Time and Technicalities (Timewalkers Book 1)

by RP Halliway

  “He was talking about needing a device made and wondering if the plant could handle it. I crowded in closer, and listened. The plant manager wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t sure of the cost to make it. The man said he didn’t have much money, but thought this device would help many people.

  “Being just a kid, I asked how much money it would take. I didn’t understand business at all, and they all had a good laugh. ‘Twenty thousand is an off-the-cuff number,’ the plant manager told me. I was carrying the drawing of the device so I pulled it out and was going to ask about it. ‘How much to build something like this?’ I asked.

  “But as soon as I opened the page and the man saw it, he froze. ‘That’s my device!’ he shouted. And he demanded to know where I stole the drawing from. I told him I dreamed about it, and felt it was important, so I drew it from memory. He didn’t believe me at first, since I was only 14 years old, but I adamantly swore that I drew it from my dream. He finally believed me, and then I offered to help pay for the device.”

  “That was my first investment,” Postice said, wiping his face. “Fourteen years old, a ten dollar investment to that man. For the next two years, I worked every day, and every cent I earned went to that device.”

  “I remember the day too.” Postice’s face beamed as he continued the story. “Not quite as clearly as the device—mind you—but do remember the day. The first device prototype was on the desk. The man thanked me, not just for my pittance of an investment compared to the others, but for my determination and faith in him. I had probably four hundred dollars invested at that point, so definitely not much—but it worked. We all watched it. The first pacemaker. And medicine changed forever.”

  “That’s amazing,” Evie said. Even after what she and Silas had been through, it was still do hard to believe. “All from a dream.”

  “My dream,” Postice muttered, shaking his head looking down. “Be careful of those damn dreams!” He fixed his eyes on Evie and Silas. “Every dream demands a sacrifice!”

  “Sacrifice?” Evie asked, her eyes wide as she swallowed hard.

  “Yes, a sacrifice. Dreams are never free!”

  “Your dream had a sacrifice?” Silas asked, the words still not fully registering in his mind.

  “It did. I sacrificed my youth for this dream. This damn dream! I was made an honorary investor in the company because of what I did, but it cost me my entire youth. What is that worth? I started making money—more money than I ever imagined—from this first investment. It was happy times. I was carefree, and working on whatever I felt like. I married, and together we had two children. Very happy times.”

  “Then the second dream!” Postice said. “Damn dreams!” He looked away, lost in thought for a few moments.

  “Another invention dream. And I was caught—hook, line and sinker. I was a man obsessed, searching for the purpose and meaning of the dream. Day and night, I couldn’t stop trying to figure out the meaning of that second dream. But I found it. I discovered it, and poured more of my life into that pursuit. And, of course, it paid off beyond measure.

  “After weeks and months of non-stop searching and then two years developing it, all that work paid off. And as a reward, I took the family to a party to celebrate the kickoff. And I celebrated too much. Way too much.” His voice was croaked softly.

  “What happened?” Evie asked, patting his hand.

  He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Fate will always settle the balance. On the way home, I was driving, and was drunk or tired. I must’ve fallen asleep. The crash. My two boys . . .” The old man’s voice cracked with the despair of the story. “That was the sacrifice fate required for my second fortune.”

  “Oh, you poor man,” Evie said, holding back tears. “I am so sorry.” Silas and Evie shared a look, recalling the tragic story from their web search of him, now hearing it from the source.

  “But I made money, and learned and learned. I kept at it, and the money poured in. More advances in medicine, helping people—that’s how I justified everything. I consoled myself that I helped save so many people, that it was almost fair that I had to lose my two boys.

  “Then the third dream came. That one was easier to search, as I had teams of people working for me now. I promised that I wouldn’t ever be obsessed or neglect my wife because of the dreams again. I found it—or my team did—and more investments and results, unimaginable results. It was perfect! But fate is not to be denied.”

  The old man looked over at Evie and the garden, his age fully showing. “Who could have ever predicted? In the middle of the day, a police chase—how random is that? What are the odds? Two speeding cars, someone trying to get away, another someone trying to catch them, and my wife right in the middle.”

  He took a moment to regain his composure. “That was less than two years after moving here.”

  “That is so sad,” Evie said, looking toward the vivid colors in the garden. “You said your wife planted the garden?”

  “No,” Postice corrected Evie, and turned, looking her in her eyes. “My wife is the garden? That is her burial plot.”

  “Oh no!” Evie cried, taking the flower out of her hair.

  “Don’t fret, Evie,” Postice said, gently putting the flower back into her hair. “She is always with me that way, and I have made peace with it. I have come to understand the demand of the dreams. And have never accepted another dream. I never will.”

  “Then we shouldn’t either,” Silas said, understanding the scope of their possible future.

  “You are free to choose,” Postice said. “You can ignore the dream, or you can choose to pursue it.”

  “But your story,” Evie said. “I don’t like the idea of the dreams demanding a sacrifice!”

