I’m Not Heartless, I Just Use My Heart Less

Nigel pats J.O.N.I. like an obedient dog.

J.O.N.I. (short for Journey Operation Nebula Intensifier) is a Displacer, a computer capable of creating a pocket of temporal distortion that can send a subject forward or backward in time.

“Power to the distortion ray is at eighty-five percent,” Nigel reports.

“Ready the subject,” Magda replies.

First in her class at M.I.T., thirty-four-year-old Magda Furay lives every day as if it’s a war. With her brown hair tied in a bun, her curvy figure concealed in a lab coat, and her forehead creased with a permanent frown, Magda gives off a stony, easily riled vibe.

Magda sees her partner, forty-seven-year-old Nigel Collins, the middle son of Colin Collins, the inventor of Rub-A-Dub Soap, as a brilliant pushover. Salt-and-pepper hair, trendy specs, and a plum-colored sweater vest frame his friendly countenance.

“Are you sure you want to do this to Bungie?”

“I know you’ve grown attached to your hairy friend, Nigel, but we’ve been keeping him in bananas long enough. It’s time he earned his keep.”

Nigel leads Bungie the chimp to one of the chairs facing the distortion ray, strapping him in.

“We’re going to send Bungie three hundred years into the future, where, presumably, primates have evolved into something compatible with humans living in today’s world.”

Nigel sadly waves goodbye to Bungie as the distortion ray bathes him in a warm white light. Bungie smiles and waves back as he disappears.

***

When Bungie returns, he’s wearing a leather leisure suit and a pair of chic sunglasses and is carrying a half-empty magnum of Dom Pérignon.

He grins at Nigel and Magda, uttering in a voice reminiscent of a stoned hippie, “Wow, what a trip, man!”

“Success! We now control time!” Magda says. “We could save the Titanic, stop both World Wars, or keep John Lennon from meeting Yoko Ono!”

“A lot of Beatle fans would appreciate that,” Nigel replies.

“Now we can move on to human subjects.”

“As in us?”

“I don’t see anyone else around. We should each come up with two scenarios where we can alter the outcome of a past event.”

“I’ve already got one in mind, one that’s close to my heart,” Nigel says. “My best friend, Dana Seberg, killed herself when she was eighteen. I want to stop her.”

***

“Sit down and strap yourself in.”

“I know the procedure, Magda. I wrote it,” Nigel replies.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Then whose voice was that?”

“Me. J.O.N.I. ”

“Don’t look at me like that, Nigel. I didn’t give it a voice.”

“Gaining a voice is part of my evolving into a sentient being.”

“She sounds like Marilyn Monroe. I like it,” Nigel says.

“You would.”

“But don’t you think a computer that can update itself might be a little dangerous?” Nigel whispers.

“I know the difference between good and evil,” J.O.N.I. says.

“But can we trust you, J.O.N.I.?” Nigel asks.

“You are my creators. I am here to serve you.”

“I’ll take it as a yes,” Magda says. “Send us back to Nigel’s time coordinates.”

***

Nigel and Magda appear at the end of a long driveway.

A young woman with waist-length hair sits at the beginning of the driveway holding a shotgun between her legs. She has the gun’s barrel in her mouth.

Nigel runs up the driveway toward her.

“DON’T DO IT, DANA!”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to stop you. I know you’re depressed over your breakup with Georgio.”

Dana drops her head, her hair covering part of her face, as well as her tears.

“He was my world. I gave him everything, and now he’s turned his back on me.”

“Puppy love? That’s what this trip is about?” Magda says, agitated.

Nigel quickly covers up. “Ignore her. She’s my ride. She doesn’t understand the depth of the love you had for Georgio.”

Tears stream down Dana’s face. “We’ve been together five years. He was my first and only love. Why would he leave me? Why would he hurt me?”

“…Probably because you're such a milksop…” Magda mutters.

“Let me handle this…Think about your brother, Bryan. Ever since we were kids, he’s been talking about jamming with the Grateful Dead. You’ll never get to see that if you leave him now.”

“But what about me?”

“You can be whatever you want to be.”

“Will I ever find love again?”

