Conundrum
by D.X. Machina
Part One
SATURDAY 2 OCTOBER 1999
0730 CDT
It was a thing of beauty. The world's first time machine. It was a phenomenal
development, and I got to test it. It was only fair--I was the guy who invented
it. I looked at the device--it was exactly as I had envisioned it--just a sleek
control panel 'round the wrist of its wearer, it would transport that bearer to
any point on the space/time continuum, instantly. It drew its power from the
real time machine, a largish, metallic contraption that filled a large chunk of
the room. We had tested it successfully already, moving backwards and forwards
up to a month, with no ill effects. But this was more ambitious. I was to travel
back to six distinct periods in American history, to see what could be seen. I
would spend no longer than three days in any time, and I wasn't trying to find
out anything new about the history. I was just trying to check the machine out,
and maybe sample a day or so worth of life in, say, 1919.
After I proved the thing worked, I'd turn it over to the historians. For now, I
wanted to be the first human ever to travel in time. It was worth the risk.
"Are you ready, Dr. Michaud?" said Dr. Christine Nicols, one of my most valued
assistants. Christine was a few years older than I was--she had turned
thirty-two this year. She was beautiful, with long, straight brown hair and
forest green eyes and permanent laugh lines. I had often considered whether I
should approach her on something other than a professional level (I think she
was interested), but I was too intent on building the time shifter.
I looked around the room. It was the gymnasium of the local high
school--perfect, as it hadn't existed fifteen years before. We'd rented this
place specifically for its iron construction--it would contain the time field
perfectly. If everything went as planned, I would materialize in the middle of a
field fifteen years ago, and simply walk to a nearby hotel. There, I'd check in
using the 1981-series cash I had on me and after that, see the sites.
"Ready, Dr. Nicols. Let's see what's back there." I looked at the control
pad--it was set for fifteen years to the day ago--October 2, 1984, 7:30
A.M.--8:30, I corrected. They didn't have daylight savings time that late back
then.
"All right, Doctor. One last time, we have locked in your control pad. You will
be traveling back to 1984 for three days, then to 1979 for one day. You will
then travel to 1969 for three days, then 1954 for three days, and then 1939 for
one day, and finally one day in 1919. Remember, you are committed for the full
twelve days--there is no auto recall."
"I designed this thing, Christine. Let's go."
She smiled, softly. "I think you'll find this trip interesting, Matt. You're
clear to energize."
And so I did.
* * *
TUESDAY 2 OCTOBER 1984
0832 CST
It's odd traveling through time. You don't even know that you've gone anywhere.
One minute you're in one minute, the next minute--whumpf!--you're in another.
The second I pressed the energize key, the world shifted around me. I knew
immediately that something was wrong. Instead of emerging into an empty field
adjacent to a high school, I emerged into a bizarre forest. I say bizarre
because there were no trees--just tall grasses, ranging from nine to fifteen
feet tall. I looked at my chronometer. No change--I was right when I was
supposed to be. But this didn't look right. I turned and started to walk--I
didn't care what direction I was going. I was beginning to regret not
programming an auto recall.
I wandered for an hour or so, and the cold October wind was chilling me.
Wherever I'd ended up sure wasn't what I'd expected. After a while, I finally
decided to bivouac and try to figure out where the hell I was. I pulled some of
the grass together and built a crude fort--it wasn't much to look at, but it
kept the wind off me a bit. I was more concerned about finding food--there was
grass a-plenty, but I hoped to find something a bit more palatable, at least for
the next few days.
God, I hoped my next jump wasn't this far off. I waited, and rested, and watched
my chronometer. Nothing happened until about eleven o'clock. It started a long
way away--a low, dull rumble from the north. It sounded like a herd of buffalo,
but slower, more ponderous. I turned to the north. I didn't see anything, but
the noise was getting louder. And louder. And louder.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a semi-sized object came crashing down to my left. I
ducked and rolled away, only to see another of the objects flashing down to my
right. I tried to get a grasp of what the thing was, but it passed quickly. Not
to worry--within seconds another of the objects crashed down. I did what I had
to. I ran for it. I ran as fast as I could, but soon there was a torrent of
these things, raining down, everywhere. I was in such a terror that I couldn't
figure out what they were until finally, one came down almost right on top of
me. The concussion threw me sideways into the side of another object, which I
hit hard, and slid down until I hit the ground. This one was stationary, at
least for the moment. Trying to shake off my wooziness, I turned towards it, to
try to figure out what it was.
