My Troubles With Time

by Benson Grayson

  I then headed toward the door to Dr. Bolton’s office.

  “Stop!” she yelled again, “Where are you going? He’s tied up.”

  “Oh, Bobby’s always glad to see me, “I said smugly, ignoring her protests. It was amazing, I thought, how easily I was adapting to my new persona.

  Even the great Kupinski could not have realized how much someone’s personality might be altered by traveling in time.

  Entering Dr. Bolton’s office, I was amused to see him standing on the rug in front of his desk, golf club in hand, practicing his swing. He was startled by my unexpected arrival, but quickly recovered his composure.

  “Didn’t Joy tell you I was busy?” he snapped.

  I started to apologize to him; then stopped. Leisurely, I plopped down in the chair in front of his desk, swinging my leg over its side. “You look like a duffer,” I found myself saying, “You really ought to improve your stroke.”

  “Now see here Snodgrass…, he began.

  I interrupted him before he could finish. “I thought you’d be in a hurry to see your speech for the National Physics Society.”

  He started to frown, but his eagerness to see the speech overcame his anger. “All right, let me look at it,” he said, leaning the golf club against the desk and sitting down.

  Opening the Manila envelope, I inserted my hand to pull out the speech I had so laboriously prepared for him. Acting on their own volition, my fingers instead extracted the scribbled notes Dr. Bolton had given me purporting to contain the material for me to use. As I handed them to him, I had to struggle to keep from laughing at what was about to happen.

  It took a minute for Dr. Bolton to realize just what I had given him. When it sank in, he looked at me, his demeanor one of cold fury.

  “Is this your idea of a joke, Snodgrass?” he said.

  “Why Dr. Bolton,” I replied, sounding as contrite as I could,

  “Those are the notes you gave me for your paper.”

  I stopped and smiled at him. He waited for me to continue, but I remained silent, acting as though I had fully answered his question.

  Eventually, he realized I was not about to say anything more.

  “God damn it,” Snodgrass!” he thundered. “Where’s my paper?” His normally sonorous voice was uncharacteristically shrill. It struck me that the pompous Chairman of my Department sounded like a fishmonger.

  “Why Bobby,” I said calmly, “We both know that the notes you gave me were useless as the basis for any serious paper. Your calculations were all wrong and the rest of your notes nothing but gibberish. You certainly wouldn’t want to claim to be the author of a scholarly paper written by someone else.”

  Bolton’s face reddened till he looked as though he was going to explode.

  “If you have any thoughts of ever getting tenure…” he began.

  I considered his near apoplexy amusing, but found myself staring at him. He reminded me of someone I knew, someone I had met recently.

  “Tell me, Bobby,” I interrupted him, counting the months on my fingers, “You were born around September 1942?”

  He stopped his tirade, startled at my sudden change of subject. “Yes,” he said, “What’s that got to do with it?”

  “You were born in Honolulu,” I went on, now certain of his identity. “Your mother’s knick name was Honey, your first name is Lawrence. You were named after your father. He was an army officer.”

  “How did you know? Have you been spying on me?”

  I considered telling Bolton that I was his biological father, that I had sired him during my tryst with Honey in 1941, then decided against it. My role in fathering him was nothing that gave me any pride. More importantly, there was no reason to inform him of my invention of the time machine.

  “You’d be surprised how much I know about you,” I said winking at him. For example, at the department meeting this morning you plan to announce that Alan Fielding has been awarded tenure and that you will take him with you to Philadelphia. You will, of course, expect me to teach his classes while he is gone.”

  Bolton seemed shaken by my knowledge of his plans. “That’s not so,” he began, then stopped. “I’m still considering you for tenure, Maynard” he said, attempting to smile. “If you stop this stupid joking and give me the paper for Philadelphia, I’ll overlook your behavior here this morning.”

  He looked at me hopefully. I opened the Manila envelope and removed the paper I had drafted for him. As he put forward his hand for it, I removed the first page and handed it to him. He read it and smiled more broadly.

