by Mike Parker
As much as Nick would have loved to stick around to see the whole thing play out, he had no desire to get picked up by the cops so he discretely turned the ignition of his car and calmly drove away from the house. He returned to Logan airport and dropped off his vehicle, then took a taxi to an all-night diner nearby. A couple hours later, the early morning news reported that Clara Simpson had been rescued safely and a 45-year-old man was in police custody. Nick breathed a sigh of relief and ordered another coffee while he waited for the Little Bird to beep signaling it was time for his return to the present.
– 11 –
Now That’s Different
Nick stepped out of the machine not knowing exactly what he would encounter. As much as he had lobbied to go back in time and attempt to improve history, now that he was about to experience the effects of those changes first hand, he was much less confident. At first glance, the lab seemed to be essentially the same and he was greeted by Carl, Ainsley, and Dr. Stevens. Nick was greatly relieved to see all three of his fellow team members present – that was a good sign.
“Um, hi,” Nick began awkwardly.
“Welcome back,” Carl greeted. “Was your mission successful?”
Nick looked at the others curiously, “How long have I been gone?”
“Twenty-four hours,” Dr. Stevens informed.
“And what, exactly did you send me to do?”
“That’s just it,” Ainsley explained. “We don’t remember. It’s all hazy and muddled.”
“Interesting,” the time traveler replied. “I wondered how that would work.”
“Indeed,” Carl agreed. “Technically, if you succeeded with your mission in the past you would have instigated a new timeline which would have led up to this moment.”
“Right,” Nick affirmed.
“However, having fixed whatever it was you went back to fix there would have been no need for us to send you back to fix it yesterday.”
“So, you would have sent me to do something else?”
“Most likely,” Carl agreed. “However, it seems as though your return has caused some sort of temporal interference which has caused the details of that mission to become somewhat … fuzzy.”
“Fascinating,” Nick replied. “Okay, do a search for Clara Simpson, from South Boston, 13 years ago.”
Ainsley manned the computer and searched the internet based on the information Nick had offered. “Oh yeah,” she said glancing at the screen. “I remember this from when I was a kid. A little girl was abducted from her house in the middle of the night. Thanks to an anonymous tip police found her and apprehended her kidnapper within a matter of hours. Wait,” she paused as the wheels of her mind turned, rapidly connecting the dots. “Were you the anonymous source?”
“Hmm, you should know,” Nick replied. “You selected this case.”
“Amazing,” Dr. Stevens gasped. “What happened in your timeline?”
“She was never found and her abductor was never caught.”
“Amazing,” the doctor repeated.
“I believe the phrase you’re looking for Doc is ‘Great Scott’!” Carl chuckled.
“Here,” Nick offered the history drive to Ainsley. “Use this to compare any and all changes between this timeline and the one I originally came from.”
“I added an algorithm to the computer to do just that,” Carl explained moving over to help his sister with the computer. After a few minutes, Ainsley gasped deeply.
“What is it?” Nick asked in a concerned voice.
“I’ve found at least a dozen other young girls who were abducted and never found in your timeline that seem to be alive and well now. It would seem that Clara was not this schmuck’s only victim.”
“Wow, that’s incredible,” the time traveler said.
“You just saved a lot of little girls and their families from unimaginable heartache. Well done my boy,” the doctor smiled gently.
“Any negative effects?” Nick asked.
“Nothing significant that I can see,” the physicist replied.
“Guys, you’re not going to believe this,” Ainsley nearly shouted. “I’ve found Clara!”
“Where?” her brother asked, examining the screen again.
“She’s a psychology major right here at MIT!”
“She should be getting out of her Abnormal Psych class in twenty minutes,” Carl noted. “Let’s go meet her.”
“What are we going to do?” Ainsley asked. “Say, hi, we sent a man back in time to rescue you from that guy who kidnapped you – an experience which I imagine you still try very hard to forget every day?”
“Yeah, I think we should just leave her alone,” Nick agreed. “However, I wouldn’t mind seeing her with my own eyes, safe and sound.”
Ainsley printed off a copy of Clara’s student ID photo and the team walked across campus and sat at a picnic table in the courtyard outside the psychology building. Several minutes later, a large group of university students streamed out into the courtyard.
“There she is,” Ainsley said, comparing a young blonde girl walking towards them to the photo in her hand. “That’s her in the green shirt.”
The four of them watched, as discretely as they could manage, as the beautiful young lady, full of life and joy, walked passed them with a group of her friends in tow. As she passed their table she laughed with glee at something one of her friends had said. Once Clara had passed by and gone on her way, Ainsley looked at the rest of the group and said, “I was wrong, we have to go back again.”
The team unanimously agreed and immediately commissioned the reporter to find their next project as soon as possible. Then the conversation moved back to Nick’s most recent trip as the rest of the team plied him with questions about the details of his journey to the past.
