A Door Through Time

I have decided to tell my tale, thought I believe doubt any one who happens to read this would ever believe me. It started one lazy afternoon;

“I’ve finally fished it!” The Doctor shouted as he emerged from his lab. “Thomas, come here. Look!” He motioned for me to approach the door to the laboratory.

He placed a strange device into my hands, no larger than a cell-phone. It had a screen on it and three dials labeled year, date, time.

“What’s this?” I asked, expecting some ludicrous answer, as usual. The Doctor’s inventions were often pointless and they usually didn’t serve the function they were poorly designed to serve, anyhow.

“I call it, ‘The Door Through Time’.” He stated, “simply stick it to any door, and it will turn that door into a portal to whatever point in time and space you’ve entered into it.”

I looked all over the thing for any more dials or buttons, but found none, “there aren’t any dials for space coordinates.” I told him.

“Never mind that!” He shouted, “I’ll get to that soon enough. But the hard part is finished and ready for testing.”

I was pressed to assume that’s where I entered the picture. I agreed to work for The Doctor temporarily, which most often involved sweeping up after explosions and making him tea. But sometimes, he would ask me to test his inventions.

One time I tested a machine that allowed one to breath underwater for as long as twenty minutes. I told him we already had such devices, but he insisted his would “change the game of SCUBA forever”. I was able to breath for all of thirty seconds before it caused me to pass out and I nearly drowned. I considered suing him for the incident, but ended on the side of mercy.

I simply nodded, as I didn’t expect there to be much of a point in asking any further questions. I either wouldn’t understand, or the device wouldn’t work and the answers wouldn’t be relevant anyway.

To my incredible surprise, the device actually adhered firmly onto the wooden door I attached it to. A gentle pull was enough to take it back off again and it stuck a second time.

“How did you do that?” I couldn’t help but ask him questions now. I began to suspect he was on to something, “it can’t be a magnet, as the door isn’t magnetic. And it can’t be glue, because I wouldn’t be able to remove it so easily, nor would it stick back on a second time.”

“Scientific secret.” He said, smiling and putting his finger to his nose, “turn the dials to change the dates, go on.”

I did as he asked. I used 1995/03/12; the day that I was born. I figured it was as good a date as any. I then pushed the green button as The Doctor had gestured and opened the laboratory door.

I absolutely could not believe what had happened. The other side was nothing but boxes and shelves, all scattered about. It was grimy and there were a few damp spots on the ground.

“I remember fixing those when I moved in.” The Doctor said, “that won’t be for another five years, though.”

I looked at him in utter disbelief, but I couldn’t refuse the evidence that the device did just as he stated it would. My disbelief turned to shock and my next thought was that I simply had to try another door. After all, I had to ensure it wasn’t all some cheap trick he set up while I was preparing our midday meal.

Without asking him any further questions or warning him I was about to, I hastened toward the foyer to try it out on the front door. I stuck it on and moved the dials in any random way: 1956/08/09.

Sure enough, opening the door revealed an entirely different sight from the one I was used to. The street outside the apartment was packed with cars from the 1950s. The shops which lined the streets had images and signs which fit the time, as well. The people walking along the sidewalk were dressed just as you’d see in films or pictures.

I walked a short distance from the apartment until I reached a shop owned by a lovely women named Janice Arbuckle. Janice had inherited the shop from Peter Arbuckle in the ‘90s, after his passing. She kept the sign, which read “Arbuckle’s Hardware” so I figured I’d run down to see if the sign was newer looking, rather than the old rusted and faded version which I see everyday walking to The Doctor’s apartment. When I arrived to the front of the shop, the sign was indeed brand new. It was clean and bright, just as the day it was put up- which I suppose wasn’t too long from when I was.

Resisting the urge to continue exploring the area- I reckon I’d have explored the entire city if given the time- I headed back for The Doctor’s apartment to express my utter shock and amazement to him. That was something he had always wanted to induce in me; A look of shock and awe at his wondrous genius and fantastical imagination. After inventing a device which actually allowed a person to travel to any point in time one wishes, I figured I owed him at least that.

