The Effects of Time Travel on Biological Entities

Plot twist short story which popped into my head. Will time travel change us in unforeseen ways?

The Effects of Time Travel on Biological Entities
by  Susan Nixon

All her life, Mary dreamed of meeting the perfect man.  He'd be handsome, most likely, and a few inches taller than her 5'5", and probably have blue eyes.  More important than his appearance would be his sense of humor, intelligence, and compassion.  He'd be kind and he'd care about her in a way no one ever had.  At 50, she was finally beginning to believe a dream was all it would ever be.  She'd never married, never had an affair, waiting for her other half.

That was the year he came.  The museum for which Mary was an archivist hired a young man, not quite 30, as director of visiting exhibits.  He was exactly what she'd dreamed, a ready smile, very bright, kind to everyone he met.  He was good-looking, though not classically handsome; his eyes were as blue as the ocean, and he was, indeed, quite a bit taller than she.  Perfect in every way but one.  He was almost 20 years younger than she was.  

 Mary had no intention of being a joke among her peers.  Instead, she kept a friendly mien toward Storm Cain, and thought what a storm he'd caused in her heart.  Occasionally, she'd cry herself to sleep, thinking of all that could be hers, if it weren't for the small problem of age.  However much she thought about it, she could find no way around it.  She dreaded the day when her perfect match would talk about a woman, or bring his future bride into the museum to meet co-workers.  

That didn't happen. Years continued, and both of them grew older, but not closer in age.  They became good friends, occasionally having dinner together, after working late at the museum.  They talked and laughed, and Mary's heart continued to pine, though not a bit of her inner feelings ever leaked out in her conversations or time spent with Storm.

 

Mary was 53 when the government announced Near-Time Travel.  Rumors had flown for years, but Mary was grounded in reality, believing Time Travel to be pie in the sky.  Even now, she wasn't interested in traveling herself, though the cost was no more than a 3-day weekend in Mars Dome 3, also known as Aphrodite.  The news article listed destinations to which one could travel, all in the last 100 years.  The Cubbies World Series clincher ten years past, the first in 150 years.  The last women's beauty pageant, 25 years in the past.  The assassination attempt on President Hanrahan on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial 90 years ago, after the Washington, DC, earthquake.  

Mary wondered how you could travel back to an event like the World Series, which had been sold out.  Reading further, she discovered the answer.  Even in sold-out events, there are always a few seats which aren't used.  Additionally, the Yankees Manager had not been averse to taking a few dollars to let a couple of people sit in the bullpen.  

Interestingly, the article reported, when one traveled back, all those in the original time line were always present.  Those visiting from the future were not.  Therefore, one could use the same seats over and over.  Scientists were still puzzling and debating that one.  The side-benefit of this phenomenon seemed to be that those visiting were not able to affect the time stream at all.  The Time Scouts still sent someone along with every person or small group booking a trip, and each person going was chipped with a monitor which would dissolve into the blood stream within a few days of returning to their own time.

By afternoon, Mary had forgotten all about the article.  Time Travel held no interest for her, and she had no intention of frittering away her money on something so trivial as seeing a beauty pageant.  Her interest was not in recent history, but in the long-dead past, and she could see no way this new technology was going to help her visit ancient Judea or Rome.

About 18 months after the initial announcements of Near-Time Travel, as Mary continued in her hopeless love, a second furor arose.  It had been confirmed after many months of studies that those who spent at least a week in the past, collectively, returned cured of ailments from arthritis to cancer.  The business of Near-Time Travel boomed.  More scouts were hired, providing more jobs and redistributing wealth according to ancient and basic capitalistic parameters.

Still, it was of no interest to Mary.  Though she'd passed her 55th birthday, Mary was healthy.  She felt good.  She exercised and watched her diet.  There was no need for body sculpting, and, as far as she could see, no need to traipse off to the past to feel better.  Her life seemed to be in a rut, but it was a comfortable rut, and she saw no reason to change it.  

The next year, Near-Time Travel was extended to 1000 years in the past.  That would certainly make things more interesting, Mary thought, but not interesting enough to tempt her.  The museum had plenty of information on the times of Shakespeare, though she was positive there would be many who would want to visit that time and see his plays in the original.  Maybe someone would even find out if he wrote them or not.  There were certainly many scholarly issues to verify in that 1000 years.  However, it still wasn't ancient Egypt or Judea or Rome, or even Britain.  No, thank you, she'd keep saving her money.

It was shortly before Mary's 60th birthday when she finally decided it was time to take Near-Time Travel seriously, maybe even time for her to try it.  The latest research offered Mary something she wanted:  a way to become younger.  She was still in love with Storm Cain, and he was still unmarried.  They continued to have the occasional dinner or pizza at the museum.  They'd become friends, though neither talked a lot about themselves.  Still, she knew he was perfect for her.

As reported in the news, those who traveled consistently into the eras more than 500 years in the past were returning younger.  For each week spent that far, or farther, in the past, research was documenting a year lost in age.  Mary calculated she'd need to spend at least 5 months, make it 6, and there was no way she could afford that.  

