Short Story.
October 16, 2020
Written by: Matthew Oyan
An old man stood alone on the dark basement of the university, illuminated only by flickering fluorescent lights. A six foot tall, two feet wide cylindrical apparatus stands on the center of the room, surrounded by a forest of wires and blinking panels on desks. This is his time machine, and he has been a prisoner of it since it was invented.
The sound of well-made shoes echoed around the room. The man turns around, and in what little light in the room he sees his student, a young, intelligent, well-dressed lad, holding a notepad that contained his lessons for a graduate course in quantum mechanics.
“Good afternoon, Professor,” the student greeted.
The professor gave the student a weary smile. “Good afternoon too. How did you know I was here?”
“I was looking for you, Professor, and you weren’t in your office. I saw an open door that led to here,” the student said.
“An old man’s mistake,” the professor quipped. “No point in shooing you away, now that you’ve seen this.”
The student walked closer to the machine. “What is this thing?”
“A time machine. I started working on it a several years ago, when I first set foot in this school to teach. I’m still surprised they haven’t noticed this yet,” the professor said.
The student nodded. “And the countless tools that have went missing in the laboratory and the hardware storages, I presume?”
The professor laughed. “You are one smart lad. Yes, I believe they still haven’t figured it out yet, and I want it to stay that way.”
The student walked around the machine. He circled around carefully, making sure not to trip over the wires that have been haphazardly laid out in the many years this project was in place. “Does it work?”
“Yes. For many months now.”
The student was surprised. “How come you haven’t published this yet?”
“I have no intention to. I only wanted to invent this to fix a problem, many, many years ago.”
“No time travel paradoxes yet, sir?”
The professor sighed. “No, because I haven’t interacted with the times I’ve visited. Only looked. I just can’t bear to change my history.”
The professor looked at his student. “Come with me, I’ll show you why I made this.”
He pressed several buttons beside the machine. “Let’s go to a time when my heart was still whole.”
The professor entered the cylinder. His student followed suit.
The cylinder was a brightly lit, clean chamber. It was a stark contrast to the chaotic electronics that was the outside of it. On the professor’s side was a small box attached to the wall. Inside were two pieces of metal with a red button each. He took them and gave one to the student.
“On the count of three, I want you to push this button.” The student nodded. “One, two, three—!”
A flash of light, and the professor felt as if his lungs were squashed, desperate for air. It was no surprise, given that they were hurtling through the fabric of spacetime itself. The student was clearly not used to this. The professor saw him with a look of extreme anxiety in his face, clearly not liking this journey.
Another flash. They landed on a school cafeteria.