I placed the device onto the door of the apartment and entered the date which I had left The Doctor. My heart sank. My fingers began to tremble and I began to breath rapidly. The device wouldn’t turn on. In a sudden panic, I pushed all of the buttons and frantically turned the dials. The device flashed for a moment but went dead almost immediately afterwards. I was hopeless.

I resolved that the best thing to do would be to take a few deep breaths, and examine my options. Remaining calm in predicaments like these is fundamental if one expects to find a solution.

I would almost certainly have to fix the device myself- though I hadn’t the slightest idea how to go about it. Alternatively, I could find a scientist, but could they comprehend something like this. The device won’t even be invented for several decades, and The Doctor had only gotten it to work twice before it quit.

Of course, I considered the possibility that it merely ran out of power and that the solution was as simple as replacing the batteries. The only way to be certain would be to take it apart and examine it. That would undoubtedly be the best place to start.

I entered into Arbuckle’s shop for the appropriate screwdriver. The place looked nearly exactly the same as I had always seen it. The first thought to enter my mind as I entered was that it was somewhat possible this was all part of an elaborate prank, at least until little Janice Arbuckle peered out from behind the counter. Just a few hours ago, I had seen the elderly woman as she supervised her successor stocking the shelves, and now she was a tiny child, scarcely learning the ropes herself.

“Janice?” A voice called out from the stock room, “oh, there you are.” A man, burly and gruff, emerged from the room.

“You have a customer, Daddy.” She informed the man.

“So I do. What can I get you?” He asked.

“I’m just in need of a screwdriver.” I replied, somewhat nervously, for some reason.

“They’re in aisle eight.” He explained.

I marched into aisle eight and stopped to take a few more deep breaths. It was incredible to me, that I had just spoken to someone who had been deceased for decades. As far as I was aware, I was the only person in history to have done it- or to have done it to such a solid and definite degree, if one believes in such things as the paranormal.

I imagined the possibilities one had with the time door device. If I could speak to a hardware shop owner, I could speak to Julius Caesar as a child, or Mozart, Michelangelo, the possibilities were truly endless. Of course, that were only true at all if I could get the thing to work again.

I hid behind The Doctor’s apartment and began to remove the casing of the device. There were all manner of wires and microchips, and other things which I could hardly even recognize. I couldn’t even find the power source- in fact, it didn’t seem to have one. The top scientists in the world in this time would be fascinated, but I imagine also utterly perplexed by its inner workings. I was completely hopeless.

Years had passed. I had tried desperately to encourage the greatest minds of the ‘50s and ‘60s to help me, but unfortunately none were able. Many tried, and most of them told me that if the device were indeed real and not some fantasy that I had believed to be reality, then it was not of this world.

Of course, I thought this to be rather preposterous. Even if there were extraterrestrials involved, the idea that The Doctor would have managed some way of contacting them and engaging into conversation to a point where they agreed to offer him such a remarkable piece of technology was absurd. Though, the alternative to this was that he invented a device so advance that numerous geniuses are totally convinced it doesn’t even belong on this planet.

I hated this time, however, and desperately wanted to leave. Initially, it seems like a wonder, though the novelty wears thin quite quickly. Racism, sexism, homophobia, constant threat of nuclear destruction- though with that one, I was at least certain it wouldn’t occur. At least, I hoped it wouldn’t. I was never sure what effect my presence would have on the course of time. I tried to keep a low profile, to talk to as few people as possible. I had some cash in my pocket which went quite far in this time, though not too far.

A few years ago, I took it upon myself to invest in some companies I knew would go far. Just enough to keep me afloat, not too much as to draw attention to myself. I purchased a house, that I was certain wasn’t to go to anyone else. It was to be demolished in 1992, because no one had lived in it since ‘45. Now, I would live in it, and demolish it myself in ‘92, to keep the flow of time as it should be.

