Time Travel Adventures of the 1800 Club, Book 14 Page 8

  “Yeah,” added Rocky. “What was so special about the date that you demanded he ride with us?”

  Matt took a long pull on his cigar and blew a perfect smoke ring up to the ceiling. “Gentlemen you and I might just have won the Second World War by inviting that doctor to ride with us. If not for our ride he was going to return home rather than deliver that child.”

  Rocky anxiously asked, “Who was that child that was so special?”

  Matt continued, “The date, January 9, 1854, is special to the British people as it was the birthday of little Jennie Jerome. She is the daughter of Leonard and Clara Jerome and was born in 426 Henry Street in the Cobble Hill section of Brooklyn, which then was known as Red Hook, Brooklyn. She grew up and married Lord Randolph Churchill and had a son, Sir Winston Churchill.”

  After a moments silence the four time travelers raised their drinks in a toast led by Matt, “To little Jennie Jerome.”

  Story Two

  The Gentleman From 1887

  On May 3rd 1887 the Sonora earthquake occurred in the Teras Mountain range of northwestern Mexico. Damage was recorded up to 200 kilometers or 120 miles away. The resulting underground shockwave was unique as it tilted underground plates setting off a continuous movement deep in the earth, which moved normal faults, just enough to have a ripple effect that crept across the Americas and ended off of the East coast of New York on September 4, 1887.

  DATELINE: JANUARY 15, 2071, PLACE: THE HISTORY TRACKING CENTER, NEW YORK CITY

  John Hyder entered the History Trackers conference room carrying a brown bag and a fistful of napkins. Alexis Shuntly sat at the center of the long mahogany conference table with her elbows resting on it and her fingers intertwined as they supported her chin. The bangs of her dark black hair almost covered her thick glasses as she peered at her computer screen. She looked up and sat back in her high-backed leather chair and said as she grinned, “Hello John. Did you know that Mickey Mouse was first known as Mortimer Mouse?”

  “Hi Alexis,” he answered as his brow wrinkled in thought for a moment. “Yes. I remember seeing a video that showed the Disney cartoon. The cartoon was Steamboat Willie and it was Disney’s wife, Lillian, who suggested that he rename him Mickey Mouse. They said that Mickey Mouse was his favorite character.”

  She grinned again and admitted, “I always liked Daisy Duck the best.”

  “Me? I liked Pluto the dog. In fact my first dog was named Pluto.” He pushed back his longish blond hair and settled his six-foot plus frame into one of the leather chairs opposite Alexis. He tilted his head towards the hologram she was watching and asked, “What’s up? Anything new?”

  “Nope. Same old stuff . . . which is good news in our business.” She picked up the last hologram of her shift, dropped it into the reader and sat back to watch it. Alexis easily recognized the New York City skyline from two hundred feet up in the air even though the buildings were not as tall as they would soon be. She squinted at the small type in the lower right hand corner of the hologram and saw that the date was September 4, 1887.

  “Central Park,” she muttered to herself.

  “What year, Alexis?”

  “1887. It’s September so all of the beautiful foliage is still green.”

  The scene shifted slightly as the flying pigeon robot flew over one of the many serpentine walkways through the park. It was on its way back to the History Tracker’s Group and by chance came upon a small crowd of people gathered in front of a park bench that was empty. The latest model robots from the History Trackers Group were given a small amount of flexibility in their powerful internal computer memory and instead of flying past the group the ‘bot landed in a tree above them. It silently used its video and audio on the crowd for five minutes before flying off to deliver it’s hologram to the History Tracking Robotic Department. From there the hologram ended up in the History Watcher’s Group’s in-box for review and that’s what Alexis was watching.

  “That’s funny,” she said as she zoomed in on the group.

  “What’s that?”

  “Come see.” John walked around the table and pulled a chair over next to his co-worker.

  She pointed at the screen. “The robot just happened to scan the crowd as it was returning from a mission. It must have triggered something in its computer because it landed in the tree above them and videoed them.” She zoomed in. “I wonder why they are standing in front of an empty park bench?”

