“I have calculated for the block to appear two minutes ago in that box besides you which I have applied a vacuum to just hours ago.” William explained. “As you can see through the box, the wooden sample arrived two minutes ago when you sat down. You’ll find that those are your signatures on that wooden block.”

“That’s fantastic!” Mr. Baker exclaimed. “But why did you need to apply a vacuum to the second box?”

“I’m still working out the details but it seems that, on the molecular level, anything that gets sent back is rather unstable. Even interaction with oxygen molecules will cause the subject to deteriorate into nothingness.” William released the vacuum seal on the second box and as the air hissed back in the particles of the wooden sample dissolved into the air.

“That seems pretty useless,” Frank commented, “What good is going back in time if you end up splitting apart like a dandelion on a windy day?”

“It still needs work,” William explained, “But I assure you, this successful presentation is a step in the right direction.” Frank was skeptical that the spatial-temporal apparatus was worth investing in but fortunately for William, it was Mr. Baker who had faith in the absent-minded scientist’s work.

Fortunately the following weeks would quell the would-be rivalry between William Harris and Frank Cirello. During the usual work day, Frank would go out of his way to avoid being in contact with anything that would make him look idiotic, which it turns out meant he wouldn’t be seen much in the facility at all unless it was in front of the mirror in his office. William had the same policy for contact with other human beings with the exception of one: the receptionist Rachel Sherman. Underneath the thick glasses, mismatching wardrobe, and messily done hair was an exceptionally attractive woman, a small detail that would not go unnoticed by Dr. Harris.

However, the mousy genius lacked the wherewithal to start a conversation with anyone let alone someone like Rachel. William had chosen the day that he would make a convincing attempt to talk to her. He was nearly late for the first time as a result of practicing what the rest of the world would consider normal social protocol. It only took him thirty minutes to figure out which smile he would greet Rachel with. It wasn’t too eager, not too happy, and, most importantly, not very “toothy.” During his morning rituals, he would rehearse his opening line and would debate the best way to go about casually talking about the weather. William didn’t find the weather particularly interesting until he saw rain clouds roll in on his drive to work. The fates made it easy for him to convincingly ask, “Isn’t this crazy weather we’re having?”

William confidently stepped out of his car and took a deep breath as he heard the rumble of thunder in the distance. There was no rain as of yet but the chill in the air was enough to motivate the awkward out of him as he walked in through the door. Before the door closed behind him he was already uttering “Isn’t this cr--” before he stopped in disbelief.

“So it’s a date, then,” William overheard Frank say to Rachel at the front desk. Frank and Rachel turned to William as he froze on the welcome mat of the facility, just staring at them. “Ah, Bill, I’m glad you’re here, I’ve got some good news. Well, good news for the company, probably not good news for you. Mr. Baker’s given me the go ahead to cut funding to your research. But don’t worry; you’ll still have a job with us, just not designing useless machines.”

“But my research is progressing,” William pleaded, “I actually think I can start experimenting on live samples. The implications--”

“The implications are that you don’t know for sure if this thing will actually ever work and it would be a waste of time to waste your talents and the company’s money on it.” Frank’s voice was dripping with sarcasm at the utterance of the word “talents.”

William had no response. He stood there hoping that his alarm clock would go off in the distance and he would wake up in a world where Rachel hadn’t made a date with Frank and he still had his research to continue. But no such alarm would sound. Just more thunder in the distance and the gentle fall of rain on the parking lot asphalt.

“I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me,” Frank said all smug and content then turned to Rachel, “And I’ll see you tonight.” He adjusted his tie and jumped into the elevator leading to his corner office.

The rain came down harder now, the thicker clouds rolled in blocking out more sunlight. Lightning speared across the gray sky followed by an explosive boom of thunder. The fates have a funny sense of humor, William thought to himself. He walked past Rachel who barely noticed that William was still there and muttered under his breath, “Isn’t this crazy weather we’re having?”

William sat at his work bench just staring at the spatial-temporal apparatus for at least an hour. All his life’s work had culminated to this moment just mere moments of making his dreams of time travel a reality only to be thwarted by the petty misdeeds of Frank Cirello. He had perfected temporal displacement for the wooden samples and knew that live experimentation was the next step. However the molecular makeup of a living creature is much more complex than that of a wooden block. There was no way that Frank would allow live specimens to be purchased for experimentations and William refused to give up on his creation. Just then, Rachel walked in to hand him the forms declaring that all his research should cease by the end of the day.

“Thank you, Rachel,” William said. It seems his coyness subsided along with all his hope. “Rachel? Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Of course, William,” she answered. William never heard her voice directed at him before. He smiled without smiling, a bit of the shyness creeping back in.

“Do you like Mr. Cirello?”

“He’s all right, I guess. Why do you ask?”

“I see. No reason,” William said. He had much more he wanted to say. He wanted to know if she would have agreed to go out with him if he had asked her first. But he just said, “I see. Thank you, Rachel.”

He read the forms over and over again until the words blurred together into a gray mess on the paper. Looking around at all his equipment, he knew there was no way to continue his work without this particular lab. And he was not allowed to work in it. He took the spatial-temporal displacement apparatus and made some minor adjustments. William’s calculations showed that he would be able to send a living thing back in time but without experimentation would be unsure if a living organism would survive such a jump. Perhaps, William thought, Mr. Cirello would like to help in that respect.

