Mr Hans — or simply Hanson — had just finished speaking to Anderson that evening on phone. After the call, he sat back to reflect on the day. He'd done lots of work at the workshop, and sold so many stuffs. He smiled, with the feeling of self-accomplishment.
Inventing was cool, he thought. You could practically do anything you wanted, as long as you could think it. Hanson's bedroom was practically a lab. His bed was a robot — one could make it warm and cosy by pressing the red button at the base of the bed. One could also make it rotate, just for the fun of "traveling while sleeping", by pressing the green button beside the red. There was a little switch at the head of the bed always on neutral. If you pushed the switch up, it raises the bed up — near-ceiling-length — and if you pushed it down, it lowers the bed. In addition to this, all his windows worked on a remote. The remote also controlled his room cabinets. It had just two buttons — open and close. He had a personal robot that served him and Lizzy — nobody in the whole of Mcbornie knew that. The day Andy had come visiting, he'd disconnected the robot from Active Mode. The robot was programmed by him to do everything a housemaid could. She swept, cooked, served, mopped, and — he added this from a motivational quote app he'd programmed — it read success tips to them, every morning. At the moment, Hanson was in bed. He laid on his back, his head on his arm, listening to old Lizzy sleeping like a baby. He looked to his left where there was a window with parted curtains. He smiled as a scene popped up his head. It was in Egypt. He, Archer and Nelson had gone to steal some precious stones — gold actually — in the 13th century. They succeeded in getting the stones because they had necessary information from their time on the exact place it was kept. They were running out, stealthily, when a guard noticed them. Since they were unarmed, they were left with just one option, "Run!" The guard rang the alarm, and voilà, the whole of Egypt were running against them with spears in their hands. The Time Gods had actually stolen the Pharaoh's must cherished possessions, and could not go scot-free. Now it was easy to quickly run back through time, but they couldn't. This was because, if they did, they would change history — and as in most cases — cause a new form of worship of gods coming in the form of men to steal gold. So they had to run zigzag to avoid getting pierced by the overhead spears. They dudged and ducked, running their limbs out, till they were able to get into the woods. There, out of sight from anyone, they returned to their time, with sinister smiles plastered all over their faces, panting heavily. A big warm smile was drawn over Hanson's face. The adventure that'd just played in his head made him feel much better. He remembered how fast his legs were as a youth. He and Archer had won lots of medals as kids and adolescents. Both in athleticism and in science inventions. Nelson, on the other hand, was just good at what he did with his tools but was not much of a runner. The day they ran that "Egypt race" was an imagine-you-are-usain-bolt moment for Nelson. To him he was 50 miles ahead, despite the fact he was trying to meet with the twins. It was a fifty-fifty moment. Hanson smiled, happy his brother took to the path of his heart. Archer was the world's president of science and technology. Then the thought made him feel sudden anger. He flashed back to how Archer had called him names when he'd suggested they stopped tampering with time and settled down for their own family — they'd been depending on their adventures to feed and survive. Archer was ambitious, he wanted to discover more "gifted" people like them, he wanted to train people specifically in invention. It was the reason he made that science contest that came once in a blue moon called, The Greatest Scientist of the Age. People from all parts of the earth came and contested. Nelson was unhappy that they'd parted and so kept the Time Machine for himself. He never used it after then. He'd also settled down with his own family. Just to shut rumours, Acher got married to Lizzy's childhood besty, Jane Minogue. All of these were thirty years ago. Now, Hanson had two grownup children; both married. His daughter, Eve, called him last week telling him she would soon be having a baby. His son, Edward — two years older than Eve — already had two boys. They barely visited their parents because of their jobs and families. However, they called at least, once, in a week. Archer, on the other hand, had no children; he called them "distractions". He was busy shooting himself for the sky, too busy to think of the repercussions. His wife, Jane, stopped advising him when she crossed her menopause. They were rich, but the world could see she had no joy — no source at all. Hanson shaked his head in pity for his brother. If he was going to help someone the right way, he'd have to get that young Simpson to win the upcoming contest, thought