“Max, what does fate mean to you?”
Max pondered the question. “It means, what’s meant to be, is meant to be.”
Garfield looked at him. “Wasn’t Life I fate?”
Max looked confused. “I don’t understand.”
“Think about it. In Life I, what kind of person were you?”
Max thought about it and then said, “I was more of a homebody. I didn’t take risks. I married someone who would not only love me—or so I thought—but also be a good mother to our children and pay the bills, too. I chose a profession that paid well, no fuss.”
Garfield made a proposition to Max. “Isn’t that who you really are?”
“No!” Max pushed himself up from his seat, and then sat down again. “I wasn’t happy! I was bored! Life was too predictable for me. I was in the biggest rut ever. I had a chance to go for the life I’d wanted in the past, but didn’t have the guts to go after.”
“Yet you chose Life I first. That was your first series of choices.”
Garfield’s premise dawned on Max. He said, understanding, “You have a very good point.”
“Fate’s more of a one-time thing. Your first time. Your first reaction. Fate is never about second chances. My God, how many people get second chances! That’s not fate.”
“What are you saying?”
“You were cheating fate.”
The provocation temporarily excited Max. “No! Not true!”
“Isn’t it?”
Max nodded. “Excellent point.”
Max wanted to crawl back under the covers again and hide for days. But he had Garfield’s ear and he had to get it all out. When he finally finished every possible angle of his story, he gazed hard into Garfield’s eyes, in a trance of indecision, until finally he asked the question he’d dreaded asking:
“Do you believe me?”
Garfield sighed. “Max, if anyone else asked me that question, after a wild story like that, I probably would have said no. But, yes, I believe you.”
Finally, someone he could talk to again and again about his tormented innermost thoughts. Never would Life II again be the same. He glanced at Garfield again. Despite his smart attire, he could visualize him as the journalist in Life I, sitting across the table from him, discussing philosophy and politics. It was nice to have a slice of Life I back into Life II. The thought was more reassuring than he could ever imagine.
Garfield smiled. “But I have other reasons for believing you.”
Max raised his eyebrows. “What reasons?” he asked with a sense of curiosity.
“Because you’re my best friend. And I now see things being put together. Everything fits.”
“I was running away from Life I,” Max admitted.
“You know the old saying. You can run, but...”
“You can’t hide.”
Garfield smiled. He adopted a more serious tone of voice. “Max, it’s not over yet. This day’s only a step forward. You know what you have to do next.”
“I know,” Max said, and shivered. He felt he should say something more—something that would redeem his lost faith in his friend. Oh Garfield, he thought, I love you, man. I really do. Garfield had shown him, beyond a shadow of a doubt, who was in charge of his life here.
I am.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
August 6, 1999 at 9:35 a.m.
They stood in front of the door marked 300. Max paused, then put a hand on his best friend’s shoulder.
“Ready?” he said.
Garfield swallowed, apprehensive. “Ready.”
Max rang the doorbell. They waited. A tall, thin bespectacled man in a lab coat answered.
“Oh, hello Dr. Thorning!” Dr. Time greeted him. “Come in.” He peered at Garfield, and then turned back to Max, raising a bushy eyebrow.
“It’s okay,” Max said as he gestured toward Garfield, “He knows.”
“Ah, in that case, he is most welcome.” Dr. Time smiled. “Name?”
Garfield appeared flustered, but calmly said, “Garfield Stanley James Yates.”
“Date of birth?”
“June 17, 1971.”
“Please do come in.”
They followed Dr. Time into the cavernous room.
“Dr. Time,” began Max, “do you remember the last time I was here?”
“Indeed I do. You came here at 9:24 a.m., on January 3rd, 1988.”
“No. I came after that, on May 1st, 1997.”
Dr. Time scratched his thin head, narrowed his eyes at Max then shrugged. “Then you must have asked to go back into Time at that point. And you were successful.”
“Yes.”
“In that case, I need you to tell me what happened.” He picked up his clipboard, ready to write it all down with his pen.
