The Traveler

The Traveler

As I hurried across town, I noticed how much everything had changed since the last time I was here. I was running late for my first AA meeting. It was held in a church meeting hall.

After stepping through the building’s entrance, I saw an AA sign pointing the way. I slipped quietly into the room. Everyone fell silent and looked at me. The man in charge waited until I found a seat before continuing. There was an empty chair beside a man with a dark, scruffy beard and shoulder-length hair. It was hard to tell his age—no gray in his tussled hair. I guessed he was about my age.

“You are new here,” said the man in charge. “My name is Ray. Please tell us your name. We only share our first names. If it makes you more comfortable, you may make one up. Then tell us what you are addicted to.”

I forced a smile, glanced at every face in the circle of addicts, and said, “I like the name, Tom.”

The circle nodded and said. “Good evening, Tom.”

I nodded with a smile. “Thank you.”

Ray leaned back in his chair. “Please tell us what addiction troubles you. We are all human, and we are here to support each other.”

 “I am addicted to time traveling.” I sat down in my chair, folded my hands in my lap, and studied the floor in front of me.

Ray asked, “What drug do you travel on, Tom?”

I stood again, calmer now. With a deep breath, I started at the beginning. “Albert Einstein once said, ‘Everyone knew it was impossible, until a fool who didn’t know came along and did it.’ The fool that did this was my best friend, Alessio.”

A scrawny woman in her thirties stood up. “Is that his real name?”

I turned to Ray. “Should I have given him a made-up name too?

Ray chuckled and shook his head. “Using only first names is fine.”

I continued. “We became friends in high school. Alessio was a nerd, and I was a jock. I felt sorry for how he was picked on, so I walked with him between classes. Whenever someone even looked at him funny, I would punch them. I had to punch a girl once, which got me expelled for a week. Worth it, though; she asked me to the prom that same year.”

The entire circle chuckled.

“In college, I played football, and Alessio helped me keep my point average up enough to keep playing. I graduated and got a job in a stupid factory. He continued his education. We stayed friends.”

I glanced at my watch and looked up. I needed to hurry things along. “I am boring you with my simple life. I should let others share their addictions.”

The circle shook their heads.

“Please continue,” said Ray.

“One weekend, Alessio invited me to his house to show me something he was working on. I brought beer, hoping he’d invented a TV that we could show football games in 3D.” I glanced around the circle. “Oh, I am not addicted to beer.”

“We understand,” said Ray. “Please continue.”

“I went down into his basement, and he showed me a large stainless steel tube. It had all kinds of wires and gauges on it. It looked pretty cool.”

“Was it a fancy beer cooler?” asked a short, round man with a bulbous nose.

“It was a time machine, Dummy,” said the scrawny woman. She had large, round earrings dangling from her ears. They looked nice on her.

“Now, Shirley, we must refer to our co-addicts by only their first names.”

She turned to Dummy. “I can’t tell how sorry I am, Ed.” Clearly, she wasn’t.

“Thank you, Shirley.” Ray turned to Tom. “You may continue.”

 I nodded. “Shirley was correct. It was a time machine patterned after a Tipler Cylinder. Alessio told me it was a lot smaller than the one Tipler designed, and that it would only open a wormhole into the past on our Earth. A full-size cylinder could open a spacetime wormhole at any place in the universe, which could be dangerous.”

An older man with thinning gray hair and a thick beard, wearing shabby blue jeans, raised his hand.

I pointed at him.

“What’s your name again?” he asked.

“Tom.”

“Well, Tom, my name is Ben. I am an alcoholic, and I have been sober for…” He paused and looked up at the wall clock. “Well, for pert near 12 hours now.”

“Oh, Ben, so you are new here.”

Ray stood up. “No, he is not, Tom. He has been coming for more than a year. We do not judge.”

I turned to Ben. “I am glad for your tenacity.

Ben nodded. “What’s your name again? I am terrible with names.”

“That’s okay. What’s your favorite name?”

Ben grinned. “Aloysius.”

I chuckled. “What a coincidence! That is my real first name. Please call me that.

The old man’s eyes sparkled with his grin. “Do you like whisky?”

I nodded, unsure where this was going. “Is that what you drink?”

He nodded his head and sighed. “All my drink'in buddies have passed on. That is why I am here.” He stood up and pointed in a circle. “All of you are my new buddies. And after every meeting, at least one of you joins me. Most don’t partake. I won’t mention the names of the ones that do, but bless you.” He sat back down and looked at me. “You are more than welcome to join me tonight, Aloysius.”

“I would be delighted, but I have an appointment in the past. Maybe next time.”