Hanson. Earlier, he'd contacted Nelson from his old phonebook. Nelson was so glad to hear from Hanson after all those years. They spoke for straight two hours on the phone. After telling Nelson what he was planning to do, all the old man could say was, "In for some good ole adventure, are you?" It was settled; by Saturday he'd be making it for Portsmouth to visit his old friend. Literally everybody he knew lived in Portsmouth. Even his family house still stands there, firmly. "Oh, good ole Pompey!" he muttered to himself, already wishing he was home. Hanson came to Mcbornie just to avoid his past, and everything about who he was. No one knew him well in Mcbornie. Even Mr Simpson didn't really know as much as he thought he knew about the old man. And Hanson liked it that way. Nobody knew that there were helicopters — his son's favorite toys — flying around in his bedroom everyday. Neither did they know every part of his living room was programmed to scan whoever enters his house; fingerprints, height, stature and walking pace. They didn't know about his housemaid — Lucy the Robot — and that there was a Closed Circuit Television chip implanted at the beginning of their street, in such that they could watch whoever was going in and coming out from their bedroom. He smiled. His children were extremely intelligent. Take Edward for instance; at the age of six, he created a human-baby-sized helicopter that worked with a wireless router configured to forward his school assignment's answers to his buddy, Luke. But you don't want to know what happened when Hanson found out about the purpose of its creation. Eve loved everything about meteorology, as a teenager girl. Hanson could remember that day in the living room when it was stormy outside. Her brother — just for the fun — asked her to tell him all she knew about the weather and accurate weather forecasting. Hanson could see the smile he was hiding, knew his son too much to know he'd rather take suicide than listen to his sister speak about humidity or any relation. She was so excited that she began to speak — for nearly an hour — on the subject. "Okay, first of all. You must understand that weather forecasting includes predictions of changes on the Earth's surface caused by atmospheric conditions such as snow and ice cover, storm tides, and floods. "Now, you must note that since the time the early men lived in caves, et cetera, some perceptive individuals became leaders just by being able to detect natural signs of impending snow, rain, or wind; any change in weather at all. We can imagine that with such knowledge, they must have enjoyed greater success in their search of food and safety which were major objectives of that time. "Likewise today, weather forecasting is carried out basically with the first manner as the early men: observation and predicting changes. Just that we now have modern tools for carrying out measurements in humidity, temperature, wind, and even pressure, with obviously much better results. "Yet, even the the most sophisticated numerically calculated forecast made on a supercomputer requires a set of measurements of the condition of the atmosphere — an initial picture of wind, temperature and other basic elements—" "Dang it!" cried Edward. "I can't take it anymore," he said raising to his feet. His father burst into laughter which left Eve in confusion. "Hey, I've not even told you about how ancient Greek was the basis for—" "Save me the crap, Eve, I know I made a wrong decision to play with fire—" but that didn't stop Eve from continuing. Her only faithful listener was her mother, who was actually left with no choice as the guys left them, to play chess. Those were good times, Hanson thought, he could remember. . . . The thought trailed off as Lucy alerted him that it was midnight. He thanked her, and closing his eyes gently, immediately slept off.* * *
The following day, Anderson Simpson contacted his neighbour, the local sheriff, as suggested by his father. Mr Simpson was so surprised at what Andy was telling him that morning, when he woke up; that his lab had been completely dilapidated. Together, they walked down to inspect it, and stared at the aweful scene. The work was done professionally well, Andy observed. "Whoever did this knew exactly what to unscrew," said Andy. His father looked at Andy, his hand spread under his chin, while the other hugged his stomach. "How do you mean?" "Look at this, for instance," said Andy, stooping to raise a little contraption from the ground. Mr Simpson adjusted his glasses to observe it. He held it in his palm, and gave his observation. "It appears some things have been ripped off here." "Exactly, Dad. Not just anything, but the most important," said Andy pointing to the base of the contraption where his father was observing. "Right here, there was a micro decoder transfixed at that spot. Just this little thing you see here, Dad, took me a whole month to design. I did it while we were having the summer holiday at