Max took a deep breath. “Well, my mother died on April 26, 1997, in a freak car accident.”
Dr. Time solemnly replied, “I would say I’m sorry to hear that. But it wouldn’t be necessary, as you have successfully prevented that from happening, by arriving back in Time to alert your mother.”
“That’s right.”
Dr. Time pressed his lips together, thinking. “Dates?”
“I came here on May 1st, 1997, and I successfully returned to the Time of April 26th, 1997.”
“I’ll make a note of that. I was there, correct?”
“Yes.” As Max looked around the huge spartan room, he had this urge. To see the Time Weaver display its magic, but to not use it for personal gain. To assure himself—and Garfield—that he wasn’t crazy after all. He took a deep breath, and announced in a stage manner:
“I wanted to show Garfield how this works.”
“Very well. I shall get the Time Weaver ready.” Dr. Time walked over to the far wall to get the cube—which was now silver—and place it on its markings on the floor. He then worked to program it to expand to nearly the entire room.
Without any prompting from Dr. Time, Max took Garfield’s arm and beckoned for him to follow Max to the perimeter of the room. Garfield obeyed, wide-eyed yet unquestioning.
Dr. Time joined the two friends. The cube expanded until a sea of blue enveloped nearly the entire room. The three were on the outside, looking intently at the blue giant object, perfectly linear in all its edges and scales.
Garfield was speechless. His mouth dropped and his eyes bulged as he saw the cube grow.
Max grinned as he observed Garfield’s reaction. He believed me, but this is just a wonder of the world that he had to see.
“Please state your destination,” Dr. Time said.
Garfield didn’t seem to hear. Max tapped him on the shoulder. He was so fixated on the glowing vat of blue, that it took him a few seconds to respond. “What?”
Max said, “I think Dr. Time wants you to pick an era of Earth’s history.”
“Wh-wh-what?” Garfield stammered. “What does he want?”
“This Time Weaver will allow you to observe Earth’s history. Any time, any place.”
Garfield jerked his head as if startled. “Even before cameras were invented?”
“Sure,” Max answered and then laughed. “What part of ‘any time’ isn’t clear?”
“Oh man!” Garfield exclaimed. “I don’t know. I have no idea.”
“Think,” Max suggested.
“Can this thing go back a thousand years?”
“Easily,” Dr. Time said.
“Oh, okay.” Garfield’s eyes lit up. “How about… the coronation of Queen Elizabeth I?”
Dr. Time looked at Garfield. “You are referring to Elizabeth I, Queen of England and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, daughter of King Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn?”
He nodded. “That would be her.”
Dr. Time started preparing the Time Weaver. “Date and time, please.”
Garfield appeared uncertain. “Sorry, I have no idea. The year 1600?”
Dr. Time smiled. “Not to worry, I have the exact co-ordinates in my head.” He announced to the Tim
e Weaver, “Westminster Abbey, London, England, one thousand, five hundred and fifty-nine, one, fifteen, twelve, zero, zero.”
Garfield appeared transfixed as the Time Weaver zeroed in on England, then London, then showed the skyline of medieval London. “Holy mackerel!” he exclaimed out loud.
“Dr. Time was saying the date was January 15, 1559,” Max whispered to Garfield.
The Time Weaver finally came to a stop, displaying the front facade of Westminster Abbey.
“Take us in,” Max said, feeling the most inspired he’d felt for a very long time.
The Time Weaver took the three men through the walls of the church, to a breath-taking view of the inside, accompanied by organ music, culminating into an elaborate ceremony of pageantry and pomp.
“This is beyond cool,” Garfield said.
They listened to the classical music blaring from the pipes of the organ, the cheers of the royal subjects, and the chatter echoing off the ribbed vaults of the ornate roofs. The three of them easily located Queen Elizabeth. She was the focus of attention, occupying the throne in the central chamber of Westminster Abbey. The young queen was dressed in a resplendent royal robe of very rich cloth of gold with a double-raised stiff pile. On her head was a plain gold crown without lace. In her left hand she held an orb, and in her right hand, a scepter.
