Sliptime

by Jeffrey Grode

  The phone rang again. What now? Albert sighed and grabbed the phone. “Yes?”

  “About time you answered,” Patsy said. “We’re on our way to pick up some clothes at your house.”

  “We?” His frown didn’t help his throbbing head. This better be important.

  “Your wife and I. She’s been in the hospital, remember? Dad, are you sick or something?”

  Goresakes. The implant. “Why do you need clothes?” He rubbed his temple.

  “For Mom. She’s coming home with me to Carlston. I can help her recover there.”

  “Sure, sure. Take her home with you.” He held the bronze medallion up to the lamp and squinted.

  “Come with us, Dad. At least for Saturday.”

  “No. I’ve got work to do.” He put the medallion under a microscope and studied the seam on the outer casing.

  “I’m baking a cake. Jack will be there. He might even bring Ben—”

  “Ben?” His eyebrows rose. “Anyone else from Earth?”

  “I’m not sure. You’ll have to see for yourself.”

  “Hmmm. Of course I’ll come and help.” He put the bronze medallion around his neck. “You said cake. What’s the occasion?”

  “Some father you are . . .”

  He blinked at the phone. “What?”

  “Pack an overnight bag for yourself. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  The phone went dead. Albert shook his head. Women.

  Patrick left Betty and the past behind and returned to the phased lab—present day Friday, 1:00 p.m. He washed his hands and face, but saw a troubled man gaze back from the small mirror over the sink. Would the world remain as he knew it, or did his attempt to save Betty cause ripples in the timeline? After speaking with the earlier version of himself at the bus station, he’d hoped he made it clear not to mention the cancer. Not yet. Not until he ran a few more models of what might happen. He could always return.

  Though ecstatic and relieved to have seen her again, changing the past could have serious consequences. She may have to . . . die. It galled him, but the alternatives could be worse. Was it all for naught? No. The years he’d spent searching for her were worth every minute. He’d spent a beautiful afternoon with the love of his life.

  At least he returned to the phased lab. Maybe the mere existence of the lab meant the timeline had been preserved along with his discoveries. He wouldn’t have been in this lab right now without having built the beacon, met Albert, visited Terra, met Betsy, found Jack, and traveled in time. He held the bronze t-medallion in his hand. Oh. What if the phased lab remained intact because it existed outside of time and space? What if he alone knew of his unique past while everything else had changed?

  If he left the lab, would he find his wife cooking in his kitchen? His mouth watered as a memory of her savory pot roast assailed him. What if he found some retired version of himself on the couch watching Judge Judy re-runs, or that he had died years ago from a coronary?

  “Amo? Are you here?”

  No answer. He touched a function on the t-medallion that would allow him to discover anything, or anyone, hidden in i-phase. He scanned the room. Nothing. He must be with Ben.

  Patrick checked the lab’s time modulator, which was synchronized with actual time outside the lab, and used the computer to scan the house security system. He panned various rooms with the hidden cameras, but saw no one else in the house. The place was still a mess from the FBI search. At least they didn’t find the phased lab.

  Visshz-cliiick-gug.

  His shoulders jerked. “Amo?” He turned around and saw Ben and Jack kneeling next to Amorphous on the floor. They had simply appeared. The boys looked intact, but Amo’s metal legs were crushed.

  “GranPat!” Ben called and waved for him to hurry. “We need help.”

  He rushed over and assessed the visible damage. “Amo. Please run a self-diagnostic and report.” He frowned at Ben and Jack. “What happened?”

  “Car accident,” Ben said. “Can you fix him?”

  Amo’s blue ceramic eyes blinked. “Running. T-processor at 75 percent. Physical damage to leg structure and pneumatics. Losing gray fluid. Unsure of logic function.”

  “Let’s get you up on the table.” Patrick used the tracked ceiling lift and cable loops to pull Amo onto the reinforced table. He used duct tape to temporarily repair a torn gray tube. After examining the damaged legs, he realized he may have to find, or pilfer, replacement parts from the S&T lab. Going there may be too risky, especially since he was wanted by the FBI.