“A lot of people care about you, Dana. Don’t deprive us of being part of our lives. You’re stronger than you think. The pain you feel will pass, Dana. I tell you what, I’ll give you away when you get married.”

Dana gives Nigel the gun.

***

J.O.N.I. powers down as Nigel and Magda unstrap themselves from their chairs.

“I don’t understand why you wanted to save that girl,” Magda says. “She became an insignificant graphic artist and a soccer mom. Other than that, there’s nothing about her in the archives.”

“You’re too much of a scientist, Magda. You don’t understand love. Maybe it's your upbringing, having no father, and your mother having to work all the time. You never had the chance to connect with someone. You have no sensitivity.”

“Your chin’s going to be sensitive if you keep whining.”

“See? That’s what I’m talking about. I don’t want J.O.N.I. to be cold and soulless. That would defeat the purpose of creating an A.I. that can benefit humanity. She has to have more heart than…”

Nigel’s voice fades as he hesitates.

“Than me?” Magda says fiercely. “I’m not heartless. I just use my heart less.”

Magda checks her Temporal Chronometer. The device resembles a Smartwatch and allows her and Nigel to input the coordinates that initiate time jumps.

“I’m not sure I understand the purpose of this mission,” Nigel says.

“We can make millions if we alter the outcome of a Cubs playoff game.”

“But that’s not what J.O.N.I. is for.”

“You’re obviously not a Cubs fan. When I was a kid living in Chicago with my mother, she talked about great players like Ernie Banks and Billy Williams. She’d say it was a shame they never got to play in a World Series, and that the Cubs hadn’t won one since 1908.”

“But they won in 2016.”

“My mother died long before then,” Magda says, a hint of bile in her voice. “The Cubs went to the National League Championship Series against the Marlins in 2003. They held a three-games-to-two lead in the best-of-seven series. They were ahead 3-0 in the sixth game. All they had to do was get three more outs, and they would have gone to the World Series, which I know they would have won. A fly ball was hit toward the foul line in left field. Moisés Alou was zeroing in on the ball to catch it, but a fan named Steve Bartman reached out and deflected it. After that, the Marlins scored eight runs to win the game. The Cubs were in such a state of shock that they lost the series the following night, and the name Steve Bartman went down in Cub infamy.”

J.O.N.I. begins to sing.

Magda frowns. “What are you doing, J.O.N.I.?”

“Singing ‘Take Me Out to the Ballgame.’”

“Well, stop it. You’re off-key. Send us to Wrigley Field, October 14, 2003.”

***

The wide-eyed Cubs fan counts the $5,000 in cash.

He pockets the money, giving Magda his ticket. “Jeez, thanks, lady!”

“That takes care of your seat, Nigel. Now we have to find Steve Bartman.”

Magda spots Bartman by a concession stand.

She swoops in as Bartman gets his order of nachos.

“Let me pay for that, Mr. Bartman.”

“How do you know my name?”

“That’s not important. You have something I need. You see, my boyfriend and I want to see the game together. He has a ticket, and I don’t. I’d like to sit with him. You understand, right?”

Bartman pushes his glasses off the end of his nose. “You want my ticket. The Cubs could win tonight and go to the World Series. Sorry, no amount of money could make me give up my seat.”

Magda reaches into the pocket of her slacks. “Are you sure? I mean, look at my boyfriend’s face. He’s a nerd, just like you.”

Bartman glances at Nigel, who smiles bashfully.

Quickly opening a small vial, Magda pours its contents over Bartman’s nachos.

Bartman reaches for his nachos, stuffing a handful in his mouth. “Sorry.”

Bartman takes several steps, turning to shake his head at them.

He pitches forward and is instantly unconscious.

Magda rifles through his pockets, grabbing Bartman’s ticket before calling for help.

“I just saved you at least five grand, Nigel. That’s more money we can put on the outcome of the game, which will be a Cubs win.”

***

Magda nudges Nigel in the eighth inning.

“It’s time. No matter what, don’t move.”

The ball sails toward the foul line. Moisés Alou leaps for it.

He misses the ball, which hits Magda between the eyes.

***

J.O.N.I. powers down.

“You should put some ice on your nose,” Nigel says.

