The Temporal Test Read online

  The Temporal Test

  A Detours in Time prequel

  By Pamela Schloesser Canepa

  © 2018

  All rights reserved.

  This work may not be reproduced in any form, copied, or transmitted by any means without prior written permission from the author. Thank you for respecting the author’s rights.

  Cover by Becky Muth.

  “You wouldn’t believe the work I’ve got ahead of me tonight.” Dr. Milt Braddock looked down sheepishly, chiding himself for turning down an invitation from a gorgeous young woman. This didn’t happen often.

  “Come on, Dr. Braddock. It’s Friday night. Do you seriously spend your time here on weekends, too?” Tabitha stood with her hand on her hip. Milt found it surprisingly alluring.

  It was 7:15 at night already, and the campus at the University of Virginia was practically a ghost town except for a few hard-working, dedicated professors, university security, and a janitor or two. Though Milt did not consider Tabitha a janitor or even a cleaning lady.

  Milt did not answer her, but instead looked down at his notebook of calculations. “I’m in the middle of something big.”

  Tabitha glanced over his shoulder. He sensed her closeness, but wasn’t worried about what she was seeing. She’d already shown her level of understanding for these quantum calculations, and it certainly wasn’t her area of expertise. Below zero. He chuckled. Never would he speak to her that way, though she was certainly intelligent in her own right. It’s just that they both seemed to operate on different sides of the brain. At times he had wondered what it would be like if they were closer; would she ask more questions? Or, being her own person with different hobbies and abilities, would she leave him the space he needed? Two very different people could respect each other’s boundaries, couldn’t they? He shook his head as if to awaken himself and noted that she smelled of the warm scent of vanilla, very comforting on this cold November night. Glancing out the window, Milt wondered, Will it snow tonight? Forecasters seemed to think so. Milt’s prediction was a definite ‘yes.’

  “Doc--,”

  “Please call me Milt, I mean, I do call you by your first name.” He turned and smiled at her genuinely, so glad for her presence but at a loss for how to handle it. Did she find him attractive? He wasn’t sure. She had kept coming back after four years. Surely the pay wasn’t that good? Well, she had told him he paid more than the other doctors and wasn’t as surly as Doctor Houston. There I go, drifting again. “I’m sorry, my mind was wandering again.” He smiled.

  Tabitha cocked her head and smiled back. “You are too dedicated. I think it will pay off someday, but really, you’re still young. Not fifty yet, right?”

  “I suppose.” He shrugged, rubbing the stubble on his chin. Actually, he was getting pretty darn close to fifty. Only a month away, to be exact.

  “My ex-boyfriend got tickets to this art-house movie tonight. Seriously, he is just an ex, but the tickets are great….” Tabitha’s body language was inviting.

  Wait, Milt thought. Ex-boyfriend? Ugh. Could it be any more uncomfortable?

  “So, I’ve told him a little about you.”

  “Are you guys still close?” Milt asked.

  “No. He knows some gallery owners, so we still talk sometimes.”

  “That’s just unusual. No, I mean, not that it’s weird or anything; that’s great, that you can still talk. That you still trust him.” Milt turned around to his notebook again, suspecting he had just stuck his foot in his mouth.

  “Oh, I don’t really trust him, I just think of it as networking.”

  “Yeah, interesting concept. One I can only tolerate so much. What I mean is, I am not as good at that as you, the networking thing. Really, though, I do have something big going on, and I don’t want to miss the inspiration. Maybe I’ll figure it all out tonight. You never know.” Milt gazed out the window again, wondering if this would be the night he cracked open the secret of the space-time continuum. At the same time, he wondered if he was refusing a chance to get closer to Tabitha. He glanced back again.

  “Okay, last chance.” She stood expectantly with her arms crossed.

  “I’m sorry, it’s not a good night. Perhaps some other time you can show me what it’s like to have a social life. I’ve been known to have a beer or two. I just think you’re way beyond my social level.” And there it was. They each had their strengths. He wanted to stand eagerly and tell her he had changed his mind. He turned and thought about it, probably for a moment too long.

