Conrad’s Time Machine by Leo A. Frankowski

Barb introduced everyone, using first names only, as was customary among these people. Except in work situations, you almost never heard anyone’s last name.

Her parents were both charming and intelligent people, as were Barb’s two sisters, her brother, and her three siblings-in-law. Over drinks and then dinner, I found that they all had productive jobs on the island, in everything from accounting to agriculture. Indeed, Barb’s brother Justin ran the island’s only dairy farm, a major installation with over a hundred workers and five hundred cows that turned out milk, butter, yogurt, and twenty-two varieties of cheese.

It turned out that Barb was very close to her siblings, more so than the usual American woman would be with hers. It made sense, though, considering the way they were all the same age when they were raised together. It was almost as though they were fraternal twins.

As the pleasant evening ended, I formally asked Barb’s father’s permission to marry his daughter and he just as formally granted it.

When I thanked him, he said, “According to the standard formulas that Barbara made me read, I was supposed to inquire about your finances, to be sure that you could support her properly, but since you are known to be one of the wealthiest men in history, I thought it best to forget about that requirement.”

* * *

Finally, the day came when we sent a full-sized canister back to 1737, and had it return safely.

“Are you all ready for our little jaunt?” I asked Ian at breakfast.

“I’ve been looking forward to this moment since we started fiddling with time. I wouldn’t miss this trip for the whole world and a certificate that the taxes had already been paid on it!”

Ming Po, who was present, looked distressed, and Barbara said, “You mean that both of you are planning to test that thing out personally? Together?”

“Of course. It should be safe enough, and if it isn’t, that’s all the more reason for us to go ourselves, at first. What kind of men would we be to send someone else out on a job that we wouldn’t go on ourselves?”

“This is no time to be heroic!” Barb said, while Ming Po nodded vigorously. “There is not only the danger of a technical malfunction in what is still an experimental device, there is also the fact that you know nothing about the local terrain back then. Why, there could be a sinkhole right below where your canister materializes. There could be hostile natives living there in that period, which was also noted for pirates, and various wars between England, France, and Spain. You might dig your way up right into the middle of a battle!”

“Or maybe, we might have to rescue a Spanish virgin princess from the English pirates, and we will come down with a case of the Spanish pox each, as a result of accepting the lady’s gratitude,” Ian said. “Who knows? It might be worth it. But when you consider the probabilities . . .”

The normally obsequious Ming Po threw a serving of Cherries Jubilee at Ian, splattering the delicious stuff across his black silk shirt. Completely unfazed, he took no particular notice of her uncharacteristic actions except to remove his stained shirt right there at the table, while he continued talking. Without looking, he gave it a toss behind him where a maid was ready to catch it and take it out of the room to wherever they went with such things.

Again without looking, he reached out to the side and another maid put a clean shirt in his hand, which he then donned while two more women cleaned off a few small splatters from his hands and face, and yet another one tidied up the table in front of him. He never stopped talking the whole while.

The way these people always seemed to know what was going to happen, even the most trivial or unusual events, never ceased to amaze me, any more than did our complete acceptance of their well-coordinated actions.

” . . . so logically, there can be no possible danger to either of us,” Ian concluded.

“Nonsense,” Barb said. “The two of you are the only indispensable people on this entire island. It is totally absurd to risk either one of you, much less both of you for absolutely no good reason at all!”

Ian looked aside to me and said, “Have you noticed how feisty they get once they think that you’re going to marry them?”

“I have. But, given your last statement, taken together with the cherry sauce that recently decorated your shirt, am I to assume that you have followed my lead and proposed matrimony to Ming Po?”

“You are not, for I have made no such decision. It’s just that she thinks that I might do some such thing, and is already acting as though it is a done deal.”

“I see. Well, keep me posted as to the state of your current thinking on the subject.”

“I shall do so.”

“Good. Now then, to answer your last assertion, Barbara, Ian and I are not beholden to this island and the people on it. Rather, we own the place, and the people here are all our employees, including the particularly lovely one that I intend to marry in a few weeks. After that time, you might have some substantial claim on me, but until then you do not! For the time being, Ian and I feel absolutely free to risk our own silly necks in any fashion that we see fit. Am I understood?”

Our ladies’ response was sullen but affirmative.

“Good. Now then, one thing does occur to me. We just might run into some people back there, and I think that it would be advisable if our party was dressed in clothes appropriate to the period. Also, we should have a squad of ground troops along with us, just in case. They should be appropriately dressed, and equipped with weapons that at least look period. Have it all ready for us in six minutes, when we get to the shop.”

Again, Barb nodded a sullen assent.

As we got up to leave, Ian said, in a girlish, falsetto voice, “Oh, Tom! You look so manly when you get assertive!”

This statement earned him a heavy fist on the shoulder.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

The First Expedition

When I got to my office, there was a costume waiting on my desk for me. It consisted of a wide-sleeved white cotton shirt, white canvas pants, and a pair of sturdy leather slip on boots. A broad brimmed felt hat with a white ostrich plume, and a real steel rapier, complete with a sheath and a wide, over-the-shoulder leather sword belt completed the outfit. It was sturdy, work-a-day stuff, and looked well worn. The only decoration was on the baldric, where it disguised a red emergency button. Just what good that would do me back in 1735 was a moot point, but there was no point in removing it, either.

I stripped off my usual finery and put on the coarse-feeling clothes. Months of wearing silk, vicuna, and the like had spoiled me for more plebeian fabrics. Nonetheless, I felt jaunty, mostly because I liked the plume in the hat, and the long, thin sword. I was clipping my temporal sword to the belt on the pants, next to my calculator and my Swiss Army knife, when Ian walked in. He was similarly attired, except that his outfit had brown leather accessories instead of black.

I said, “Shouldn’t we have a pistol or two, and daggers in our boots?”

“I suppose we could, Tom, but do you really know how to operate a flintlock?”

“No, but there can’t be all that much to learn. I’m sure that somebody at the Bucket Blood could show us.”

“The canister is scheduled to leave within the hour, and I can’t see delaying the trip by a sidereal day just so you can have both a sword and a pistol by your side, just like the Froggy who Went Acourtin’.”

“I suppose you’re right. But next time we should plan these things out better.”

“Making the damn time machine work was mental exercise enough for me,” Ian said.

The elevator in the hallway now went all the way down to the upper time-canister chamber, three hundred feet down. When we got there, a fair-sized welcoming committee was waiting for us, headed by Hasenpfeffer, and including Barb, Ming Po, all of our senior technical staff, and a few dozen other, officious looking people.

None of them looked happy.

Jim Hasenpfeffer stepped pompously forward with his hands on the lapels of his grey wool suit. He said, “Gentlemen, surely you realize that this action on your part is inadvisable.”

“Hello, Jim,” Ian said. “We haven’t seen you in months. It’s good to see you out slumming with us working folks. You should do it more often. It would work wonders on your stodgy personality. Do you have any idea of what a pompous ass you’ve become?”

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