signal I can lock onto in the past - then travel is theoretically
possible. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it earlier. Maybe I will (a little
time travel humour for you there).
So there you
have it. I plan, at 9am tomorrow, to switch on The Device. This, if my
hypothesis is correct, will create a bend in space-time. I will then wait
precisely sixty seconds before triggering the return code on the same Device.
If my calculations are correct the newly created bend in space-time will
instantly ‘search’ for (I genuinely believe that is the correct word; time is
coherent) its mate. The bend in space-time will wrap the intervening sixty
seconds into a timeless void. I foresee two possibilities when this is done.
Either the universe will implode, or I will be able to step back through the
link connecting the two wormholes. Again this is theory (yet a leap of faith
worth taking), but the connection should hold until I am ready to return.
Remember, the wormhole isn’t a physical tunnel, it is warped space-time that my
Device (detailed instructions of which will be found in the appendix) will be
able to lock onto and return me at the press of a button.
We shall see.
Let’s hope I get to write a second entry in this journal - at the very least
that will prove I haven’t destroyed the entire universe and the space-time
continuum. Wish me luck!
Chapter 9
With the phone
at his feet, Tony grabbed the first thing to hand: a porcelain mug. He threw it
with full force at the kitchen wall - a way to make it all not true, a way to
take it back.
He pounded the
counter top and roared at the top of his lungs. He couldn’t care less what Troy
upstairs thought. These worries were minuscule specks on life, the needless
by-products of an existence which occasionally exploded in your face. There
were no tears, but his heart was pounding as though it were attempting to expel
something from within. Panic resided in him but at no point did he doubt the
truth. As his heartbeat intensified, miraculously his breathing calmed. This
conflict brought a piercing headache which gave him pause: to take a second,
breathe, and calm down. He looked to the broken fragments of the mug which lay
like ice caps upon his black kitchen floor. He spread them out with his foot,
crushing a couple of larger ones to see what shapes they would produce, all the
time forcing his mind blank. He didn’t want to think, didn’t want anything to
bring back the fear and panic that was subsiding within. But he couldn’t do it.
His mind fell to Emma.
Despite the
jokes and insinuations of Andy and Simon about his relationship with Emma - insinuations
he’d regularly brush aside with a forced laugh and a second pint - he couldn’t
help admit that hearing her name was a ray of sunshine in his otherwise cloudy
world. He could remember the first time he had ever seen her, the way that door
had briefly opened and shut on her was imprinted in his memory like a
photograph. The Hamiltons supermarket in Posslingford had hardly brought many
positive things into his life, but an everlasting friendship had been one. He
had already been working there on and off for six months whilst whiling away
the remaining college months before embarking on a university course he had
realised wasn’t going to be the passport into a successful career his parents
would have hoped. But back then he had been living in the here and now, the
only thing that mattered was the job and ensuring shelves remained stacked,
floors remained swept and floats remained accurate. He was aware how pathetic
this all sounded but the complete and utter lack of responsibility of those
days created a freedom he would never attain once his true working life began.
He had been on
the search for Bob the caretaker when it had happened. Tony's main
responsibility for that Wednesday (it was definitely a Wednesday, strange how
random specifics lodged in the memory) was to ensure the delivery driver for
that day
possible. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it earlier. Maybe I will (a little
time travel humour for you there).
So there you
have it. I plan, at 9am tomorrow, to switch on The Device. This, if my
hypothesis is correct, will create a bend in space-time. I will then wait
precisely sixty seconds before triggering the return code on the same Device.
If my calculations are correct the newly created bend in space-time will
instantly ‘search’ for (I genuinely believe that is the correct word; time is
coherent) its mate. The bend in space-time will wrap the intervening sixty
seconds into a timeless void. I foresee two possibilities when this is done.
Either the universe will implode, or I will be able to step back through the
link connecting the two wormholes. Again this is theory (yet a leap of faith
worth taking), but the connection should hold until I am ready to return.
Remember, the wormhole isn’t a physical tunnel, it is warped space-time that my
Device (detailed instructions of which will be found in the appendix) will be
able to lock onto and return me at the press of a button.
We shall see.
Let’s hope I get to write a second entry in this journal - at the very least
that will prove I haven’t destroyed the entire universe and the space-time
continuum. Wish me luck!
Chapter 9
With the phone
at his feet, Tony grabbed the first thing to hand: a porcelain mug. He threw it
with full force at the kitchen wall - a way to make it all not true, a way to
take it back.
He pounded the
counter top and roared at the top of his lungs. He couldn’t care less what Troy
upstairs thought. These worries were minuscule specks on life, the needless
by-products of an existence which occasionally exploded in your face. There
were no tears, but his heart was pounding as though it were attempting to expel
something from within. Panic resided in him but at no point did he doubt the
truth. As his heartbeat intensified, miraculously his breathing calmed. This
conflict brought a piercing headache which gave him pause: to take a second,
breathe, and calm down. He looked to the broken fragments of the mug which lay
like ice caps upon his black kitchen floor. He spread them out with his foot,
crushing a couple of larger ones to see what shapes they would produce, all the
time forcing his mind blank. He didn’t want to think, didn’t want anything to
bring back the fear and panic that was subsiding within. But he couldn’t do it.
His mind fell to Emma.
Despite the
jokes and insinuations of Andy and Simon about his relationship with Emma - insinuations
he’d regularly brush aside with a forced laugh and a second pint - he couldn’t
help admit that hearing her name was a ray of sunshine in his otherwise cloudy
world. He could remember the first time he had ever seen her, the way that door
had briefly opened and shut on her was imprinted in his memory like a
photograph. The Hamiltons supermarket in Posslingford had hardly brought many
positive things into his life, but an everlasting friendship had been one. He
had already been working there on and off for six months whilst whiling away
the remaining college months before embarking on a university course he had
realised wasn’t going to be the passport into a successful career his parents
would have hoped. But back then he had been living in the here and now, the
only thing that mattered was the job and ensuring shelves remained stacked,
floors remained swept and floats remained accurate. He was aware how pathetic
this all sounded but the complete and utter lack of responsibility of those
days created a freedom he would never attain once his true working life began.
He had been on
the search for Bob the caretaker when it had happened. Tony's main
responsibility for that Wednesday (it was definitely a Wednesday, strange how
random specifics lodged in the memory) was to ensure the delivery driver for
that day
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