Stop the Sinking

by: Dennis R. Humphreys

His name was Spencer Bulova. People knew him as Spence his entire life. I knew him as Pappy. He was my grandfather. His wife, Grandma Liz died when he was in his forties and he never remarried. He ended up moving in with us when he was seventy because he wouldn't take care of himself, not that was incapable, but he seemed to have issues... guilt issues where he seemed to be practicing some kind of self-flagellation for something he had done in the past. I would sit with him in the evenings and he would tell me stories... some were fictional some were real, about his life growing up. I preferred sitting and listening to him rather than television, my smart phone, or playing electronic games. I guess it was the way it stirred my imagination. Games and the like came and went. The stories he imparted kept me thinking long after going to bed until I fell asleep. As an adult, I still think of those stories. That's why when people have asked me over the years what was the highlight of my life... I told them it was when I was younger, at the end of the day.

Spence was an adventurer. He began traveling as a young man in the Navy, but then he left the Navy and continued his travels for a time until he met grand mother. He settled for a short while, but soon the urge to travel allured him to leave. He would come back every couple of years or so to see Grandmother Liz, but within a few months he was off again. They never divorced because they loved each other dearly and grandmother seemed to understand his need for adventure, or she put up with it. Spence explored every corner of the world, meeting thousands of people along the way. The allure to travel, meet new people and experience everything there was to offer in life, was too much of an aphrodisiac for him.

He came back a few months after my parents buried grandmother, but was off again within the month. Grandfather had what they call a 'superman complex'. He wanted to right every wrong there was in the world. This would often get him into trouble, depending which country he was in at the time. He was outspoken and often it wasn't what he did that got him into hot water, but what he said. Even as he got older he was in constant fights, often with adversaries half his age. Up into his sixties he was well able to win those fights. He never started one... physically. He didn't believe in fighting unless it was to avoid getting the crap beat out him. He did believe in ending it though, as his father taught him, growing up in Idaho.

Certain things bugged the man and would send him sometimes into fits of melancholy. I could never quite put my finger on it to know what questions to encourage him to talk. His son, my dad, never knew what plagued him. Often, I would hear my parents talk nights in their bed while I was falling asleep. Their bedroom was next to mine and I could hear them through the wall. If it was something confidential and they lowered their voices to guarantee I didn't hear, I used the glass on my headboard bookshelf, which was always there holding water in case I needed it during the night. When they went into confidential mode I'd quickly drink the water and place the end against the wall and plaster my ear against the bottom.

One evening my parents went out to some office function of my father's. I was channel hoping for something that looked good, when I came across a really old movie called, 'Titanic'. I had read about the sinking of it and thought I wanted to watch the movie. Spence had dozed off on the sofa, which he was prone to do, taking catnaps throughout the day, then wandering the house all night while the rest of us slept.

He aroused as it began and when he saw it he yelled at me. He never yelled at me so when he did I took notice.

“Turn that damn thing off! Get something else on...” he yelled with extreme agitation.

I immediately switched to something else, randomly. I knew he was upset, really upset.

“Don't you like the movie?” I asked assuming that's what it was but I was of the mind if someone told me to do something I wanted to know the reason why and not just simply comply.

“I don't want to watch it... I don't want to listen to it... I don't want to know anything about it... or the damn Titanic,” he told me very agitated, his whole body animated with displeasure.

“What's your problem with the Titanic story?” I asked, ready to push until I get a better answer.

He sat there quiet for awhile. I noticed his eyes getting glassy with emotion. There was something there that bothered him deeply. He wasn't even born yet when the Titanic sunk so it couldn't be anything of a personal nature, I thought. Maybe it had something to do with the movie itself or someone in the movie. He was deeply disturbed, so it wasn't just some random, passing experience creating his mood. It was something far deeper but I couldn't imagine it, so I wanted to know.

“You know Pappy, if there's something you want to talk about, I won't repeat anything to anyone. I lay in bed at night and hear mom and dad talk about things... trying to figure out what has been bothering you for years... something you refuse to discuss. They know and I know there's something bothering you. Maybe if you talk about it to someone, you won't be in such a funk all the time,” I told him. It was the longest speech I ever gave and it was having an effect.