  “I don’t either,” Silas said.

  And then the reality of the situation hit Evie, her face draining of blood. “We’ve already accepted one dream! What does that mean? What sacrifice will we need to offer?” Evie seemed on the verge of tears.

  “Do you know?” Silas asked Postice desperately, his hands starting to shake.

  “Honestly, no. I don’t think the type of sacrifice is ever the same. For me, it seemed to be a trade—money for life.”

  “Wait. We aren’t after money,” Evie reasoned. “So that means there is a different sacrifice?”

  “There is no way to know. That’s why I was so interested in Roger’s work. At some point he has to stumble upon dreams. He may be able to see the possibilities. What can you tell me about his progress?”

  Silas shifted in his seat. “You probably need Roger to explain it. I can probably only explain small bits.”

  “Then start there.” Postice smiled with a friendly tone now.

  Silas and Evie explained what they understood about Roger’s work. Postice hit the soft ground with the cane several times at key points, as if to take note of the information.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  Both Silas and Evie laughed. “Isn’t that enough?”

  “It’s definitely not enough,” Postice said, shaking his head.

  Evie straightened up in her seat. “Well, Jessica has a theory of souls living outside of the multiverse. Roger also says that it is possible that each person is always the same person—and when we die, we just ‘spawn’ into our life in a new universe.”

  “Very intriguing,” Postice said, drifting into thought.

  Chapter 19

  “Will you allow me to share a few more stories?” Postice asked.

  Evie sensed deep longing in his voice. For company, or camaraderie, or just a connection with someone that understands.

  “Of course,” she said.

  “I haven’t been idle these last many years,” the old man said. “I met Roger at a convention a few years back, as he probably told you.”

  “He did,” Silas said. “As did Mademoiselle Ran
ier and Esmeralda.”

  Postice smiled brightly, apparently remembering the two after all his searching. “Oh my! Two absolutely lovely ladies!”

  “They weren’t so complementary toward you,” Evie said, then felt her face warm at revealing something said in confidence.

  Postice patted her hand. “Don’t worry, dear. I am well aware of my reputation. In fact, it is my reputation at these conventions that helps me separate truth from fraud. And believe me when I say I have exposed a great many frauds over the years. It seems to be a gift that I can expose a hoax so quickly.”

  “I can believe it,” Silas said.

  “To get back to my stories. I have been searching for the source of my dreams—and now yours, it would seem.”

  “Have you found anything?” Evie asked. Knowing the source could answer so many questions.

  “I have. And the answer is rather scary.” He paused, waiting to see if there were any objections. When there were none, he went on. “I believe Mademoiselle Ranier can interact with several parallel realms—or universes. And little Esmeralda can see magical things as well. These realms . . . universes . . . exist, and are closely related.”

  “Oh!” Evie interrupted. “Like Roger’s probabilities.”

  “Probabilities?”

  “Yes. Roger says that there are trillions of trillions of universes, and they clump together by something called a probability density function.” She held up her hand and spread her fingers. “They clump like spread fingers. Like right now is this point,” she pointed to the tip of her middle finger, “and this entire tip is things like what color socks someone decides to wear. And these parts,” Evie pointed to the web of her fingers, “are things that might never be possible, like dinosaurs typing. And this finger,” Evie pointed to her ring finger, “is something big being different, like the Normans losing in 1066,” Evie showcased the whole tip of the her ring finger, “and all the different socks for those people.”

  “Very intriguing theories,” Postice said.

  “And inside each finger are trillions and trillions of universes,” Silas added, hoping that he understood enough to be confident.

  “Interesting,” Postice said. “My investigation has led me to a similar conclusion. The only way the dreams can be possible is if someone, or something, is able to travel across these universes and times.”

  “Have you been able to prove it?” Evie asked.

  Postice shook his head. “I don’t believe there will ever be proof of any kind for any of these ideas. Much like ‘what happens after death’ research, there will never be proof of a definitive answer, only speculation and anecdotal evidence.”

  “Anecdotal?” Silas asked.

  “Evidence that hasn’t been generated through a rigorous scientific process,” Postice said.

  “Like the stories of people visiting heaven with the bright light,” Evie said.

  “Quite right. There is no scientific way to prove that.”

  “Can you tell us your evidence?” Evie asked. Even if it wasn’t proven, it might lead to answers or at least a next step.

  Postice nodded. “I spent years traveling across the country, and world, searching for people, much like Ranier and Esmeralda. Compiling a list of all of their abilities and what they can and can’t do. For example, Esmeralda can essentially see the collective ‘present’ and determine if there are any abnormalities that pop up. And Mademoiselle Ranier, and other true psychics, can do more than just the present—they can tap into the past, sometimes far in the past, but are limited to how many realms they can interact with.

