“Not a clue. Why all these questions anyway?”
“Because I just think it’s odd, that’s all. And I think Zach planted those geocaches.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know—a science project maybe?”
Dani chuckles. “He is definitely into that sort of thing. You want me to ask him?”
“Not really, but I am curious.”
“What difference does it make anyway? It’s just a silly game. He was probably just bored one day and looking for something to do.”
“You’re right. It’s no big deal. I really should be getting back home. Thanks for talking.”
“No problem.” She flashes a grin at me.
As she’s getting out of the car, I blurt out. “I’m going to Homecoming.”
She leans back in the car. “Details! Who’s the lucky guy?”
“Alex and Cricket. We’re all going as friends.”
“Oh.” She curls her lip again. “That doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“Well, it does to me. Anyway, I went dress shopping.”
“Oooh! Fun! Did you get something cool?”
“Haven’t picked it up yet, but, yes.”
“Ok, we’ll talk later,” she says, getting out. “Text me a pic of your dress.”
I sit there for a few minutes, annoyed at her reaction to Cricket. Was she jealous or just being snobby? Hard to tell. I watch as Dani jogs across the lot to meet Zach, who had apparently just gotten out of practice. They are laughing, their faces close, a brief kiss. For the first time, I am jealous of Dani. Here I am, getting ready to spend $150 on a dress to go out with friends, not even a real date. Who am I kidding? I see Dani and Zach heading my way, and so I quickly start up the car and drive away, looking at them in my rearview mirror, all smiles, the perfect couple. Beautiful People. Suddenly, my jealousy turns to determination. I will buy that dress and rock it. I will go to the dance with Alex and Cricket, and we will have the time of our lives. I will prove to everyone that not only am I normal, but I’m actually pretty darn amazing.
Zach
The email sitting in my inbox the next morning:
September 4, 2012
TO: Zach Webb
FROM: E.G.W.
RE: Reservations
Dear Zach,
I certainly understand your reservations, and I admire them. You are a bright boy…for these reasons, you are just the right person to have knowledge of this research, because I know you will think before acting and guard the truth always. Does this mean, my dear boy, that you are ready to hear more?
Fondly,
E.G.W.
I reply:
September 4, 2012
TO: E.G.W.
FROM: Zach Webb
RE: Reservations
Dear sir,
I am definitely curious what it is that you have to tell me… however, until I am completely certain as to your identity, I remain in my present state of cautious reserve. Sometimes the greatest stories are the ones that puzzle us the most—because we end up learning the most from the unbelievable. The burden of proof is yours. Convince me, as the Time Traveler attempted to sway his skeptical companions, and then, I will be beyond ready—to hear, and to understand, and, perhaps, to act.
He must be online at this very minute, because he responds immediately. Good, now we can get this discussion done and move forward, one way or the other.
September 4, 2012
TO: Zach Webb
FROM: E.G.W.
RE: Reservations
Let me begin by saying that I am very sorry you were troubled by my failure to ask about your mother. Rest assured, she is, and will forever be, on my mind, and I hope that she is doing well. I have no doubt that you, being the smart and level-headed young man that you are, have been a great comfort to her.
I should also add that I have few regrets in my life, but one of them was leaving both of you behind. This haunts me every day.
It will be of some value for you to know why I began my research, what motivated me, and why. And all that will come in due time. Let me start in the part of my personal history that includes you, since this is the portion of my story that will impact you the most. (Incidentally, you must know that your concern about the accessibility of my memory chip, though a valid one, is unwarranted, primarily because the chips can only be accessed or copied after their implantation…which means, of course, that any memories I had prior to that belong exclusively to me).
Your mother and I were once close friends with Walter and Gloria Turner. You may not be aware of this, although you are most likely aware that Mr. Turner contacted me upon the hospitalization of his daughter, Tess, four years ago. But be assured that the research—and indeed, the Project—began long before that.
I will recount a particular incident that inspired me to pursue the possibility of time travel. It will seem implausible and vaguely unrelated, to you, but it was a formative moment for me. I had been reading my favorite book (which you probably already guessed is The Time Machine). We were at the Turners’ home, playing cards, the four of us. You and Tess were playing in the living room, just toddlers, when it started to storm furiously. We continued to play, until the power suddenly went out. We lit some candles and went to check on you kids, but to our surprise and worry, you were not in the room. We looked around the house frantically calling for both of you, but there was no answer.
Within seconds, I flew out the front door, foolishly considering that you had gone outside and gotten lost, or worse. What I saw has never left me.
Tess was standing in the middle of the yard, looking up at the sky. As the streaks of lightning crackled across the darkness, I went into panic mode. Tess would surely be struck by lightning, and yet, she stood absolutely still, seemingly mesmerized by the beauty from above. In a split second, I started out after her, but you beat me to it. You, just a toddler yourself, recognized the danger and went instinctively to her rescue. Just as one severe jag of electricity threatened to come down upon the yard, you grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back to the porch, to safety. At that moment, the bolt of lightning came down and hit the transformer across the street. Sparks exploded. There was an orb of pure, blinding light. Then, all was quiet, the three of us standing there on the porch.