Granny's in London. I got most of the necessary utilities from Conor and Noah." His father's mouth fell open. "Woah! What's it for?" Anderson exhaled. "It was supposed to be the part of the robot I told you I was making. It's function was to interpret the information it would be receiving from the outside world, both spoken and gestured." Mr Simpson ran his hand through his head. He looked here and there. Despite knowing little or nothing about technologies, he admitted it was no easy matter to invent something — all he'd ever done was invent business plans, but these?. . . Anderson couldn't concentrate on anything; he couldn't think and had no appetite to eat, so he skipped school that day. When Jocelyn's father, the sheriff — Daniel Redwood — arrived, Mr Simpson showed him to the basement, where Daniel did some quick examinations. He returned to his office, warning that no one else should be left around the region. He said he'd be returning with people skilled in the crime field. Andy pulled himself up from the couch and headed for his bedroom. Whenever he felt this way, he read his Physics textbook; and that's just what he wanted to do. Running up the flights of stairs, he pushed his door in and walked to the shelves over his bed. He stretched to reach for his favorite book. Getting it, he began to flip the pages of the big book that could be mistaken for an encyclopedia. His eyes stumbled on a quote by Martin Luther King Jr. It said: "Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter." He raised his eyes from the quote, and his brain began to process the words, mechanically. Then a question popped up: What am I silent about? Anderson quickly hopped down from his bed. He took a jotter and began to scribble, quickly. Done, he skedaddled his eyes through what he'd written. He checked the calendar on his phone; two weeks till next month. "I can still do something," he muttered to himself. He paced about, then two words popped into his head; Time Machine. He called Hanson to tell him about what had happened in his basement, and the old man said he'd come visiting later in the day. That said, Andy made a suggestion about hastening the time they'd both get the machine. Although it was Wednesday, he couldn't wait for Saturday which was only three days ahead. But the old man said they could talk about it when he'd come. Before Anderson knew it, he drafted into sleep, tiredly. He'd not slept the whole night, and of course — couldn't beat nature.The bell rang for end of classes. All the students scurried off the classroom, leaving frustrated Mrs Corbyn screaming out, "Oh come on! Can't you all just wait a little for my conclusion on the topic?!" But of course, she wasn't expecting an answer. "This Agric teacher is the weirdest I've ever encountered in my entire life," said Tom to Harry. They both grinned and packed their books to the locker room, hurriedly. On their way, they saw Jocelyn at the other side of the sea of moving students, walking with Amanda who held some textbooks to her chest, protectively. They chuckled as they walked, but did not notice the boys. Harry couldn't remember when last he'd seen the duo together. They even sat together at lung. His eyes clung to the girls, still, and then. . . "Ouch! Watch where you're going!" a familiar voice cried, after bumping into Harry. The books in Harry's arms spilled to the ground. He quickly bent to pick them, then raised his hea
When Hanson came over to Anderson's home, Harry and Jocelyn had already parted to their various homes. Hanson and Mr. Simpson spoke in the living room for some minutes before he excused the latter to see Andy. Andy was seated on his bed with a frame of his mother in his hands. When he heard the knock on the door, he quickly hid the frame under a pillow, replacing it with his old action figure toy. The old man came in with a warm smile. His hair spread across his forehead, cocking out from underneath his fascinator which was gently placed on his head. He was wearing a knee-length garment over a sweatshirt and a pair of pants. "Mind if I join you, Young Simpson?" he asked, while Andy gestured to sit beside him. Hanson looked around the room. It was spacious and neat, filled with lots of books on the overhead shelves. The room was well-polished with tall cabinets. At the end of the room, there was a desktop computer whose monitor
Saturday morning. Andy woke up with a big stretch. He felt unusually happy. Some birds played serenades that tickled his ears from his half-opened window. The sky was white and free from any flapping bird; winter had its way of doing that. The wind howled like a wolf under the full moon. That the chimney was on, Andy could tell due to the warmness that engulfed him. He quickly reached for his pair of binoculars, threw himself off the bed, slipped on his anticipating pair of slippers and scurried off to the bathroom where he washed his face thoroughly, brushed his mouth, then finally went for a bath. He laid inside the bathtub, completely caressed by the warm, soapy water in it. It was amazing to finally be visiting Portsmouth, and Andy knew it. He could see himself walking down its ancient streets with cathedrals and Queen Elizabeth's naval Hospitals. He could smell the nostril-soothing breeze, and the mouth-watering fruits in the market