  Patrick furrowed his forehead. “What about your logic function?”

  “I may have been in error.” Amo blinked his blue eyes.

  “How so?” Patrick connected a computer cable to Amo’s neck port and ran a secondary diagnostic program.

  “I— Vishzzzz-cliiick-hup.

  Patrick glanced at Ben. “How did it happen?”

  “A van ran him down.”

  “Anyone else injured?”

  “Saw one man down with a broken arm and unconscious,” Jack said. “Not sure about the others,”

  “Amo?” Patrick asked.

  “I stood outside the restaurant observing humans while in i-phase. I wanted to determine if Terrans were similar in nature to those from other worlds.”

  “Ben, I heard you pinched a t-medallion without askin’, but I never thought you would take Amo to Terra! Don’t you know you can seriously muck up the future if you change the past?”

  “Sorry, I messed up, GranPat.” Ben looked down at his shoes.

  And I left Betty to her fate today out of principle. Patrick took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Where, and when, did this happen?”

  “Carlston. But we didn’t travel back in time.”

  Patrick sighed. “Thank God.”

  Jack’s jaw dropped open. “Back in time? Bro, you’ve been seriously holding out on me.”

  “Yeah,” Ben said. “Time travel beats rocket science any day of the week.”

  “What’s ‘rocket science’?” Jack asked.

  “You know. Sending astronauts on a rockets from Earth to the moon and back. We did it six times.”

  “Wow.” Jack scratched his head. “Never happened on Terra. How did—”

  Patrick raised his hand to silence Jack, and the boy’s face fell. “Amo, what happened next?”

  “I saw a woman and a young girl walking hand-in-hand up the street. A bearded man jumped out of a parked white van, grabbed the girl, and pushed her inside the van. The woman screamed for help. I was not, Vishhhzz-cliiick, programmed for this type of event. My logic was inadequate.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I moved forward to assist the woman. The van drove into me causing mutual damage. I ripped the door off its hinges, pulled the bearded man out, and harmed him. The girl ran to the woman unharmed. The driver tried to leave, but I flipped the van on its side. This action further damaged my legs. The driver crawled out and ran away. I could not pursue. I had no weapons to stop him.” Amo stretched his fingers. “Commonwealth police arrived when Ben and Jack tried to assist me. We teleported here.”

  “Did you lose i-phase?” Patrick asked.

  “Yes. I lost invisibility when the van struck me.”

  “So the Terrans saw you.”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  “Damn. Amo, you were instructed to guard Ben, not get involved in others’ domestic disputes, or be seen by law enforcement.” Patrick’s eyes flicked to his grandson. “What were you thinkin’?”

  “Amo saved a little girl from being kidnapped. He’s a hero!” Ben straightened. “Besides, Commander, how was I supposed to know I had an invisible robot following me? Don’t remember you telling me about my green guardian angel. Do you?”

  Patrick huffed and looked back at the robot. Ben’s right about that.

  Amo blinked. “Commander, this is my fault. My logic was in error. I am programmed to protect human kind, but I did not think through all of the
consequences before taking action. Should I have allowed her to be kidnapped?”

  Patrick grew silent and thought about his trip to the past. “Your logic’s not in error. You’re startin’ to think more like a human. Sometimes we try to save humankind one person at a time, but it’s hard to anticipate every outcome. People and groups have competin’ interests and different opinions about what’s right and what’s wrong. We often get stuck and fail to act. You didn’t fail to act, but with more experience you might have handled it better.

  “I’m worried the police on Terra have seen the three of you disappear together. This could make things difficult for Jack and any of us who visit Terra in the future. We’ve had enough trouble with CSD and don’t need more. I’m also concerned to what degree I can repair Amo without drawing attention. We need a fix. Any ideas?”

  Ben touched the robot’s green metal shoulder. “Amo told me he can communicate through his t-processor to other versions of himself in time. He could tell his earlier-self to avoid the damage from the truck.”

  Amo blinked. “That system is now off-line. Damaged.”

  “Let’s reset what happened,” offered Jack.

