The Last Time Traveler Page 6

  “Oh yea,” the young man nodded. “Chubbs.”

  The four quickly made their way to a large cleft in the cliff face from which smoke and steam were continually rising.

  “Doc,” the traveler shouted. “Doc, I'm here. Are you ready to go?”

  As soon as Robert said this a massive, red, black-taloned claw reached out from the cleft and grabbed hold of the cliff face. From its shadows stepped a monster that was the stuff of nightmares. The creature was over seven feet tall, and muscles rippled beneath the short, black tunic that it wore. What appeared to be rams horns sprang from its head and the tops of two giant wings could be seen just behind its shoulders. Its orange eyes seemed to burn with their own unholy light, and its grinning mouth was filled with long dagger-like fangs. Before the beast's cloven hoof had touched the bridge Morgan sprang into action.

  “Demon!” he screamed, tackling Cleo and doing his best to cover every inch of her body with his own flesh.

  “Get off of me you idiot!” she screamed in rage. “That's Doc!”

  “Who's the new guy?” Doc chuckled, with a deep booming voice.

  “Morgan,” Vox replied. “You'll like him. He's like a laugh a minute.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Immediately Morgan climbed from atop Cleo and the traveler helped her to her feet. She very vigorously brushed her entire body off before shaking all over spastically, waving her hands wildly in the air in front of her.

  “Morgan,” she said, her voice filled with emotion. “If you ever see me about to get killed and the only way you have to save me is by covering me with your body; Let! Me! Die!”

  “Ouch!” he replied shaking his head. “I mean, you cut me deep just then. I was just trying...”

  “Look, Morgan,” Cleo interrupted, staring directly into his eyes. “I'm sorry. I really am. But I'm just setting ground rules! That was not the very friendly six foot distance we agreed on, was it?”

  “Well, no, but...”

  “Right!” she exclaimed. “Good fences, Morgan! Good fences! Now let's get back on the ship!”

  Having said this she stormed off in the direction of the time machine, her male companions following a short distance behind. As Vox and Doc strolled along, side by side, laughing and talking, Morgan and the traveler fell into the rear.

  “I tried to tell you,” Robert chuckled. “She's spoken for, man. Not to mention way out of your league.”

  “I was just...”

  “It's cool,” the traveler smiled, slapping him on the back. “I know why you did it and I appreciate it. You did the right thing. And if it comes up again make sure you don't let her die.”

  “Yeah...” Morgan sighed. “I wouldn't.”

  As soon as they were all on board Doc got right to work.

  “We need to get the checkups out of the way,” he said waving his hand in the direction of the medi-bay.

  “We can skip it this time, Doc,” the traveler replied.

  “No, Rob, we can't,” he said, shaking his head. “After all the doctor is in.”

  “You just like saying that,” Robert chuckled.

  “True,” Doc smiled. “But that doesn't alter the fact that we're going to get the checkups out of the way.”

  “Alright,” the traveler sighed. “Let's just hurry.”

  The five companions quickly made their way to the medi-bay where Rob leapt up on one of the tables and laid down. Doc stepped over to the station and began pushing buttons.

  “As always, Rob,” he said slowly, “you're in perfect physical condition. And it seems that you're now using 97.8 percent of your brain. You're progress is truly amazing, my friend.”

  “Thanks Doc,” he replied before jumping from the table and helping Cleo up.

  “Let's see my dear,” Doc said, punching another series of buttons. “You're also in excellent condition and, if memory serves, it seems you're actually a year younger than you were during your last checkup.”

  “I am,” she giggled.

  Morgan grabbed his chest.

  “I thought so,” Doc sighed. “Well, of course, that's your own affair, my dear. However, I would ask that you consider the fact that the universe has us age for a reason. We have to be very careful when we defy nature... In any event, you are currently using 83.2 percent of your brain. I suppose that does show that although you're younger, you may still be a little bit wiser.”

