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A Man With No Talent By: Brian Webber on 10/4/2002; 12:45 PM Cal. That's all he was known by at the TCA (Time Control Agency). Last names were not given under any circumstances at the Agency. His nickname in private circles was Music Man. He hummed all the time. His favorite songs, all of them from the late 20th century, over 100 years old. He even kept a book filled with the lyrics for some of the lesser known songs by one-hit wonder bands from the 80s and 90s, with his name on the cover. He worked there from day one, learning the complexities of the equipment. For starters, not one of the several temporal panels was large for even a child to climb into. But this was of no concern for him. The time came, as he figured it would, that the government would shut the place down. After all, the number of people trying to go back in time and change history, something that never worked, and those trying to sneak into the future had dropped signifcantly, and the number of offenders from Australia was practically nil. So he knew that sooner rather than later, his facility would be on the short list for ones to be demolished. He also knew that on the last day, for the last few hours, security would be lax. He understood better than anyone here that when you changed the past, and came back, everything would be the same as it was when you left, no matter what you did. Alternate realities. You go back to 1963 and stop the JFK assassination, you come back to find that he was still shot and killed. Most people would be confused by this, but Cal had a knack for temporal mechanics, a subject that gave most other people pounding headaches. Everyone who tried to illegal travel time however, did not. They always assumed they would come home and find a totally different world. What they usually found was TC Agents, waiting to arrest the man (studies show that 97% of temporal violators are male). No one, at least not that he knew of, ever considered simply sending small objects back. Like, say a book. They never considered the joy that can be felt by knowing that, in one reality at least, things went better. But maybe they did, and simply felt that wasn't enough. Either way, it didn't matter. When he had his chance, Cal went to the machine and chose a time and place. The few temporal panels they add traditionally sent cloaked cameras to record historic events accurately for the sake of the books. That was the TCA's second job. But in the past few years, there was very little of the past to record. And with the future being so fluid that no one can travel forward and see the same thing twice, trying to predict things were pointless. He had put in weeks before to send a camera back to when the place was built, so a video could be put together for sentimental reasons. The Main TCA office in Brussels agreed. Cal sent the camera back. As intended, but since he was alone, no one was there to catch him turn on another panel. The time and place he chose? His bedroom, circa 1979, when he was only 4 years old, but already a fully capable reader. He was 110 now, and he knew that death was only a short time away. He felt a coldness pass through him as he hit the button that sent his book of lyrics to himself as a child, so that, in an alternate reality at least, he would be a great songwriter, and maybe, just maybe, even found a hit band. Both the camera and book disappeared at the same time. The camera would return on it's own power in a few moments, but the book wouldn't. But he didn't need it anymore. A door behind him burst open. "Jesus Cal, c'mon! They're getting ready to shut the place down. You don't see too well in the dark remember?" Cal nodded, then clutched his chest. His heart seized and he died just steps away from his concerned companion, who was frozen by fear. The companion was in too much shock to hear Cal's last words. "I just wanted to see my name in lights." *This is actually a re-print of a story I wrote for the collobarative writing site HyperTales. The goal with stories like these is for each succesive chapter to be written by a different author, so where this sotry goes from there is really not in my hands. The ball is in your court VoU.*
RE: A Man With No Talent By: Rachelle King on 10/4/2002; 10:09 PM cool!
RE: A Man With No Talent By: Chris Link on 10/6/2002; 9:49 PM I'm a sucker for "many worlds" AND time travel. I think you have something worth developing into a short story at least.
RE: A Man With No Talent By: ScottN on 10/7/2002; 12:05 PM Chris, I'm a sucker for "many worlds" AND time travel. You may be interested in some of James P. Hogan's work. In particular, Paths to Otherwhere, The Proteus Operation".
RE: A Man With No Talent By: Chris Link on 10/7/2002; 7:20 PM Thanks Scott. BTW, congrats on your Angels.
RE: A Man With No Talent By: ScottN on 10/8/2002; 3:36 PM Thanks, Chris... I guess my "dangers of loving too much" doesn't quite work any more, does it? :-P
RE: A Man With No Talent By: Brian Webber on 10/11/2002; 3:31 PM Go Angels! I love rooting for the underdog, especially when they win (comes from being a Broncos fan for so many years I guess).
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