William took the apparatus and modified it for a single blast large enough to send a full grown man an hour before getting shot with the radiation. His intended target: Frank Cirello. William’s heart raced as he walked to the elevator leading to Frank’s office. He was careful not to let Rachel see him carrying the device with him. As the elevator went up, William’s palms grew sweaty and his thumb trembled as it rested by the activator switch. All calculations indicated that Frank would disintegrate just minutes after being sent back. The elevator doors opened and William saw his target.

Frank’s back was to William who took the spatial-temporal apparatus and aimed as he stepped out of the elevator. He pushed a sequence of buttons on the side and the device hummed gently. William’s heart raced, a bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck as he took aim. One eye was watching Frank, who had not yet seen William just outside his office. The other was waiting for the green light to flash, indicating that it was ready to fire. William slowed his breathing in anticipation for the green light and as it did, he quickly flipped the activator switch. The radiation emitting from the apparatus seemed to do so in slow motion until at the last millisecond, Frank stepped to the side revealing the mirror he was standing in front of. The radiation, acting very much like a laser, reflected directly back to William who’s last word was a desperate gasp.

It was as if nothing had happened but upon peeking into Frank’s office, he noticed that Frank was nowhere to be seen and there was a brighter glare on the mirror. Impossible, William thought, it was raining just a second ago. There was a gentle rumble of thunder. William zipped back into the elevator and realized that he could undo his predicament by recalibrating the spatial-temporal displacement apparatus to malfunction when he attempts to use it on Frank just an hour later. When the elevator doors open, he hears Frank talking to Rachel at her desk.

William was disgusted at hearing anything that came out of Frank’s mouth especially one’s aimed to “flatter” the object of his affections. He hid just around the corner, careful not to be seen before the other version of him arrived. It hadn’t started to rain yet, so he knew that he would have to wait. As he reluctantly listened to Frank and Rachel’s one-sided conversation William realized that there were only two things he envied about Frank: his looks, and his ability to become impervious to the effects of social awkwardness. Perhaps, William speculated, confidence is merely embracing the blissfulness of some forms of ignorance. But then his mind focused on the task at hand: to sabotage his own device in order to create a paradox to save himself from himself.

He waited until Frank had asked Rachel out. It frustrated William that he could not change that particular time line. It would only be a few more seconds before the other William walked through the front doors to be greeted with the two worst pieces of news he could have gotten that day. The rain poured and the thunder sounded, seemingly more quiet than the first time around. Frank went back to his office and the other William went to sulk in his laboratory. The William who was sent back in time finally emerged from the corner he was hiding and knew there was a limited time in which he could act. But then he remembered something.

“She called me William,” he said to himself, “Everyone calls me Dr. Harris unless I ask them to call me William.” He was just a few feet from the lab where he kept the apparatus but he couldn’t help but wonder when he told Rachel to call him by his first name. William shook his head and diverted focus back to the device attempting to sneak into the lab.

“Good morning, Dr. Harris,” Rachel said.

“Um,” William said, “Morning, Ms. Sherman.”

“You can call me Rachel, Dr. Harris,” she said, smiling at him.

“William,” he responded, “You can call me William.”

“Isn’t this crazy weather we’re having?” she asked him. He smiled at the irony.

“Definitely. Very crazy.”

“I’m sorry about your research. Mr. Cirello said he’ll send down the paperwork in a bit.”

“That’s all right, I guess. It probably would have ended up killing me.” William was surprised at how much easier talking to her was becoming.

“Don’t say that. That’s a horrible thing to think!”

“I overheard that Frank asked you out.”

“He was pretty relentless. But I haven’t been out in a while so I thought, ‘Why not?’”

“It’s hard to believe you’re even single.”

“Why’s that?” Rachel asked, smiling up at William as she looked away from whatever it was she was typing up on her desk.

“I hope you don’t find this too forward but I’ve known you for just over a year now and one of my biggest regrets in that year is not having a chance to get to know you.” William wasn’t sure where this bout of courage was coming from. Rachel smiled, her cheeks just barely turning pink.

“There’s always time for that. There’s no need for regret. Like my mother always said, ‘It’s not healthy to dwell on the past.’”

“Sometimes we don’t have a choice.”

“So you’re some reluctant dweller of the past?”

“You can say that.” The two looked at each other like two long lost friends reunited.

“You can always change that. It’s never too late to become present-minded.” Her printer buzzed and the paperwork that Frank had mentioned earlier was printing itself out. She looked at the sheets quickly and looked back at him as if to say she’s sorry that she has to give those forms to him.

“I suppose it never is too late,” William said, ignoring the printer. He grabbed the edge of Rachel’s desk feeling instantly dizzy. The effects of time travel were wearing on him. His molecules were destabilizing and he could almost feel them peeling off of each other.

“Hang in there,” Rachel said to him, “Maybe we can have lunch together.”

“I’d like that,” William answered, trying his best to hide the burning pain in his gut. “But I’ve got to step outside for just a minute. You can bring those forms to me in my lab. I should be there by the time those finish printing.”

“Okay. Have a nice day, William,” Rachel smiled at William who smiled back as he walked out the front door into the rain.

The water poured down on him and he could feel each individual drop. His current state made the rain feel both exhilarating and painful at the same time. His body was disintegrating very much like the wooden blocks just weeks before. He peeked back at Rachel and saw his past-self sneaking into the elevator. He knew he had just a few more seconds and he thought about what Rachel had said. He was a reluctant dweller of the past but was given one last opportunity to live in the present. While the once mousy scientist said all he wanted to say to Rachel, he regretted not being able to meet her for lunch. William screamed as his body pulled apart into the atmosphere but no one could hear it over the sound of thunder and rain.