It was the strangest shade of neon pink, leathery and not that tall--maybe only
eight or nine feet high. But it swept up in an oddly familiar way in the back.
It was raised, on a stilt. Some white cloth, rimmed with lace, protruded from
it. And inside the white cloth... Oh My God. ...was a long, shapely leg, which
flowed eighty feet above into a pretty, period skirt. It was a shoe. Belonging
to a girl. I couldn't have been over two inches tall. I was getting set to run
for it, when suddenly, an object dropped from the sky. It was eighteen feet
long, and thin, and I recognized it--the girl had dropped a pencil. Right at me.
I could feel myself fainting already, but instinctively, I dove out of the way,
and narrowly missed being crushed under the weight of a #2. I was laying there,
trying to catch my breath, when I heard an enormous gasp--more like a tornado
than anything else. I turned towards the sound, and saw the girl, staring at me.
A girl with her brown hair teased to infinity, as was the style in those days. A
beautiful girl, maybe a junior or senior, one who I'm sure drove the guys nuts.
But that was not what drew my attention. It was the forest green eyes, and the
beginnings of permanent laugh lines.
"Christine?" I muttered, before I fainted.
* * *
TUESDAY, 2 OCTOBER 1984
1303 CST
I awoke slowly, and painfully. I wasn't exactly sure where I was. It was soft,
and warm, and vaguely familiar. Funny, I couldn't quite place it. Dim, pink
light filled the area, and I tried to reconcile my memories. Giant women?
Bizarre. Especially a giant, teenaged Christine Nicols. No, more likely, my mind
was playing tricks on me. Maybe the trip through time had scrambled them, a
little bit. This was probably some sort of psychotic fantasy, like Bruce Willis
had in 12 Monkeys. Probably.
I tried to get to my feet, and found the ground yielding to my touch. Yielding
in an altogether pleasant and familiar way. I tried to place it, but couldn't,
quite. All of a sudden, I felt a little bit of an earthquake. The ground around
me began to sway to and fro, and I felt less like moving and more like staying
right where I was. It was a strange earthquake. The ground shook in a rhythm,
beat-beat-beat-beat. I'd never heard of an earthquake doing that before. After
about a minute, the tremor stopped, and I rolled over on my back--and knew
exactly where I was.
The sky above me picked that moment to part, and I looked backward and up at the
chin of Christine Nichols. She smiled down at me like a goddess--I recognized
the smile. Carefully, she picked me up, sliding her left hand into her ample
cleavage and under me. She lifted me to her face--a beautiful face, the same one
she had now, and said, "GOOD, YOU'RE AWAKE. YOU GAVE ME QUITE A SCARE THERE,
LITTLE MAN."
My mind raced. Back to a time when we had had an accident at the lab. She had
said that then--those exact words. And giggled. And wouldn't tell me why.
I stared up at her, and said, "Christine--"
Her eyes grew wide. Mine probably did, too, as I realized what I'd just said.
"HOW--HOW THE HELL DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?"
"I--it's a long story, Doc--Miss Nicols. I'm sorry--my name is Matt Michaud.
It's nice--to meet you."
She raised her right eyebrow at that, but said only, "I'VE GOT TO GET BACK TO
CLASS--I FELT YOU MOVING AND WANTED TO MAKE SURE YOU WERE OKAY. DO YOU MIND
BEING WHERE I PUT YOU?"
"No!" I said, perhaps a bit too eagerly. "That was--just fine. Just fine."
"WELL. ALL RIGHT, WE'LL TALK LATER." With that, she lay me back in her ample
bosom, and buttoned her blouse above me. This was becoming a conundrum.
* * *
I remembered it well, the first time we'd met. I had just gotten my doctorate in
Quantum Physics. She was already established at the University of Minnesota.
"Matt Nicols?" she said, her hair falling about her shoulders, her body clothed
in a summer dress that was probably too immodest for an Associate Professor, but
I doubted anyone complained.
"Yes, do I know you?" I replied, dully.
"In a way," she dimpled. "My name is Christine Nicols. I'm a professor in the
department here. Tell me, do you have any--unusual--ideas on the burner?"
After a few hours of talking and drinking, I brought up the idea of the time
shifter (I won't go into the details--I want to keep this under 4000 pages). She
was the first person who ever heard the idea to say, "Yes, yes. I think, Dr.
Michaud, that that might just work. Would you like someone to help develop it?"
That was four years ago. We'd worked on this during off-hours, scraping together
funding from a thousand different groups. But it'd worked. I couldn't have done
it without her. The only thing I ever wondered was why she had the faith that
this could be done.