For a week, Mary fretted over having the solution so close at hand, and no way to  benefit from it.  What she needed was an archaeological dig.  She had the sabbatical time coming.  At the end of the week, she had a plan.  She put her proposal before the museum board that month, and in a short time was on her way back in time, sponsored by the museum, for a 6-month study of Abigail Adams and the times that had formed her.  

History recorded Adams as a woman who made her opinions known, and Mary was interested in how that happened, given the era surrounding the American War of Independence.   She had also been a First Lady, but Mary was going to a time before that, a time when she might be able to infiltrate the circle of friends Abigail kept.  She looked forward to the 6 months, knowing she would return later in the day that she had left, and be only 34.  She'd actually be younger than Storm.  They could have the life she'd dreamed.

Mary returned from her sabbatical a changed woman, in more ways than one.  She came back with a great respect for Abigail Adams, with whom she'd been friendly, attending parties, afternoon teas, and sewing sessions.  She hadn't actually missed too many of the conveniences she was used to in her own time, though the lack of computing equipment had made it much more work to record her thoughts and findings.  

She'd done it all long-hand, though, and when she stepped through the Time Gate, she had an authentic mid-1700s travel bag filled with authentic mid-1700s pages filled with notes written in authentic mid-1700s ink, using a number of quills.  All that came back with her, and would become part of the museum's exhibit on Abigail Adams.  

She hadn't brought much else back with her.  She'd left the clothes she'd taken, donated them to the poor, of whom there were many.  She'd brought a dresser scarf Abigail had stitched for her, and some quilt blocks all her new friends had made as a going away gift.  Everyone thought she was returning to the West Indies, which her cover story had made her home.  It explained any little graces she lacked, or mistakes she might make in pre-Revolutionary society.  She'd actually had a good time, and after a few weeks, she'd needed to use the make-up she'd taken to disguise the loss of years.

Mary's first action on returning to her home, even before she called the museum director, was to call Storm and invite him to dinner.  They'd talked before her trip, laughing about the side-effects and how young she would be.  She was anxious to have him see her with new eyes.  

She'd lost none of her memories of life before her sabbatical, she was the same person.  Only her shell was different.  She'd examined her face and figure in the bathroom mirror, seeing the lack of lines to which she'd become accustomed, the lack of gray in her light brown hair, the brightness of her gray eyes, the slim firmness of her muscles.  She had a figure again!

She'd have preferred to see him alone this first time, but he wanted to bring a friend to meet her.  She'd had a moment of fear that he'd used the 6 months to find a woman he wanted, but no.  He'd told her it was a male friend who was interested in her views of the changes she'd undergone, a medical doctor with a curiosity about her.  That was alright.  Maybe it was even better to have someone there to cushion the differences the first time.  Yes, she became sure of it, the more she thought of it.

At the appointed hour of 7, her doorbell rang.  She'd dressed carefully in a casual white jumpsuit that showed off her curves, but not blatantly.  Her long hair was pulled back with two white combs, and she wore red leather sandals that matched the red leather belt of her jumpsuit.  She opened the door to two men in their late 30s.  Storm looked as she remembered, and just as good as she'd always thought.  The other man was a little shorter, sported a short beard the same dark red as his hair, and green eyes.  Attractive, but she wasn't interested.

The two men came inside.  Mary shut the door and turned to gesture them into the living room.  A few steps inside the door, they both turned to face her.  Storm seemed a little nervous.  Not unexpected.  After all, she didn't look like the Mary he knew.  He stared at her for a moment.  

"It's quite a difference, you know," he told her.  "I don't mean to stare, but . . . it's more than I imagined."  Mary smiled at that.  Yes, he seemed to be a little overwhelmed by the change.  That was good.  He'd have to look at her with different feelings now.

Storm turned to the man standing next to him,  "Mary, I'd like you to meet Harry Stanger."  Mary reached out a hand and said all the usual and proper things, but her mind was on Storm, and her eyes returned there almost immediately, as Storm cleared his throat.  Obviously, he had something else he wanted to say.

"Harry's a medical doctor, as I told you, and he's interested in your impressions of the Time Travel age phenom.  I was sure you wouldn't mind talking with him," he told her.

"No, not at all," she smiled at both of them.  "Won't you have a seat?  Dinner will be ready in about 20 minutes, but it doesn't require my attention.  Perhaps I can answer some of your questions now."  She gestured toward the sofa.

Storm reached out for Harry's hand, holding it as they turned toward the sofa.  "Harry's also my husband," he told her.
 

Author's Note

Say whatever you feel needs saying.

Reviews

[Micheal Teal]

Beautifully written.

I enjoyed everything about it including the plot twist . The voice of your soul speaks in your writing. There is an honesty in your writing that makes it all the more entertaining. I honour your unique expression and wish you a wellspring of inspiration that you may bless us all with more literary works of art such as this.

[Rylan Batten]

i really like how it was written, and the twist at the end was completely unexpected, and funny. Way to go, keep up the good work...I enjoyed it all a lot. Nothin really to criticize.