  “This is good Maynard,” he said. “Let me see the rest of it.”

  “Of course, sir,” I answered, my voice contrite. I leaned forward extending my hand with the remaining pages.

  As he eagerly stretched out to grasp it, I stopped and withdrew my arm. With seeming nonchalance, I placed the pages on Bolton’s desk, my arm resting on them.

  “There are a few things I’d like to clear up first,” I said. “About my work here.”

  Bolton’s smile disappeared. He remained silent for a moment, thinking. Then his smile returned.

  “Let me assure you, my boy, that we prize you highly as a member of the Physics Department.” His voice was syrupy, reminding me of a used car salesman trying to complete a deal. “I’ve been thinking about assigning a teaching assistant to help you with your grading.”

  I smiled, but said nothing. “And when Dr. Endicott goes on sabbatical, you can use his office.”

  “Your generosity astounds me,” I replied. I picked up the pages, then paused and put them down on the desk again. “The paper is good,” I agreed.

  “It’s the best work I have ever done. When it is read in Philadelphia, they’ll have no choice but to elect you President of the National Physics Society.”

  Bolton beamed. It was clear the idea appealed to him.

  “However,” I went on, “There are just a few minor things I’d like.”

  “Of course, Maynard. What can we do for you?”

  “You will call the Dean right now and tell him the department is granting me tenure today.” My voice sounded hard, ruthless to my ears. “You will have Joy type up the necessary papers and have the Dean sign them before the Department meeting.”

  “But that’s preposterous,” he said. “The Dean has already signed the papers awarding tenure to Fielding. The Department has no vacancy for you.”

  “I’m afraid then that you’re never going to get to read that paper at Philadelphia,” I said, returning the pages to the Manila envelope.

  He stood, his face clouded over. “Are you trying to blackmail me, Snodgrass? I warn you, unless you give me that paper now, your stay at Standish is over. Moreover, I’ll make sure you never teach at any university again.”

  “That’s not all,” I said. I had not planned to make additional demands on him, but Bolton’s attitude struck me as insufferable.

  “At Philadelphia, you will express your gratitude to your brilliant colleague, Maynard Snodgrass, whose collaboration in the preparation of the paper was essential. You will then ask me to read the paper. Naturally, before I read it I’ll thank you effusively for permitting me to assist you.”

  Bolton looked as though he was about to explode. “Get out of here!” he roared. “I’ll have the campus police arrest you.”

  I just leaned back and smiled at him. “Don’t be silly, Bobby,” I said. “All I have to do is go to the Dean and tell him who has been writing your papers for the last few years. Then I’ll go to the meeting at Philadelphia. Whenever you speak, I’ll ask embarrassing questions from the floor, pointing out all the mistakes I’ve discovered in your earlier papers. There have been more than a few.”

  He stepped from behind his desk and raised his arm as though to strike me. The pre-time travel Snodgrass would have cowered in fear. I just laughed at him.

  “Do you know how silly you look,” I said. “If you did, you’d stop this foolishness. Use your brain! With my help
, you can be President of the National Physics Society. I can even earn you an endowed chair at Harvard. If you refuse to cooperate, I’ll see that you lose your job. Then I’ll tell the Dean and your wife about your affair with Joy. I’d have nothing to lose, but you would.”

  He lowered his arm and stood there, uncertain of what to do. “Oh, sit down, Bobby!” I said, as though speaking to an unruly child. “You’re wasting precious time!”

  He returned to his desk and sat down. “Even if I agreed to help you,” he said, as much to himself as to me, “It’s impossible. The Dean would never agree. And the members of the department have to vote to grant you tenure.”

  “I’m sure you can think of a way,” I answered, my voice sounding surprisingly confident to my ears. “Now pick up the phone and call the Dean!”

  Slowly he did so, asking Joy to call the Dean. I relaxed in my chair, enjoying what happened next. I had to admit that Bolton could be effective when he tried. It took him close to twenty minutes to convince the Dean that it was essential for him to approve the papers awarding me tenure as soon as they reached his office.