  She had turned and was talking over her shoulder, grabbing her coat by the door. “Okay, I won’t hold this against you. But you do need to redeem yourself someday. I’ll be back here Monday afternoon to help you organize that corner over there.” She pointed at the stack of professional journals that almost reached the ceiling.

  “Okay. Thank you Tabitha. Thanks for understanding. Thank you for helping me organize all of this.” He looked at her longingly, wishing he had exercised the bravery to break out of his routine this one time. Who knew what might have happened? Then again, who knew what might come from his hard work? He was so close.

  “Oh, do you want me to take that shirt over there to the dry cleaners?” she asked, pointing.

  Milt had spilled coffee on his dress shirt and changed into his Batman t-shirt earlier. He looked down, noticing his belly bulging slightly over his jeans. Dress shirts were his blight, but sometimes there were visitors at the university, and he knew that was not the time to be dressed like a teenage gamer. He calculated the likelihood of remembering to drop it off himself. No, not with everything spinning through his head right now.

  “Please, but only if it’s not inconvenient,” he replied.

  “No, it’s no problem, Milt.”

  “Thank you Tabitha. You’re a life-saver.” He turned back to his work. “See you Monday.”

  “Oh, will you be here tomorrow? I’ll swing by tomorrow to drop off the shirt.”

  “Yes. I mean, no. By all means, no. You do not need to drop off that shirt tomorrow! Just enjoy your weekend.”

  “See you tomorrow!” She winked rebelliously.

  Milt was about to protest again but decided not to. There was no use in trying to change her mind.

  #

  Milt continued his thoughts and calculations, until he looked up and noticed a few flurries drifting down outside of his window. How nice it would have been to accompany her, to throw his coat around her shoulders when she shivered, to reach over to her and warm her cold hands. He shook his head then chuckled. She’d probably never admit to being cold.

  Milt reached up to close the blinds, and turned toward the door to his lab, picturing her standing there as if it was that first day they met.

  “Dr. Milton Braddock?” she had asked as she looked down at a paper in her hands. She was pretty, petite, and in great shape. Milt at first had thought she was a student, definitely not a teen, but perhaps a student in her twenties.

  He had left the door unlocked, as he sometimes did while working. So often he was ordering dinner for delivery on his late nights there. He had smiled when he first saw her, this young girl in her twenties with slightly tight jeans and tight Loverboy t-shirt, hair up in a ponytail. She had a box with cleaning supplies on one hip.

  “Yes, I’m Dr. Braddock,” he answered, smiling. “I gather you’re not delivering my Chinese food.” He sucked in his belly a little and smoothed his unruly, dark hair. A young woman did not enter his lab often.

  “Um, no. I’m Tabitha. Professor Beardon sent me. It seems that old cuss won’t let anyone touch the cluttered disarray in his room. I suspect someone sent me there as a joke. I was hired on to clean offices. So, Beardon sent me to you and told me
you really needed the help more than he did. I don’t see any truth in that, but I really needed this job, and I don’t want to go clean hotels, so I’m hoping….”

  Milt put his hand to his forehead. “Well, I told him….” I told him I didn’t need the help either, he thought, but the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. He looked at her pleading face; she looked as if she was about to cry. Beardon really could be a jerk at times. “I told him I could use help a few nights a week,” he continued. “You don’t look like the average cleaning lady by the way…I mean, I didn’t mean anything off color by that, I just…”

  “Oh, no problem, Doc. I’m an art student at Georgetown University. So, not your average cleaning lady, thank you. I just really need the extra cash. It’s a long story, but if you could use my help, that’s why I’m here. If one more person sends me away, I think I’m out of a job.” She wrinkled her brow.

  “Yes, I could use a little help.”

  “Oh, thank God. I could start tonight,” she said in earnest.

