Popping Down, Time Punking

art work by; behance.net/gallery/Steampunk/6956193

Dear Anthony, this is goodbye!

I am writing this to my blog, as your girlfriend I am no longer returning, pack up my stuff if you want. I can't say when or if I'll be needing anything from the present day.

We have made a unique existence in an altogether alternate world. The past we are inhabiting has almost none of the restriction of your world, so returning for more than a few hours is unbearable. So long as a few basic rules are followed we can live here indefinitely.

Presently we are a motley collection of entertainers, craftsman/engineers and historians, such that we are perpetually occupied with creating a fantastical world set in the past, inhabited by intellectuals from the future...Utopia, I would say. So no I 'm not returning to your tiny controlling world of limitations. That would be a profound folly.

The major aspect of dwelling in the past has to do with removing anything that isn't of the period. The chances of something from the future contaminating the present day is strictly forbidden and will get you thrown out of the past. This cell phone is always on the Pullman car with the centrifuge and any other paraphernalia from the future. We have this menagerie of actors, musicians, and storytellers on a constant quest for the next amazing event in time to inhabit for a night, and then move on. It's all very well thought out, so long as we make a quick leap back to cover our tracks, nothing is altered, and off we go to the next magical soiree.

Today we moved the Pullman with our steam driven hauler out of the New York station to Buffalo where we are planning a great fish fry with the local beer and music on the grand pipe organ recently installed in the new theater. Then we're off to Niagara for a midnight bash at the falls. So you see we are only limited by the ability to transfer the centrifuge and that requires rails. So that is where you come in. The party here has grown to 36 and we require a much greater centrifuge, one we can situate on a lighter than air ship we plan to build. This will enable us to navigate almost endlessly in almost any direction.

I know you are asking, “what's in this for me?” Well we voted and it was decided to allow you to venture along on the maiden voyage, but you must agree to not cause any conflict. The popping down to previous time frames needs to be a stress-free experience, that is the overriding rule. You must agree to not be obstructionist in any way if you want to be allowed into the Pullman and the previous regions of time. I am sure you will agree, and given a little time to reorient your feelings, I feel I can manage it with you as well.

Anthony, I have had several months to consider our relationship, while I left a few days ago, you may take more time, it is for the best. I'm not going into relationships for a while so do not think I am replacing you. This is such a journey, as has never been tried before and relationships aren't all they used to be anyway.

Well Anthony, I do hope you are able to agree to our conditions, because there is one rule we have that isn't as harmless as the rest. The protection of obstructionists dwelling in the future is not our concern. 

"Time Punk" (part 4 cont. from "Nobody Home")

art work by; behance.net/gallery/Steampunk/6956193

   Hellooo Anthony! I am just posting this to say, I won't be coming to work, EVER! Oh, and to tell you I won't be returning the Centrifuge either. We are fine and dandy right where we are. You see the land of the past is not so complicated, as we had imagined. Well digressions abound, one of the drawbacks of visiting previous times, past tense becomes so confusing. I can hear myself like a plaintive echo. Parenthetically, I bore myself constantly as a result. All seems so trite to one who has visited an anomaly such as times and places. As for the past, it works nicely once one comprehends the limits.

So, from now on I am in control. You shall receive communications on your cell or here on my blog. I am posting my observations and a few snaps like the selfie you see there already. I took the liberty of housing the Centrifuge in an old rail car, don't worry, I didn't mess things up this time. It was headed to the bottom of the bay and I just love the grand interior, (more pics of that later). The deal is we can go any where with tracks, and pop up or down from that platform...soo groovy.

Well these are my conditions, you will accept them as you have no choice. Ha ha, blimey, I love doing this to my old professor! 

First; you must stay out of the past for the present, break that rule and you, your family, whatever you hold dear will change in a heartbeat and there's nothing you or anyone can do about it. Every Time-jump goes through all the parallel layers like a flash bulb going off, so you can't be missed. 

Second; I will visit from time to time to see how the research is going. I think we want to attempt a wider swath of visible zone integrity. Oh yes, you probably had not theorized the limits of the spatial element. The Centrifuge is capable of reassembling only a limited parallel of visible space due to the size of electron charge. So that is what you will be working on now, I believe the answer lies in a larger ion redactor, but that's your department. 