  John got closer to the screen. “Alexis, they all seem to be carrying books. See if you can zoom in on the book under the guy in the tan suit’s arm.”

  She turned the small black knob on the hologram reader and the book almost filled the screen. She said as she read the title, “Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”

  John pointed to another man holding a book, “Try to see what this guy is reading.” She zoomed in and they both read the copy on the spine at the same time, “Kidnapped.”

  They looked at each other. “That’s two books written by Robert Lewis Stevenson,” Alexis said as she zoomed in on a young lady holding a book and once again read, “An Inland Voyage.”

  “They’re all written by Stevenson,” exclaimed Alexis. “I wonder why?” She reached for the knob that turned up the audio and raised the volume. “Nothing,” she said.

  “Wait, I think I heard a sob,” said John softly. “Make it louder. She did and suddenly intermingled with the sounds of the park, sobbing could be heard.

  “There are more than one crying,” he said quietly. “But why?”

  “Let’s see what year he passed away,” Alexis said as she went to the powerful computer at the end of the conference room. She powered it up and after signing in entered: What year did Robert Lewis Stevenson pass away? In a moment the screen showed, Robert Lewis Stevenson passed away on December 3, 1894.

  “Well,” she said as she printed it out, “we know that at the time of the hologram he was still alive.”

  John raised his eyebrows, “Was he? Or has he died and what we are seeing is a group of fans sort of like on the anniversary of John Lennon’s death when hundreds of his fans show up in front of the Dakota Hotel where he was killed?”

  “Mmm . . . maybe. One of them has a folded newspaper under his arm let me zoom in on it and see if we can get more information.” She moved the curser over the folded newspaper and once again zoomed in. She studied it and then sat back and said, “I have to call the group together. The newspaper said that he was hit in the head with a rock at eleven ten in the morning in Central Park and died the day before this hologram was made.”

  Knowing that a member of the Robotic/Hologram Group always sat outside of the conference room door whenever a History Watcher worked, she opened the door.

  Cathy Avalone was on duty and sat on the chair outside of the room reading an E-book. She looked up as Alexis stepped out into the hallway.

  “Hello Ms. Shuntly. Can I help you?”

  “Hello Cathy. Will you please call the group together and set up a robotic mission for me?”

  “Certainly,” she said as she stood. “Do you have the coordinates ready for the ‘bot?”

  “No. But it will be ready when you get back.”

  “Very well,” she said as she walked quickly down the hallway.

  Thirty minutes later the door opened and the rest of the History Trackers Group entered. They usually took the same seats when there was a meeting and today was no different as a smiling Joseph Sergi, another six foot plus member sat and as usual pushed back the lock of black hair that dangled in front of his eyes. Next to him sat Maryellen Muldey, a short mid-sixty-something member with pure white hair that seemed to reflect the overhead recessed lights. Finally Jerry Sullivan, a heavy-set always smiling member with a full head of wavy hair who continually cleaned his already clean glasses, took his seat.

  After their greetings all around Alexis briefed the group. “I’m sure you all know of the author Robert Lewis Stevenson and his works. Well it looks as though there i
s a hiccup in time and he seems to have passed away in 1887, years before the history books say he did.”

  “He wrote some of my favorite novels,” said Jerry, “In fact he wrote many novels that will not be written if he passes away in 1887. What was the cause of death?”

  “He was hit in his head with a rock as he sat in Central Park.”

  Jerry shook his head, “Did it say where the rock that killed him came from?”

  “No,” she answered, “but I have the hologram group sending out a robot to September 3, 1887 at eleven ten in the morning and try and catch the moment.” She looked at her watch and went on, “The ‘bot group said we should have a hologram in about one hour. Now that we are all in the area, why not break for coffee and come back in an hour.”

  Cathy Avalone opened the door of the Hologram/Robotics Department and entered to see her supervisor Ted Mehan checking out one of the group’s new robots.

  “Hi, Cathy. Did the History Trackers Group close up early today?”

  “No, we have a mission.”

