I sat back and eyed the short list. It was not a groundbreaking idea, but it was a start. And it might just work, I thought.
Now I needed to sell Dean Braga on it.
I called Nate to enlist his help.
He agreed at once. “There’s also a security loophole that needs fixing—I’ve long thought that too many people know the code to the TTE lab door. How did Sabina get in anyway?”
“She figured out the four-digit code from watching Abigail and Dr. Mooney go in and out of the lab so many times. She said it wasn’t hard.”
“That’s what I mean—we need a system in which the equipment can’t be accessed by a single person, per your Pairs point. Two sets of codes—or two lab keys—will help. The two-man rule.”
“Like for personnel who oversee nuclear launches.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll add that to my list as (4).”
There was another point, (5), one which I had been hesitant to add. “I also think we need an independent observer on each run—an overseer—someone who’s along for the ride only to make sure nothing goes wrong. Perhaps not another academic but a layperson. I was going to put it down on my list, only…”
“Only what?”
“I couldn’t tell if it belonged on the list or whether I merely wanted to put it there.”
“Because you’d be very happy to volunteer to serve as an overseer.”
“Well, yes.”
“Put it on your list.”
I did.
“Do you think this is the right thing to do, trying to continue on with the program?” I had never asked him his opinion on time travel. I wasn’t so foolish as to assume everyone was on board with it, even if he had never said one way or another.
He thought about it for a moment. Through the phone I could hear background chatter in the campus security office. He finally said, “The genie is out of the bottle, so I don’t think it matters what I think. But I’d say in general it’s better to know more about anything rather than less. Even if what’s revealed is not easy or pleasant or perfect, and that includes the world and our past.” He summarized: “Paired teams of professors, two sets of door codes to the lab, an overseer on each run…it sounds like an organizational nightmare. You’re looking forward to it, aren’t you?”
“You bet I am.”
Epilogue
Nine months was how long it took to get everything sorted enough to satisfy Dean Braga, Chancellor Evans, and the board of trustees. It was longer than it took for the media interest in Sabina to die down, her story long since replaced by the latest celebrity scandals.
We’d implemented all the rules on my list. I had been given a promotion and was now heading an oversight committee. I thought that Time Travel Overseer had a certain ring to it, but my official job description was a little more mundane—and longer. I was the Time Travel Engineering Laboratory Oversight Committee Chairperson. There were six of us—none of us academics, purposely—and our job was to tag along on runs to keep everyone honest. I was in charge of organizing things.
My first run—the first run to be conducted in nine months—was to be tomorrow, with Dr. Baumgartner. We were going to Marie Curie’s childhood home in Poland. Perhaps not as exciting as a Neanderthal visit might have been, but exciting enough. There was a lot to get done before then.
Everyone was getting together at my house for a little celebratory dinner. Sabina’s first year at the Thornberg high school was over—she had done well despite all the publicity that had ensued after our news conference. We still had reporters calling about it once in a while, but the high school students had reacted much more levelheadedly than I had expected and had rallied around Sabina. Nate had been at the news conference, and he’d been an invaluable support system for Sabina when she needed it. He’d helped so much in getting the overseer program up and running that I felt he deserved an honorary title.
As for Sabina—she had turned down offers to be a guest on various news and talk shows, and even an offer to cowrite a tell-all book. She had accepted a visit to the White House, during which the president had complimented her on how nicely her English was coming along. At home we had celebrated a cheerful Saturnalia-Christmas, and Sabina had started dropping in at the Latin wing of the ancient languages department—time she spent going through their dictionaries and correcting mistakes. She was finally at home in the twenty-first century. It was lovely to see.
Abigail had been offered a spot in the TTE lab after graduation. She was a postdoc, and, if all went well, the position would lead to a junior professorship down the road, then a senior one and tenure. She and Sabina were looking for a place of their own. I was going to miss having them around the house.