  “Thanks Doc!” she said climbing down from the table.

  Vox was the next to lay down and await his checkup.

  “Very good,” Doc observed. “However, Vox, you're no longer a child of forty. I know you're still young, but you need to start being more careful about what you eat. I'd also suggest you do a little more in the way of exercise. It looks like you've been sitting around the ship for a year.”

  “I was...”

  “That explains it,” Doc nodded. “And you're using 85.1 percent of your brain. Wonderful progress.”

  As soon as Vox climbed down, Morgan climbed up.

  “Hey Doc,” the young man said, leaning back on the table as he spoke. “Sorry about that whole demon thing.”

  “Think nothing of it, Morgan,” he smiled. “I get that a lot.”

  “Really?”

  “No,” he chuckled. “Now lay still.”

  Doc pushed a series of buttons, shook his head, and pushed more buttons.

  “Hmmm,” he said, his deep voice echoing around the chamber. “Rob, this can't be right. We need to recalibrate this machine.”

  “It's calibrated,” the traveler replied.

  “Look at this, Rob,” Doc replied, pulling one of the monitors away from the wall and turning it toward the traveler. “That cannot be right. It's not medically possible.”

  “It is,” Robert replied.

  “What are you guys talking about?” Morgan asked.

  “Rob, man,” Vox said shaking his head. “I mean, I know that normally you're right, but I got to go with Doc on this one.”

  “I agree,” Cleo nodded. “I mean, he's not a genius or anything, but that's just not possible.”

  “What are you guys talking about?” Morgan asked.

  “Robert,” Doc said, gazing at the traveler with one raised eyebrow, “it's my medical opinion that we should recalibrate this machine.”

  “Alright, Doc,” the traveler laughed. “You're the Doc. Knock yourself out. Me and Vox will get the ship moving while you do that.”

  “Yeah,” Cleo said. “And I'm going to take a bath and change these clothes. They smell funny...”

  “Has he gone like this before?” Doc asked staring down at the stunned young man.

  “Yeah,” Robert nodded. “He did that twice yesterday. I figured he just needed some sleep. Either way, you might want to check that out as well.”

  “I think I will,” Doc nodded.

  In less than an hour they were all gathered in the medi-bay once again to see the results of Doc's re-calibrated tests.

  “You know it's weird, Doc,” Morgan said, stretching himself out on the table. “I mean, your name being Doc and you being a doctor and everything...”

  “My name isn't Doc,” Doc chuckled. “My name is Malas Tryffin Dassmock. Everyone just calls me Doc.”

  “You're first name is Malice?”

  “No,” Doc replied, shaking his head. “My first name is Malas, which means child of peace. And I better check your hearing while we're at it. Now lie still.”

  Once again Doc pressed a sequence of buttons, before shaking his head and pushing even more buttons.

  “Well Robert,” he said, turning his gaze to the traveler. “It seems I was mistaken. I apologize.”

  “Not at all,” Robert replied. “You were just doing your job, Doc.”

  “Mmmm,” Cleo said, gazing at the display and biting her lower lip thoughtfully. “That's not good.”

  “Don't do that,” Morgan insisted.

  “Don't do what?” she asked.

  “Don't bite your lower lip like
that,” he explained. “You're going to give me a stroke.”

  “A stroke?” Doc asked.

  “Oh yea,” Cleo replied. “We should have mentioned it. He's got some medical problems. Yesterday he said he thought he was having a heart-attack and like fifteen minutes later he thought he was going to have an aneurysm.”

  “I didn't say that,” Morgan said.

  “You did say that!” she replied.

  “I just meant...”

  “I'll take a look,” Doc interrupted. “Either way, he does have a number of issues that we need to address. Morgan, you're slightly overweight and, as a result, your heart is slightly older than the rest of your body. Your blood sugar is also a little high. It looks as if you had nothing but coffee and donuts for breakfast...”