  He quickly placed the ‘bot down and turned his full attention to her. “Local or out of country?”

  “Local, New York City.”

  “Year?”

  “1887.” She handed him the mission statement and said, “I’ll go back in case they need something else.”

  “Okay,” he said as he started to read the mission. “I’ll get this one on its way.” Ted read for a moment then went to the room’s wall-to-wall shelves that held the many types of robots that the History Trackers Group required. He selected a small gray, black and white pigeon. “Hey little one. I’ve got a mission for you. What’s more common than seeing a pigeon in New York’s Central Park?” Ted read the status ticket attached to its leg. Flight status: Ready. Hologram camera: Inspected. Infrared camera: Installed 1-3-70. He opened the small belly hatch and took out a lead, which he attached to his computer and typed in the information that the group needed. Next he placed a small powerful battery in it. “No rocket motor needed for this mission just plain old wing power.” Finished, he picked up the ‘bot and went up to the Time Transfer Door where Fred Murphy, the security guard greeted him from behind his desk.

  “Hello Ted. Going back?”

  “Yep Fred, going back to 1887.”

  The security guard turned a computer to face Ted and the time traveler signed in and entered the date he was going to. Next he took a pair of nose filters and said as he opened the door, “Thanks, Fred. It’s a short run for the ‘bot so I’m going to wait for it to return. See you in about an hour.” He walked down the stone steps and at the bottom opened his Time Frequency Modulator and entered September 3, 1887, 10:30 A.M. He then used the key around his neck and unlocked the door before pressing the activate button on his TFM and then opened the door.

  DATELINE: SEPTEMBER 3, 1887, 10:30 A.M. PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB’S GARDEN, NEW YORK CITY

  Ted stepped out into the still lush garden and took a deep breath only to find it laced with the odors of horse waste, pollen and the East River. He sneezed and quickly placed the filters into his nostrils. Won’t do that again, he thought as he sat a moment on one of the stone benches. Ted quickly opened the bird ‘bot’s belly hatch and depressed the activate button then closed and locked the hatch. “Up you go fella,” he said as he tossed the mechanical pigeon up into the air. He sat back down on the bench as the ‘bot started to flap its wings as it circled the walled-in garden before it climbed to two hundred feet and headed towards Central Park.

  The mechanical pigeon blended in perfectly with the thousands of other pigeons that flew in and around the great park. It flew the course that it was programmed to fly and after ten minutes it started to circle an area that had a flagstone path with stone and wood benches on either side of it. The bench it was programmed to video had two well-dressed men sitting on it and the man on the left was the one that the ‘bot was was locked in on. It settled on a tree facing both men and the first thing it did was perform a 360-degree inspection of the area.

  Two women were walking together along the path from the right while another woman pushed a baby carriage along the path heading from the left. On the grass about twenty feet behind the two-seated men were a group of boys playing near a small pond. One picked up a small rock and tossed it into the water and watched as it skipped along on the surface. Seeing the result the rest of the boys immediately joined in tossing rocks across the pond. The ‘bot watched as one of the bigger boys tossed a heavy rock that flew over the pond and struck one of the two seated men in the head causing him to fall off the bench and strike his head on the path’s cement flagstones. The ‘bot kept recording as the other man quickly kneeled down to assist him and the group of boys scattered. After a small crowd had gathered the ‘bot pigeon flapped its wings and lifted off of the branch. In ten minutes it was perched on the forearm of Ted in the club’s garden. He quickly entered JANUARY 15, 2071 into his TFM and entered the building through the security door before depressing the activate button.

  DATELINE: JANUARY 15, 2071 PLACE: THE HISTORY TRACKERS GROUP, NEW YORK CITY

  The door of the History Trackers conference room opened and Alexis looked up with a smile as the group returned and took their seats at the long mahogany table. She was about to tell them that the hologram wasn’t ready yet when there was a knock at the door and she went and opened it.

  “Perfect timing, Ted,” she said as the young man handed her a hologram.

  “I’ll be right outside of the door if you need me Ms. Shuntly.”