Kamal Ahmad had accepted a research fellowship at MIT, where the new STEWie was nearing completion. He would take along the lessons we’d learned from the implementation of our overseer program here at St. Sunniva. Jacob Jacobson was doing well, too, making great strides on his thesis topic on the life of Sunniva, the school’s namesake and patron saint of Western Norway. I saw a teaching position in his future.
Xavier and Helen had gotten remarried. Abigail and Sabina kept telling me that Nate and I were next—and I thought I had spied Nate through the window of the town jewelers one day, buying something, when he was supposed to be off fishing. I was not about to ask him, but the anticipation was making me giddy in a non-girlish sort of way. I had my answer all ready.
I still didn’t understand how the Slingshot blueprints had made their way into Dr. Mooney’s hands to save us on the Pompeii run, which now seemed like a long time ago, but I forced myself to put the thought aside. I would find out one day.
I tried to picture Abigail gray-haired and with a slight slump to her shoulders. In my imagined scenario, she had finally met her parents on one of her runs, during her long and productive career at the lab. In that future, the only Science Quad building lacking the name of a scientist now had one: The Abigail Tanner Time Travel Engineering building. Perhaps she had done it all with Sabina, a professor in her own right, by her side.
I believed it.
THE END
Acknowledgments
An author isn’t supposed to have favorites, but this final book in the series might just be my favorite of the three—it was great fun to go back to 1976, a time when I was but eight years old, even if only in my imagination. How things have changed since then, globally, technology-wise, and for me personally. It’s a brave new world this one of ours, and like Julia, I can’t wait to see what the future brings.
A recommended biography of Kurt Vonnegut, though not the (fictitious) one Julia leafed through, is Charles J. Shields’s And So It Goes: Kurt Vonnegut: A Life; I consulted the Kindle edition (Henry Holt and Co., 2011). Vonnegut’s The Sirens of Titan is widely available, from a paperback edition (Dial Press, 1988) to an e-book edition (RosettaBooks, 2010).
My grateful thanks go out to those who provided feedback on various versions of the manuscript or parts of it: John Baron, Richard Ellis Preston Jr., and Jill Marsal. Angela Polidoro wielded the editor’s red pen with good humor and a sharp wit; Marcus Trower, copyeditor extraordinaire, pored over the manuscript with a magnifying glass; theBookDesigners turned my vague word-sketch into an eye-catching cover; and Rob Kroese skillfully handled the practical matter of formatting the manuscript for publication.
Grateful thanks also are due to Westmarch Publishing and 47North authors, with a special shout-out to Joseph Brassey, Roberto Calas, Anne Charnock, Allison M. Dickson, Rick Gualtieri, J. D. Horn, Rob Kroese, Stant Litore, Amber McLelland, Angela D. Mitchell, Cynthia L. Moyer, Melissa F. Olson, Richard Ellis Preston Jr., Denise Grover Swank, and Roberta Trahan. Your support, good humor, and savvy advice provided an anchor in a rapidly changing publishing landscape.
The book is dedicated to John and Elizabeth Baron, awesome parents-in-law, in recognition of many great visits to Fort Myers. If you ever find yourself in the area, the Edison & Ford Winter E
states are well worth a visit. The banyan tree is still there and going strong.
Finally—and as always—my most grateful thanks go out to my husband, John, and my son, Dennis.
About the Author
Thank you for reading The Bellbottom Incident—I hope you enjoyed the book as much as I enjoyed writing it! You’ve just finished reading the third and final book in the series. The previous books in the series are:
The Far Time Incident (The Incident series Book 1)
The Runestone Incident (The Incident series Book 2)
I also have a standalone novel, Regarding Ducks and Universes ("Weaving together physics, philosophy, and wry humor, Maslakovic's inventive debut is a delight." - Booklist)
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Before turning her hand to writing fiction, Neve Maslakovic earned her PhD in electrical engineering at Stanford University’s STAR (Space, Telecommunications, and Radioscience) Lab. Born in Belgrade, Yugoslavia (now Serbia), Neve currently lives with her husband and son near Minneapolis/St. Paul, where she admits to enjoying the winters. Find out more by visiting her website, www.nevemaslakovic.com.
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