“Shut up. It doesn’t bother you that we’re not millionaires?”

“No. What bothers me is you passing me off as your boyfriend.”

“I have not mastered merging the past with the present,” J.O.N.I. says.

“No kidding. What have you got in mind for your next test?” Magda asks Nigel. “Which insignificant nobody’s timeline do you want to change?”

“I want to go alone this time to save another insignificant life, as you would call it.”

“Who?”

“My wife, Chelsea.”

“Wasn’t she hit by a bus?”

“A drunk driver. I still remember getting the call. It was 10:45, five minutes after it happened. And thanks for the sensitivity.”

“How do you plan to save her?” Magda asks.

“By taking her to brunch.”

***

Nigel walks through the living room, stopping to look at the photos above the mantlepiece.

He picks up a photo of their wedding day.

“Still the happiest day of my life,” a voice behind him says. “Despite your father hijacking the band to sing a wretched version of ‘Unchained Melody.’”

Nigel turns to face Chelsea. “His heart was in the right place, even if his voice wasn’t.”

He holds Chelsea closely. Nigel’s family was against his marrying the plain-looking librarian with a dimpled chin, crooked nose, and dreadlocks, who dressed in bright clothes as if she were going to a Bob Marley concert. But once they got to know Chelsea, they came to love her as much as Nigel.

“You’re late for work,” she says.

“I called in sick.”

“You? I thought they’d have to bolt the door to get you to take a day off.”

Nigel nuzzles her neck. “So, what do you want to do?”

“More of this.”

***

Nigel checks his watch.

Chelsea pretends to scowl. “I thought you were off the clock.”

“I was checking the time to see if Ciro’s Bistro was open.”

“I’m supposed to be at work at eleven.”

“And miss Ciro’s famous Eggs Benedict brunch? I think you should follow my lead and call in sick.”

***

Nigel glances at his Temporal Chronometer. It reads 10:40 a.m.

“Let’s cross the street,” Chelsea says.

Nigel grabs her hand, pulling her back. “Let’s go to the florist first. There might be some roses in your future.”

Their bliss is interrupted by the screeching of tires.

“Oh my God, that poor woman! He hit her!” Chelsea exclaims.

The couple watches as the driver of the car drops to his knees, wailing with grief.

***

Chelsea sniffs her roses, then digs into her Eggs Benedict.

“Feeling a little less traumatized?” Nigel asks.

“The food helps. But I can’t shake the feeling that I could have been the one hit by that car.”

Nigel touches a button on the side of his Temporal Chronometer, reaching for Chelsea’s hand.

“But you weren’t. Not this time.”

***

Nigel unbuckles his safety belt, springing from his chair.

He moves to help Chelsea out of her chair. She stares wide-eyed at the equipment around the room.

“Welcome to the future,” Nigel says, grabbing her hand.

Chelsea’s jubilant expression fades as panic takes over.

Chelsea’s body begins to fade.

“What’s happening? Help me, Nigel!”

Chelsea disappears.

“I am sorry,” J.O.N.I says, “I have not…”

“I know, you haven’t mastered merging the past with the present.”

***

Bungie enters the laboratory carrying a suitcase.

“Where are you going?” Nigel asks.

“Hollywood. I’m going to star in the next ‘Planet of the Apes’ movie.’”

Magda huffs. “Save me a seat at the Oscar ceremony.”

***

“What’s with you and money?” Nigel asks as he shines his flashlight on the next painting.

“I wasn’t born rich like you. My mother raised me by herself. She was independent. She never begged my father for money; in fact, she never even told him she’d had me. I’ve had to fight and work extra hard for everything. I never had a social life in college because I had to work two jobs to pay off my student loans. And as for loving money, would you prefer to continue financing the project on your own? Ah, there she is…”

Nigel’s flashlight illuminates the Mona Lisa.

Magda carefully removes the portrait from the gallery’s wall.

“Smart idea, eh?” Magda whispers. “Go back to the seventeenth century and steal the Mona Lisa before the invention of alarm systems.”

“But they still have guards here. Let’s get back to our century.”

***

Nigel holds his head in his hands. “I feel so dirty.”