  Alexis inserted the six-inch silver cylinder into the hologram reader and pressed the start button. The scene showed the flight path from the club’s garden to Central Park, the two men on the bench, the boys playing and the final moments of the life of author Robert Lewis Stevenson before returning to the garden.

  “My word!” whispered Alexis with a shake of her head.

  Joseph raised his hand and said, “This must not happen. We have to send someone back to prevent it from becoming history.”

  “Did anyone see who the other man was?” asked Maryellen. All shook their head or shrugged their shoulders and she added, “Samuel Clemens, otherwise known as Mark Twain. The two writers were together in the park when this happened.”

  “Is this something new or were they really together in the park?” asked Jerry as he wiped his glasses with his shirtsleeve.

  “No,” answered Maryellen, “both men used to sit and talk for hours about story-lines and such. Actually Mark Twain lived in New York for a time.”

  Jerry stood and started his usual when-in-deep-thought walking back and forth with his hands deep in his tan corduroy pants pockets. “I would think that this would be an easy fix. Just alert Bill Scott in the 1800 Club and have someone go back and stop the kids from throwing rocks.” He stopped and looked at the group before adding, “Right?”

  “Sounds right to me,” said Alexis. She looked around the table for the obvious answer and all gave a thumbs up. “Good. I’ll make a hologram and get it to Bill as fast as I can.” The group started to push back their chairs as she added, “Thanks guys. I’ll keep you all informed.”

  Twenty minutes later she opened the door and smiled as Ted looked up from his Robotic Weekly magazine and asked, “Need anything Ms. Shuntly?”

  “Yes, Ted. Will you get this hologram to Edmund Scott and have him deliver it to Bill Scott of the 1800 Club?”

  “Certainly.”

  She watched as Ted went down the hallway and the mission to save Robert Lewis Stevenson began.

  DATELINE: JANUARY 15, 2016 PLACE: DIAMOND’S BAR & GRILL, NEW YORK CITY

  Bill Scott sat at the end of the long bar, his usual place when it was available. He folded and placed his jacket on the tall backless chrome and red plastic stool before looking up to see Paddy Diamond heading down the bar towards him carrying a tall mug of beer. The big white haired Irishman plopped the mug down in front of his old friend and put out a large hand as he said, “Glory
be! Billy Scott himself. Tell me, lad, where have ya been? I haven’t set eyes on you for at least one month.”

  “Hello Paddy,” Bill answered as they shook hands. “Just over in New Jersey closing a deal. How’ve you been?”

  “Just fine, and you?”

  “The same. No sense in moaning about it.”

  “Right ya are,” he said with a wink, “Just have a beer and carry on. That’s what my old dad always said.”

  “He was a good man. I bet you’re proud of him.”

  “I am, I really am. And his dad and his dad’s dad as well.” He turned and swept the air around him, “Look what those crazy Irishmen did: Left home when they were just saplings and came halfway around the world to set up a bar and grill that’s still in business today.” He shook his head and with a soft smile added, “Strong men, Billy, real strong men.”

  “They were and I’m proud to have known your dad.”

  Paddy wiped the bar with a rag that seemed to come out of nowhere, “Are you gonna eat today?”

  “Yep! I’m supposed to meet Pat Gelardi here and have a steak dinner with him.”

  “Say no more, my friend. I’m gonna leave ya here right now and go and get a couple of steaks ready for you two.”

  Bill watched the, wide-as-he-is-tall man walked towards the other end of the bar, his footsteps heavy on the wooden duckboards.

  Paddy is a fine man, he thought as he took a pull on his cold beer. And I am glad to have met his dad and, unknown to him, his grandfather as well. He smiled to himself as he continued with his thoughts; In fact I still go back and have a beer with them every so often.

  Just then the door behind him opened and as the door at the other end of the bar was also open a small blast of air went down the length of the bar making more than a few dollar bills take flight. But as he did whenever the door opened behind him, Bill quickly glanced at the moose head mounted over the arch that led to the second door to see the long cobwebs that hung from its chin dance in the breeze.