This Is a Book (29 page)

They both knew that there had been various attempts to build time machines at the lab before. No one had succeeded. A few years earlier it looked like one scientist came close—he had managed to jump into the future by a couple of minutes, but later it turned out that he had just passed out in his machine. Another scientist managed to send himself backwards through time but only metabolically—he sent his body back to puberty, which had terrible repercussions on his marriage.

They knew that a time machine presented difficult questions: “If time travel were possible, wouldn’t it have always been possible?” and “Isn’t there a paradox in existing in a time before you existed?” and “How could you eat something twice?” They agreed to leave these questions aside and let their work lead them wherever it led them.

Working late every night after work, they tried various things. One step forward, two steps back, and then one to the right.

Finally, they had a breakthrough. Using a collection of old watches, a network of satellite servers, and some uranium, they managed to make a small machine. What they needed in order to make the machine work was a tear in the time-space continuum. Luckily, Goreburg had discovered one just above the liquor store on the edge of town. If his calculations were correct, then the machine could pass through the tear and enable them to travel backwards through time.

They put the finishing touches on the machine and decided
to launch it after work that Friday. They rented a moving truck, loaded the time machine inside it, and drove to the liquor store, where they parked next to the wormhole. Just after the night clerk closed the liquor store and drove away, they wheeled out the time machine. Over dinner they had agreed to make the first trip something that would create good press and age well for posterity. So, they strapped themselves in and set out for July 4, 1776, to see the signing of the Declaration of Independence.

There was a whir and a boom. The machine filled with smoke and everything got blurry. There were some flashes of light and then a kaleidoscope of colors. A moment later, everything stopped and the machine was silent. Both men were dazed, but perfectly fine. The smoke started to clear and Spatz unbuckled his seatbelt. He got up and lo out the window. “I think it worked!” he shouted.

Goreburg was stunned. He had never been so happy in his life. He unhinged his seatbelt and ran to the window. Outside, people in Colonial attire walked around. Some cautiously approached the machine. This was real. They had done it.

Arthur turned the doorknob and pushed the door. Nothing happened. He pushed harder. The door would not open. “It’s jammed,” he said. Ronald looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the door won’t open.”

“Let me check the external camera,” Spatz said as he walked over to a small console. He typed into a keyboard and looked at the screen.

“Uh-oh,” he said quietly.

“What?” responded Goreburg, still trying to open the door.

Spatz called him over. “Take a look at this,” he said.

Goreburg looked at the screen. He could not believe his eyes. They had landed perfectly between two trees. The machine was wedged between the trees, and the door was jammed right against one of them. There was no way out of it. As they sat there, just a
few hundred yards away, the founding fathers were signing the Declaration of Independence.

“Shit,” said Goreburg. “Can’t you do something about this?”

“Me?” replied Spatz. “I thought you were supposed to be the genius, Arthur.”

“Shut up, Ronald,” Goreburg snapped.

By now, a small group of Philadelphians were gathered around the time machine. Ronald and Arthur had landed just behind a pub, which attracted quite a crowd. Now several drunk and rowdy colonists were starting to rock the machine back and forth.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” said Ronald.

Arthur agreed. They strapped themselves in and headed for their second choice, AD 33, the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. The machine started to spark and whir, and a moment later they were off again. When the smoke cleared they found themselves in Jersualem in the year AD 33. Again, amazingly, the machine had worked. They congratulated each other. A moment later Ronald popped out of his seat and ran to the door. He pushed it. It didn’t budge. He pushed harder. Again, no luck.

This time when they looked at the external camera they found themselves jammed against the wall of a cave.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” complained Goreburg. “What the hell is going on?”

“It’s a time machine, Arthur. Shit happens,” snarled Spatz.

“Yeah, well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? We’ve got a time machine, but what we need is a time
and space
machine, Mr. Wizard,” said Goreburg.

“Maybe you’ve forgotten that time and space are linked in a lit something called ‘spacetime,’ Ronald. I thought someone with your intelligence would know that.”

“Shut up, Arthur.”

“You shut up!” Then both men realized that if they didn’t stop arguing and head back to the present quickly, their energy source
would run out. They stopped talking, put on their seatbelts, and headed home. The next day, the two men returned to work and exchanged awkward apologies. Goreburg promised to work on providing a longer-lasting energy source, and Spatz offered to solve the space problem. As frustrated as both of them were, they were also elated. Each realized just how monumental their invention was. And both secretly wished he could cut the other guy out of it. But both men also knew that they needed each other, at least for the time being. So they kept quiet and worked to improve the machine.