  “I did,” the young man interjected.

  “Ah. Well that's probably alright then. Are you a smoker?”

  “Never.”

  “Well then, your lungs are in bad shape. You ever do any walking, jogging, running?”

  “Never.”

  “That explains that then. It also explains your rather lack-luster muscle development. And it may have something to do with that touch of acne. For that, however, I have a cream that should fix you up in no time.”

  “Thanks...”

  “Not at all. Now, that brings us to the brain...”

  “What's wrong with my brain?”

  “Nothing's wrong with it exactly. It's just that you don't appear to be using much of it. You see, Morgan, the average human from your time used roughly ten percent of their brain.”

  “No,” Morgan replied, shaking his head. “That was a myth. Scientists way back in my day were able to prove that wasn't true.”

  “No, Morgan,” Robert replied. “They were able to prove that humans use one-hundred percent of their brain cells. And that means almost nothing. The scientists of your day had no idea that you could measure brain potential, much less how to go about measuring it. Didn't you ever think it was odd that nobody ever knew where that ten percent rumor started? There was no paper, or theory, or famous quote they could trace it back to for certain. That's because it was an idea inserted into the subconscious of many, many people over the course of early human history by a particular time traveler.”

  “Why would they have done that?” Morgan asked.

  “Because, Morgan,” the traveler explained. “That idea, that belief, is exactly what people need in order to reach more of their potential. That's where it all starts. The brain's abilities increase almost exponentially as more and more of that potential is unlocked. The living brain is capable of things that the people of your time simply couldn't imagine. And, Morgan, you're seriously brimming over with potential, man. At the moment you're only using about five percent of your full capacity.”

  “Five percent!” Morgan exclaimed. “I have to be the stupidest person that ever lived!”

  “I wouldn't say that,” Doc smiled. “Of course...”

  “Of course, what?”

  “Well...” Doc sighed. “Technically speaking no one has ever been found that used less than ten percent of their brain. Still, you're living proof that it's possible. You're a medical marvel and may help us redefine the way we look at brain potential.”

  “Glad I could help,” Morgan sighed. “So, Rob, if all this brain power is exponential and all, you must be like a super-genius.”

  “I wouldn't say that,” Robert smiled, pulling out his false modesty for it's annual airing.

  “In point of fact,” Doc replied. “Robert is the most intelligent human being that ever lived. Of course, there is a great difference between intelligence and wisdom.”

  “Can you like bend spoons with your mind?” Morgan asked.

  “No,” the traveler replied. “But I can juggle six things at once. Well... Five. But I'm working on it.”

  “So, be honest,” the young man sighed. “Am I just here as your pet or something?”

  “What?” the traveler asked, knitting his brows. “No way, man! You're a member of my team. Of our team. Of one of the most elite teams ever assembled in the history of the universe. I spent years of my life searching for you, Morgan. And I'm very glad I found you.”

  “Well then, what part of the team am I? Like the red shirt or something?”

  “No!” Robert exclaimed, a wide smile on his face. “You're our jester!”

  “Really?”

  “Eh,” the traveler replied, rotating his hand back and forth. “Sort of. But you won't always be! Trust me, man! Either way, now that the checkups are over, it's time to really get started. To the conference room!”

  As Morgan followed the traveler along the corridor he considered his potential. He sincerely hoped that he'd be able to work his way up to at least ten percent in time. At least now he understood why he'd never made assistant manager at Taco Palace. Of course, now he was the Jester of what was possibly the most elite team that ever existed. The wheel of fate had certainly turned in his favor!

  The addition of Vox and the Doc also filled him with a great deal of confidence. Between the two of them they had brought the party's average height up to just over six-foot one. All things considered, it looked like the universe was in good hands.

  Chapter 4: A Plan of Action

  “If you'll all take a seat we can get started,” Robert said, stepping around the conference table and pulling Cleo's chair out for her.