“You know boy, you should be a psychiatrist when you grow up. I don't want or need to discuss it,” he told me, clamping down with his jaw like he always did when he built up his wall of non-communication.

I got up off the floor and sat in the overstuffed chair sitting directly across from him, close to the end of the sofa where it was his favorite place to sit. I looked at him, as I sat there, pushed back into the chair for a minute, before asking again.

“I think you want to talk about it. Maybe you even need to, but you're afraid to talk about it. Maybe you're afraid of some verdict I might come up with or whomever else might be listening to you.

“I'm not afraid of anything, Tyler. I just don't want to talk about it,” he reiterated.

I knew I was getting to him. When he was angry with me he would call me 'boy'. When he would mellow out he would begin calling me by name. When I heard him call me 'Tyler” I knew he was softening. Now wasn't the time to relent if I wanted to know.

“There's an old adage, 'the truth will set you free'. Do you believe that , Pappy?

I knew I hit a nerve as he glanced up at me. That was a saying I heard him say often. Pappy wouldn't lie. He didn't believe in it. He believed in cause and effect and taking responsibility for your actions. He firmly believed that lying made a bad situation worse.

I just stared at him. I figured at this point whoever spoke first, lost. He glanced up at me and back down a few times. Finally he began speaking. I knew it was the moment of truth.

“Alright Tyler. Don't you breathe a word of this to anyone, but the likelihood of anyone believing you is highly nil if you do. I'll deny anything about it anyway.

I traveled all over the world but it wasn't until one day in 2025 when I came into port in San Francisco, California that things made a turn I wasn't expecting. When I got off the trawler I signed in on, out of Portugal, it was an incredible day weather wise. I had befriended a like-minded traveler as myself. He was Portuguese, and went by the name of 'Skippy' because of his affinity for Skippy peanut butter. He always had a jar of it with him and he'd constantly dip his fingers into the jar and extract large lumps of the stuff, licking it off his index finger like a lollipop.

He and I went to a local bar, near the docks, to get a beer. We hadn't had one forever. The captain of the ship forbade any drinking whatsoever, so most of the men hid flasks of hard liquor somewhere on board. If you didn't like hard stuff and liked ice cold beer you were out of luck. So we went to a place called 'Pompano's' to get a few and just relax. Neither of us planned on signing back on board. We wanted to just see the sights and maybe in a few weeks sign with another ship that docked, headed for another place we wanted to visit... someplace exotic

We had our first beer and were just talking in that dingy place. There weren't many people there that day. One of the ugliest hookers I had ever seen, was making the rounds, trying to stir up some business, but she wasn't getting anywhere. She kept revisiting the same customers, probably thinking the drunker they got the better she looked, and eventually she'd have a taker. She hit our table a couple of times. Finally, we noticed one of the tables took her up on her offer and a man there left with her, following her somewhere to the back of the place. The bartender seemed happy, so he must have been her pimp, getting a percentage of her take.

As we watched them head to the back, a man of about fifty years walked through the front door. He didn't seem to fit into a place like this... the way he was dressed, the way he carried himself, his skin, the way he was groomed. We knew he wasn't a cop or anything like that. They were easy to spot. This guy was well educated and seemed a professional. I was watching him standing there, perusing the bar, when out eyes met. I guess he saw that as an invitation because he smiled slightly, and began making his way towards out table. 'Great,' I thought, 'some sexual pervert, looking to hook up'.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. I am Doctor Steven Van Horn,” he introduced himself.

“No proctoloists allowed at this table,” I told him while Skippy snickered, well on his way to unconsciousness.

The man laughed and looked down shaking his head.

“No... you've got me all wrong, although I can see why you think that. It is a little strange a person like me coming into an environment where I don't fit and begin talking with someone like yourself. However, I am looking for someone like you... a traveler... someone who likes adventure. I'm looking for someone with that mindset. Do you mind if I sit down?” he asked. I saw nothing wrong with that, but if he took the wrong turn in the conversation, I'd kick his ass out the door.