I don’t know if it was the fearful memory of that night, or the belief that somehow our presence there had led to the nearly disastrous event, but after that, we spent less and less time with the Turners. We were all simply distraught over the incident. It was as if we were given a glimpse into the fragility of life—how quickly and indifferently it can be taken from us, or changed irreparably.
But there is one positive thing that came as a result of that incident. I started to become utterly fascinated with storms—lightning in particular. Eventually, as you know, I delved deeply into even the hidden aspects of lightning—the so-called sprites, or super-lightning, that cannot be detected by the human eye. I began to consider what the true purpose of lightning might be… how it might be useful to us in ways we never imagined. What else would explain our extreme interest in lightning as a natural phenomenon? For centuries, scientists have studied, analyzed, and documented its patterns and nuances.
For the next ten years, I studied it. You have most likely read some of those research conclusions in my Project Zero log. I began to consider questions, such as…does the presence of essentially hidden electrical disturbances in our atmosphere have a meaning? Could they be indicative of some greater purpose? Some way to understand our concept of time? If something is hidden, to human eyes, where and when does it actually occur? Does the quality of being visible have a direct correlation to reality? It’s sort of like that old Zen Koan about the tree falling in the forest. If there is no one there to hear it, does it make a sound?
But let me explain how this all came to be—how Tess Turner became the subject of my research.
When Tess was injured in the accident over four years
ago, her father came to me. We had kept contact over the years—not nearly as close as we once were—and he wanted to see if I could help. You see, he’d been haunted by the incident that happened so many years before, when Tess was four years old. He wanted to know if it was possible that his daughter somehow attracted lightning.
When I considered the unlikely story that was the Time Traveler’s—the fact that he was able to harness a machine to traverse time—I began to entertain the notion that perhaps, if time travel really were plausible, it would be an anomaly. It would be, perhaps, the ability—or presence, or coincidental placement—of one particular person, subject to the catalyst that exists in those hidden, ornate patterns that occur in electrical storms. An anomaly. Something you don’t see every day. Indeed, someone with peculiar, other worldly ability—almost like a superhero’s power. Could it be that Tess Turner was that unique individual? The one who could uncover the mystery of time travel to the world?
I don’t expect you to fully understand the connections and revelations that occurred inside my own brain over the course of this research. There were many factors involved, from the concept of electrical circuits, to the peculiar behavior of human memory. Suffice it to say that the human brain is the most complex network of communication in the universe, and it relies upon electrical impulses. To put it in simpler terms, if you considered every phone line, Internet connection, and communication amongst the four billion people on this planet, it would not equal the complexity of the human brain. The human brain, if I may be so bold, is itself an anomaly. It is the most unchartered system in the universe. And it harnesses electricity to do its work. It contains about 100 billion cells, mostly neurons—twenty-five times the number of people on earth—that are constantly being switched on and off like light switches. Did you know that the amount of energy generated by each wire attached to each neuron is equivalent to a 60 watt light bulb? Imagine the amount of power the human brain contains! It is staggering.
So, now you know the foundation of my research—the building blocks that inspired me, when Tess Turner’s father came to me and asked me to study his daughter’s brain in a comatose state, to say, fervently, “YES!”
It may occur to you that I was motivated solely by my research. Indeed, it was a major part—I would be lying if I said otherwise. On the other hand, I was faced with a friend who had a devastating problem, one that could alter the outcome of the entire family’s lives. I sincerely wanted to help, in whatever way I could.
What I discovered, throughout those years—up until my heart condition derailed the project—was nothing short of mind blowing. It changed everything.
It provided me the inspiration, the catalyst, and the tools I needed to fully comprehend the relationship between the human brain and the passage of time. It allowed me to grasp time itself, and explore its prolific and daunting realities. In short, Tess Turner was the superhero I needed. In her, I discovered the link that could propel humankind through time.
You will undoubtedly have many reservations and questions in response to all this. Let me end by saying that I am fully aware of them all, and I am prepared to explain them all thoroughly. After all, this research, in a way, now belongs to you and I trust that you will treasure and guard it for the power that it holds.
That is all for now, as I am mentally exhausted from this message. I do have more to tell you, namely, as to my present state. But you must have time to consider and analyze this new information and how it might affect your present and future life.
As always, I am indebted to you, and I love you.
Affectionately,
E.G.W.
I take a deep breath, then another, and sit back in my chair. All of this certainly seems both plausible and convincing. His mention of memories that exist prior to the chip is of particular interest—I make a mental note to ask him to recall a specific memory (one that I, too, will remember, as I obviously do not remember the night at the Turners’ house).
I guess he’s right that I need time to process and consider all of this. I could, of course, verify the incident with my mother, but I’d prefer not to dredge up any bad memories, especially right now with his birthday on her mind and planting the mums and all. Plus, how would I explain my newly acquired memory of that night? I suppose I could claim Tess remembered something and asked me, but no…now is not the time. I must focus on further verifying my father’s identity, and then, to the next big step, which is, I assume, to find out where he is and what he is up to. And, finally I want to know where I fit into all of this. I have a feeling I may be in deeper than I ever dreamed.
