2.
—Second Tale—
The love affair of Arthur and Nellie Brennan was consummated with marriage during those sweet, heady days of youthful romance, long before Arthur Brennan in fact became the Father of Parallelocation.
On a snowy winter evening many years later, the Brennans, then in their 80s, had two graduate students join them for dinner. The streets of New Haven were nearly impassable in the swirling snow storm, and it looked as though Hap Richards, 22, and Stow Burns, 23, both doctoral students in Physical Science, might have to spend the night at their professor's home. No matter, talk was light and the atmosphere was congenial. A wood-burning stove crackled, and icy drizzle peppered soothingly against the fogged-up windows.
"We have been married for sixty years," Arthur said, resting his hand on Nellie's. Hap and Stow exchanged meaningful glances, noting the electricity that always seemed to flow between Nellie and Arthur. Clearly, this kind of love was in itself a life's goal, and the two young men should shape their lives accordingly.
"We are as much in love now as we were then," Nellie said proudly.
Hap leaned back in his chair, smoking a cigar. "Professor, how is that research of yours coming along? You know—the whatsis—?"Arthur chuckled. "You mean the Parallelocator."
"Yes," Stowe said. "We hear rumors now and then, that you're on the verge of a breakthrough."
Arthur's smile was sad. "That was a hope of my youth. I gave up on it long ago."
"Oh?" Hap and Stow regarded one another with disappointment. Hap said: "This would have been a perfect night for an exciting story."
Arthur smiled genially and rose. "Just a moment." He left the room for a few minutes, then returned holding a small black box about the size and shape of a shoebox. Blowing dust off, he set it on the table.
"That's his toy," Nellie said fondly, stroking Arthur's hand. "He used to play with it a lot, before we were married."
"Tinker with it, I did," Arthur said with mild reproach.
"What is it?" Hap and Stow said, leaning forward. Arthur patted the box. "I had a theory once. That there are many parallel universes, each with different outcomes for all possible events. I built a gadget that would bridge the gap between ours and the other worlds."
"That little thing?" Hap asked.
"This is just the control switch," Arthur said. "The machine itself is as big as a house, located in our old family barn twenty miles from here."
"Does it work?" Hap asked.
Brenna shook his head, while Nellie smiled at old memories. "No," Brennan said, "it never seemed to do anything." He went to the book cases and pulled out a handful of volumes. In passing, he fiddled in a breaker box. "It will take a few minutes for the big machine to warm up."
"More hot chocolate, anyone?" Nellie asked.
"Yes, yes," Hap and Stow said in unison.
Arthur told them: "I wrote a paper about it, which was not well received. I said that, using a kind of rheostat tuned to a black hole on ultra low frequency waves, you could open a window into the next parallel universe. I demonstrated all the mathematics to prove it. They all laughed at me." He shrugged. "I gave up and moved on to more conventional things."
"Here's the hot chocolate," Nellie said brightly a few minutes later.
"Well, the gizmo ought to be warmed up by now," Arthur said. "I found I could press the switch all I wanted, and nothing ever happened. Here, let me demonstrate."
Hap and Stow leaned close, with deep interest, while Nellie hummed happily to herself as she cleared old dishes away.
Arthur pressed the switch. "See?"
—Second Tale—
The love affair of Arthur and Nellie Brennan was consummated with marriage during those sweet, heady days of youthful romance, long before Arthur Brennan in fact became the Father of Parallelocation.
On a snowy winter evening many years later, the Brennans, then in their 80s, had two graduate students join them for dinner. The streets of New Haven were nearly impassable in the swirling snow storm, and it looked as though Hap Richards, 22, and Stow Burns, 23, both doctoral students in Physical Science, might have to spend the night at their professor's home. No matter, talk was light and the atmosphere was congenial. A wood-burning stove crackled, and icy drizzle peppered soothingly against the fogged-up windows.
"We have been married for sixty years," Arthur said, resting his hand on Nellie's. Hap and Stow exchanged meaningful glances, noting the electricity that always seemed to flow between Nellie and Arthur. Clearly, this kind of love was in itself a life's goal, and the two young men should shape their lives accordingly.
"We are as much in love now as we were then," Nellie said proudly.
Hap leaned back in his chair, smoking a cigar. "Professor, how is that research of yours coming along? You know—the whatsis—?"Arthur chuckled. "You mean the Parallelocator."
"Yes," Stowe said. "We hear rumors now and then, that you're on the verge of a breakthrough."
Arthur's smile was sad. "That was a hope of my youth. I gave up on it long ago."
"Oh?" Hap and Stow regarded one another with disappointment. Hap said: "This would have been a perfect night for an exciting story."
Arthur smiled genially and rose. "Just a moment." He left the room for a few minutes, then returned holding a small black box about the size and shape of a shoebox. Blowing dust off, he set it on the table.
"That's his toy," Nellie said fondly, stroking Arthur's hand. "He used to play with it a lot, before we were married."
"Tinker with it, I did," Arthur said with mild reproach.
"What is it?" Hap and Stow said, leaning forward. Arthur patted the box. "I had a theory once. That there are many parallel universes, each with different outcomes for all possible events. I built a gadget that would bridge the gap between ours and the other worlds."
"That little thing?" Hap asked.
"This is just the control switch," Arthur said. "The machine itself is as big as a house, located in our old family barn twenty miles from here."
"Does it work?" Hap asked.
Brenna shook his head, while Nellie smiled at old memories. "No," Brennan said, "it never seemed to do anything." He went to the book cases and pulled out a handful of volumes. In passing, he fiddled in a breaker box. "It will take a few minutes for the big machine to warm up."
"More hot chocolate, anyone?" Nellie asked.
"Yes, yes," Hap and Stow said in unison.
Arthur told them: "I wrote a paper about it, which was not well received. I said that, using a kind of rheostat tuned to a black hole on ultra low frequency waves, you could open a window into the next parallel universe. I demonstrated all the mathematics to prove it. They all laughed at me." He shrugged. "I gave up and moved on to more conventional things."
"Here's the hot chocolate," Nellie said brightly a few minutes later.
"Well, the gizmo ought to be warmed up by now," Arthur said. "I found I could press the switch all I wanted, and nothing ever happened. Here, let me demonstrate."
Hap and Stow leaned close, with deep interest, while Nellie hummed happily to herself as she cleared old dishes away.
Arthur pressed the switch. "See?"
He looked up unhappily and regarded his guests. "See? Nothing happened. Nothing at all."
Nellie and Hap Jefferson regarded the lonely old man with sympathy, while rain splattered in the courtyard outside. Nellie rose and said: "I'm going to turn up the thermostat, Arthur, and then we really have to be going." Arthur Brennan sighed. Nellie, he reflected, thinking ahead to the long, lonely night ahead, reminded him of a young girl who had jilted him sixty years earlier. He'd never recovered, and had never married. The air in his bachelor apartment smelled faintly of something sad, like stale cigar smoke, only nobody here smoked.
He looked up unhappily and regarded his guests. "See? Nothing happened. Nothing at all."
Nellie and Hap Jefferson regarded the lonely old man with sympathy, while rain splattered in the courtyard outside. Nellie rose and said: "I'm going to turn up the thermostat, Arthur, and then we really have to be going." Arthur Brennan sighed. Nellie, he reflected, thinking ahead to the long, lonely night ahead, reminded him of a young girl who had jilted him sixty years earlier. He'd never recovered, and had never married. The air in his bachelor apartment smelled faintly of something sad, like stale cigar smoke, only nobody here smoked.
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Copyright © 2018 by Jean-Thomas Cullen, Clocktower Books. All Rights Reserved.
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