So he sat and I asked for another glass to pour him a beer from the pitcher we had. If he declined I'd be more suspicious of him and what he wanted, but he gladly accepted the beer so he made points with me.

“So what's on your mind,” I asked.

“I'll get right to the point. I have a master in physics, that's why the 'Doctor' in front of my name. I've been working in the area of time travel my entire life... the manipulation of space and time, with funding from both private and public sectors,” he unfolded to us, although Skippy probably didn't hear a word by now.

“Really? How's that going for you?” I asked not knowing anything about physics, other than gravitational pull was what kept our asses on the Earth.

“Excellent, that's why I am here. I need an adventurer. I've done all the preliminary testing with my group. We have a working prototype. We even have it calibrated well enough to bend space and time, so we can send someone to a specific day, year and place accurately. It wasn't as hard to do as we originally thought it would be,” he told me.

“So you're looking for someone to get in this thing and make a trip?” I asked.

“Precisely. You'll carry a device that we can track... like a GPS, so we can bring you back at a prearranged time. It's been working with objects we sent back in time and with several of the animals, as well, more recently, but we need human input,” he added.

I thought about it awhile, and it was intriguing. He got my attention, because I was the type of person he was looking for... an adventurer. Now I didn't know if this guy was for real or some kind of crackpot, but he didn't seem like it. I decided to treat the whole scenario as real and continue the conversation.

“Let's suppose I were to do this. I would want to go to where I want to and when I want to,” I told him.

“That's fine. You'd have to be willing to accept a plus or minus time frame of twelve hours. That's the best we can do and you cannot interfere with anything. We're still not sure what might happen if you do. We don't want to be creating parallel universes and all that,” he told me.

“Wouldn't the mere act of someone going back in time cause that? I mean the time traveler would be getting introduced into a time and space position where he wasn't originally. If he did nothing, something would be introduced that was foreign to the original situation,” I asked.

“You're perfect! You are a thinker asking the right questions. I feel justified in approaching you. The fact is, we don't know, though we've discussed it. I don't think you'll be able to change past events that have already happened actually, so you won't create an alternate universe... but once again we don't know until we do something, so we want to proceed slowly and carefully, doing nothing that might create an unwanted effect.

“What's in this for me?” I asked.

After all I had to live. I didn't make a lot of money being a vagabond and I didn't need a lot, living on board a ship, but I had to finance layovers, and depending on where the layover was, that could get quite salty. I watched him as he smiled.

“I'm prepared to pay you five thousand dollars, tax free, and under the table for one week,” he offered.

“If I do this, I want half up front on a debit card, and then the other half when I get back,” I told him.

“That sounds perfectly reasonable to me. So does that mean we have a deal?” he asked.

I thought for a minute. Mulling around in my head the whole idea. As an adventurer it was intriguing. The money was good, and I planned on being here a few weeks. There was really no reason to say 'no'. Plus, he could technically send me back a week and bring me back five minutes from now. I wouldn't lose any time.

“Yeah. Why not? But the minute anything funny goes on, I'm out,” I told him.

“Nothing funny will. Thank you Mr... I don't even know your name...” he stated.

“Spencer Bulova... like the watch. Maybe I am the perfect person to time travel,” I told him thinking it was actually an odd coincidence.

“Then we have a deal,” he said putting out his hand to shake. He pulled a card out of his coat pocket and handed it to me,”there's the address to come to at 9am tomorrow. Does that work?

“That works. I'll be there. That's not too far away?” I asked.

“Only about five miles, closer to the other side of town,” he replied, standing to leave, “my team will see you then. Until then think about the where and when you want to go,” he told me.

“I already know... April 15, 1912 on the Titanic right before it sinks. I have a maritime interest being a sailor and all,” I told him, lying a bit.

“Alright, we'll have to get coordinates for the ship to place you onboard so we don't dump you in the middle of the ocean. We can view everything through a visual warp. My team can do that today and the follow the changing coordinates as the ship moves. We'll record the changing coordinates and synch them with the changing times. We'll be able to put you there. We can't control specific times to place you but we, in a round-about-way, are doing it in such a way that will be very specific to the actual time,” he explained. It made sense but I really didn't care about his elongated explanation or any specifics.