  “How so?” Patrick tilted his head.

  “Like reloading a save point on one of Ben’s video games. Ben and I will jump back in time to when he and Amo crossed to Terra. We’ll wait for the original Jack and Ben to walk into Moonlight Pies, and Ben will warn Amo to stay with us. We’ll walk back to my house, instead, and avoid the accident.”

  “Wait.” Ben wrung his hands. “What about the little girl? We can’t just let them take her.”

  Patrick raised an eyebrow at Jack.

  Jack turned toward Ben. “We can call the police. Tell them where to find two creepy guys in a white van stalking children. We can give them the license number.”

  “Do you have the number?” asked Ben.

  “Virginian Province 366-YME.” Amo said.

  Patrick shook his head. “Sounds like a simple plan, but we need to be careful. We’ll really never know if we’re doin’ the right thing. In this timeline, those people were caught in the act and the girl is safe. If we let them go, they may eventually harm her or someone else. Whatever we do, we need to do the least harm.”

  “We’ll make sure the girl is safe and the kidnappers get caught.” Jack promised.

  After further discussion, Patrick hugged them goodbye. Jack and Ben left for the past in a wash of green light without Amo.

  “Commander, the boys have left to change the timeline. They will continue on with my other-self. What will happen to me? Will I cease to exist?”

  “I don’t think so. You’ll be with them.”

  “No. That will not be me. What will their change bring to this timeline? You and I are in the phased lab, outside of time and space. When the other Amo avoids the accident, will I cease to be, or will I continue to exist here?”

  “Excellent question Amo. The fact that we are still havin’ this conversation, means that either you still exist because of the phased lab, or the boys have failed to change the past. Either way, I’ll stay here with you and see.”

  “Thank you, Commander. That makes me . . . feel better.”

  Patrick turned the modulator back to phased-lab-time and moved to the cot. “I need a little down time, my friend. Please wake me if someone drops by or you need somethin’.”

  “Yes, as do I. The Gray will assist with my internal repair.”

  Patrick rested and tried not think about the infinite outcomes should something go wrong with the boys’ plan.

  Chapter 14

  Patrick woke in the phased lab well rested. The cot creaked as he stood.

  Visshhhh-click. Amorphous lay on the table.

  “Good to see you, Amo. Feeling better?”

  “My internal t-processor is 99% operational. The Gray repaired my internal components, but my legs are still damaged.”

  “But how do you feel?”

  Amo blinked. “Hmmm. I feel relieved to still be here.”

  Patrick nodded. “Me too. I need to leave the lab for a while.” His heartbeat seemed elevated. Was he anxious about what, or whom, he might find in his house? “I’ll be back soon.”

  “Commander?”

  “Yes?”

  “If I am not here when you return, it has been an honor knowing you.”

  He laid his hand on Amo’s shoulder. “I will see you later, my friend.”

  Patrick left the phased lab unsure of what he might find. The calendar book he’d left on the table in his cellar had been taken. After climbing the stairs to the kitchen, he walked around the house and saw the clutter the FBI had left for him. His front door had been battered open and then nailed shut to keep out the weather. What a mess. Jagged wooden splinters lay on the foyer floor. He knew what they were looking for, but felt sure they found nothing. The schema for his inventions and the phase detector were safely tucked away in his secure lab.

  His eyes roamed through the house. The décor, the curtains, the pictures, the bedspreads were all the same as when he’d last been home. They were all remnants from his and Betty’s past, but nothing new to show Betty’s penchant for redecorating. Patrick let out a long sigh and felt a mixture of relief and disappointment.

  Though his round trip to the past had been an extraordinary scientific breakthrough, he’d erred on the side of caution. He’d chosen to preserve the timeline—past, present, and future—by leaving his wife to her sad fate. Nonetheless, a silent desire nestled within his heart that she might have survived. She hadn’t, but even a small hope, if nurtured, may live for another day. In retrospect, he was thankful for the visit and tempted to see her again. He had the time.

  Patrick plugged his cellphone into the charger. It read-Friday, 1:22 p.m. Time flowed faster outside his phased lab. Technically, he was late for work at the S&T lab. Should he call Caliban? Ha! Only if I want to be arrested.