And now I knew. Because I'd come back to see her once before.
* * *
TUESDAY 2 OCTOBER 1984
1507 CST
I lay in her breasts for some time, allowing myself thoughts I hadn't allowed
myself about her. Not necessarily her younger self, although she was a beautiful
teen, but her older self. I decided that when I got home, I was damn sure going
to take this beyond the professional level. She'd sought me out for some reason.
I didn't think it was because of time travel. Finally, the skies above opened,
and a hand scooped me up and set me on the counter.
"HI AGAIN. ENJOY THE RIDE, MATT?"
"Um--yeah. Thanks, Christine."
"NO PROBLEM. YOU ARE TOTALLY AWESOME--I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE SO TINY! SO HOW DO
YOU KNOW ME, ANYHOW?" I thought for a minute, and decided that causality could
only be hurt if I didn't tell her, so I said, "I'm from the future. I know you
there. You and I work together."
"NO...WAY! HOW DID YOU GET SO SMALL? IS EVERYONE TINY IN THE FUTURE?"
"No--I don't know how I got so small. Probably something to do with the time
traveling. I'm the first one ever to do it."
"WOW! SO, LIKE, I WORK ON A TIME TRAVEL PROJECT? THAT IS SO MONDO RAD! AND I
WORK WITH YOU? ARE WE, LIKE, DATING?"
I was taken aback by the question, but straightened myself out. "Uh--no, no,
we're just good friends. Look, I don't want to tell you too much..."
"RIGHT--I KNOW, YOU'LL INTERFERE WITH CAUSALITY, THUS CREATING UNINTENDED
CHANGES IN THE SPACE/TIME CONTINUUM--IF I KNEW TOO MUCH ABOUT MY RELATIONSHIP
WITH YOU, FOR INSTANCE, IT MIGHT LEAD ME TO TAKE ACTIONS THAT I WOULDN'T
OTHERWISE TAKE. QED"
I let my jaw slowly rise from the floor. It was obvious that whatever her speech
patterns, this Christine was as intelligent as her future counterpart. I suppose
that shouldn't have come as a surprise, but I was used to the older Christine
talking about space/time continuum preservation. I was a bit surprised to hear a
high school Junior in the throes of valspeak mentioning it.
"Exactly," I finally said. "So you understand if I'm a bit vague about the
future."
"OF COURSE," she said, dimpling. "BUT I KNOW TWO THINGS."
"What's that?"
"ONE, YOU ARE PRETTY CUTE--I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT KNOWING YOU'RE OUT THERE, I
WON'T TRY TO FIND YOU. AND TWO, YOU CERTAINLY DIDN'T MIND RIDING AROUND IN MY
BLOUSE, SO I THINK THAT EVENTUALLY, WE WILL GET TOGETHER."
"Well, maybe you're right."
"IN FACT...MAYBE WE COULD GET TOGETHER NOW."
"Uh...how's that?"
"WELL, YOU SEE, I THINK YOU'RE JUST ABOUT THE CUTEST THING I'VE EVER SEEN. AND I
DON'T SEE HOW IT WOULD BE WRONG FOR US TO MAYBE MAKE OUT OR SOMETHING. AFTER
ALL, SOMEDAY, WE WILL BE LOVERS." She leaned in slowly, inexorably, until her
lips hovered a bare half-inch above my head. Her sweet breath was my
atmosphere--I breathed her in with every inhalation--and she whispered, quietly,
"UNLESS, OF COURSE, YOU DON'T WANT TO...."
My mind was racing. How could I not want to? This was Christine, with whom I was
more and more convinced I was in love--and this was that woman, at her physical
peak, and she wanted to make out. How couldn't I? Sure, there were continuum
issues, but damn it, this was a one hundred eighty foot tall Christine and I was
not going to miss this opportunity.
"Well if you mmpfh--" I didn't get to finish, as a set of lips was pressing
softly against me. They were exquisite, warm and pink and soft, and I kissed
them back. I don't think my kisses were felt. I don't think Christine cared. She
lifted me up and carried me into her bedroom, locking the door behind her. We
went to her bed, and she sat down, indian-style, with me in the center of her
legs. I could see her white cotton panties ahead of me, smell her sweet young
womanhood. Slowly, she unbuttoned her blouse, exposing her delicious breasts.
"COME AND GET IT, LITTLE MAN," she said with a wry smile.