They watched as the queen started to walk past the throng of her subjects. Suddenly, the scene froze and Dr. Time walked over to Garfield. “Shall I turn off the Time Weaver?”
Garfield hesitated, and then lit up. “I do have a special request.”
Max saw a wild look in Garfield’s eyes. “Shoot.”
“It’s a gorgeous woman. I want to find her.”
Max laughed and jabbed Garfield in the ribs. “Dude, seriously?”
“It was an open house. I was the agent and all afternoon, people walked in and out of the door. And then I saw her.” He looked wistful and smitten as his glance drifted off.
“What was her name?”
“Carol.”
“Look, all you have to do is ask the girl,” Max said, chuckling and laying a hand on Garfield’s shoulder.
“I did! She gave me her phone number, but I lost it.”
“Oh, man…”
Garfield turned to Dr. Time, his eyes like a puppy’s. “Is that okay?”
“Wait,” Max said, concerned. “So you want to go back into Time to meet her?”
The lovestruck man acted revulsed. “No, no! I just want to see the scene where she’s jotting down her number.”
“Gotcha,” Max said. He looked expectantly at Dr. Time.
Dr. Time tilted his head back as if miffed. “Location, date, and time please.”
“I could never forget.” Garfield dreamily recalled, “84 Granby Avenue, April fifth, 1998. And I’ll say around 2:35 in the afternoon, because my open houses usually start around 2 p.m., and we talked for at least half an hour.”
“City?”
“Oh, sorry. Vancouver, British Columbia.”
Dr. Time said to the Time Weaver, “84 Granby Avenue, Vancouver, British Columbia, one thousand, nine hundred and ninety-eight, four, five, fourteen, thirty-five, zero.”
The Time Weaver abandoned its scene of the Royal Coronation and switched to an overview of Vancouver, nestled among the Coastal Mountains. It zeroed in North Vancouver, then in front of a brick and stucco bungalow with a ceramic tile roof. As the scene jumped to the inside, they observed the hologram Garfield talking to a young woman. They heard her easy laugh and noted her delicate beauty.
“That’s me!” Garfield said.
The three of them could overhear the conversation between Garfield and Carol, with Garfield saying to her, “Yes, I’d love to watch you practice at the conservatory. Do they allow visitors?”
“Yes, of course,” Carol replied, smiling, clearly taken with him. “In fact, it’s hard practicing all by yourself, since you’re playing to an empty hall.”
The hologram Garfield said with a wicked smile, “I’m sure I can do something about that.”
Max pounded him on the back. “You smooth talker!”
The present day Garfield rolled his eyes at himself and asked Dr. Time, “Can’t you shut this conversation off? It’s, um, pretty embarrassing.”
Dr. Time returned a blank look. “I’m afraid not. We can’t amplify, reduce, or mute sound. It just is.”
“Oh, okay.” Garfield fidgeted.
Finally, they saw the woman pull out a piece of paper from her purse.
“Freeze,” Garfield commanded. “You can stop it, right?”
“Yes, I can,” said Dr. Time.
Garfield spoke too early—Carol was writing on a piece of paper, but hadn’t written down all the numbers yet.
“Sorry,” Garfield said. “Let it run a few more seconds.”
At one point, Carol handed the paper to Garfield.
“Freeze!” Garfield looked at the scene. “Ah, perfect. Ah, can I—?” He pointed toward the hologram.
“By all means,” replied Dr. Time.
Garfield gingerly stepped, as if on tiptoe, inside the hologram. It was so realistic looking that he walked around the furniture—even if he could’ve walked right through. He gazed at his alter ego with wide-open eyes.
“Ugh,” he said. “I sure needed a haircut back then.” He walked to the right of Carol and read the number. “That’s it!” he said, hitting his thighs with his fists. He searched for a pen and paper in his jacket. “Ah, excuse me…”
“There you go,” said Dr. Time. He threw a pen to Garfield, which sailed through the hologram Carol’s body without her so much as flinching.