Eventually, Carl headed back to the lab and Dr. Stevens went home to be with his family. Ainsley invited Nick over to her place to start sifting through the history books to look for potential timeline tweaks. The Clara Simpson mission had been such an unmitigated success, all of the team was compelled to make another attempt. More than just a compulsion, they each felt a responsibility to use their newfound ability to positively affect history for the betterment of humanity. It was a daunting task to be sure, but there was no turning back now. If they had the power to change the wrongs in the past, but did not attempt to do so, they were, at least to some degree, culpable in them as well.
“Chinese is here,” Nick called out closing the door and carrying the take-out bag to the kitchen. “Any luck?”
“Not yet,” Ainsley replied. “I think we should go back even further this time and impact something even more significant.”
“I don’t know, rescuing those girls seems pretty significant to me.”
“Absolutely, but only for those girls and their families. We could paint with a much wider brush don’t you think?”
“Look at you?” Nick chuckled. “A couple days ago you were the hold out on even doing these missions. Now you’re leading the charge.”
“It’s like you said,” Ainsley replied. “After seeing how big of a difference we made for Clara, how can we not continue?”
“I agree completely. We should absolutely continue. But not until after the kung pao.”
– 12 –
After the Kung Pao
“Alright you two,” Carl greeted, walking into the lab. “Have you guys found anything yet? It’s been over a week.”
“What about the two ideas we pitched on Friday?” Nick asked.
“I told you,” the physicist explained. “I ran your proposed change through, and my predictive algorithm suggested both of those scenarios were too risky. Too many negative repercussions.”
“What about Nixon?” Ainsley asked, staring intently at the computer screen.
“What about him?” her brother asked.
“He was one of the most corrupt presidents in modern US history. Especially in his second term.”
“Which lea
d to eight years of Ford, which weren’t much better,” Nick added.
“Recent biographies have detailed the extensive use of FBI, CIA, and even IRS agents intimidating individuals, bugging DNC offices, and breaking campaign finance laws – and that’s just during the election. Once he was back in office, he knew he could get away with anything, and he pretty much did,” the reporter explained.
“What if we could prevent Nixon winning a second term?” Nick hypothesized.
“That’s a pretty big move. Give me an hour to run it through the algorithm and see what shakes out,” Carl suggested.
Shortly after lunch, Dr. Stevens joined the other three team members in the lab to hear Carl’s analysis. “So, what did you come up with?”
“Nixon,” Ainsley said.
“Like President Nixon?”
“Yep,” Nick affirmed.
“I hate that guy. He was as crooked as they come,” the doctor scoffed. “What does the computer say?”
“Our best chance is to make our move sometime during the 1972 election,” Carl suggested. “On June 17th of that year, five men, known as the White House Plumbers, broke into the Democratic National Committee inside a hotel.”
“Which hotel?” Nick asked.
“It was called …” Carl searched through a stack of papers on his desk, eventually finding the one he was looking for. “The Watergate, in Washington D.C. The men were never caught, and the information gleaned from the files they took with them and the bugs they left behind were critical in Nixon winning a second term.”
“So, we stop the break-in?” Ainsley asked.
“No,” her brother answered. “According to my calculations stopping the break-in wouldn’t change anything.”
“They’d just go back some other time and break in again.” Nick surmised.
“Exactly.”
“Then what?” the reporter asked.
“We let them break in,” Carl explained. “We make sure they get caught red-handed, and we make sure the trail of breadcrumbs leads all the way to the oval office.”
“How do we manage all that?” Nick asked.
“Getting them caught is simple,” the physicist stated. “An anonymous tip to the right guy at the right time should get the job done.”
“And the breadcrumbs?” Doc asked.
“I have an idea on that,” Ainsley jumped in. “There were these two reporters. What were their names?”
“Woodward and Bernstein,” Nick offered.
“Right. Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein were reporters for The Washington Post. They covered the Nixon campaign. They hinted at improprieties in the committee to re-elect the president, but they could never make anything stick.”
“So how do we change that?” Dr. Stevens inquired.
“We have all the information they need. I just have to find a way of getting it to them without implicating myself,” Nick suggested.
“A confidential source,” the reporter offered. “Reporters use them all the time.”
“What? Are you going to meet them in the shadows of a parking garage and hand them a manila envelope?” Carl chuckled.
“That would work, but how do we get them there?” Nick asked.
“Leave that to me,” Ainsley said with a confident grin.
“I have a friend in the anthropology department,” the doctor stated. “They do great work with making historically accurate clothes for their displays. I’ll see if they can get us some seventies appropriate clothes for you.” Dr. Stevens volunteered.
“I guess I have a Nixon biography to read and a manila envelope to fill,” Nick said
“I’ll get the B.I.R.D. all tuned up to go,” Carl stated. “And I will add all the information I can gather about our current timeline, at least the last thirteen years of it, and add it to the history drive. Meet back here in two days, ready to go.”
Fifty hours later the team was all assembled in the lab once again. Nick was decked out in bell-bottoms and an embroidered jean jacket. He had printed out enough information about corruption in the Nixon camp to set Woodward and Bernstein well on their way. “So, what’s the plan?”