I needed no further encouragement. I clambered up her inner thigh, and came out
on top of her lap. She lay down, and her stomach was spread in front of me,
capped by beautiful hills. I walked determinedly towards them, pausing only at
her navel, which I ran my hand softly around. The ground beneath me quaked--she
liked what I was doing. I moved on, towards her hills. I reached them and
climbed her left breast, above her heart. I could feel its rhythm shaking the
breast slightly with every beat, could feel it rising and falling with every
breath.
I climbed quickly up the soft, yielding flesh, reaching her nipple. I caressed
and kissed it, and was only a bit surprised when she pressed her hand down on
me, gently, urging me forward....
Suddenly, she stopped and sat up. "OH NO! I FORGOT--I HAVE TO MEET SHERRY AT THE
MALL!"
I dropped into her hand, trying not to curse. Damn Sherry, whomever she was.
This was getting good. I started to mumble something, but Christine cut me off.
"I TELL YOU WHAT, LITTLE MAN--I THINK YOU'LL FIT INSIDE ME WITH NO PROBLEM. I'LL
BE REALLY CAREFUL. BUT WE'VE GOT TO GO TO THE MALL, AND I DON'T WANT TO STOP
FEELING LIKE THIS. WE'LL REALLY FINISH UP LATER, OKAY?"
"Uh--" I said, not sure what she meant by "inside" her.
Then, without warning, her hand and I dipped below her skirt. I watched in
fascination as she pulled her panties to the side and carefully spread her lips
with her fingers. With one quick shove, she pushed me up into her womanhood. I
could not hold back any longer--I ejaculated, hard, and sighed as the world
turned to black, and slowly began to move. I sat there, drinking in her smell,
trying to stay in one little area I found where there was no pressure on me
ever. It was exquisite. Not the time travel adventure I'd expected so far, but
interesting nonetheless.
TUESDAY, 2 OCTOBER 1984
1642 CST
Okay, so there's no possible way that that day could've gotten any weirder. It
started off powerful strange as it was--after all, it's not every day that you
travel fifteen years back in time. Then to meet my closest compatriot as a
two-hundred-some-odd foot tall teenager, spend the afternoon making love to her
(as best I could under the circumstances, anyhow), and finally to be inserted
like a tampon into her most private of parts--well, I feel sure it was the
strangest string of events I'd ever been a part of.
We were at the mall. At least, I assume we were--I really wasn't aware of
anything too much outside of my immediate surroundings. (I wondered: is this the
fantasy Prince Charles related to Camilla Parker-Bowles, when he said, "I want
to live like a tampon in your trousers?" If so, I could understand the
inclination, if not the fact that he'd passed up his wife for Camilla
Parker-Bowles.) As it was, I lay there, lazily aware of Christine, surrounding
me on every side, and I thought about the future.
* * *
"You know, I like first meeting stories. How people got to know each other, what
they saw in each other that led them to be friends, or lovers, or enemies. You
know what I'm talking about?"
She was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, and she had her hair pulled up into a pony
tail. We were working on calibrating the field generator, and she looked lovely.
It was a year and a half ago--or thirteen and a half years from now.
"Mmm-hmm. Hand me a pliers--it looks like the alignment's off by a couple of
degrees."
"For instance, take you and I, how we met--it led to us being here today, eating
Sawatdee at 10:30 on a Saturday night, trying to make this dream of yours a
reality. And trust me, if I didn't know for sure this was going to work, I'd be
off doing anything but this right now--no offense."
"None taken. But we don't know it'll work. And besides, I wasn't that
persuasive. I just babbled on and on about loopholes that present themselves at
quantum levels, as I recall."
"That wasn't the--erk--I mean, you were, ah, very persuasive. Trust me, I knew
the minute you told me where you were from--I mean, you told me you were
developing a tine--time machine, I knew we'd end up here. And I know that we'll
be successful."
"Well, you're the reason this project is still going, Tina. If not for your
optimism, I'd've given up long ago. I just can't believe I was all that
interesting the first time we met."
"Oh, trust me, Matt," she said, smiling innocently, "you were the most
interesting person I'd ever met."
* * *
Strange. I missed her. Oh, she was all around me, but I missed her future self.
Although her present self had something to recommend it.... Daylight broke
through, and a pair of fingers gently coaxed me from my hiding place and out
into the open.
"HI THERE MATT! HOW WAS THE RIDE?"
"Great," I said, smiling, as she raised her hand to her face.
"I THOUGHT YOU'D LIKE TO COME OUT FOR SOME FRESH AIR. THAT, AND I WAS WONDERING
TWO THINGS."
"What's that?"
"ARE YOU HUNGRY?"
"Absolutely!"