  “I haven’t actually investigated the spiritual side yet, but that might be something for the coming year. Reincarnation stories and recalled memories are very rare, but highly unique, which makes them both contradict established science, and also get rejected by science. But taken as a whole, there is significant evidence for the existence of the multiverse, and for abilities to interact across and through the multiverse. But dreams are a completely different category. People that can produce dreams are the only ones that can travel across ‘time.’ And production is different than viewing.”

  “What do you mean?” Evie asked.

  “Projecting a dream into another person’s mind is an action that takes a significant ability. Watching a movie takes little effort. Anyone can do it. But making a movie takes tremendous effort. Viewing time, past and future, may likewise take little effort. But affecting, or giving a dream . . . that would be quite a feat.”

  “Viewing past and future is easier than giving someone a dream?” Silas asked.

  “Exactly,” Postice said.

  “Like Mademoiselle Ranier and Esmeralda,” Evie said. “They can ‘view’ these other universes, but not necessarily do anything in them?”

  “To the best of my knowledge, yes. I can’t answer for them, but in all of my interviews with different subjects, all of them were able to prove—to my satisfaction—that there was an element of ‘viewing’ something other than their current surroundings, but none of them were able to offer proof of being able to manipulate the other environment. Viewing seems to be a lot easier than actually changing or manipulating.”

  “That means that whoever is giving us these dreams must be pretty powerful?” Evie asked.

  “Most likely. They must have very advanced abilities. And with all of life, there is probably a give and take. A strong ability to interact with the mind, might mean less physical abilities, or someone with a lot of resources probably doesn’t have a lot of youthful energy, and so on. But I can’t say for sure, because I have no proof of any of these beings existing. Especially the ones that can travel to past and future.”

  “But you suspect they exist?” Evie asked.

  “I believe Roger used the spiral example for describing a person’s life, correct?” Postice asked.

  “Yes,” Evie said.

  “And part of that is each person being on a different point in life for any interactions?” Postice asked.

  “That sounds right,” Evie answered.

  “As an example, at the exact moment of this conversation—in time—I am an old man, of unquantified age, and you two are much younger. When, in fact, for each of our lives, I could actually be living as my 14 year old self, interacting with you two in my future. And each of you could be anywhere between 40 and 100, looking back on this moment as a memory. If one of you were the source of my dreams, you would need the ability to interact, not with my older self as I sit here before you, but with my fourteen-year-old self. That would require you to bend or travel across time.”

  “Oh, I get it,” Silas said.

  Postice smiled at Silas and patted his knee. “Or suppose the dream you had, Silas, with the face. Suppose that dream came from your child. That child would have to have the ability to travel to a time before they were born to give you the dream.”

  “Could that be a possibility?” Evie asked. Just the concept amazed her.

  “It could very well be. When you described your dream, I was immediately drawn to that exact thinking. There isn’t any obvious gain—for either of you—from the dream, as far as I can tell. So getting you two together might be the reason.”

  “You mean we are being brought together by our future kid?” Silas asked, completely stunned.

  “It’s not out of the realm of possibility,” Postice said, smiling at Silas’ reaction. “Although there are reasons for that being less likely than other answers.”

  “Like what?” Evie asked, halfway relieved. Kids seemed like a distant thought for her right now.

  “Sacrifices,” Postice answered, lifting his cane and slowly pointing around until it finally settled toward the small garden plot.

  The couple instinctively followed the direction of the cane, but needn’t have bothered, they realized where the end pointed from the man’s story.


  “There is definitely a price for every interaction, and why would your future child risk giving you a dream that would demand a sacrifice?”

  The young couple paused and took in the gravity of that question.

  “So who else would have sent the dream?” Evie asked.

  “I don’t know ‘who,’ but I might know ‘what,’” Postice said. “I have given those with the ability to view past and future the name ‘Timewalkers.’”

  “Timewalkers?” Silas repeated, and looked to Evie.

  “Yes. Using Roger’s thesis that the ‘cylinders’ as you call them are collections of life spirals, these lives interact in the physical world when people come together—much like us. And if the cylinders are as tightly packed as Roger hypothesizes, then there must be a ‘multiversal’ interaction that some people are able to have, such as Mademoiselle Ranier and young Esmeralda. It wouldn’t take much of a leap to posit that some people have the ability to move forwards and backwards along a cylinder, or jump between different cylinders, or even visit outside of the cylinders!”

  “Like the psychics?” Silas asked.

  “Right,” Postice said. “What can Mademoiselle Ranier do? She can see several different universes around her, and some of the past. Young Esmeralda can see many multiples of universes clustered around the present. I have found several other types—one young woman was able to ‘visit’ the past—or at least she thought it was the past—up to a thousand years ago. And Nostradamus was able to somehow conjure up visions of the future, or at least some people believe that.”

  “Interesting,” Evie said. “By grouping the different types of abilities, it would make sense that a full picture could be made of all of the possibilities.”

  “Yes! And that is exactly what I’ve been trying to do. I used the conventions to piece together a picture of what Roger wants to create theoretically. I have found many ‘viewers’ of different abilities, but no manipulators.”