Sylvia's Time Travel School

You can find some incredible stuff on social media.  For instance, my latest discovery was an ad for Sylvia’s Time Travel School.  I checked the ratings and found most of them were extremely favorable.  Lots of thumbs up.  

I have always wanted to travel in time, in other directions besides the straight ahead direction most of us are used to, but I found traveling in the accepted direction has bored out of my skull.  After getting fired from my minimum wage dead-end job, my mom told me I should give community college another try.  My first time around was not a pleasant experience.  I found I was not the community college material.  My girlfriend wound up going to state college where she found a man more suited to her needs than I did. She has become discouraged with my future (or lack thereof) prospects. Needless to say, I am not thrilled with them either. 

For the past year and a half, all I’ve done is played online video games into the wee hours of the morning and drank lots of energy drinks.  Sometimes mom, who gets up before the sun has a chance to break the horizon, will find me asleep sitting up with the controller still in my hands.  

Time travel?  Where would I go? Future or past?  So many options. I sent them a text figuring if I heard from them, it would turn out to be a scam.  Much to my surprise they emailed me the next day with a website and some details.  Sylvia’s Time Travel School only cost about three hundred dollars which was the price of most community college semester courses. 

“Mom, can I have money to try out this online school?” I asked at lunch that day.

“Oh yes, Woodrow.” She answered smiling.  My father passed away in my senior year in high school from a heart attack and left mom well-off financially from his life insurance policy.  Believe it or not, money was seldom a problem around the Simpson household. “I hope you do well this time.”

The way she said it made me feel inadequate, like a complete failure, but let’s face it, it took me time to get over my father’s passing.  Sure it was a convenient excuse, but it usually worked with her. 

Using PayPal, I sent in the money to the school.  Much to my surprise, the next morning there was a knock at the front door.  I was still playing Call to Duty Four and felt very wonky when I got up to see who it was.

“Is Woodrow Simpson available?” A man in a suit asked.

“Speaking.” I nodded.

“Splendid.” He clasped his hands together, “Are you ready to begin?”

“Begin what?” I was fuzzy about what he was doing on our doorstep.

“Time Travel.” He rolled his R’s. 

“Are you from Sylvia’s Time Travel School?” 

“Yes, indeed.” He nodded.

“What am I supposed to do?” 

“Well, you obviously have access to the internet.” He rolled back on his heels.

“I do.” I shrugged. 

“Very good. Shall we get to Google and begin our adventure?” He asked, peering over my shoulder where my controller was visible on the couch.  

“Google?  What about GoDaddy?”  I asked. 

“Heaven forbid.” He hissed. “We travel only with Google.” 

“Okay.” I sniffed.

“Woody, who is here?” My mom called from her atrium.

“Some guy from the school.” I answered.

“Mr. Peppers.” He informed me as he opened up the Google Search on my computer. 

“He says his name is Mr. Peppers.” I called back to her.

“Strange, Mr. Peppers.” She said in an echoing voice from the room overrun with flowers and glass walls. 

Before I could turn my head, Mr. Peppers turned over his shoulder and said, “Alright, here we go.” 

The walls in the living room became almost liquid as we twirled though some kind of vortex that appeared right in front of me.  

“Can I introduce you to the Bard of Avon?” Mr. Peppers said in a spry tone.

As my eyes came into focus, I saw the shadow of a man dressed in Elizabethan attire. 

“Master Simpson, may I introduce you to William Shakespeare.” Mr. Peppers appeared as a shadow from the glaring light.  

“Charmed, I am sure.” The man held out his hand bent slightly at the wrist.  He nearly cried out when I seized his hand and shook it.

“No Master Simpson, you simply gasp it like this.”  He said taking the man’s hand and grasping it lightly.  The man smiled cordially at Mr. Peppers. “See?” 

“I apologize.” I told him.

“Bow.” Mr. Peppers whispered in my ear.  So, I did what I was told to do.  The man smiled at me.

“Welcome to the Globe Theatre.” He waved us into one of the entrances to his theater.  The raised stage was being set by a group of men with one of them giving out directions to the others. “We are busy.  Opening night for Hamlet. One of my critics has already panned it. I do hope it will be a success.” He put his hand to his beard pondering if this would be a good play or not. 

“I am sure, sir, this play will be a smashing success.” Mr. Peppers tilted his head.

“I do hope you’re right, strange little man.” Shakespeare said from the corner of his mouth.  “Are you two going to stay for the opening?” 

