Revolutions of Time Travel
How the First working time machine was made.
[Featuring Jane Westmuir and Jules May.]
He had been tinkering for three days and nights, and at this point, when the constant hammering and welding finally stopped, I was more afraid that Jules had collapsed of exhaustion than what he had been working on.
“Jules?”
I asked, when I peeked into his laboratory, which had found its place in the headquarter’s otherwise unfinished basement. The empty rooms were now full of old wooden boxes and furniture no one had needed since the Great War. Who knew what kind of treasures were hidden in the midst of dusty old carpets and forgotten filing cabinets.
There had also been a very practical reason to put the laboratory in the basement: When his work-space was in the basement, it wouldn’t bother anyone, even if nowadays when people were more alright with electric wires running here and there it could have been situated elsewhere, I had thought it still would be wiser to stash it out of the way in the basement, as having a laboratory which at times could emit a foul smell of burning electronic appliances wasn't really the best neighbor to have. Jules liked to call it his ‘man-cave’, because he identified himself as a male and it was his cave, I guess.
“Oh. Captain.”
I heard his muffled voice coming from behind a huge monstrosity of a thing in the middle of the room.
“Look at her! Isn’t she a beauty?”
I could hear his gleeful voice when he emerged from the sea of wires and other little knickknacks lying here and there.
“Uhm… What is it… she?”
“Well-“
Jules began, swiping sweat from his face into a oil-stained rag which hung in the pocket of his dirty overalls. He seemed exhausted, but relieved and he was beaming like a proud father holding his newborn.
“-The question isn’t what she is, but what she will be able to do! She might revolutionize the whole time traveling as we know it!”
I was starting to feel a bit irritated, but I tried to keep myself calm and calculate the risks of this brand-new invention. Jules had a bright mind -he was a genius in his own, chaotic way-, but his inventions were not always safe, or ethical. He had wanted to make a cloning machine so he could clone soldiers to fight in the wars instead of real humans, but I advised against it -not because I would have thought that he wouldn’t have succeeded in it, but just because of the opposite. I was able to talk him out of the thought by giving him something else to think, and this was the result. It had been just a bait, and he had swallowed it enthusiastically. Yet again one crisis averted, or so I thought.
“So, how does this answer the task I gave you? ‘To make time traveling easier’, remember?”
I burrowed my brows, tilting my head a little when I slowly walked around the spherical platform -I noticed he had taken apart a motor of a Stuka, probably the Ju 87 B version. Not because I would have been able to tell the motors of different models from each other with just a glance, but because I knew Jules had been overjoyed when he had been able to get some metal scraps from the war and had mentioned the very same WW2-era dive bomber in passing.
“Well, dear Captain!”
Jules took a proper stance of which I knew he was going to declare something big. And there it came, with a wide, almost maniacal grin on his face:
“May I introduce you to Madame Bertha!”
A silence fell into the room. Only a ticking of some appliance broke it with its monotonous tick-tock.
“…Bertha? Like Big Bertha, the German howitzer?”
I raised my brow and stared at him, crossing my arms across my chest. Jules blinked his eyes in confusion, until it hit him.
“Well, I did think it sounded familiar…”
He admitted, scratching his neck in frustration.
“Oh blimey…”
He continued, clearly trying to come up with an alternative name for his great invention, which to me still looked like a metallic platform with few blinking lights and wires wrapped around haphazardly welded metal beams.
“How about Muriel?”
I asked after an uncomfortable pause. Jules looked almost shocked by my proposal.
“You don’t…”
He began, but I just gave him a sad, long nod. I knew my eyes were still full of grief, which was the same I saw reflecting from his eyes, too.
“Alright.”
Jules answered after having stared me for few seconds which felt like an eternity.
“Alright…”
He repeated, and then mustered a bittersweet smile. I appreciated his effort to make me feel better, even when I could see the sadness had nested into his heart, too.
“I’ll make her the most extraordinary little time machine in the world.”
My friend promised me, and then was my time to be dumbfounded.
“A time machine? Are you serious?”
I felt out of breath, so I searched for a surface to lean to, and Jules chivalrously moved his tools from an old wooden apple cider crate, which now as it had been turned upside down, worked as a table, and apparently doubled as a bench, too.
“Many have tried, but none have succeeded… you know that? A machine has not been able to…”
“Yes, I know. And I think I figured it out this time.”
It turned out that Muriel would need to have tens of new prototypes and several man-hours of safety testing along the way, until it was approved and usable. But eventually, years later, I could state that he had truly succeeded and, as he had claimed, revolutionized the time traveling.