  Bolton began by explaining that Joy had somehow mistakenly put Fielding’s name on the papers requesting tenure instead of my own. Fielding, Bolton went on, was the Department’s second choice for the awarding of tenure, but obviously had to wait in line until I received mine.

  From Bolton’s comments, it was clear the Dean was not easily convinced to make any revisions. The Chairman had to repeatedly stress that it was essential that I receive the tenure without delay, that I had threatened to leave if it was not awarded, and that the Physics Department would be unable to do without me.

  When he finished speaking to the Dean, Bolton summoned Joy on the intercom. He proceeded to go through the charade of criticizing her for allegedly putting Fielding’s name on the forms requesting tenure instead of mine. Joy vigorously protested that she had only been carrying out his instructions and it was only by being as nasty to her as he had habitually been to me that he was able to silence her.

  When Joy left the room under orders to prepare the new tenure forms with my name on them, Bolton relaxed and looked at me. “I’ve carried out my share of our bargain,” he said, trying to chuckle but not quite pulling it off. “Now can I see the rest of the paper.”

  Bolton had done a superb job in convincing the Dean, but I still not fully trust him. Removing all but the last two pages from the manila envelope, I handed them to him. “Here, you are.” I said. “As you can see, this paper will make you President of the society. I am keeping the last two pages, which contain the formulas which explain the conclusions. I want to double-check them to make absolutely sure they are correct.”

  Bolton did not attempt to argue. He read the pages, smiling and nodding approvingly as he did so. When he finished, I stood. I’ll see you at the meeting,” I said, walking to the door. “Remember. I expect to see there the tenure papers signed off by the Dean!”

  Joy looked up from her work as I walked past her. She eyed me speculatively. I looked at her computer screen. She had been preparing up the papers awarding me tenure. I caught a whiff of her perfume. It was enchanting.

  “Joy,” I said, my voice surprisingly confident, “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather take to the basketball game tonight than you. You don’t have to change at all. That outfit you’re wearing would be just fine.”

  She sat silently, thinking. “Besides”, I added with a wink, “When I kiss you, you have my full permission to slug me again.”

  Unexpectedly, she smiled. “I don’t normally go out with members of the faculty,” she said, “But in this case, I’ll make an exception.”

  I stared at her, making in effort to conceal my enjoyment at looking at her figure. Her short skirt revealed a considerable expanse of her thigh, made even more enticing by the black sheer stockings that encased them.

  “I’ll pick you up at your apartment at eight,” I said as I started to leave the office. I stopped for a minute. “Joy,” I added, “If you were any more beautiful, no one at the game would watch the players. They’d all be staring at you.”

  I left, planning to go to the library. I was curious to see how my sinking of the Japanese carriers in 1941 had altered the course of history, whether, in fact, the United States had ever entered World War II at all. Unfortunately, I was waylaid by one of my duller students, who asked me to explain the physics problems I had assigned as homework. I took me over an hour of repetition to get him to understand them. By the time he did so, it was time for me to go to the Physics Department meeting.

  Except for Dr. Bolton, the other members of the Department had already taken their seats around the large conference table when I entered the room. Several looked up, thinking it was the Chairman who had entered.

  I started to apologize for being late. Instead, what came out was a cheerful “hi” as I took my seat between Kim Han Chu and Dr. Harris.

  Kim smiled back at me; Harris responded with a perfunctory nod. Dr. Peabody, seated across from me next to Dr. Endicott, gave me a nasty look, then turned to speak to Endicott.

  “Great day, Joe, isn’t it?” I said to Harris. He was a full professor and I had never before spoken to him by his given name.

  “Why yes, it is,” he answered, surprised by my unexpected familiarity. He started to say more, but stopped as Dr. Bolton entered and took his seat.