  He glanced down at his notes. Now how would he be able to concentrate with her fluttering around the office? “What do you think you could get done tonight?”

  “Well, I could clean the windows and put all of those books over there on the bookshelf.”

  “I’ll have to assist you with that,” he said, standing. “I have to know where everything is.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to lift a finger. Just tell me where to put them, or how you want them organized. Maybe by author’s last name?”

  “Okay, that could work. Let’s start with that.” He closed his notebook and sat over by the bookshelf. “Alphabetically by author’s last name.”

  “You can go back to work, Dr. Braddock. Really, you can trust me.”

  Milt had gone back to his notes, but only to stack them all inside of a file folder, feeling uncomfortable leaving them out. He returned to Tabitha’s side and listened to her regale him with stories of her attempts at impressionistic painting techniques.

  Time did prove her trustworthy, though.

  It occurred to him how amazing it was that some memories were as clear as day to him, as if they had just happened. As if he had just gone back in time. Suddenly, a realization struck him. He turned to page 59 in the notebook. This is incomplete! I know what it’s missing….

  #

  Milt woke in a jolt to find himself slumped over his notes. His back complained as he slowly sat up on the workstool. Page 59! Page 59…please don’t tell me I didn’t write it down!

  There it was staring up at him from page 59: the addition he had made to the equation. At what point he fell asleep, he didn’t know, but it was a silent, dreamless sleep of fatigue. He reached in the drawer for some deodorant, put it on, and smoothed down his curling hair.

  Opening the lab door, he walked out with the notebook in hand. The sun was beaming down on him. Stretching, he eyed the parking lot and adjacent buildings. Dr. Moore in the next building closed the door on a tired, disheveled Dr. Springfield. He tended to stay overnight in his office a lot, and apparently Dr. Springfield was now joining him. Dr. Mary (she wouldn’t allow anyone to refer to her by last name) never did, but she was already at the campus, tending to the soil of her garden. Even when nothing would grow there, she treated that soil like a child. She seemed to be trying to churn up the light dusting of snow on the ground. Milt didn’t really like what she was into, but she would bring him earthworms sometimes that he could observe like he was seven years old again.

  Rubbing his eyes, Milt quickly waved and retreated back into the lab. He couldn’t risk being forced into conversation this morning and having to explain the smile on his face. His thoughts raced. There had to be something small he could use to contain the power he had just discovered. Of course, he’d use his prized classic car, an Edsel from the 1950s with a more modern, high-performance engine installed. The plan was to add something to the engine. He’d dreamed of this day for many years, but it was still too soon to share this secret. Of course, when would it be time to share his secret, a secret that was surely deadly if in the wrong hands?

  Milt felt the excitement surging through him and felt slightly dismayed at not being able to share this discovery. When would he share it? After his first small experiment ensured that it worked? After he made a larger leap to confirm the power of the time travel mechanism? What would happen then? Would a company buy and patent the time travel mechanism? Would they use it for military purposes? Milt shuddered. He was not ready to unleash this on the world. It was an experience he would share with no one right now, but the experience was sublime. He pondered what it would be like to share this secret with Tabitha.

  Back at his workbench with the notebook, Milt glanced at the calendar. Today was Saturday. Last night, Tabitha had requested to work just two hours and leave early. It was written right there. Milt had forgotten that it was Tabitha’s birthday. Not only had he forgotten, but he had refused to accompany her last night when she had asked so nicely. Would he ever again get a chance to befriend her? He felt like such a heel. Though disappointed, she seemed to understand him not accompanying her, but the least he could have done was to give her a birthday card!

  Milt remembered Amber and how sentimental she was about birthdays and other things he’d never think to celebrate. Dating for one month. Dating for two months. As silly as she was, the girl certainly was good at lying. No, Tabitha was nothing like Amber.

  He fumbled in his box of spare parts. Found it! This’ll be perfect. He raced out of the lab building towards his Ford truck, not even noticing the chill in the air. The sunshine was still bright on his face, and he was burning enough energy to keep him warm all day.