“As far as I can tell, The Watergate had a security guard on duty on the night of the break-in,” Carl explained. “All you have to do is alert him to the robbery.”
“Is that all?” Nick asked facetiously. “What about the reporters.”
“Woodward and Bernstein had a former FBI source they used regularly,” Ainsley explained. “His name was Mark Felt. If you contact them pretending to be Felt, they should likely show up for the meet.”
“What happens when they go to follow up with Felt and he has no idea what they’re talking about,” Nick asked.
“It’s hard to say,” the reporter admitted. “But my hunch is he’ll either play along with it or be willing to go out and get the evidence for himself. Like I said, he was willing to divulge information to these guys on other occasions. I think he’ll do the same here, with a little nudge.”
“There’s a parking garage near the Key Bridge,” Carl informed the team. “It’s just across the river from the Watergate. You should be able to arrive there relatively inconspicuously. Might work as a meeting place for the reporters too. According to this, the break-in occurs around 2:30 AM. We’ll send you in at 10 in the evening and pull you out 24 hours later.”
“Here is your phone,” the doctor said as he handed Nick the device. “The history drive, and of course, the Little Bird”
“Please be careful,” Ainsley pleaded.
“I’ll try not to mess up history too much,” Nick smirked.
“That’s good,” she replied, “But it’s not what I meant. Be careful,” she reiterated and gave him a short kiss on the cheek.
“Okay,” Nick said, stepping into the chamber. “There’s no time like the present.”
“Groan,” Ainsley said rolling her eyes and closing the chamber door. “See you soon.”
– 13 –
I Am Not a Crook
Nick took a quick look around to make sure no one had seen his arrival. Fortunately, it looked as though the parking garage was largely empty, which made sense at 10 in the evening. He took a minute to gather himself and settle into his new surroundings. The parking structure was populated with cars that in his time would have been old clunkers but were now in their prime. This corner of the parking garage seemed to be particularly isolated. Nick pulled out his phone and took a quick photo of the sign identifying the particular location.
Nick had visited Washington several times in the past, but he downloaded a map to his phone just in case. After all, this was no time to get lost. He walked out of the parking garage doing his best to look like he fit in, although he didn’t feel that way in the least. Everything around him looked familiar and yet at the same time somehow off.
He knew his best route was to go up a couple blocks and then follow South Arlington Boulevard, so that’s what he did. He had hoped to cross the Potomac River on the Theodore Roosevelt Bridge, which would have been a much more direct route to the hotel, but it appeared that at this time there were no pedestrian walkways on that bridge, so he continued on his way. Plan ‘B’ took him further down the river to the Arlington Memorial Bridge.
With every step he took along the bridge’s sidewalk, the Grant Memorial loomed bigger in front of him. The large marble edifice anchored one end of the Washington Mall and sat virtually on the shores of the Potomac at the end of the Arlington Memorial Bridge. Although he didn’t want to arrive at the hotel late, Nick could not resist the opportunity to visit the monument dedicated to the President credited with ending the American Civil War. A general turned politician, Grant was truly a remarkable historical figure and had always been one of Nick’s favorites.
Grant seemed an even more imposing figure as the time traveler gazed upon the twenty-foot-tall statue of the president sitting in a chair and gazing stoically out over the Washington Mall. Nick took a few moments to sit on the steps and gaz
e at the moon glistening in the reflecting pool. He couldn’t help but wonder what the general would think about their little science project. Perhaps he wouldn’t be able to fathom it at all. However, Nick liked to think that Grant would have been in favor of what they were doing. Perhaps he’d even have a few mission objectives of his own to suggest.
Before long he realized that the time for pondering such deep thoughts was gone and he needed to get on his way. After buying a hotdog from a street vendor Nick made his way up to 23rd street until it connected with Virginia Avenue. From there it was only a few blocks more to the Watergate Hotel.
It had taken nearly an hour for Nick to walk from Key Bridge to the Watergate, including his stop at the monument. According to Ainsley, the Democratic National Committee had rented out the entire sixth floor of the hotel. He made his way directly to the stairwell and ascended to the seventh floor. He sat on the stairs near the railing where he could see the sixth-floor door and settled in to wait for the White House Plumbers to arrive.
As Nick sat there waiting for the thieves to break in, he began to wonder what impact his repeated teleportations might be having on his body. So far he had not felt any ill effects and Dr. Steven’s had given him a clean bill of health before this latest mission. But Nick couldn’t help but wonder if there were issues brewing that the doctor might not catch in a standard physical exam.
Of course, the bigger question was: If teleporting through time really was having adverse effects on him, would he be willing to stop doing it? On the one hand, he had no desire to die or become terminally ill. On the other hand, it would be tough to give all this up. It was not just about the fact that he really enjoyed traveling through history and experiencing other time periods, but after witnessing the impact their mission to help Clara had, he wondered if he could actually give it up, even if he knew it would cost him.