A week later, Spatz had solved the space problem. And the next day Goreburg delivered a new energy source and they were ready to go.

Spatz suggested that they head to ancient Egypt to witness the completion of the Pyramids.

They went back to the liquor store and headed to Egypt. When they landed right on the tip of the Great Pyramid, Spatz looked at Goreburg.

“You happy?” he said. “I fixed the space problem; we’ve landed exactly on the tip of the Pyramid. You’re welcome.”

Goreburg, enraged by Spatz’s stunt, got out of his seat to punch him.

“No!” cried Spatz. “You’ll throw off our balance.”

The machine tipped and started to roll down the side of the Great Pyramid.

Spatz scrambled, reached for the controls, and quickly typed in anything he could. The machine activated, and a moment later they were gone.

They landed in a random field somewhere in an isolated part of Eastern Europe in the year 1356. Goreburg opened the door and looked out of the machine. There was nothing there aside from some shrubs and a few small animals.

Goreburg looked at Spatz and, in his most sarcastic tone, said, “Nice one, Ronald.”

“Shut up, Arthur,” Spatz replied as he marched through the door of the time machine. The trip was too much for his tiny bladder. He was desperate to relieve himself, and was just happy that he could finally pee. He walked outside and headed for some taller shrubs off in the distance.

As he peed, Ronald surveyed the landscape before him. While there were no people or any signs of culture there, it was still thrilling to be standing in a field in 1356, peeing on a medieval shrub. He started to think about what they’d accomplished. Then, suddenly a loud noise interrupted Spatz’s reverie. He turned to see the time machine power up and recede into a cloud of smoke.

Inside the machine, Goreburg sat in his seat and smiled to himself as he headed off with the machine to claim the massive fame and fortune that awaited him in the future. Arthur looked through the window and smirked at the sight of a panic-stricken Spatz sprinting towards the machine with his pants falling around his legs.

Then, in an instant, Goreburg and the machine were gone.

Spatz screamed and collapsed.

Goreburg settled into his seat, overcome with joy and relief. He’d never have to see Spatz again. He was eager to get home and make plans to market the time machine. “I’m going to be a very rich man,” he said to himself.

Then the machine made a weird clicking sound and began to spin around. The noise faded and the machine started to shut down. It coasted for a moment and then crashed into the ground.

The machine had been damaged when it tumbled down the side of the Great Pyramid. In his haste to abandon Ronald, Arthur failed to notice the damage. Now, after using it in its damaged condition, the machine was completely destroyed. Goreburg looked at the date on the console. He had only traveled about one week into the future and only about two hundred yards from where he left Spatz.

A week later Spatz showed up, and when he found Arthur standing near the broken machine, he beat the hell out of him.

Spatz would have killed Goreburg had the fight not been broken up by a group of local tribesmen. The tribesmen had seen the crash from a distance and hiked up to the field to investigate it.

They seized Arthur and Ronald and brought them back to their village.

A week later Goreburg and Spatz were tried for witchcraft and burned at the stake. No one ever knew what happened to the young scientists. Even though they vanished, their copy machine did not. It was successfully tested and then sold to Hollywood, where it is still widely used today.

Even though I play it down, I secretly love the attention that my dreadlocks get me.

I often go to events where I know I can shake my head around a lot and showcase my dreadlocks. This includes concerts, drum circles, and tennis matches.

If I go somewhere and there is another white guy with dreadlocks there, I get competitive. I prefer to be the only white guy with dreadlocks in the group, because the dreadlocks are kind of my thing.

I honestly can’t tell you when the last time I washed my hair was. In fact, I don’t even remember what season it was.

I think white guys with cornrows look ridiculous.

I didn’t actually come up with my personal tag line: “Don’t dread the locks.” I heard some other guy with dreadlocks say it at Burning Man.

I own more hacky sacks than books.

I always try to keep a safe distance from cats and squirrels, because if I get too close they’ll crawl onto my head and try to burrow into my dreadlocks.

My parents pay my rent.

One time, when I was lying down in a park I accidentally got a whiff of my dreadlocks, and I almost passed out from the smell.

I secretly hate the sound of bongos. The main reason I play them is because they go really well with my look (and they’re a great excuse for me to shake my dreads around).

I do not actually know how to play the bongos.

Fireworks make me very uneasy, because if one of them flies into my hair, my dreads will light up like flash paper.

If someone tries to out-mellow me, I’ll put my dreadlocks into overdrive, making it clear who the mellow one is here.

I am not as smart as I look.

The following is a translation of a conversation that took place entirely in Spanish.