  “When you gonna trade that thing in, Doctor Braddock?” Rayne, campus security called after him. He liked to think that Milt was raking in the big bucks.

  “Right after I get funded by Bill Gates!” Milt called back, and zoomed out of the parking lot.

  Class at 11 a.m. No, I think I’ll cancel class today. After a short stop at the drugstore, his first move upon arriving at the apartment was to call his department leader with a fake, congested voice. Once that was out of the way, he was ready.

  He just had to get his old car, (he called it the Envo, for it would one day be the envy of all), back to the garage he had rented from his favorite mechanic.

  How many hours would it be? He kept counting while working. Too many would be risky. Seven p.m. last night. This would be his first test. Was it too soon to expect it to work? Was he being careless? He had to test the theory and the equipment to be sure it really worked.

  It was just after noon and the car was ready. He got in and turned a lever with the Allen wrench from his pocket. No one would be able to activate it without that tool.

  Wearing the same clothes from last night, signed birthday card on the seat next to him, Milt started the engine, backed out of the garage, and sped to the desired speed on the outskirts of town. He changed the clock on the car that he had installed into the console to eighteen hours before. It seemed to be a safe amount of time. He wouldn’t run into his mother or interfere with any really important history. A flash of light, a slight bump, and there he was, driving through the impending darkness. Landing again on the outskirts of town, he drove back to the lab.

  Creeping in on his tiptoes, Milt observed that the clock on the wall read 7:00 p.m. Would he see himself? Tabitha’s back was turned to him as she was sweeping the floor in his office attachment. Keeping to the shadows, he sat the birthday card open on the workbench next to his beloved notebook which did not yet contain the solution to the calculation. It stood out so as to be noticed. If he died on his way back home, the secret would never be discovered, but Tabitha would probably feel better about him. He sneaked back out the door. Now, to return to his own timeframe and ask about the card. It was humorous, so she’d hopefully remember it. This was all hinging on him getting back safe and alive, though a safe arrival made him more confident of a safe retur
n.

  Shaking his head, Milt chuckled as he revved up the engine to return to his own timeframe. He couldn’t help it, it just seemed like the perfect short-term test of his new time travel ability. There’d be more exciting tests to come. Oddly, he found himself whispering something like a prayer for safe travel. It would be disastrous if he ended up in the wrong timeframe. Sometimes he had to stop himself from being overly confident of his discoveries.

  #

  It was morning again. Saturday. Milt was home, back to his completed calculation and soon, the Tabitha he actually wanted to bump into. He decided to nap, setting his alarm for 4 p.m. to return to the lab.

  Arriving at 5 p.m., he found Tabitha waiting by the lab door.

  “After going out last night, you arrive here before me?” he winked at her.

  “What do you mean, Doc?” she handed him the dry-cleaned shirt.

  “Oh, nothing, Tabitha.” Milt opened the door and they entered. “You didn’t have to bring this back today, and you don’t have to call me Doc, or Dr. either, you know. I’m not uppity like that.” He reached into his pocket and gave her a wad of cash. “By the way, I hope you enjoyed your birthday. If I make the right discovery someday, I will send you with a splendid bottle of champagne to your birthday party!”

  Pocketing the money for his dry cleaning, she replied, “Wow, Milt. That’s so generous. I was just happy with the card you got me.”

  Milt thought he might be blushing, and there was the confirmation: she’d received the card that he went back in time to give to her after forgetting the first time around. She was part of his first time-travel experiment. This was not anything he wanted to tell her, though he suspected he would need to share this story with her one day.

  Tabitha continued. “But really, next time you should come along. The ex-boyfriend probably won’t be there. I mean, you’re right, the whole “friends with the ex” thing is ridiculous.”

  “I’m sorry, Tabitha,” he replied, laying his keys on his workbench and taking off some of the layers under his coat. “It’s really not any of my business.”