"WELL, I'LL GRAB YOU SOME DINNER. AND SECOND, WOULD YOU LIKE TO MEET SHERRY?
SHE'S, LIKE, MY BEST FRIEND IN THE WORLD, AND I'D LIKE YOU TO MEET HER."
"Well...I guess so." I wondered what the implications of my meeting the
mysterious Sherry would be--but I decided to forget about it and go with the
flow.
* * *
TUESDAY 2 OCTOBER 1984
1733 CST
Cheryl Lyn Stevens was as pretty an eighties teen as Christine, but in an
altogether different way. Christine was brown haired, green eyed, built nicely,
done up a little like a Valley Girl, but in a way that made her look that much
better. Cheryl looked like Cindy Lauper on a bad hair day.
But she was undeniably pretty (especially when she was hundreds of feet tall),
and more interesting, she was undeniably familiar. Cheryl was one of our
sponsors, in the future. She was a venture capitalist--she'd made millions by
investing in Netscape, Microsoft, and Yahoo at the right times--and she'd pumped
money into the project for day one. Indeed, thanks to her funding, we were able
to keep the project going even in the darkest hours.
She had told me once, when I asked her why (other than her friendship with
Christine) she helped us, she said she had no doubt there'd be a return.
Besides, she'd said, she had already profited on the deal. I had wondered how.
As it was, she was bending down to get a good look at me. She smiled, and said,
"OH MY GAWD! HE IS JUST THE MOST ADORABLE THING I'VE EVER SEEN! THIS IS SO
TUBULAR! AND YOU SAY HE KNOWS YOU?"
"YES, FROM THE FUTURE--BUT DON'T ASK HIM TOO MANY QUESTIONS, HE HAS TO PROTECT
CAUSALITY."
"OKAY, JUST ONE QUESTION THEN. IS THAT OKAY, LITTLE FELLA?"
I smiled up at her. "Well, it depends on the question."
"ALL RIGHT--GIVE ME ONE THING I SHOULD LOOK AT IF I WANT TO MAKE MONEY IN THE
FUTURE."
She was a child of the eighties, all right. But what the heck--I thought I saw
how she had profited.
"Well, Ms. Stevens, that's something I probably shouldn't tell you, but I'd look
at the Internet."
"THE INTERWHAT?"
"Internet. A web of data shared between computers. Companies like Netscape and
Yahoo will be starting up around '93 or '94. You also can't go wrong with
Microsoft--they're gonna be huge. Just watch out for Apple, they're going to
tank soon."
"MATT," said Christine, a look of concern on her face, "ARE YOU SURE IT'S A GOOD
IDEA TO GIVE OUT STOCK TIPS?"
"Well, I wouldn't, but you see, Sherry ends up a principal source of capital for
the project--our project. I'm looking out for my own self interest here."
Christine smiled. "OH. WELL, REMEMBER, MICROSOFT, NETSCAPE, AND YEE-HAH."
"Yahoo," I corrected.
"WELL! THANKS, MATT. I'LL NEVER FORGET THIS."
Cheryl leaned down, and gave me a quick peck that nearly knocked me off my feet.
"NOW WHO'S UP FOR McDONALD'S? SINCE I'M GONNA BE RICH, IT'S ON ME!"
We had a nice time, the three of us. For a time, I almost forgot the size
difference. Well, not really, but I put it aside, and I got to know these two
friends of mine all over again. It's funny, how you can meet people and forget
they ever had a past. I was growing intimately involved in the past.
After dinner, Sherry took off, pausing only to whisper to me, "THANK YOU AGAIN
FOR THE TIP, MATT. NOW, YOU DON'T GO BREAKING TINA'S HEART, YOU HEAR?"
"I won't, Sherry," I said, sincere as I'd ever been. "I promise."
* * *
TUESDAY 2 OCTOBER 1984
2309 CST
The night was nearly over. Tina's breath had settled into the rythm of sleep. We
had done some more exploring--at least I had. I was right, Christine was in
great shape. I know--I saw every inch of her body. I was lying between her
breasts, trying to get my mind around what had happened today. Not that I had
any complaints, but I couldn't help worrying about my next jump. Would I shrink
even more? I didn't know, but I was concerned about being even smaller. Those
shoes had been pretty lethal--I'm lucky that Christine found me, or else I'd be
buried in a small mound of dirt outside the school.
Christine. We hadn't just made out. We'd talked. She told me how she wanted to
be a scientist--strange, for a girl in 1984 (heck, sadly strange for a girl in
1999). I told her she had to, that we wouldn't meet if she didn't, and she
sighed.