A big woman, tastefully dressed, raised her hand. Her fingernails matched the color of her lipstick. She was pretty and carried her extra weight well, and in the right places. “My name is Susan, and I am an alcoholic.”

“Hi Susan,” said the circle.

“How long have you been sober?” asked Ray.

“Not long. I am one of the names that Ben won’t mention.”

Susan stood up and straightened her full dress. “I started drinking when my husband died. We argued, and my husband stormed out.” She paused and pulled a Kleenex from her purse. “He died in a car crash.” She wiped her eyes.

The scrawny woman with the nice earrings did the same.

“I am so sorry for you.” It was all I could think of to say.

She acknowledged with a nod. “My question is… can you take me back in time so I can stop my husband from leaving our house that awful day?”

The meeting room became church quiet, waiting for my answer.

A man named Andrew stood and said, “My wife died too, but I don’t drink because she is dead. I drink to celebrate she is gone. She was a real bitch.”

Andrew turned to Susan. “Susan, I think we should support each other with our drinking problem. Care to join me in a drink after this meeting?”

She picked up her purse. “I prefer not to wait until after the meeting.” She turned and headed for the door.

Andrew followed.

Ben raised a fake glass and promptly said, “I will toast to that!”

Ray heaved a heavy sigh.

A sweet little old lady stood up. “The Lord works in mysterious ways.” She was wearing a blue dress with a gray, quilted shawl. She put a hand on the shoulder of the shrunken old man beside her. “My whisky-swilling husband’s name is Wilbert. He is an alcoholic.”

“Hi, Wilbert,” said one and all.

Ray stood up. “We encourage support from family members, and I am glad you came.” He looked at her husband, who was quietly staring at nothing. “Wilbert, you are welcome here. We would like to support you and your wife on this journey.

“Hey, Wilbert,” called Ben, “what’s you and the missus doin' after we’re done here?”

Ray shot an eye-dagger at Ben, who lowered his head. Ray then turned back to me. “This time travel addiction of yours. Are mushrooms involved? Or maybe it's a new drug on the market that I have not heard about?”

“Umm,” I paused to think about how to answer his question. “Well, the mushrooms, they will enhance one’s theories about us, and why we were born. I only had them once. It was in a Cheyenne village near the Little Bighorn. I’d rather not talk about that trip.”

The man beside me, with the long, unkempt beard and hair down to his shoulders, raised his hand. “I have a question.”

Ray nodded to him.

He stood up. “My name is Evron, and I am an addict.”

“Welcome, Evron. What is your question?”

“It’s for Alo…”

“Aloysius,” said I. “What’s your question?”

“How does this machine work?”

“Alessio told me that when the Tipler Cylinder spins, it creates a frame-dragging effect that causes light-cones to point backwards in the spacetime continuum diagram.”

That was followed by a puzzled silence.

“I know,” I said, “it was about as clear as mud to me too. You also have to watch out for a paradox.  Like the one where a man goes back in time and kills his grandfather, but then he will never be born, so then he cannot kill his grandfather, which means he will be born anyway and able to kill him… Think about it.” I paused.

“The scientists became concerned about paradoxes, so they decided that if time travel becomes possible, they made a law called the Novikov Self-Consistency Principe, which makes it illegal to kill one’s grandparents.”

“Who enforces this rule?” Evron asked.

I shrugged. “My guess is the grandparents.”

 The sweet little old lady in the blue dress interrupted our discussion with, “My Wilbert went to the men’s room and ain’t come back. I asked Ben to check on him, and now he ain’t come back either.”

Ray sighed. “I think it’s time we all took a coffee break. I will check the men’s room.” He hurried out of the meeting room.

Coffee sounded good. Evron joined me at the table filled with doughnuts and a coffee pot. I poured two cups and handed one to Evron.

Evron took a sip. “I suspect Ben talked old Wilbert into joining him at the nearest watering hole.”

I chuckled, then looked up at the wall clock. “I have to leave shortly, Evron.”

“To travel back in time?”

I nodded.

“Where to this time?”

“Home.”

“Home? Are you from the future?”

I nodded. “I can only travel to my past. I came here to meet Ray.”

“Why Ray? Will he be important someday?”

I nodded. “To me, yes. He is my father. He died when I was a teenager. I never really got to know him.” I set down my cup. “I have to leave now. My wormhole of time travel will close shortly.

“Will I see you again?”

“At next week’s meeting.”

“Is your name really Aloysius?”

“Only here.”

As I turned, he asked, “Can I go with you?”

“Maybe next time. I will check with Alessio.”

“Thank you. What will I need to pack?”

“Pack light,” I said over my shoulder. “Your adventures are about to begin.”