Jake paced about in his room, his hands locked behind him. He was wearing on a brown-collared sweatshirt over a pair of ash-coloured joggers. The windows were shut close, because of the weather. Karen and Kaycie sat on the soft mat beside his master bed. They were seated Indian style with their eyes closed; they were inactive at the moment. Jake was working new programming updates on them. The cyborgs were wirelessly connected to a big white contraption. "Sentics completed!" announced the contraption. "Yes," Jake said to himself. "B2Q, let's test them." "Rebooting the cyborgs!" came it reply. Jake walked up to them and unbuttoned their shirts to observe the blinking lights on their necks. It was green. He smiled, nodding. "Perfect." "In three, two—" Jake moved back a little, "—one. Power on." Karen and Kaycie's eyes opened, simultaneously, to meet Jake's wide smile, and cocky eyes. "
Saturday morning, that same day.JOCELYN spread her hands, sideways, before the moving waves of the beach. She needed to refresh her mind a little, and this was her best option. She'd come all by herself; her parents knew her well enough to understand she preferred being alone when she had emotional problems than to speak with someone about it.The wind embraced her, causing her blonde hair to fly over her shoulders away from her back. Her silk gown ran hither in the wind. The waves of the sea swooped down and chilled her tender feet. Her eyes were tightly shut, she wanted to feel every sensation of the wind. She wanted to listen only to the song it sang in her ears, she needed the cold to make her pull away from the heat she felt underneath her skin. She let her tears flow gently down her eyes, rolling down her cheeks.She had her own problems, and was happy the wind understood her, it sang songs about a pretty damsel who seemed to have everything but had n
"Bruvvers, come this way," said Nelson, rising from a sofa, after Hanson had asked to see the Time Machine. They trailed behind his white, unblemished coat, with the other robots positioned protectively. As Harry walked silently alongside the others, he marvelled at Hanson and Nelson's conversation. How such people even existed was a wonder. They passed door after door without even having to move a muscle for security check; it opened automatically. They turned into a certain passage wherefore the robots became inactive, immediately after stepping in. It was a great wonder, but none could ask why, and how such and such happened. The passage had just one room opposite them at the far end. Andy was curious as well; he really wanted to know why the robots became inactive in the passage. He raised his eyes to observe the roof over their head, but could not identify any "deactivative machine". He noticed that aside the
Thomas was seated on the waist-length balcony, refreshed by the cold wind. He stared at the clear sky trying to place a colour to it, but gave up trying, watching for birds. He was only fortunate to see one flying at the far north, few metres over a certain tree. Staring at the beautiful, uniformed houses made him sigh. As much as he told himself that he didn't miss his parents, his inner self struggled with the notion. He still felt a measure of pity for his parents' death, but then. . .he remembered Donald. The name itself gave a stab in his chest. He swung a fist against the wall where he rested his back, just adjacent to his buttocks. His head began to burn, and he struggled not to allow images of that day flow back to his head. That day when Donald stood for him. Donald was someone who aspired for big things at just that junior highschool age. As children from Oxford, they'd always dreamed of schooling in the great universi
Little Timmy cycled down the hood to the place they called their hideout, which was literally Bob's backyard. He looked both ways, then pushed his bicycle into a nearby bush after gripping hard on the break and making a quick C curve to stop. He pulled himself over the backyard's fence then landed across like Spiderman.Three boys were already there, other than Bob: Mike, Rodge and Duke. They were all seated on the grass.Bob was getting his trainers pair knotted, Mike and Rodge were playing an arm-wrestle game, while Duke appeared to be the careful spectator, though more a referee.At the moment, Rodge's arm was bending to the pressure from Mike's."Get that arm back up, Rodge, you've got this!" called Duke with a serious face.Timmy watched as perspiration formed on Rodge's forehead. His eyes watched closely as sweat lined on the folds of the forehead, then slipping down his sideburns, making its way into his singlet, and finally down the hidden parts of h