“I’m afraid not.” Mr. Peppers shook his  head.

“Pity.” The Bard of Avon sighed as everything became blurry as we stepped into another vortex. 

It was dark.  As the vortex seemed to evaporate and both Mr. Peppers and I were standing in a dark room.

“We must prepare our defenses.” One of the men in the group spoke.

“We are a few centuries into the future.” Mr. Peppers informed me, “Things have not gone well with constant warfare and the climate changes.  We are about a hundred feet underground in Sector Lima where the last remaining human forces have assembled. It seems there is a species that has evolved that seems better suited to the environmental changes that have taken place.” 

I looked around, I could see each of the men had human faces, but were clothed in dirty, unappealing clothing.

“Who are you?” One of the men discovered that we were standing there with our backs against an earthen wall.

“May I introduce…this is Master Simpson.” As he said this, I tipped the baseball cap I was wearing. “And I am Mr. Peppers.” 

“You aren’t from the Taveron Tribe are you?” He asked with his eyes wide.

“No, no. We are as human as you are.” Mr. Peppers was quick to answer.

“Good, because we would have to kill you.” He swallowed hard, “I am Adam Rotherick III.” 

“Good to meet you then.” Mr. Peppers nodded as he scanned the others gathered in the dark room where only a couple of lanterns lit the darkness.

“We have been at war with the Taveron for nearly two decades.” Adam explained as he went back into the midst of the others.

“I don’t trust them.” One of the men whispered into Adam’s ear. “I think we should kill them just to be safe.” 

“Is that wise?” An older man with a snow white beard shook his head.

“Should we have a vote then?” Adam asked.

Hands went up as they took an informal vote.

“I have bad news, gentlemen, but our group has decided twenty to seventeen to kill you.” Adam said without emotion.  

Again the solid walls became liquid as we entered the vortex.

“Is that the future?” I asked as we swirled on this strange rollercoaster ride.

“I am afraid so.” Mr. Peppers bowed his head. 

“I always imagined things would be better.” I said as the electric static buzzed all about us. 

“There are changes that can be made, but time is running out.” He sighed. “One of the lessons on time travel is the Future is not set.  Nor is the Past for that matter. What we are doing in the Present will determine how things turn out.” 

“So we can change what we just saw?” I asked as things began to come into shape.

“People have a hard time believing the axiom that Time is as fluid as the ocean.” Mr. Peppers answered. 

“Where are we?” I asked.  I could see the sea out past the rocky point where we were now standing. 

“Normandy.  France.  It is predawn, June 6, 1944.” He looked at his watch. The digital display was blank.  I remember Mr. Foster’s History class. In a few hours the beaches would be filled with American, British and Canadian forces on what would become known as D-Day or as Mr. Foster would explain to us a turning point in our history.  I could hear the engines of the ships in the distance.  The sky filled with the parachutes of troops being deposited inland. “Master Simpson, what you are about to see, no one has ever seen before.  Many of these soldiers will not make it off this beach alive, but it must be so if the world as you know it comes to be.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Who won the day?” 

“The allied troops that are on their way.” I answered.

“What if these troops are repelled?” He turned and looked me in the eye.  It was the first time I noticed the darkness in his stare.

“I don’t know.” I answered.

“Exactly.” He snapped his fingers. “No one knows, because Operation Overlord was a success, but in these hours nothing was assured and Time is fluid.” 

“So the allies are going to lose?” I felt my heart beat faster. 

“Depends on what happens in the course of the day.” His smile was cruel.  

“What do we have to do?” 

“You? Nothing.  It is out of your hands.” The smile stayed put. 

Upon the horizon the first vessels appeared and suddenly the German guns opened up as if Hell itself had opened its gates. I held my ears as shells were fired from the concealed gun emplacements. 

“Shall we go, Master Simpson?” He nodded.

“No, I want to stay.” I shook my head.

Below thousands of troops spilled onto the beaches from their landing craft. There was a rattle of gunfire and some of the troops fell onto the beach and did not move any further until a grotesque carpet of green covered Omaha Beach.  Tears filled my eyes as I continued to watch the human drama unfold in front of me. Some of the men would never make it to their twentieth birthday like I had on my last birthday when my mom bought me a used Toyota to bomb around in.  

“It is really hard for me to comprehend the courage these men had to do what they did.  Just like Tennyson in his “Charge of the Light Brigade” when the men charged into the guns of the enemy.  Throughout history, humans have always defied the odds putting the greater good above their own desires. It amazes me still.” 