He had been tinkering for three days and nights, and at this point, when the constant hammering and welding finally stopped, I was more afraid that Jules had collapsed of exhaustion than what he had been working on.
“Jules?”
I asked, when I peeked into his laboratory, which had found its place in the headquarter’s otherwise unfinished basement. The empty rooms were now full of old wooden boxes and furniture no one had needed since the Great War. Who knew what kind of treasures were hidden in the midst of dusty old carpets and forgotten filing cabinets.
There had also been a very practical reason to put the laboratory in the basement: When his work-space was in the basement, it wouldn’t bother anyone, even if nowadays when people were more alright with electric wires running here and there it could have been situated elsewhere, I had thought it still would be wiser to stash it out of the way in the basement, as having a laboratory which at times could emit a foul smell of burning electronic appliances wasn't really the best neighbor to have. Jules liked to call it his ‘man-cave’, because he identified himself as a male and it was his cave, I guess.
“Oh. Captain.”
I heard his muffled voice coming from behind a huge monstrosity of a thing in the middle of the room.
“Look at her! Isn’t she a beauty?”
I could hear his gleeful voice when he emerged from the sea of wires and other little knickknacks lying here and there.
“Uhm… What is it… she?”
“Well-“
Jules began, swiping sweat from his face into a oil-stained rag which hung in the pocket of his dirty overalls. He seemed exhausted, but relieved and he was beaming like a proud father holding his newborn.
“-The question isn’t what she is, but what she will be able to do! She might revolutionize the whole time traveling as we know it!”
I was starting to feel a bit irritated, but I tried to keep myself calm and calculate the risks of this brand-new invention. Jules had a bright mind -he was a genius in his own, chaotic way-, but his inventions were not always safe, or ethical. He had wanted to make a cloning machine so he could clone soldiers to fight in the wars instead of real humans, but I advised against it -not because I would have thought that he wouldn’t have succeeded in it, but just because of the opposite. I was able to talk him out of the thought by giving him something else to think, and this was the result. It had been just a bait, and he had swallowed it enthusiastically. Yet again one crisis averted, or so I thought.
“So, how does this answer the task I gave you? ‘To make time traveling easier’, remember?”
I burrowed my brows, tilting my head a little when I slowly walked around the spherical platform -I noticed he had taken apart a motor of a Stuka, probably the Ju 87 B version. Not because I would have been able to tell the motors of different models from each other with just a glance, but because I knew Jules had been overjoyed when he had been able to get some metal scraps from the war and had mentioned the very same WW2-era dive bomber in passing.
“Well, dear Captain!”
Jules took a proper stance of which I knew he was going to declare something big. And there it came, with a wide, almost maniacal grin on his face:
“May I introduce you to Madame Bertha!”
A silence fell into the room. Only a ticking of some appliance broke it with its monotonous tick-tock.
“…Bertha? Like Big Bertha, the German howitzer?”
I raised my brow and stared at him, crossing my arms across my chest. Jules blinked his eyes in confusion, until it hit him.
“Well, I did think it sounded familiar…”
He admitted, scratching his neck in frustration.
“Oh blimey…”
He continued, clearly trying to come up with an alternative name for his great invention, which to me still looked like a metallic platform with few blinking lights and wires wrapped around haphazardly welded metal beams.
“How about Muriel?”
I asked after an uncomfortable pause. Jules looked almost shocked by my proposal.
“You don’t…”
He began, but I just gave him a sad, long nod. I knew my eyes were still full of grief, which was the same I saw reflecting from his eyes, too.
“Alright.”
Jules answered after having stared me for few seconds which felt like an eternity.
“Alright…”
He repeated, and then mustered a bittersweet smile. I appreciated his effort to make me feel better, even when I could see the sadness had nested into his heart, too.
“I’ll make her the most extraordinary little time machine in the world.”
My friend promised me, and then was my time to be dumbfounded.
“A time machine? Are you serious?”
I felt out of breath, so I searched for a surface to lean to, and Jules chivalrously moved his tools from an old wooden apple cider crate, which now as it had been turned upside down, worked as a table, and apparently doubled as a bench, too.
“Many have tried, but none have succeeded… you know that? A machine has not been able to…”
“Yes, I know. And I think I figured it out this time.”
It turned out that Muriel would need to have tens of new prototypes and several man-hours of safety testing along the way, until it was approved and usable. But eventually, years later, I could state that he had truly succeeded and, as he had claimed, revolutionized the time traveling.
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