  Trying to bring order to his world, he replaced the cushions on the sofa and chairs, the drawers back into the dressers, and slid his mattress back onto the bed. He shaved, took a long shower, and changed clothes.

  A large engine whined outside his home. Surprised, he peered through his front window and saw two black sedans parked in his snowy driveway. A truck with an empty flatbed trailer sat in the side yard. Wide tread tracks in the snow led from the trailer to the back of the house.

  He hurried to the back window and saw a backhoe digging near the tree line, not far from where the temporary command bunker had been during the OHW. Two men in hardhats and two in overcoats stood near a hole in the frozen ground. He recognized Simmons and Caliban. A woman trudged through the blowing snow toward them. A strong gust of wind whipped her scarf away from her face. Agent Gendrick. What are they up to?

  Outside Patrick’s house, the wind blew loose snow against Director Caliban’s legs. He tried to warm his hands in his coat pockets. “How is the signal strength?”

  “Getting stronger,” Simmons replied, holding the small scanner in his gloved hand. “We’re close.” Simmons signaled to the backhoe operator. “Easy on the bucket. Small bites.”

  The backhoe operator lowered the bucket into the hole and scraped lightly with its metal teeth.

  Caliban shivered as the frigid wind stung his bare ears. “Stop. There it is.”

  Green metal protruded from the softer dirt below the frozen surface. He nodded and Simmons turned off the frequency scanner he and his team had developed without Patrick’s help. The new scanner could detect portals and the specific emergency radio frequencies emitted by the Erdian robots under stress. The emergency frequency had been discovered in the lab after they activated one of the lesser damaged robots.

  Simmons jumped into the hole and brushed dirt off the buried robot. “It’s not any of the models we have in the lab. It could be model #7.”

  Caliban frowned. “How is that possible?”

  “Maybe it was inadvertently buried after they excavated the OHW command bunker.�
� Agent Gendrick adjusted her earmuffs. “I think we found our missing robot.”

  Dr. Caliban’s face soured. “Maybe.” He placed his hands over his ears to warm them.

  Simmons smiled at him. “Patrick’s off the hook now. Right?”

  Caliban grimaced. The blood test results from the basement floor came back 99% positive for Patrick, but he had no idea if they also matched Patrick’s doppelganger, Albert. Still, the FBI needed to question Patrick. “Not as far as I’m—”

  “Of course I’m off the hook,” Patrick claimed as he joined the treasure seekers. “Isn’t this the bot you’ve been looking for, Dr. C?”

  Caliban narrowed his eyes. “Where have you been? We’ve been looking for you.”

  “Had a family emergency, but I’m back now,” Patrick said. “While I was away some hoodlums tore me house apart. Any ideas who done it?”

  Caliban grimaced. Asshole. “You still owe me—”

  “Hey! Here we go.” Simmons brushed more dirt from the robot’s head and chest. Bright green ceramic eyes sparkled in the mid-day sun. “This bot’s head looks in good condition, but there is a piece of shrapnel lodged in its chest.”

  Caliban moved a step closer toward the hole. “Exhume the robot and bring it back to the S&T lab. Maybe we can bring it back to life.”

  “Yeth, Mathster.” Simmons crooked his back. His goblin eyes grew wide above a rictus smile.

  Patrick and Agent Gendrick laughed.

  Caliban squinting at Simmons in the cold light. “What?”

  The backhoe operator chuckled. “Frankenstein reference.”

  Caliban forced a smile and nodded to the foreman. Didn’t know Simmons had a sense of humor. “The sooner we get it loaded on the truck the better.”

  “Hold on a minute. Don’t be too Igor.” Patrick jumped down in the hole next to a grinning Simmons. “Let’s make sure old ‘Green Eyes’ is completely deactivated.” Patrick reached his hand behind the bot’s head and twisted right, then left. “Good to go. You don’t want it to wake up halfway home with active weapons.”

  “Good call, Boss.” Simmons’s eyes looked grateful.