The battle continued to unfold.

Sitting in a classroom trying to stay awake as Mr. Foster rattled on about D-Day since it would be on the test.  June 6, 1944. A turning point.  

The only part that was not on the test was taking place right in front of me. Men from different places in the world, from different neighborhoods, from different cultures where things were done differently, were all jammed here at this moment in time, to do their duty.  

I had never come close to doing what these men were doing.  One of my buddies had gone to Afghanistan after graduation and wound up in psychiatric counseling for his PTSD. 

“Had enough?” Mr. Peppers turned to me, there was a twinkle in his eye. 

“Yeah, I’ve had enough.” I nodded.

“History is never as neat as the textbooks would have us believe.” He said as a plane in flames cartwheeled overhead before crashing into the woods behind us. Some British soldiers appeared. A German gun emplacement opened fire.  Half of the soldiers went down in a blaze of gunfire.  One of the soldiers pulled out a grenade and tossed it into the emplacement. Two German soldiers ran out with their uniforms on fire and were cut down by the British soldiers. 

“Would you like to meet Sylvia Moyers?” Mr. Peppers asked.

I just nodded yes, because I could no longer find words to express what I was witnessing. 

“She likes to meet all her new students after the initial tour.” He said as once again the battle turned into a swirling vortex. 

Once the swirling had cleared, we were standing in an empty lecture hall where a single person was standing on the stage in front of the empty seats. 

“You must be my new student, Woodrow Simpson.” Her hair was tied into braids that resembled Medusa.  Her smile was eerily wide.  

“Yes, I am.” I affirmed.

“Good.  I like to meet my new students on their first day if possible.” She sat down at an oversized desk. “So tell me what did you think?”

I took a deep breath, because my mind did a fast forward of all the things Mr. Pepper had taken me through.  It was more than I cared to digest.  I closed my eyes and I could see the soldiers in a wave of green storm the beach at Normandy, I could see Adam take a vote with the other members that condemned me and Mr. Pepper to be executed, and I saw William Shakespeare fret about Hamlet, his newest drama. History was not the static set of events recorded in our textbooks.  All in all, I had been through the ringer and could not get a true bearing on how I felt about Mr. Pepper’s wild ride down the rabbit hole.

“Waiting.” She drummed her fingers on the edge of her desk.

“I’m not sure how I feel.” I announced.

“Mr. Pepper, you did a fabulous job as usual.” She winked at him and I saw the slightest tinge of rouge color on his bland cheeks.  

“Nice to hear you say so.” He babbled. 

She stood up and from my angle, she appeared to be quite tall with long slender legs.  I could see the lure of her presence as well as her fatal attraction.

“Real history is not neat nor does it follow the rules, just as most of us experience life differently.” She began walking toward me. “There are winners and losers and not always are they the same people. We in the time travel business have come to realize that.” She glanced over at Mr. Pepper who nodded in agreement. “What you saw today is just a sample.  He told you that time is liquid and he did not lie.  When you drop a pebble into a well, no matter how small that pebble is, there are waves created from the center that affect every drop of water in the well.  All too often we seek truth from the events of the past whereas things happen that do not offer any hint of truth, just a sad rippling effect of our own thoughtlessness and disregard for those around us.” 

I could see the pebble hit the water.  The surface was no longer calm as the waves radiated outward until they hit the side and the waves returned. Once the ripples started, they would continue until someone else dropped a pebble into the calm water.

It was a history lesson no one had thought to teach me when I was in school. I wished Mr. Foster had taught us that way, but most people do not realize the impact that each of us has on the final outcome. 

“Well, how do you feel about coming back here tomorrow?” She was now standing next to me. 

“I’m not so sure I am cut out to be a time traveler.” I admitted.

“Hmpt, I like how you have considered the entire deal.” She smiled and tilted her head.

“Woody!” I heard my mother call.

“I have to go now.” I nodded. 

“We were happy to have you consider attending my school.” She shrugged, still smiling, “Without actually experiencing time travel with Mr. Pepper, we would have never known if you were one of us.” 

“Woody, where are you?” 

“Right here, mom.” I answered.  I had the controller in my hand and I was winning the game.

“Supper will be in five minutes. You need to take a break from that game.” She was standing in the kitchen doorway wearing her favorite apron.  

And so without realizing it, she had released a pebble into the well.  Soon I would be watching the ripples.