"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 cyberspace and the drawing-room, every other room or passage they'd walk past were painted white. The man probably was a lover of the colour, thought Anderson. They were advancing closer to the heavy, metallic door, each to their footsteps knocking against the hard ground. When they reached the door, red lasers pointed at each of them, Nelson inclusive. While the others were protective of the laser lights, Nelson calmly drew out an ID card from his coat. He raised it to the lasers and the lights turned off them; then, the door opened, automatically. The room's lights turned on, automatically as well, revealing a spacious room. Normally, when the trio heard Nelson speak of the Time Machine being unused for decades, they'd been expecting to see a dust-beaten contraption in an old room. It was so ironical what they had before their eyes. The room had no windows, so it was much warmer than the others, which was a benefit to them from the cold. It was painted differently from the apparent; it was coloured gold — the same colour with the time machine. The Time Machine was in a tube-like stuff which was radiating a smoke-like gas. All eyes went wide as they slowly advanced to it. Nelson's arms were still locked behind him. He smiled and approached the machine. He drew his hand out and put it through the tube-like stuff, which was not actually a solid, but gaseous. Immediately, the gas turned off. A security gas or what? The machine stood like a bride ready to meet her betrothed. The boys moved to it and observed it. Harry was about touching the control area when Nelson cried out a warning, "Do not touch anything!" Harry nodded and withrew his hand. Hanson turned to look at Harry, then Nelson. "This is beautiful!" he finally said, spreading both arms sideways. "It's just like I remember it—" "Indeed," said Nelson. "I preserved it with the highest tech I could think of in preservation." Hanson sighed, looking down at his past; from the expression, Anderson could read a mixture of disappointment and pity, he just couldn't fathom why. "When do you need it?" They raised their eyes to Nelson. Hanson began, "Umm—" "Immediately!" Anderson replied in haste. He just couldn't wait to get his fingers on the contraption. "Then immediately, it shall be," said Nelson, clapping twice. The machine lifted up from the ground to a sudden platform. Nelson tapped a metal band strapped around his wrist, causing a cyberboard to prop. He typed some things on it, then scanned the Time Machine. After pausing for a few seconds, he beckoned for Hanson to see. They both spoke on high whispers then turned to look at the boys. "I'm afraid the watch once attached to this machine for time travel is inactive." Nelson's voice was firm. "And there's no means of making another?" asked Andy. "Nobody said anything about having 'no means'," replied he with a one-sided smile. "Are you proposing I make one?" asked Anderson with a raised brow. "Have you another option?" asked the former, turning from Anderson to the others, then back to the contraption. Without waiting for an answer, he added, "And I see you've got a fancy watch strapped around your wrist." Anderson's eyes went wide as they fell from Nelson to his own wrist. "Do you suppose it may work?" Harry's voice jumped in. "It should! That stuff is high-tech, and is just as creepy a stuff as this Time Machine over there. Hence, we have creepy plus creepy which makes an even result!" They all stared at Harry for an awkward moment, causing him to cry out, "What the heck! I'm only trying to helpful here!" Next, their whole attention fell back to Nelson. With his hands strapped behind him, he advanced towards Andy then, taking the latter's wrist, observed the watch on it. "You invented this?" he said, more like a statement than a question. Anderson nodded. Nelson showed his pleasure by nodding back. Taking a few steps back, he tapped his wrist, and the cyberboard propped on again. He began to type some keys, then scanned the watch to get its features, still strapped around Andy's wrist. He muttered some uneven words to himself — or no one in particular — then raised his eyes off the board. "It's a nice try, but nice is not good enough for a machine as this. It needs some upgrading—" "Upgrade, you say?" Harry interjected. He didn't know what this scientist was up to, but he had not a single trust for him. Nelson sighed, then replied, "Yes, an upgrade," he began, cracking his voice, then sitting down at the base of the platform. "You see, for time travel, one needs more than just a wristwatch—" he looked at Andy, and said, "— it's why yours is most fitting for this. "However, there is a need for Android development, because doing such would enable your watch carry the force attached with time." To everyone, he said, "D'you understand this?" They all nodded in unison. "Can I examine it?" asked Nelson, eyes on Andy's wrist. Andy unstrapped it then gave it to him. As he collected it, he told them to wait there while he worked on the watch as soon as time could take. When he walked out of the room, Harrison gave out a heavy sigh then shaked his head with his favorite "o boy!" whistle which sounded more like a "phee-yoo!". "What happens next?" asked Harrison to Anderson and Hanson. "We wait," came Hanson's resolved voice.* * *
Drake Jenkins drove with his wife in their old BMW. They were heading for the sheriff's office in the city centre. He had on his head a warm, dark-brown Papa's cap. His chin was smooth-shaved, and he wore on, over his bulging stomach, a blue and black-stripped tee-shirt over a pair of pants. Jennifer Jenkins had a somewhat heavy lipstick on. Her hair was in good shape, as her husband's, and she had on a pink winter gown Jessica, her daughter, had purchased her on her last visit. They pulled over at an old friend's place, first. They rang the doorbell to welcome the smiling face of young Timothy Crowell. "Howdy, Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins!" the little boy said, then ran into their open arms. "Who's at the door?!" cried an elderly woman from within. Young Timmy clung in, without any motive of pulling off. They saw Jonathan Crowell come out to meet them with a smiling face. He was wearing a white-collared short-sleeve. He looked towards the direction he'd advanced from and cried out, "Mum, Dad, it's the Jenkins!" "My, my!" came the same voice from within. "Howdy Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins, we're overjoyed to have you around." The smile on the Jenkins faces were so much one could notice their blushes. Jonathan led the way in. "It's a honour," Jennifer said as she walked alongside her husband. They stepped in to the living room and were impressed with how neat everything was stacked. They had barely even seated when the elderly Crowells came in. They took their time with the pleasantries — not to mention Mrs. Crowell muttered a thing or two about Jennifer's lipstick — then settled down to listen to Jennifer Jenkins tell what she'd witnessed the previous night. They were all marvelled and told Jennifer how impressed they were of her act, despite the fact that it could have left her life at risk had the teens been holding a gun. As quickly as possible, they advised the Jenkins to see the sheriff, urgently. They took to those words and continued on their short voyage to the sheriff's department.TIMMY LISTENED intently to what they were saying. His hypothesis about Jake and the girls he walked with began to make sense.
