Mandible where the
figurine was, so I had accomplished part of my mission.
I got into the elevator and
activated the time machine. The elevator started to shimmer but just as it was
beginning to disappear into time, Big Al Pellagra stepped in.
We looked at each other, startled.
But before we could react to each other’s surprise presence, the elevator began
heading for home. Pellagra and I looked straight ahead during the journey like
two strangers on an elevator should. Our eyes strayed towards each other
occasionally, but then darted away.
The elevator arrived in 2003 and
the door opened. Both of us got out without saying anything and we went off in
opposite directions. I had the presence of mind to keep hold of the briefcase.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I arrived at my
office building and immediately ducked behind a parked police car. There were
dozens of police cars parked all around my building. Some of them with their
sirens howling. Sgt. Dodge, who was in charge of the operation, was walking
around trying to find out whose police cars those were and get them to shut
their sirens off.
“This is a covert operation,
people!” he shouted over his bullhorn. “Covert!”
About 35 cops were crowded into
the front entryway to my building, looking sharply around for any signs of me.
Hundreds more were on the roof. And a couple of cops were climbing up and down
the face of the building - walking a very tough beat if you ask me.
It had been so long, I had forgotten
the cops were trying to get that time machine away from me. It hadn’t been a
long time for them. Only half an hour had gone by for Sgt. Dodge since he had
battered down the door to my office and watched me disappearing into the past,
so that disappointment was still fresh in his memory.
One of the cops saw me crouching
behind his car and yelled at me to get out of there. This was a restricted
area, he informed me. Police personnel only. I was about to tell him that I had
a perfect right to be here because I was the guy the cops were looking for. I
was a real major player in this drama. But I decided it would be wiser to
remain silent. I’d let him win this round.
I backed away from the building
without being seen and yelled at more than two or three more times, then
stashed the time machine at my house, and went off to see Mandible.
I gave a complete verbal report of
what I’d done over the past eight months to Mandible and his new junkie
secretary, who was taking frantic and self-destructive notes of the meeting.
Mandible was fascinated by my story whenever the figurine or Pellagra was
mentioned, but didn’t seem interested in the rest of it - my months of
hardship, the binge drinking, the moments of self-doubt, and so on. I thought
those were the most interesting parts of the story, and sort of acted out some
of them, doing all the voices, but Mandible just made “hurry up” motions with
his hand during those parts of the story, which he characterized as “drivel”,
and told me to “skip on down” to the important stuff.
When I had finished my report,
Mandible seemed satisfied. He wasn’t upset at all that I hadn’t gotten the
figurine, he said, because I was going to go back there right now and get it.
“Bring it back here, or destroy
it,” he said. “Either way. It doesn’t really matter.”
This confused me. “Hey, do you
want this thing or not?”
“I want it. But if I can’t have
it, I don’t want anyone to have it.”
I could understand that. I feel
that way about everything. But I didn’t fancy the idea of going back to 1941.
It had been a bad year for me. So I said no, I’d remain here, if it was all the
same to the universe, if space and time didn’t mind.
Mandible insisted. He said if I
didn’t do what he wanted he would horsewhip me. I asked where he was going to
get a horsewhip at this time of day? All the horsewhip stores were closed. He
must have realized the truth of this because he changed his tack. He
figurine was, so I had accomplished part of my mission.
I got into the elevator and
activated the time machine. The elevator started to shimmer but just as it was
beginning to disappear into time, Big Al Pellagra stepped in.
We looked at each other, startled.
But before we could react to each other’s surprise presence, the elevator began
heading for home. Pellagra and I looked straight ahead during the journey like
two strangers on an elevator should. Our eyes strayed towards each other
occasionally, but then darted away.
The elevator arrived in 2003 and
the door opened. Both of us got out without saying anything and we went off in
opposite directions. I had the presence of mind to keep hold of the briefcase.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I arrived at my
office building and immediately ducked behind a parked police car. There were
dozens of police cars parked all around my building. Some of them with their
sirens howling. Sgt. Dodge, who was in charge of the operation, was walking
around trying to find out whose police cars those were and get them to shut
their sirens off.
“This is a covert operation,
people!” he shouted over his bullhorn. “Covert!”
About 35 cops were crowded into
the front entryway to my building, looking sharply around for any signs of me.
Hundreds more were on the roof. And a couple of cops were climbing up and down
the face of the building - walking a very tough beat if you ask me.
It had been so long, I had forgotten
the cops were trying to get that time machine away from me. It hadn’t been a
long time for them. Only half an hour had gone by for Sgt. Dodge since he had
battered down the door to my office and watched me disappearing into the past,
so that disappointment was still fresh in his memory.
One of the cops saw me crouching
behind his car and yelled at me to get out of there. This was a restricted
area, he informed me. Police personnel only. I was about to tell him that I had
a perfect right to be here because I was the guy the cops were looking for. I
was a real major player in this drama. But I decided it would be wiser to
remain silent. I’d let him win this round.
I backed away from the building
without being seen and yelled at more than two or three more times, then
stashed the time machine at my house, and went off to see Mandible.
I gave a complete verbal report of
what I’d done over the past eight months to Mandible and his new junkie
secretary, who was taking frantic and self-destructive notes of the meeting.
Mandible was fascinated by my story whenever the figurine or Pellagra was
mentioned, but didn’t seem interested in the rest of it - my months of
hardship, the binge drinking, the moments of self-doubt, and so on. I thought
those were the most interesting parts of the story, and sort of acted out some
of them, doing all the voices, but Mandible just made “hurry up” motions with
his hand during those parts of the story, which he characterized as “drivel”,
and told me to “skip on down” to the important stuff.
When I had finished my report,
Mandible seemed satisfied. He wasn’t upset at all that I hadn’t gotten the
figurine, he said, because I was going to go back there right now and get it.
“Bring it back here, or destroy
it,” he said. “Either way. It doesn’t really matter.”
This confused me. “Hey, do you
want this thing or not?”
“I want it. But if I can’t have
it, I don’t want anyone to have it.”
I could understand that. I feel
that way about everything. But I didn’t fancy the idea of going back to 1941.
It had been a bad year for me. So I said no, I’d remain here, if it was all the
same to the universe, if space and time didn’t mind.
Mandible insisted. He said if I
didn’t do what he wanted he would horsewhip me. I asked where he was going to
get a horsewhip at this time of day? All the horsewhip stores were closed. He
must have realized the truth of this because he changed his tack. He
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