Third; neither you nor any of the government meddlers are allowed in the RTC (reverse time-continuum) this is an absolute rule. There is no violence, death or illness here and I intend to keep it that way. It is a magical ride that gives me eternal bliss so do not mess this up!

So Anthony, I had to remove myself to a safe place. I expect you are wondering, “what was that all about?” The phone calls, the drama, so dorky. Well, my younger self, made too many mistakes. All the jumping I was doing ran the risk of too many of me popping up here there and everywhere, likely has to do with the infinite parallel mirror imaging of the photon laser. You get the snippet, I think it can result in dragging a parallel subject from one's recent past, so embarrassing. Oh don't worry I left him on a plush island that won't be discovered for two hundred years after he dies, I can be so stupid in some of my earlier self’s! God I hate previous duplicity, such a whiner, my later self is much more refined, you engender that I am sure?

Pshaw, now I am much improved on reassembling previous events. Care to discover who committed an unsolved crime? More on that.......Oh, Gawd! I am as bored as a drooling glitch zone. They do happen you know, dreariness can be oddly appealing, compared to the uninhabitable past. 

Hey! Did I tell you that everyone from the past is like a slo-mo shadow, you can only see through blue lenses? Pretty gnarly daddy-o! I believe their forms leave an electron path that exists after they move on, crazy wild, Anthony, hey, behave and I might just pop you down for a visit, since BTW, I just last night, popped your girlfriend down, she really digs time punking, and I really dig her!. Tah tah!

"Hitherto, Minds" (a 3MF entry)

Upon hearing his name for the first time, coming out of the coma, Bascomb was confused. Both his mother and the doctor repeated it continuously as if it alone contained the magical curing power able to return his brain to lucidity.

“Bascomb!”

“Bascomb!”

“Bascomb!”

He pondered the sound but for some obtuse reason his brain seemed to settle instead on “button, button, button! That and a craving for something for which he had previously called beer.

Hitherto, minds such as his were the most taken for granted element of a young life. Now the underappreciated activity of simple synapses and their logical firings would determine whether or not he would cradle his unborn child or even direct his fingers and arms to simply strike a match, or play pull-my-finger with his firecracker nephew.

Tubes ran into his limp extremities and monitors, arranged along his bedside  whined and beeped his present condition. One showed brain wave function, while a notable activity persisted there, his family had been warned, that it might simply be a reaction to pain. The morphine was gradually being reduced to trick the chance of a wakeful response and learn of possible brain damage.

For three days he had teetered between the land of the living and the micros wherein lay the living lost. He alone knew where he had been all these weary days and nights. Pure exhaustion carried his mind through a mental parallel to see the trace physique of those about his youthful purpose. Harmlessly bumping into the thoughts of the unemployed actor who cleaned the room with a swivel mop and weighed his shaky career while sitting on the foot of the bed and sipping from a silver flask.

Pale light of morning allowed him the opportunity to see his doctor massaging the shoulders of the ward nurse as she wept over the legal papers informing her of her husband’s demand for divorce.

In that period as his wife stood nearby, he learned his child was male and had all his toes and fingers. But the thing that constantly played along his mental path was the feel of the little girl, while in his arms. Her cold skin clammy in his hands. How still and lifelessly she had drooped in his grip. Struggling to revive her, without hesitation, tossing off the gloves to help make tight, mouth to mouth followed by chest compressions. He felt certain there was a pulse before he gave her over to the cops. His brain tightened again and again on her gentle fingers and rich dark eyes that seemed to reach far into dark infinity. Deep and consoling, now she tried to comfort him.

“It’s not so bad. I already have new friends,” her whispers seemed to fly into his languid mind. Her coaxing smile seemed irresistible.

Now his EKG raced wildly and the doctor called for a nurse. His eyelids fluttered, spine arching in grotesque pain, eyes rolling back, he blacked out from the pain in his charred hands.

“Increase the morphine drip!” He heard the doctor tell the Ward Nurse. His mother sobbed and backed out to give room to the staff, knocking to the floor, a flowered plant and bumping into the unemployed actor, who stood just outside the open door. His mind was wrapped with the thought of how he might play the fire fighter hero in the movie version of the story and how it might make a better role if he did not make it.

