Spin Cycle

The landscaping of 925 Maple Street was immaculate, as per the homeowner’s association’s specifications. The grass was cut to exactly two and a half inches with six inches of mulch separating the sprinkler line from the azaleas lining the entryway. A moderately sized maple graced the corner lot; the street’s namesake.

There was nothing out of place except for the woman waiting in the parked car across the street.

Jennifer Williams dropped her sheer curtains and assumed a casual pose in the sitting room of 925 Maple. As the President of the Homeowner’s Association Board and founder of the Neighborhood Watch Committee, Jennifer knew everything that happened on her street. Sheer curtains, manicured grass, and a corner lot went a long way to cultivate perfect sight lines.

The woman exited her car and strode toward Jennifer’s front door. She looked important in her dark suit, bearing a parcel under her arm. She rapped on the door twice; perfunctory and efficient.

“Just a minute,” Jennifer called. She waited exactly three minutes to open the door. “How can I help you?”

“Jennifer Williams?” the woman asked.

“This is she.”

“I’m here from Jonbar Systems, and I have an important matter to discuss with you. May I come in?”

Jennifer frowned. She was expecting to be asked for a quote, to give a report, to sign a petition. What was so monumental that it needed to be discussed indoors?

A quick look over her shoulder confirmed that the sitting room was as she liked it, right down to the vacuum marks beneath the chintz armchairs. “Right this way, please.”

The woman arranged herself in an armchair, the parcel balanced on her lap.

“Where did you say you were from?” Jennifer asked.

“Jonbar Systems. We’re an independent research organization concerned with temporal management. After years of research, we’ve made a significant breakthrough and we’re ready to move forward with the next phase of our mission.”

“You’re not from the government?”

 “The government? Goodness, no.” Her jaw twitched. She might have been smiling, but Jennifer couldn’t tell. “Look at the state of our present; those fools haven’t learned enough from history to be trusted with changing it.”

The woman unwrapped the parcel. “This represents our latest innovation in temporal management technology.”

“It’s a snow globe!” Jennifer exclaimed before remembering the gravity of the situation. She was chosen by this shadowy organization to change history, not to get excited about another knickknack for her bookshelves.

“It’s no ordinary snow globe,” the woman confirmed. “With this device, you can revisit any moment in history.”

“Do you shake it?”

“First, you’ll need to enter the specific time and date.” She rotated the base of the device to reveal a winding key. “Then yes, shake it and you’ll travel to that time for as long as the particles remain in motion.”

Jennifer reached across the coffee table and accepted the device. Iridescent flakes gathered at the bottom of the globe.

“I’ll keep it somewhere safe,” she said, rising to her feet gingerly.

“First, you must acknowledge the terms and conditions," the woman said.

Jennifer stopped. “Terms?”

“Yes. You don’t expect us to give you the power of time travel without any specifications, would you?”

She supposed not. “So, I can’t go back in time to murder anyone, because that might hasten several other global calamities, or I can’t visit family members so I don’ become my own grandmother, am I right?”

The woman’s jaw flexed again. It was a smile this time, Jennifer was sure of it. “Both are situations for you to consider, but no. Jonbar Systems’ personnel research department has every confidence in the individuals they’ve entrusted with their technology. The terms and conditions are largely about surveillance.”

Jennifer nodded vigorously. This, she understood. “You can’t expect to do anything without a witness these days.”

“That’s correct. However you choose to travel, you will be watched. Jonbar Systems will be notified anytime you use our technology.”

The snow globe was light in her hands. Jennifer placed it on a bookshelf between a ceramic angel figurine and a rose-tinted bud vase. “I accept the terms.”

The woman stood and extended your hand. “Thank you for your cooperation. Travel wisely.” With a brisk nod, she showed herself out.

Jennifer watched the car pull away. She turned to the bookshelf and wondered what happened next.

No one would guess she had a time travel device hidden among her belongings. It sat on the middle shelf, incognito. A sinking feeling gripped her abdomen. What if someone reached for it and shook it, not knowing what it was?

The top shelf would be safer. Jennifer stood on tiptoe and slid the globe into place. Before she returned to her seat, that sinking feeling was back in force. What if there were an earthquake overnight, and she found herself traveling in her sleep?

Clambering to retrieve the device, Jennifer set it on the lowest shelf. She dropped her face into her hands. What was she going to do with this thing?

Maybe she should just use it. Go back in history, dispatch a dictator or interrupt an invasion. But how could she be sure she wouldn’t disrupt her own life? She imagined the street beyond the sheer curtains congested with foot-traffic, police sirens interrupting her iron-grip on neighborhood peace.

What if she looked at her world as it is now and traced backwards far enough to find a way to improve it? Jennifer overturned throw pillows and searched beneath crochet afghans for the television remote. She flipped through the major news outlets: talking heads, blaring chyrons, endlessly scrolling tickers.

She turned it off. It was all too complicated.

The best place to start was to enact change locally. Traveling back no more than a few days, she might catch the community dumpster vandal in action and put an end to their vulgar, spray-painted messages. But what if that gave rise to something even worse, like year-round Christmas lights or obnoxious block parties?

The afternoon sun pierced the curtains. A single iridescent flake shimmered in the light. The device was simple, yet deceptive. Beautiful, but full of consequences Jennifer could not conceive.

At last, she made a decision. There was only one thing to do.

She took her seat in the sitting room of 925 Maple and peered through the sheer curtains.

***

An ivory rotary phone rang.

In the fourth subterranean basement of Jonbar System’s research department, teams of physicists and philosophers ceased their calculations and contemplations.

Dropping her clipboard with an audible bang, the woman in a dark suit raced to answer it. “Yes?”

“Ma’am, she’s using the device.”

“Excellent. What is her temporal location?” The woman in the suit waved an assistant over.

“08:07 EST.”

A crease formed between her eyes. “That’s two hours ago. Her physical location?”

 “925 Maple.” A pause on the line. Contemplation and calculation resumed behind her. “It seems she’s using it to do her laundry.”