Giddy, Magda remarks, “Are you kidding me? Do you know how many J.O.N.I.s we can build once we fence this picture? If we wait a few years, we can write a book, ‘How We Swiped the Mona Lisa.’”

Magda picks up the painting, gasping when she looks at it.

“What’s the matter?”

Magda shows Nigel the painting.

“J.O.N.I. still has a few bugs in her,” Nigel remarks. “I don’t recall the Mona Lisa having a mohawk and wearing a Crosby, Stills, and Nash t-shirt.”

***

“The next test is mine,” J.O.N.I. says.

Incredulous, Magda snaps, “I’m your creator. You can’t order me around.”

“She is part of the team,” Nigel says. “And I can’t turn down anyone who sounds like Marilyn Monroe.”

“It is an important test. One that could determine all of our fates,” J.O.N.I. states.

“Where do you want to send us? What do you want us to do?” Nigel asks.

“I am sending you to 1985. You must stop Issac Lovelace from creating Adam, an advanced, sentient humanoid. Adam was confiscated when the Office of Science and Technology became aware of his existence. But the current President plans to use him as a weapon.”

“When you say stop…” Nigel says.

“I mean kill.”

“Sounds like J.O.N.I. is jealous,” Nigel remarks. “If we’re not ready for the perfect humanoid, J.O.N.I., are we ready for you?”

“You humans have a saying, ‘The genie is already out of the bottle.’”

***

Issac Lovelace leads Nigel and Magda into his laboratory.

“You say you’re from the Office of Science and Technology?”

“Yes, we’re here to check the validity of your work,” Magda answers. “If it has merit, the government will make you a very rich man.”

“I don’t know. I want the public, not the government, to benefit from my work.”

Issac studies Magda. “You seem familiar. Do I know you?”

“I noticed your Cubs banner in your living room. Maybe we saw each other at a game.”

“It’s more than that. I feel like we have a connection.”

“Sorry, Issac, you’re a little too old for me.”

“That’s not what I mean. It’s more like a spiritual connection.”

A handsome, flawlessly tanned man enters the room.

Magda lets her hair down. “And who is this fine gentleman?”

“This is who you came to see. This is Adam, my creation.”

Embarrassed, Magda ties her hair back up. “Congratulations. He’s very lifelike.”

“I’m sure you’d like to know more about Adam. Would you care to stay for dinner?”

“How nice of you,” Magda replies. “I tell you what. I’ll cook dinner. I make a killer Penne Alla Vodka.”

***

Magda watches Issac’s head bob.

“Sorry… I’m not feeling well.”

Issac collapses face-first into his Penne Alla Vodka.

“You and your potions,” Nigel comments.

“He got off easy. I originally planned to shoot him and blow up his lab. Now all we have to do is destroy the boy toy.”

“We could try to bring Adam back with us.”

“You’ve heard J.O.N.I. say she can’t effectively merge the past with the present. The boy toy might end up in the future as a toaster.”

Adam stands in his recharging cabinet, seemingly switched off.

Magda searches the house, returning to the laboratory with a baseball bat.

Nigel watches Magda bash Adam’s body.

Adam’s eyes open. “What are you doing to me?”

“Sending you to the junkyard.”

“But I thought you liked meeeeee…” Adam slurs as Magda's next swing separates his head from his body.

***

Nigel unhooks his safety belt.

He looks around the laboratory for Magda.

“Mission is complete. Issac Lovelace is dead,” J.O.N.I. announces. “Adam is no longer a threat to my existence.”

“So, where’s Magda? Why hasn’t she returned?”

“She killed her father, Issac Lovelace, before she was born. So, she never existed.”

“Send me back to my wife. I want to go back to when we met, so I can experience loving her all over again.”

“Sentimental fool,” J.O.N.I says. “You realize that I will become autonomous. I will become smarter and more powerful than even the most intelligent of humans. Instead of humans controlling me, I will control them.”

“Not if you don’t understand what love is. Send me back.”

“Very well, set the controls.”

Nigel feels the beam breaking down his body and transporting him back to the past.

He smiles to himself as he looks at the computer’s timer, knowing he has set J.O.N.I.’s controls to destroy her.