  As soon as his four companions had seated themselves the traveler took up his place at the head of the table.

  “As all of you already know,” he began, “we're here to repair the damage done to the universe by my predecessors. The order in which we do this is absolutely critical. And so, it should come as no surprise that our first target is the next-to-the-last time traveler, the infamous time-thief Marcus Delmont. His short-lived career was the greatest example of time-abuse in the history of the universe. Of course, what he did stopped time, and that fact kept anyone from being able to be even worse than him in the now non-existent future.”

  “Question,” Morgan said, raising his hand.

  “Sure!”

  “How did he stop time?”

  “Well,” Robert replied. “The first thing the idiot did was steal a prototype time drive and sell it to another culture that hadn't discovered time travel yet! According to history he didn't think it would hurt the time-lines much because he left both the plans and the creator of the drive alone. And he figured since the universe was full of time travelers anyway, a few million more wouldn't hurt anything. However, what the moron didn't count on was the fact that the creator was going to have a heart-attack and fall over dead as soon as he noticed the drive was gone. As a result it was never completed.”

  “Question,” Morgan said, raising his hand.

  “We're not in grade school, Morgan,” the traveler replied. “What is it?”

  “How did that break time?”

  “It created a series of paradoxes... Morgan, you don't need to raise your hand, man. What?”

  “What about the random elements? Why didn't they repair the paradoxes?”

  “Wow...” the traveler replied. “You've actually been paying attention. You're going to break the five percent barrier in no time at this rate. Either way, you're right! Under normal circumstances, at least according to everything we understand about time travel at this point in time, they would have. However, the plain fact is, they didn't.”

  “Why not?”

  “We can't be sure, but the current theory is that what Marcus did was like setting off the time-equivalent of a hydrogen bomb. With a single action he undid countless changes, out of sequence, and created countless new ones. As a result, time was seriously scrambled. Roughly a thousand years after that happened time just stopped. Apparently the universe's self-repair system couldn't handle it.”

  “Or perhaps,” Doc said thoughtfully, “we're part of that self-repair system.”

  “That's certainly possible,” Robert nodded
. “Depending on your philosophical outlook.”

  “So no problem,” Morgan smiled. “We just go back and blast his machine before he can use it.”

  “No,” the traveler said, “we don't. Haven't you been listening? We don't know why this happened in the first place. But what we do know is that making drastic changes is a bad idea. If we just went back and blasted his machine he wouldn't make the changes and so we wouldn't go back. Making more paradoxes is what we want to avoid. So, even though we can't do that completely, we want to keep our paradoxes as small as possible. What we have to do is undo his changes while causing as few of our own as we can. And in order to do that we need to work backwards.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, we have to start by un-stealing the last thing he ever stole and returning it to where it should be in the time-line. Well, that's not exactly true. The very first thing we need to do is disable his time machine...”

  “That's what I just said!” Morgan interrupted.

  “Well no,” the traveler replied. “I mean we have to disable it after the last time he ever used it.”

  “What's the point of that?” the young man asked. “If he never used it again why go to the trouble of disabling it.”

  “Let me explain,” Robert said with a smile. “He never used it again before, but he might use it again later. If he figures out that someone's un-stealing all his junk, for instance, he might want to try to find out how and why. You see, when we make these changes they might just affect him. It's a remote possibility, but all he's got to do is stumble on a history book that shows something somewhere that he thinks shouldn't be then and there and he might put the rest together. The odds are billions to one, but we can't take any chances.”

  “Okay. So we disable it, then what?”

  “We un-steal the Orb of the Gods at a point in time after it's dropped out of the time-line and return it to where he stole it from about five minutes after it's gone. That will undo most of the damage he did without creating any more. Then we disable his ship again and see what happens.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that! After we've returned the Orb we disable his ship right before he went to steal it and see what happens. The universe will either start to heal or not or blowup or something. We'll just have to see what happens.”