Last Train Home
The dean of Stewart College stared in shock at the campus’ electric bill.
Lab six: $28,972.
“Marjorie!”
His secretary shuffled meekly into the office. “Yes, dean?”
“Who is running experiments in lab six?”
“The new physicist, sir. Dr Collins.”
“What in blazes is he doing over there? Do you know about any special projects going on at the lab?”
“No, sir.” She cleared her throat politely. “I have been meaning to speak to you about his credentials, though. The physics department at Cambridge called this morning. They say they have never heard of Andrew Collins.”
“Perhaps you spoke to the wrong person, Miss Johnson. I interviewed Collins myself. He is definitely at the genius level in physics. But right now I have another concern.” He held up the electric bill and tapped a finger sharply on the entry for Lab six. “Look at this.”
“Oh, my...”
Wittier folded the paper and stuck it into his pocket. “There’s a war on, you know. We haven’t the funding for whatever experiment he is running that costs this much in electricity.” He headed out the door in a rush. “Hold all my calls until I return. I’m going over to the lab.”
“Yes, sir.”
Wittier marched across the campus toward the physics building. The sun cast a warm glow on the well-trimmed grass and put smiles on all the students he passed. Some of them nodded politely at him. He ignored them and kept on a firm beeline for the lab. He was a man on a mission, and his mission was to obtain an explanation for the electric bill.
Whatever is going on, he thought, it's coming to an end right now!
He made a mental note to check on Collins’ credentials, as well.
Two coeds sat outside the main doors to the Physics Department building dressed in pleated skirts and sweaters. They were examining a record album with a picture of a very young Frank Sinatra on the front cover.
“Excuse me, ladies.”
They scooted out of his way and continued chattering.
Wittier stormed into the building with purposeful steps and reached the door at the end of the hall. It was locked. He pounded his fist against the heavy old oak. “Collins! Open up!”
“Who is it?”
“Dean Wittier!”
“What do you want? I am extremely busy right now.”
“Open the damn door! We need to talk.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes!”
“All right. Just a moment.” The deadbolt lock made a soft click and the door opened slowly.
A tall, distinguished man in sterile whites stood aside as Wittier charged into the laboratory.
The dean pulled the bill from his pocket. “Do you know how much electricity this lab has been using?”
“I’m sorry about that, sir. I am sure it has been substantial. I can explain.”
“Whatever you are doing in here, it has to...” Wittier stopped in mid-sentence and stared at the strange equipment scattered about the laboratory. Dozens of black electrical cables were strung everywhere like some bizarre spider’s web. They dangled from floor to ceiling, all connected to a metal chair in the center of the room.
Along the outside walls, metal boxes hummed and flashed colored lights in surreal and intricate patterns. The boxes covered three walls and were the size of refrigerators.
The windows had been covered from the inside with large pieces of cardboard and masking tape.
“What is all this?”
“It’s difficult to explain.”
“Try me. What is it?”
Collins shrugged. “Okay. It’s a time machine.”
“What?”
“I believe you heard me. It is a time machine.”
Wittier studied Collins’ face carefully, trying to determine if he was a lunatic.
Collins just stared back at him calmly.
“A time machine? That’s impossible.”
“Not impossible. Let’s just say it’s been difficult with the available equipment I had to use.”
Wittier brushed the comment aside. “I don’t care what ridiculous experiment you are running here. You are costing this university almost a thousand dollars a day for electricity. You don’t even have a grant to pay for it.”
Collins shrugged. “I know, sir. I’m sorry about that. It was necessary.”
The dean’s face flushed red in anger. “Whatever experiment is going on here has to stop! And there is something else, Dr Collins. Cambridge says they’ve never heard of you.”
“That’s not important right now.”
“I think this is a matter for the police. You will shut down this experiment immediately!”
Collins shook his head. “I can’t do that, sir.”
“Why not?”
“Because the machine is ready to test.”
“If you won’t shut it down, then I will do it for you.” Wittier scowled and pushed Collins out of his way. He spotted a large metal box with rows of black-and-red breaker switches. “Is this the main electrical panel?” He reached for it.
Suddenly, Collins grabbed Dean Wittier hard by the shoulders and shoved him roughly to the floor.
Collins walked up to the chair where all the cables eventually connected and sat down. He snapped a belt across his chest and tapped something on a keypad mounted nearby. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I have a gun in my pocket. Please stay exactly where you are and touch nothing.”
“What are you doing?”
The machines in the lab began to scream and whine until their vibrations reached a terrible crescendo. Electrical overload caused smoke to pour from some of the flashing boxes. The lights dimmed.
Wittier cowered on the floor, terrified.
The walls rolled crazily, like small waves on a beach. Plaster fell from the ceiling and rained to the floor.
Collins shouted above the terrible noise. “Everything in this room should vanish in a moment, including your memory of it!” Just before he disappeared in a flash of light he added, “I’m sorry for the deception, but I had to get home somehow!”
Copyright © 2006 by Bewildering Stories
on behalf of the author