Time: Broken (continued from “Nobody Home”)

(continued from “Nobody Home”)

Okay Anthony, I'm back messaging again! We're definitely dealing with a serious mess. Low charge on my phone so this may end shortly, dunno... Remember the electricity from a potato trick? I managed with six good-sized ones and some copper wires and zinc-plated nails to trickle onto this thing so I think this will be my best hope for fixing things here and getting back. God I hope we can do it!
I've had some time to consider the mess I'm in...all of us I guess. Whatever is going on here I don't know, but things are freak'n slowed way down somehow. Even the light seems less brilliant and when I cranked up a Victrola, the speed was waaaay slow. So, if I get the Centrifuge to reset, I think I can jump ahead and get things right. Nut'n to loose, right? Well this is the deal...everyone in the past is dead right? That seems logical, and no matter where I go it's like a constant, not even a bug, so I am looking at a loop in the light from a spot in time. I can move around in it and I can touch stuff, but whatever I do may mess with all of us in the future....I can jump from one point to another but it's always just like a picture. So if I break something or try to hide the gun Booth used to kill Lincoln, I will make things in the future shift a little, or even a lot. I wonder if I may already have had a big shift in what we were all doing before I began pulling pages from that sears catalog in the outhouse. Maybe the County Judge would have bought his kid the bicycle on those pages, and he won't break his neck, instead, he'll go fight in Europe, and end up killing Einstein's dad or something...RIGHT? Well just imagine if the Germans ended up with the 'bomb' and well, the good ole USA is a giant wasteland now? Crap! Heavy I know...but that's why I got to jump ahead and fix the stuff I messed with, even if it only works one more time...right?
Anthony, I removed some papers from that outhouse, for a souvenir, and...when I left there, stuff had already changed. Like that! I mean there was sidewalks when I got here and now there is just a dirt path, so crap, I really did stink up the place!
When you get this, your day should be just like it would have been. The control panel is working, got into it and made an override and it will send me one day earlier. I think that's best so I don't tax the power supply making a long jump....save some to get back....well the thing is I could reappear right where someone left a wagon or whatever just so you know. That could just make things even worse, jeez, what a mess. As best I can tell, I should pop right back into that open spot you had picked. I hope the chamber doesn't get damaged...anyway, if you have to come after me, that's where I'll be.

So that's it for now, wish me luck, and if it's not possible...well I'll understand. I will just wait and keep out of trouble, but if it doesn't work out, I think I will need to disappear. Sorta like you said, “If you aren't part of the solution just get out of the way and let the future do it's thing...right?” So, here's to us and man I hope we can pull this off...cuz this place will really get you messed up fast! Heck on your end I probably sound like I'm inhaling helium when I talk, ha ha, hysterical eh?
Well, it's been cool, and scary, so ok. I'm signing off, man, bye for now. Oh yeah, don’t let my kid think I was a total screw up, I'm going to fix this time thing, man, after all I broke it.

Now if I could just get that slo-mo version of “Yellow Rose of Texas” out of my head...….click.

Nobody Home

Anthony, I hope you get this...in case you don't I left a note explaining everything. (Wow, that was dumb!) I'm not sure how to tell you... I guess I just have to come right out and say it. I went into the centrifuge tonight, I thought I would go blind from the bright light, but I'm alright, I mean it really works and you are truly a genius!  The control is malfunctioning, so I need you to please override every thing from there. Well, sorry but I knew you would just talk me out of it, but I'm fine, no side effects. Man, all your theories were right. So?...I am talking to you from  one hundred years ago! Since I am able to hear the voice mail message on my cell, I think your concept of time parallels was right. If you hear me, pick up, or call me back. So exciting...click

Anthony! Okay, it's 2 am, call as soon as you hear this. I know you will because I called my voice mail and changed the message and then called back. God it's cool, call it and listen, it's like I'm talking to myself in the future. I really want to thank you for giving me this, well, this great chance to work in your lab. Don't think I just wanted to take the glory or something, that's all yours. You just consider me your little human Guinea Pig, and well thanks. Got some great pictures on my phone and sent them to my blog...I was looking at them just a bit ago on my cell. Everything is so astonishing, did you know the courthouse had his and hers outhouses? Jeez they did use Sears in there, I wonder if I shouldn't have left a loaf from the future? Well...call....click