“Ouch,” Garfield said to the hologram Carol, “Sorry about that.” He wrote the number on a piece of paper he had in his jacket pocket. Strolling back, he gave Dr. Time an enthusiastic two-handed handshake. “Thank you, thank you so much.”
Dr. Time nodded.
Max faced Dr. Time. “Dr. Time, I just wanted to clear up some aspects of time travel with you.”
“Of course.”
“First of all, do you have the Account of Time Travel book?”
“Certainly. I always have copies.” He walked over to his office and pulled a book from the bookshelf. “You may keep it.”
The jacket of the book was much more modern, in paperback with a laminated cover and a striking blue hue. There were no illustrations. Max flipped the cover. It read, 1995 edition.
Dr. Time could see Max’s confusion. “What edition did you have before?”
“The 1958 edition.”
“Yes, that’s our old one. But all the editions are the same, word for word.”
“Perfect.” Max nodded. Holding the book in his hands again erased all his doubts. He raised his eyes from the book and studied Dr. Time. “Can you talk me through your answers to my questions?”
“Of course, Max.”
“You said, or rather your later version said, that Time is absolute. And that with respect to Time, either something has happened, or it has not happened.”
“Actually, we simply say that it has happened. What has not happened does not exist, as far as we know, so we do not label it. The only label we have is the future, which is the unknown after now.”
“Okay. But here’s my problem. I came back from 2013. So 2013 had happened. I met Dr. Time in 2013. It’s now 1999. How can the future have happened, if it did not happen?”
Dr. Time narrowed his bushy brow. “You are scratching very close to the core of what Time is. Think of Time as a series of waves pulsating throughout the universe.”
Max gaped at him. “Uh huh.”
“All Time has already occurred. There’s a series of Time waves throughout the universe, and we happen to be standing in one. There are Time waves from the past that are all recorded through our Time Weaver and we can measure what we can see. The Time waves from the future, however, can’t be recorded. That’s why we say they don’t exist, from our point of view.”
&nb
sp; “Why not?”
“It’s the logic that you humans understand as cause and effect. This is the logical order of the universe. You have a cause, then an effect. The cause must occur first, before the effect.”
“But what does that have to do with Time?”
“Time is nature’s way of separating and ordering these forces,” said Dr. Time. “We cannot record something that hasn’t happened yet.”
It dawned on Max. “So you’re saying the Time Weaver…”
“The Time Weaver can only record past events. It can only record past Time waves.”
“So what happened to the Time wave I was in, back in 2013?”
“It’s still there. But you could only go back in the past, and only if we recorded it.”
“And what happens now to the 2013 wave I was in?”
“It will be altered by your arrival back in the past.”
Garfield stepped forward and pointed his trembling finger at Max. A look of triumph came over his face. “Yes! I was right!” He pumped his fist in the air.
“What’s he alluding to?” Dr. Time asked, exhibiting a rare display of curiosity.
Max replied, “We were discussing how time travel works. Garfield thought the future could alter the past if you had reached the future first. And then he thought that the future would no longer be the same.”
“Your friend is essentially correct,” Dr. Time said. “It would be impossible to have the future exactly the same, because in order to have it remain so, you’d have to act in exactly the same way, and think exactly the same way, in order for the future to be intact.” Dr. Time’s eyes scanned the two men. “And that would be, scientifically speaking, almost impossible.”
Max and Garfield both sighed. Dr. Time studied their downcast faces.
“When I say the future always changes,” he said, never taking his eyes off Max, “I didn’t mean the whole world changes. It may be only one person’s life that changes, with his family and friends altering only slightly. Other times, the changes around him may be more profound.”
Garfield wiped his mouth with the back of his hand; his jaw dropped. “The butterfly effect,” he whispered.
“Yes.”
Max asked, “What about multiple or parallel universes?”
[2013] Life II Page 27