* * *
"I CAN'T BELIEVE I HAVEN'T PUT THE MOVES ON YOU YET!"
"What are you talking about? I'm laying on your thigh."
"NOT THIS TIME--IN THE FUTURE. WHY HAVEN'T WE GOTTEN TOGETHER?"
It was my turn to sigh. "Well, I don't think you'd have to try to hard. Don't
start eating bacon five times a day, but you're still very attractive fifteen
years from now. Maybe you wanted me to go back in time first, before you made
your move. Or maybe you just knew it had to be this way."
"RIGHT. SPACE/TIME. WHAT A LOAD OF CRAP! NO OFFENSE, BUT THE FUTURE IS WHAT YOU
MAKE IT, RIGHT?"
"I wouldn't fear paradoxes if it wasn't."
"A PARADOX CAN BE PARADOCTORED," she said, quietly, almost as if she knew of
such things. "AT ANY RATE, WE HAVE MADE OUT NOW--I SUPPOSE THAT'LL HAVE TO TIDE
ME OVER UNTIL WE DO AGAIN. TELL ME, HOW LONG WILL YOU BE HERE?"
"Two more days. Then I automatically get shifted into 1979."
"NO FAIR," she said, teasingly. "WELL, LET'S MAKE THE MOST OF THE TIME WE HAVE
TOGETHER, RIGHT LITTLE MAN?"
* * *
I dreamt I was an ant. My name was Adam. I was crawling along a vast terrain,
one which was vaguely familiar, when suddenly, the blow came from behind. As my
cyanoglobin poured out, I thought I heard Christine crying. Of course, I also
thought I heard someone saying, "Subtle Innuendo Follows...."
* * *
FRIDAY 5 OCTOBER 1984
0203 CST
It had been a marvelous two days. Christine took me with her to school--hidden
in her vagina the first day, hidden in her breasts the second. At night we made
love as best we could--I developed an appreciation for a woman's body that I?d
never had. And we laughed, and talked, and enjoyed each other's company. Despite
my lack of stature, it was the best I had ever felt.
But now--now--I could feel the clock ticking. Less than six hours, and I would
be whisked back to 1979.
I didn't want to go back; I wanted to go forward, back to 1999. But I
couldn't--it was pre-programmed. So I sat up, while Christine dozed next to me,
and cringed.
* * *
05 OCTOBER 1984
0830 CST
"ANY MINUTE, HUH?"
"Any minute," I said, glumly. I was sitting on a table in a Mister Donut,
contenting myself with a crumb of a creuller. I knew this restaraunt had existed
all the way back to 1966--with luck, I'd rematerialize at full size, sitting on
the table, and exit quickly.
I doubted it, though.
"I'M GOING TO MISS YOU, MATT. BUT I WON'T FORGET YOU."
"I won't ever forget you, Tina. I tell you what--I mean, just remember, fifteen
years from now, that....um...."
"WHAT, MATT?"
"Tina, I -- "
* * *
05 OCTOBER 1979
0832 CST
"--love you."
The words hung there in the air, separated by five years from their intended
recipient. Damn! I should have watched the time. I should have made sure that I
got those words out before I lept backwards again. I should really watch out and
make sure that forty-foot-tall cup of coffee doesn't get set down on me. Yikes.
I sprinted towards the napkin dispenser--it was the same direction that it had
been five years before. It was twice as far away.
I swallowed my fear as I reached it, and crouched low behind the basket of sugar
and cream. I peaked out at the new world, and I didn't like what I saw. Well,
that's not entirely true, because the first thing I saw was a four hundred fifty
foot tall blonde, sipping coffee and eating a house-sized chocolate donut. She
was pretty, despite the brown and orange outfit she wore. I had made it back to
1979. And I was less than an inch tall.
FRIDAY 05 OCTOBER 1979
0839 CST
Myriad possibilities ran through my head. There was obviously a reason I was
getting smaller with each time jump. After all, I was getting smaller; it was an
observable fact, for God's sake. f of x equals t times the product of one over
the product of ten times x divided by ten to the fourth power. It was almost an
afterthought of the time equation. A measure of reconstituting the jumper on the
other side. Almost an appendix, really. But I started plugging the numbers in,
with t equaling my original height, and x equaling the time I'd crossed. 1984-15
years. I should've been 1.84 inches tall. 1979-20 years. I should be about 8/9
of an inch tall. Observable fact. Memo to self-when I return to 1999, set
formula 1,9,3's value to one.