Tess
The next week at school is spirit week, and Cricket talks me into all sorts of crazy stuff like wearing pajamas to school and painting school colors on my arms. That wasn’t the original plan, but wearing school colors was. On Friday morning when I discovered I didn’t have anything black and gold in my closet, I found some body paint from last Halloween and painted stripes on my forearms and called it good.
“Impressive,” Cricket says as I walk into homeroom.
“Please, I look like a stinkin’ bumblebee.”
She laughs heartily. “You DO. OMG. That’s too funny. At least you’ll look cool for the game tonight.”
“Oh, were we planning to go to the game?”
“Um, yeah. Why wouldn’t we?”
“Because I don’t get football.”
“We’re going. I’ll pick you up at 6:00. And leave the bumblebee stripes intact.”
“All right, but you better hope this comes off before Saturday.”
“No doubt. What time do you want to come over and start getting ready?”
“Whenever. We just have to swing back by my house before so my parents can take pictures.”
“No prob—where are we meeting Alex?”
“At my house, I think.”
Cricket starts arranging her papers and books, with just a few minutes left before class officially starts. “Hey, I’ve been thinking about that whole geocaching thing.”
“What about it? Did you finish your paper?”
“Not exactly. I feel like I need more…to finish it.”
“Wasn’t it due this week?”
“Monday. She gave us an extension because of Homecoming.”
“Ok, so what were you thinking?”
“I was thinking we should split the dance early tomorrow and take Alex on a mission.”
“What kind of mission?” I ask. “What about the dance?”
“Oh, we’ll stick around for the main part of it. I was just thinking…”
“Cricket…” I say with uncertainty. “What do you have in mind? It better not involve wandering through graveyards. Remember, we’re wearing expensive dresses and heels.”
“Soooo…we bring stuff to change into.”
“And do what?”
“We take Alex to the geocaches and see if he has any ideas. I mean, you have to admit, he’s a brain.”
“No way, Cricket. It was just a prank, remember? It doesn’t mean anything.”
“But maybe it does….it will be fun. A chilly autumn night, permission to stay out till midnight. If nothing else, we get away from Snob Central for the evening. I mean come on...do you really think the dance is going to be all that fun?”
“Yeah, actually. I thought that was the point—the three of us going together. And Alex is actually excited about it. He thinks he has two dates for the night.” I chuckle.
Cricket sighs and cocks an eyebrow. “Seriously?” She gives me a pouty smile.
“Ok, maybe we will leave slightly early…as long as Alex is game.”
“Awesome! I’m so excited. Bring some jeans and a sweatshirt and put it in my car. Ok, 6:00 tonight. Be ready, ok? I’m driving.”
On my way out of school, Cricket is nowhere to be found. I run by her locker and send her a text, but she doesn’t answer. We normally hang out right after school. On my way to the parking lot, she finally responds to my te
xt to tell me that she had a dentist appointment right after school and that she’ll see me tonight.
I nearly run right into Zach Webb on my way to the car, and for some strange reason, he actually stops to talk to me. He asks me if I’m going to the game and I tell him, truthfully, that I don’t really like football. He seems amused by this, and then starts talking about his parents and my parents hanging out together back in the day. I’m thinking the whole time, where is he going with this? Why? And then my heart almost stops when he mentions seeing me and Cricket at the graveyard on Saturday. I mutter the first response I can think of—basically that it was Cricket’s English assignment—and then hope the conversation ends quickly, which it does, but not until I admit I’m clueless when it comes to football, and that I have random memory loss. Wonderful. Now my freakiness is confirmed with the hottest guy in school. Why can’t I just learn to keep my mouth shut?
Even stranger than the fact that he stops to talk to me is that he doesn’t look at me like I’m crazy. He actually looks at me, like I’m a normal person—but there’s something else I can’t quite describe. It’s like there’s something else he wants to say to me, but can’t quite figure out how to say it, a sort of reflection in his eyes, something familiar, and perfectly comfortable. I really feel like I can talk to him, but the fact that we’re standing in the school parking lot on the afternoon of the biggest game of the year, where everyone can see us, makes me want to disappear. It just seems awkward talking to Dani’s boyfriend. And yet, I am drawn to those eyes…Why on earth am I here? Why me?
After a few moments of silence that seem to take forever, he finally tells me he will see me at the game, and believe me, I am all too ready to get in my car and drive away. I tell him,
“Sure, I’ll see you there,” not really expecting that I will, but it sounds good, and it gets me away from the situation.
All the way home, I am obsessing about my memory. Apparently Zach and I have a history—one that I have no clue about. Zach Webb knows things about me that I don’t even know myself. How disturbing is that? I am dying to call Cricket, but she’s probably still at the dentist. Zach Webb…of all people. How is it possible that we used to hang out together and I don’t even remember it? I wonder what else I don’t remember, and I’m starting to get seriously depressed. I try not to think too much about what happened to me, but there are times like this when it just bugs the heck out of me.
Surfacing (Spark Saga) Page 8