They just didn't seem right to him, and he knew they weren't good people. He remembered playing with his friends in the hood, and how he'd seen one of the girls raising a dustbin with just an arm. They were searching the metal bins for God-knows-what. Now, the Jenkins said they were about mobbing Harrison Edgeton's room had she not shone light against them to frighten them away. What it was they wanted exactly, he couldn't tell. But one thing for sure was, he'll be finding out soon.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
Einstein adjusted his black necktie for the third time after knotting it over and over to no avail. He cursed the stars for his folly of loosing the knot in its first place. Frustratedly, he pulled it off his neck and threw it away from him. He rolled his eyes over the hundreds of clothes in his large, German cabinet. His eyes were particular fixed on the hangers. It moved slowly, over the neatly hung clothes, till his eyes stopped on an hanger with lots of neckties. Stretching forward, he ran his hand, a little, over the ties, then reached for the hook of the hanger, pulling it out to properly observe what was hung. "I knew I should have listened to my butler about the pick of more black neckties to mixed coloured." His eyes stopped to a bow tie of just the colour he needed for the outfit. "Ah, and I thought I could avoid you for long." He raised the flap of his shirt collar up, placed the bold tie around his neck, hesitan
"I want to get something straight, you're from the future?" asked Einstein in the most comic face ever. His voice was rising, despite how he was trying to lower it. "Yes, you've got to believe me—" "And then what? Is this some kind of a joke 'cause I have something very important for my wife today, I wouldn't want to miss that. You can see she's waiting. . .you might just want to wait till we're back. Go back home—" "Please, Professor," pleaded Anderson, "there is no home. Please, believe me. I'm serious when I said I landed with the aid of a time machine. . . although not on my feet—" "Nonsense! I shan't speak with you any further. And if you press on this, I'll have to call the police on you—" "But—" "Save it," he interjected, turning against him to the taxi. "Honey, anything the matter?" asked Marić, concerned. "Nothing too serious, the child's nut!" He sl
"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" came a sleep-disruptive cry over Andy's head which got him startled. Brushing his eyes, he retorted, "Dad, what was that for?!" "I'm not your father, lad, it's me — Albert Einstein the great," came the reply, with a slight chuckle. "Albert what?!" Andy threw his hand under the pillow over his head and fished out his glass case. He placed his spectacle on his nose, sluggishly. "Oh, the Time Machine—" he muttered to himself. "Get your bath, immediately, we've work to do today. I got you some clothes that could take you for a couple of days," said Einstein, pointing to a waist-length drawer. He added, "When you're done, grab a quick meal from the kitchen, Marić's in the dining. I'll be at the laboratory, just so you don't get mixed up with the apartments in this house, ask my wife to show it to you." Anderson's head was processing his words, quickly.
Day 2 in the Past; Second Hour in Time. "So tell me, what's the worst thing that has ever happened to you. . .and hand me that screwdriver over there, will you?" Andy sighed and kept his hands working on the internal wires of the robot. He stole a glance at Einstein, wondering why he broke the "official silence"; at least that's what Andy called the silence he loved to maintain during working period. The same one Harrison everly broke. For Einstein, Andy saw him as just the best person to work with, he was in every way just like him. Einstein's theme was: "Speed and accuracy." "What's the worst thing that has ever happened to you?" he asked again. Andy passed the screwdriver, slowly. As indifferently as can be, he said, "Losing my mum." Einstein asked, "Losing by divorce or death?" "Death." Without going through the common process of begging pardons, Einstein continued — eyes still untu
Day 3 in the Past; Third Hour in Time.There are certain times in life when all that matters is never to give up, but just to keep pushing. That's one lesson Andy, himself, had learnt to live with.Inventing was cool and funny, but none ever denied the fact that it was also very stressful. Nevertheless, never a reason to let go even when it seemed impossible.And as his mother had always put it, "If you've got a goal, never let up on it, pursue it till you know you've had it in your hand. And after having it, make sure it was worth the stress." He never forgot those words. Even after so many years, they still remained valid to him.Balancing his teenage life with his goals had never been an easy score for Andy. Yet, he still managed to pull through. He was weird, the whole school knew he was, yet another truth for sure was that this weirdo was one cherished weirdo.Every time Andy failed on something he was working on, he always found his failure as a challe
Dingdong! "Don't worry, Honey, I'll get that," said Hanson, wiping his hands with a towel. "Who could it be?" asked Elizabeth. "You don't have any unfinished businesses on Sunday, now, do you?" Hanson smirked and walked out of the kitchen to see who rang the bell. He was sure it was Anderson, again. Quickly, he grabbed the knob of the door and pulled it in, only to behold an entirely different person. "My!" said Hanson. "Surprise, Dad!" "Surprise, Grandpa!" Right before him was Edward (his son) and his grandsons. "Oh, Edward!" he threw an arm around the shoulder of his son, while with the other hand he used in pulling his grandsons to himself. "Grandpa, come look what we got you!" Erickson was saying, pointing to the car with a finger. "Yeah!" agreed the ever excited Edison. "Okay, okay!" said Hanson after having unlocked from the brace.