My reverie was broken as the table shook violently. The woman who was eating the
donut had gotten up from the booth and almost absentmindedly dropped her purse
on the table. I tried to decide what to do. Should I try to leave my current
hideout, between the non-dairy creamer and the napkin dispenser? I decided
against it. After all, I knew for a fact that this donut shop was at least forty
years old. If I stayed put, I'd be able to jump safely back to 1969. Where I'd
be about a quarter of an inch tall.. Safety was relative.
* * *
FRIDAY 05 OCTOBER 1979
1133 CST
I let out a sigh of relief as the last of the workers left the donut shop. For
three hours I had crouched, terrified, as college kids and truck drivers had
made this booth their temporary home. Then, when the store finally closed at 11,
the fifty-year old manager decided he needed to clean the booths. Never mind
that this booth didn't appear to have been cleaned since the Johnson
administration; he hauled out the cleaning solution and gave it a good spraying.
For a minute or two, I was afraid the chemicals would overcome me, or worse,
that he'd move the napkin dispenser. But luck was on my side; he didn't really
want to clean well.
Now that I was alone, I had a new mission: get food. There was a cache of donuts
behind the counter; for whatever reason, the help hadn't thrown it out yet. I
decided that, while they were probably fattening, they were better than nothing.
It was a long trip. Getting to the floor was tricky-I had to work my way down
the frame of the booth to its lowermost point, then jump the last six
inches-what seemed to be the equivalent of about forty feet. Happily, I found
that I was not even bruised-it seemed that I could fall farther at my reduced
size.
I walked what seemed to be an endless road before I found the break in the
counter, then had to climb up hundreds of feet of aprons before I reached the
counter behind the counter, then had to find a way into the thirty-five foot
tall box, before I finally reached Donut Nirvana. They were huge-enough food to
feed an army. I took a tentative bite out of the crueler nearest me. Heavenly. I
ate until I was full, and after a while, found a place to lie down and get some
rest. When I got bored, I went and ate some more. Finally, around nine or so, I
fell asleep. Well, this day hadn't been so hard.
* * *
SATURDAY 06 OCTOBER 1979
0400 CST
I awoke with a start. It was bright-way too bright for this time of the night.
What was going on? Suddenly, I heard the noise coming nearer. Oh, crap, I was in
a Donut Shop. They start making the donuts early. I ran pell-mell away from the
sound, only to run back into the pile of aprons. I turned, and saw two people
heading right towards me. Quickly, I darted into an apron pocket.
Suddenly, my world lurched; the apron was being put on. I fell to the bottom of
the pocket and looked up. I could only see so far, as a ceiling, which I quickly
realized was formed by the breasts of my wearer, obscured my view. I was about
at crotch level, and could feel her jeans rubbing against the back of my cell.
It was a surreal moment, and I was oddly aroused. But my arousal was secondary;
I had to avoid detection.
Carefully, I climbed to the top of the pocket-not an easy task in an apron
that's swaying to and fro. The woman was mixing batter. Huge vats of it, the
size of hangars. I tried to get a good look. I leaned out...
...and found myself falling. She had shifted, and I had lost my grip, and I was
falling to the batter below. Had the mixer gone one more second, I would have
been killed. Luckily, the motion that sent me flying was the motion that the
woman made to turn of the behemoth. I fell, and silently disappeared into the
ocean of dough. I coughed and sputtered, until I realized that I had fallen into
an air pocket. I'd be okay for the moment. The moment lasted about that long.
Suddenly, the bowl was tipped, and the dough -- and me -- was dumped into an
industrial-grade donut machine. There was no doubt about it, I'd be killed. But
fate smiled on me.
The woman overfilled the dough by just a little, and that was enough for just a
little-and me-to spill out over the top. Without care, I leapt...
...right onto a still-warm long john. I hit it at an angle, feet first, and slid
into it. I'm sure the hole I made was only a half-inch in diameter, if that. I
traveled through it about two inches, and lodged just below the surface. I
turned and tried to escape, just as a river of frosting sealed my entrance
route. I was trapped in the long john.
* * *
SATURDAY 06 OCTOBER 1979
0826 AM
I was terrified. I had tried screaming and hollering for help. Tried with all my
might to break through the frosting-fortified ceiling. Tried even to dig deeper.
All had failed. And for the past two hours, I had heard the rattle of the
tissue, getting closer and closer to me. Once, I had been lifted, only to be set
back down. My heart had stopped. The person who got this tomb of a roll would
never know I was encased within, until it was too late. Finally, the moment I
had dreaded arrived. I was picked up, and tossed carelessly-in a bag? On a
plate? Who knew? All I knew was that the end was near. I was really sorry Tina
hadn't heard my last words to her.