  The others immediately stood up in deference to the chairman. I got to my feet a second or two after the rest. As I resumed my seat with the others, I caught a glimpse of Endicott staring at me, a surprised expression on his face. I cautioned myself to avoid creating the impression I had contempt for Bolton. I still could use his patronage to advance my teaching career and I could hurt both the Chairman and my own cause by too obvious a display of disrespect.

  The first item on the agenda was a status report on recent developments at the university. Dr. Bolton based his comments on those by the Dean at his most recent meeting with the department chairmen. When he finished, Bolton asked if there were any questions. To my astonishment, I heard myself asking if the university housing department had plans to renovate some of the substandard houses assigned to junior members of the faculty.

  Dr. Bolton looked down at his notes, then shook his head. “I don’t believe he mentioned it,” he said. “I’ll have to raise the matter with him. It certainly deserves attention.”

  The other members of the department stared at me puzzled. I couldn’t blame them. It was the first time I had ever asked a question at a Department meeting.

  The second item on the agenda was the Department budget. As Bolton expressed his pleasure that the Dean had approved the increased budget requested by the Department. I could not avoid remembering the times as a child I had been taken to a Saturday matinee at the movies and had sat through the double feature twice. Everything was going just as it had when I had attended the meeting prior to my trip back to Pearl Harbor.

  Dr. Harris, as I knew he would, noted that while most items in the Department budget had been increased for the forthcoming year, that for computer software had declined. Dr. Bolton, too, did not deviate from his response at the meeting prior to my trip back to 1941. The Department, he explained, had the capability of installing the software itself and did not have to pay the university computer department to install it.

  I started to say something, but Dr. Bolton anticipated my move. “The Department owes a lot to Maynard for his efforts in this regard.”

  In response, I bowed my head and modestly smiled. The discussion of the budget having ended, I expected that Dr. Bolton would now turn take up the subject of my tenure. To my surprise and growing concern, he instead launched into a discussion of the standards the department should adopt in selecting our new doctoral candidates in future years.

  Despite his apparent agreement to my demands, I began to suspect that the Chairman was preparing to double-cross me. Fortunately, my fears were groundless. There was a knock on the
door and Joy entered, handing a paper to Dr. Bolton.

  “The Dean has signed off on this,” she said, flashing me a warm smile.

  Bolton abruptly concluded his comments concerning doctoral candidates. As I waited expectantly, he raised the subject I had been waiting for, the granting of tenure.

  “One of my most pleasant duties as Chairman,” he began, not departing from the script in my mind, “Is to announce the awarding of tenure to members of the department.”

  As I was already certain from Joy’s demeanor that Bolton was about to announce that I had been granted tenure, I was able to sit back and enjoy the proceedings without the apprehension I had experienced at previous department meetings. The Chairman’s words belied the expression on his face; he looked as though he was swallowing very bitter medicine. Nonetheless I felt exhilarated when he identified the recipient of tenure and it was my name and not Alan Fielding’s which came out of his clenched lips.

  The reactions of my colleagues varied. The warmest came from Kim Han Chu, who clapped me on the back and shook my hand. Dr. Harris congratulated me politely, while Endicott gave me a thumbs-up signal and said “Good show!” Burns and McBride, both associate professors and the two most senior members of the department after Harris, nodded politely.

  Fielding looked shocked when after announcing that I had been awarded tenure, Dr. Bolton rose from his chair, indicating that the meeting was over. Fielding had clearly expected that he would be the recipient of tenure and could not understand what had happened.

  Without pausing to congratulate me, Fielding started to say something to Bolton. Before he could do so, he was interrupted by Dr, Peabody, who had jumped up from her chair and placed herself in front of the chairman, blocking the door.

  “I object!” she declared in an angry voice. “We have not voted on Snodgrass’s tenure! I oppose it!”

  Bolton stared at her. “Gertrude,” he said, his voice icy. “As you apparently have forgotten, the university regulations permit a chairman to award tenure to a member of his department on his own authority if he thinks it appropriate. Because of Maynard’s great contributions to the department, I have decided to exercise the authority.”