But I had to wonder; were my efforts a waste? No one had ever time traveled before, and thus, there was no telling what would actually happen if one were to interfere with the natural flow of time. There were many theories of paradoxes and such things, but they were merely theories, not fact. Was I being too careful?

There was a delightful women who worked at the diner I frequented. A beautiful young girl who went by the name of Kathrine. I fancied her quite dearly, but never allowed myself the luxury of companionship, as I feared the effects it would have on time. Was I robbing myself the comfort of a loved one for nothing more than what might happen?

Many more years had gone by. I am delighted to say that I did eventually allow myself to confess my interest in Kathrine, who expressed similar interest in me. After an appropriate amount of time, I proposed, and we wed.

We had a child, as well. He looked just like me, and I promised him that he would have a good life, just as I did. My father was quite a wealthy man, and paid for me to have an exceptional education. I intended the same for my boy.

I have fallen into poor health by this point. I regretted that I may have never gotten to see my son again, as he moved far away. By the time my son returned home, if he ever chose to do so, I may have been gone.

I couldn’t seem to find the time device anywhere. I hadn’t seen it in years, in fact. Though at that point in my life, I wouldn’t have gone back. I had practically caught up to the time which I left behind, anyhow. It was time, I figured, for the next generation to take hold of the world and for me to watch as the work we had done took hold of the future. Still, I would have liked to go back to see Kathrine one last time, as by then she had passed on of a sudden illness.

And so, finally, came the day when I was to be removed from the mortal coil, and be unbound from the earth. I wanted to pass at home, sitting in the chair which I sat as my dearest Kathrine had passed away years earlier.

Just as I was about to fall asleep, perhaps for the last time, as if by fate, I saw it in the corner of my eye; the device. In any other instance, this would have been not more than a nostalgic discovery. Something to gawk at as I reminisced in my final hours. However, to a rather remarkable shock, the device was on.

For over fifty years, the device hadn’t worked. With no explanation and no motivation to find The Doctor- truthfully, I didn’t think for a second that he would actually be able to fix it. I had resolved the notion that he had created the device into a mere fluke, nothing but chance. And why, anyhow, would I want to go back. I had built a life here, in this time. I had a family, a home. How even would it work to go back, I had only left a mere handful of years from now. The convoluted workings of time were too much for my old brain, I’m afraid.

Still… I thought, perhaps. Perhaps it would be worth the trip, just to see the old man’s face. I imagined the look he would have when I appeared an old man in front of him and told him the wonders he had given me with his invention. Yes. I decided I would, if only for a moment. I would “pop in” as it were, jump through time to say a quick hello.

I stood up, my old joints creaking as they did. And although I was totally unaware of why the device suddenly worked, I faithfully placed it onto the door in my living room. I turned the dials to read out precisely one day after I had entered the 1950s and stepped through the newly made time portal.

Now I can’t well describe the shock I had when I had discovered what transpired next, nor could I, or I think anyone, could possibly explain it. As I hobbled through the door, I began to feel young again. Not simply was I rejuvenated in spirit. No, I’m not merely expressing that I felt a serge of adrenaline from time traveling again after so many years. I was literally younger again.

I looked into a mirror to see the young man who had left the house the previous morning to meet The Doctor and tend to his menial needs. The very same young face which I haven’t seen for over fifty years was in fact staring back at me through the reflection.

In a fit of excitement, mixed with fear and uncertainty, I dashed out of the house, running into the owners who I can only imagine called the police after my sudden appearance. I ran as fast as I could to The Doctor’s apartment and threw the door open to find him standing there in the foyer.

“I was only about to go looking for you, Thomas.” He explained.

I returned his words with my tale, the very tale I had just told you. He was excited his invention worked at all, and seemed to mostly ignore the bits about my inexplicable de-aging.

It was at this point that it began to set in; the despair of it all. Kathrine, my boy. Were they ever real? To this day, I am unable to find my son. I don’t know if his work had forced him off the grid, or if perhaps, instead of opening a door through time, the device actually opened a door into another world. One day, I may find my son. Only then will I truly know.