The roll was lifted, and I felt the whole thing buckle as its owner tore into
it. I cried, and shook, and then-
* * *
MONDAY 06 OCTOBER 1969
0832 AM
--I was falling. Falling free! I was free!
It took me a minute to realize-the time jump. The time jump, of course! I was
back in 1969! I was free! My freedom came to an abrupt halt as I slammed into an
immense plain that appeared to be made of denim. I struggled to my feet, dazed
and confused. My arms were leaden from my time of imprisonment; it was all I
could do to stand and stare.
I was on a plain of denim. To my right was another plain, same size, decorated
the same way-in enormous flowers, hundreds of feet in circumference. The plains
converged almost a football field away, and led into a flat, tan wall,
punctuated nicely with a navel, that led upwards towards a halter-top the size
of two circus tents.
It was 1969. I was just over a quarter of an inch tall.
Knowing that I'd have to be here for three days, and remembering the debacle of
the night before (or ten years in the future, as it were), I decided that I
should not stay in the donut shop. Instead, I charged towards the abdomen of the
girl I had alighted on. I ran towards her gut, but stopped at her pocket-At my
size, there was ample room. So I turned and entered the immense chamber.
Immediately my senses were assaulted with a scent familiar from my college
days-a joint, the size of a house. I tried to pull up, but went tumbling into
the butt end of the jay. I tried to right myself, but suddenly, the world went
spinning-the girl was standing up. I was going where she was going, wherever
that was.
* * *
MONDAY 06 OCTOBER 1969
1114 CST
I could hear through the paper and the fabric the sound of a college lecture on
history. It was a rather florid comparison of the Hundred Years' War with the
Vietnam Conflict. Not surprising: this was a time of dissent, and more than a
few professors had taken this tack. I found myself slightly high. Again, not
surprising; I was almost a third of the way into this girl's roach, and even
unlit, the stuff was potent. I found myself getting a bit hungry. And I was
struck by how funny this situation was-like a bad Cheech and Chong movie. I
mean, man, this was good shit, so good it seemed to go on forever, and ever, and
ever.. Was it getting hotter, or was it me? I coughed a bit on the smoke, before
I realized what it was-SMOKE. I tried to reconcile that with my present
situation-why would there be smoke in the middle of a joint? Hmmm, strange.
Can't think of a reason, unless.. ..unless..
Suddenly, the wind began howling at me. Actually, it began howling away from me,
and taking me and the smoke with it. It was right about then that I began to
suspect that maybe, just maybe, someone was smoking this joint. I thought that
was really funny. Not quite as funny, though, as when I reached the end, and
could see the uvula of the woman smoking up. That thing was weird, man! I tried
to reach out and touch it, and fell right out the end of the joint. By all
rights, I should have fallen into her mouth. But she chose that second to pass
the smoke to her friend, and I found myself falling, right into her circus-tent
sized halter-top. Crazy.
I don't know how long I stayed in my reverie, looking at her enormous breasts
and thinking how much her nipples looked like igloos (which is to say, not at
all, a concept I really found amazing). It probably broke about the time he
stuck his hand into my field of view and swallowed up her left breast.
Then things began to get weird. Without warning, the halter top disappeared,
which would have been a problem for me, save that she was reclining at this
point, so instead of dropping precipitously, I simply slid down her suddenly
moist abdomen, making a bulls-eye into her navel. The man filled my sky --
rough, ugly hair, connected to a rougher, uglier guy -- actually, he was
probably good looking, but I don't remember him that way. He was sucking her
nipples, licking her stomach, then licking somewhat downward, which caused the
world around me to tighten and stretch unimaginably. I could smell the woman's
scent now-it was amazing, overpowering, beautiful. Then, without warning, her
abdomen tightened in such a way as to send me falling out of her bellybutton,
and sliding down again, into a forest of hair and sweat and come.
He had finished his business for the moment, but she was still aroused. Her
vagina sat open, like an orchid on steroids, beckoning me to come on in. I
didn't want to, but he chose that moment to stroke her hair, and his index
finger casually bumped me, sending me flying into the pit.
I tried to right myself, but it was too slippery, and I was too deep. I would
have to wait for her to sit up. I wouldn't get the chance. Just as I had
resigned myself to wait, the sky above opened wide, and I saw it, full-grown,
waiting to snuff out my life. It was the man's penis, over one hundred feet
long, hanging like the Sword of Damocles.
I was so dead.