Anthony, Hey it's getting light and I think people will be getting up soon. I really don't want to make contact with. ..you know, just in case....isn't that right? Call me as soon as you get to the lab and reverse the dynamo. I wonder if I can bring anything back without messing with the time continuum? Just a letter from the trash or something...hey, call, it's so incredible, I want to talk to someone and see what they're like...bye....click

Anthony, it's 6 am, I just called the New York Times, crazy you know... just so I could hear them pickup. Well it just rang, so I guess they must not man that line...right...So it's light here now...There isn't any movement yet. Very lovely..and quiet. Well we will have to go over all this, I have like 100 pictures on my phone. Call...call soon...click

Okay Anthony, this is so weird. Everything is like a museum. I can't find anyone anywhere. What's strange is that there had to be people here not long ago. Lamps are burning in the homes, it's like they all went somewhere. Well I probably shouldn't have entered peoples homes here, I don't think ...man! It's too crazy... I didn't think it will hurt... In case anything goes wrong, well...you know....if you can't bring me back? That's so lame, to hear me say...just don't come here! I can't exactly say why because we didn't figure on this one...but I sorta think there isn't anyone here. I looked all over and there's nobody, it's uninhabited. I mean it makes sense when you think about it, right?...click

Anthony....I called everyone, I can't get a pickup. Anthony, I think I screwed up...

BATTERY LOW....BATTERY STRENGTH CRITICAL...PLACE PHONE IN CHARGING CRADLE...BATTERY LOW........ . . . . . 

continued in "Time Broken"

Freedoms Mistress

              

For some time the carriage rattled along the narrow streets of Washington, stopping before the shop whose window declared “McLogsdon Tailoring”. The occupant stepped out and crossed the walk to the door.

            The proprietor brightened to see his best customer, stepping forward, hand extended.

            “What is the purpose of your visit today?” he requested politely.

            “I am afraid there is an element for concern,” adding hesitantly, “I wish not to carp.”  

The tailor asked in astonishment. “Pray, tell?” 

The gent reached and turned out a hip pocket made from a bit of cloth so small it might only hold a few coins.

“Mary and Joseph!” He remarked, his brogue slipping. “Stitcher Girl!” He shouted dabbing a hanky to his brow. There appeared through the curtained door a young lady, shyly bending her bonneted head toward the floor. “Here, say the reason for which ye have placed such a margin on pocket material? Have you no knowledge of the importance of my distinguished patron?”  Her silence explained nothing, but there came the sound of a great crashing sound from the street and attention was drawn by all to the shouts and accusations of a calamity without. Instantly the tailor’s eyes were drawn to the event and quickly he departed to determine what sort of damage had occurred.

Silently the two remained to wonder at the awkward moment that filled the room. Abruptly there could be heard the sound of a bubbling and the woman quickly brought her hand to her mouth. “Please sir,” she pleaded and left to see to the spilling, onto the hearth, in the rear quarters. “masters dinner!” she cried and hurried to the neglected kettle. There came a shriek of pain and a lid clattered to the floor.

“It’s not a problem.” The gent shouted to the empty store, “I shall return at a later time.”  With no response he moved toward the back, asking “can I help?” Slowly he pulled back the curtain to see the woman kneeling on the floor, her hand reddened from the steam of the pot,  trying to lift the heavy lid with her good hand.

            Abruptly she spoke from her pain. “Yes Mister President, you can free my people!” she raised her tearing eyes to meet his shocked face. Now the tables had suddenly turned and it startled him to be talked to with such sauce from a darkie. Slowly he bent to lift her and grasped her reddened hand.

“It’s not terribly bad,” he said soothingly, covering the spot with his firm hand.

His touch cooled her pain. Her eyes filling with tears; she worked them off her cheeks with her good hand. Slowly their hands reached around each other into a tight embrace. There was a long silence and he looked down to her tranquil face, “Be you the first to know my writing today takes up your very cause, have you people in the South?

She nodded, drawing her reddened hand toward his face; together they felt the heat there.

“Your britches pockets was a contrivance, I had to speak to you somehows” she said softly into his coat. “He will beat me, Mister Lincoln.”

“No, he will not.” The president mumbled turning for the door. “You are a very clever woman. I shall think of you as I complete my proclamation today.” Then, meeting the tailors return, “I am found of my new change pockets and intend to reward your stitcher, and you, with more orders. They have livened me with an immense feeling of freedom” he stated proudly as he returned to the busy street.