Apologies to H.G. Wells

Untrue Life Stories: Exaggerated Accounts from Unreal Situations, part two

Brent was feeling nauseous as he exited his 1992 Subaru Legacy, lovingly referred as his "Shatmobile." Perhaps it was was the drive over - he'd gotten lost in Salt Lake City, the air conditioner wasn't working, and he discovered he had twice past his destination, plus the fact that he didn't really like driving to begin with. Or perhaps it was the homemade eggnog he brought from home (which may or may not have been laced with vodka to calm his nerves). In either case, after he untactfully vomited in the bushes, he felt a bit better.

He was in Salt Lake to visit his friend and former high school history teacher, Stan Andrus. Stan was lovingly referred to as "Satan" by students. Perhaps it was his facial hair and "proud apostate" attitude. In either case, he was well-liked by his students, and if you weren't an idiot, he tended to like you, too.

Stan opened the door. "Watering the plants?"

Brent wiped the remaining bile from his uncouth face and put a piece of gum in his mouth. "Sorry, man. I hate Salt Lake. That is to say, I'd like it a lot more if I had a GPS in the old Shatmobile."

"It's fine," said Stan, taking a pipe out of his coat sleeve. "But you're a little early."

"How the hell did I manage that?" Brent asked, looking at his cellphone. "Wasn't it supposed to start twenty minutes ago?"

"We had to reschedule for later on," Stan explained. "I was just making some last-minute... preparations."

Stan had invited a group of friends and colleagues over for a "special announcement." Brent figured he'd use this as a chance to improve his guerrilla filmmaking. Why he felt he needed to improve on holding a camera and pointing it at stuff, I don't quite understand.

"Ah, shit, dude. I'm sorry. I can come back later?" Brent apologized.

Stan puffed his pipe and set it on the windowsill. "No, it's alright. I can give you a sneak preview."

Brent followed Stan inside. "So, where's Annie? And how early am I?"

Stan motioned for Brent to enter a room. "Annie's picking up some party supplies. You're a little under an hour early."

There in the room was what looked like an bike.

"Dude, is this your way of telling me I need to lose weight?" Brent asked. "I get it. I'm chubby."

Stan shot Brent the look of Satan, smiling slightly. "This isn't a bicycle. This is a time machine." Stan went on to say that he had discovered the secret to time travel while reading The God Delusion.

"But I don't get it," Brent sighed. "What does Richard Dawkins know about time travel?"

"It's not what he says," said Stan. "It's what he doesn't say."

Brent shook his head in agitated contemplation. "Next you're going to tell me the equation that inspired this revelation was 2 + 2 = 4."

Stan cocked his head, confused. "What?"

Again, Brent shook his head. "Never mind. Just tell me how it works."

After ten minutes of explanation, Brent still didn't understand, but pretended as though he did.

"Riveting," Brent said, stroking his chin. "Have you tried it out?"

"Just briefly," Stan said. "I didn't work up the gumption to go too far, but I did see the pioneers entering the Utah valley, and let me just say; it was kind of disappointing."

"I'll bet," said Brent. "So... you gonna let me give this a shot?"

Stan stroked his goatee in contemplation. "Well," he began, "I wasn't going to let anybody attempt this until after the presentation. But I suppose we've got time."

"Nothing but!" exclaimed Brent. "So, how does it work?"

Stan just looked at Brent. "Were you not paying attention this whole time?"

Brent shifted in his seat. "I kind of zonked out. I did it a lot in class, too."

Stan sighed. "Just get on and pedal until you get where you want to go. The odometer measure the time. You pedal forward to go forward, back to go back. Pretty simple."

"Is that seriously what you said the first time?" Brent asked. "Man, I really need to work on my attention span."

Brent sat in the seat a moment. "I must confess, I never took the time to learn how to ride a bike. Do I need to go outside or something?"

Stan smiled. "You won't need roads where you're going."

Brent started backpedaling. "Oh. I see. It's a stationary bike. Also, nice Back to the Future reference. But really, I thought an H.G. Wells reference would be more appropriate. Like The Island of Dr. Moreau."

When Brent looked up, he saw that he was moving backwards in time.

A moment passed, and Brent was back in the room with Stan.

After a moment, Brent spoke. "Before tonight I had the theory that if time travel were possible, we would know about it in the past, my logic being that if people in the future made an attempt to come back to the past, it would alter their past, and therefor our future. That was theory number one. However," Brent paused for dramatic effect, "I inadvertently put my other theory into effect tonight. I rationalized that if one could hypothetically change the past - stop the Kennedy assassination, convince Hitler's mom to get an abortion, whatever - that the past has already been changed, and we can do nothing to change that. Meaning; if I was the one stood in the grassy knoll and assassinated him myself, then it has become part of history. Do you know what I'm saying?"

Stan looked at Brent, his eyes widened. "What did you do?"

Brent sighed. "I may have accidentally convinced Mitt Romney to run for President."

Brent went on to say that he went back in time to the 2002 Winter Olympics ("just to see what the big deal was all about"). He said that he had a brief run-in with pre-Governor Romney and spoke of his admiration for him.

"You have to understand," Brent cried. "This was before the Tea Party. All Romney had to do at this point was convince people that Mormons weren't technically a cult. He was still pretty gay-friendly, pro-choice-friendly, all-around user-friendly. And in my brief conversation with him, I may have said something about him making a good President. I suppose I should be happy that I forgot my camera here. Now nobody knows who  to blame."

Stan somberly bowed his head. "What have I created?"

Brent scratched his head. "Well, you know... nobody needs to know."

"What do you mean?" Stan asked. "I told everybody to meet at my house for a special presentation."

"I thought of this," said Brent. "I didn't want to risk the paradox of running into myself at the Salt Lake Olympics, that whole paradox. So, I went further back in time and..."

Brent pulled a video tape from his pocket.

"What is that?" Stan asked. "I thought you said you left your camera."

"I did," Brent replied. "But I went back to 1978 and got this; a bootleg copy of The Star Wars Holiday Special."

Stan smiled. "Now that - is a special presentation!"

Brent smiled back. "You got a VCR? I'll record everybody's reaction!"