Read Online The Time Machine Did It by John Swartzwelder - Free Book Online
Authors: John Swartzwelder
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Groggins had been complaining about,
and that I had been waiting for.
I watched the criminal lug his
burden into the nearest pawnshop, which already had Watt’s Steam Engine and
George Washington’s face in the window. Then I sprinted across the street,
grabbed the briefcase off the hood of the car and made a beeline for my office.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I sat down at my
desk with a small, but measurable, and statistically significant, feeling of
accomplishment. I hadn’t solved the case I was working on, I had had my brains
beaten out more times than I could remember, and I hadn’t made any money in a
month, but at least I got this damn thing. “I’ve got you anyway, PeeWee”, I
thought. You’ve got to take pleasure in whatever little triumphs you can in
this life. Somebody on a bus told me that.
I was curious about what the time
machine looked like, so I opened the briefcase. Inside was a very sophisticated
looking machine that looked like a cross between a computer and something else,
maybe another computer. I’m not sure what it was a cross between, but it sure
looked like more than just one thing to me.
I fiddled with it a little bit, on
the off chance that I might know what I was doing, but I didn’t, and nothing
happened. Then I started punching buttons at random, mostly just to have
something to do. I was whistling and looking out the window as he punched them.
At some point I accidentally
activated the machine and it started creating all kinds of time anomalies and
time paradoxes. Those things that Groggins was worried about.
Somehow the time machine, as it
vibrated across my desk, was moving backwards and forwards slightly in time and
taking me with it. So, without meaning to, I was making copies of myself. There
was the Me From A Minute Ago, the Me From A Minute From Now, the Me That Was
Trying To Turn Off The Time Machine, the Me That Was Starting To Get Pissed,
Me’s all over the place. More Me’s than were strictly necessary, or than you
could ever use. I was also duplicating a gas bill that was on the desk near the
machine.
After an hour or so, I had 3000
gas bills on my desk, and I was locking future and past versions of myself in
the closet. “I’ll let you all out when I get this sorted out,” I told them.
Another Me appeared, hand outstretched to shake, and I shoved him in the closet
too.
I had to stop this or pretty soon
I would need to rent a bigger office. I kept punching different buttons,
turning the machine on an off, banging it on the table, and so on, but nothing
worked.
I looked up at the clock on the
wall. It was running in all sorts of directions, directions nobody ever heard
of. Time was all screwed up. I made one last attempt to fix the machine. I got
out my screwdriver and made a needlepoint adjustment to the biggest and
reddest, and therefore most important looking, valve. Then I stepped back to
see if that had solved the problem, bumping into three more Me’s who were
dancing by waving straw hats. I picked up the time machine, tossed it in the
corner and walked out. I didn’t give a damn anymore.
I went down to the bar on the
ground floor to drink. I wasn’t getting paid enough to sort all this out. It
wasn’t my job to make the universe work right. If it was my job, where was my
uniform? See what I mean? It didn’t figure. I ordered half a dozen bourbons.
That’s how to deal with things you don’t understand. Drown them. There were
five more of me at the bar. We didn’t look at each other.
After awhile I calmed down and
returned to my office. I called up the Civil Defense Shelter and asked to talk
to Groggins. They asked how I got out. They thought I was still in there.
“Well I’m not,” I told them.
“Your dinner’s getting cold.”
“I don’t care. Let me talk to the
professor.”
They connected me and, with the
criminals craftily listening in on the extension, I explained to Professor
Groggins what I had inadvertently done. He was concerned about all
and that I had been waiting for.
I watched the criminal lug his
burden into the nearest pawnshop, which already had Watt’s Steam Engine and
George Washington’s face in the window. Then I sprinted across the street,
grabbed the briefcase off the hood of the car and made a beeline for my office.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I sat down at my
desk with a small, but measurable, and statistically significant, feeling of
accomplishment. I hadn’t solved the case I was working on, I had had my brains
beaten out more times than I could remember, and I hadn’t made any money in a
month, but at least I got this damn thing. “I’ve got you anyway, PeeWee”, I
thought. You’ve got to take pleasure in whatever little triumphs you can in
this life. Somebody on a bus told me that.
I was curious about what the time
machine looked like, so I opened the briefcase. Inside was a very sophisticated
looking machine that looked like a cross between a computer and something else,
maybe another computer. I’m not sure what it was a cross between, but it sure
looked like more than just one thing to me.
I fiddled with it a little bit, on
the off chance that I might know what I was doing, but I didn’t, and nothing
happened. Then I started punching buttons at random, mostly just to have
something to do. I was whistling and looking out the window as he punched them.
At some point I accidentally
activated the machine and it started creating all kinds of time anomalies and
time paradoxes. Those things that Groggins was worried about.
Somehow the time machine, as it
vibrated across my desk, was moving backwards and forwards slightly in time and
taking me with it. So, without meaning to, I was making copies of myself. There
was the Me From A Minute Ago, the Me From A Minute From Now, the Me That Was
Trying To Turn Off The Time Machine, the Me That Was Starting To Get Pissed,
Me’s all over the place. More Me’s than were strictly necessary, or than you
could ever use. I was also duplicating a gas bill that was on the desk near the
machine.
After an hour or so, I had 3000
gas bills on my desk, and I was locking future and past versions of myself in
the closet. “I’ll let you all out when I get this sorted out,” I told them.
Another Me appeared, hand outstretched to shake, and I shoved him in the closet
too.
I had to stop this or pretty soon
I would need to rent a bigger office. I kept punching different buttons,
turning the machine on an off, banging it on the table, and so on, but nothing
worked.
I looked up at the clock on the
wall. It was running in all sorts of directions, directions nobody ever heard
of. Time was all screwed up. I made one last attempt to fix the machine. I got
out my screwdriver and made a needlepoint adjustment to the biggest and
reddest, and therefore most important looking, valve. Then I stepped back to
see if that had solved the problem, bumping into three more Me’s who were
dancing by waving straw hats. I picked up the time machine, tossed it in the
corner and walked out. I didn’t give a damn anymore.
I went down to the bar on the
ground floor to drink. I wasn’t getting paid enough to sort all this out. It
wasn’t my job to make the universe work right. If it was my job, where was my
uniform? See what I mean? It didn’t figure. I ordered half a dozen bourbons.
That’s how to deal with things you don’t understand. Drown them. There were
five more of me at the bar. We didn’t look at each other.
After awhile I calmed down and
returned to my office. I called up the Civil Defense Shelter and asked to talk
to Groggins. They asked how I got out. They thought I was still in there.
“Well I’m not,” I told them.
“Your dinner’s getting cold.”
“I don’t care. Let me talk to the
professor.”
They connected me and, with the
criminals craftily listening in on the extension, I explained to Professor
Groggins what I had inadvertently done. He was concerned about all
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