“Just don't dump me in the middle of the ocean,” I warned.

I took a Uber the next morning. The driver ran over a city rat on its way and I heard it pop. I was pleased there was one less rat in the world. I hated rats. They were always abundant aboard ship and destroyed everything. If they didn't chew your things, they crapped and pissed all over them. I hated smelling like rodents.

I arrived at a newly painted old building, retrofitted for research. It was in an older section of town. The building had no identification marks on it whatsoever, so looking at it gave no indication of what it was. It was quiet with just a few cars parked around it so you knew it wasn't for manufacturing. I buzzed in at the door. There were security cameras all over. Then I was invited in by the familiar voice of Doctor Steven Van Horn.

“Welcome Mr. Bulova. Glad to see you,” as the door buzzed and unlocked. I opened it and went in. As I got inside to a contained lobby of a small size, the door opened on the opposite wall, where the doctor walked in excitedly, with his hand extended, to shake hands.

He led me back through the door from which he came. There in the middle of the floor was a device I assumed was the time machine, standing about twelve feet tall. There was an area separated from everything else around it with warning signs. It looked like a colossal carnival wheel, and not overly complicated, as I thought it would be.

The doctor led me over to it to show me, and to meet the half dozen members of his team responsible for operating it. The doctor looked at his watch, then spoke to who appeared to be his lead person.

“Tanya, you'd better turn the system on to build up power. I don't want to cause a black out like we did the last time. It's unnecessary,” he told the middle aged woman in glasses.

Tanya appeared to be one of those vegetarian brainy types... a little anemic looking but thinking she was so healthy. Three of my friends died that way all around the age of thirty -five. They made fun of me, a heavy meat eater, telling me it was unhealthy and I was going to die early and how they were going to live forever. Within a year of them going vegan and having not seen them during that time, when I did, they were not healthy looking. That was enough to convince me not to listen to them. Thei8r deaths solidified my belief

“I decided since you won't be gone a full week because of the incident we're sending you into , we're going to send you to Southampton, England on April 10, 1912. That's when the ship leaves on her maiden voyage. She hits an iceberg near midnight on the 14th and sinks a coupe of hours later on the morning of the 15th. We're going to pull you back about 1am on the 15th. That'll only give you four days, unless you want to go earlier,” he told me.

“I'm open to going earlier but I'll have to buy a ticket. They were pretty expensive even back then. You'll have to give me old money. That might be more of a problem. Better stick to the original plan and just put me on board,” I told his entire team.

An hour later the machine was operating on its own power which was creating a ton of it. I could see where using local power could result in a blackout. The thing hummed like a giant hummingbird, alive with the voltage running through it. I watched with interest while the team rummaged about around it. They seemed like they knew what they were doing so I felt more at ease as I watched. The wheel just stood there motionless, so I assumed it had to spin before doing anything with time and space. The doctor and one of the other team members, stood in front of a computer, until finally he spun around.

He grabbed a bag off the table and walked towards me.

“We're ready for you in ten minutes. Here are clothes authentic to the era. There is also a billfold with various material from the period and five hundred dollars in counterfeit bills from the period. You can go in there to dress. Don't take anything with you from this time period,” he warned. “They won't be able to detect those counterfeit bills back then.”

“Five hundred, that's about half the passage cost of the time,” I told him.

“Yeah but you'll have to hide out among the refugees way below deck without a ticket,” he told me.

I changed clothes and when I emerged from the room I handed the doctor my clothes, wallet and a few other items that might reveal me as a time traveler. I couldn't imagine that happening but I thought of the ramifications of something that identified me from my time, if archaeologists got inside the ship years later and found something from the future.

“Step this way Tyler. I'll show you where to stand, although you probably already have a good idea, looking at the signage around here, and the delineated area,” he spoke to me. He was pretty good at not talking down to you even though the more I was around him I felt he was some incredible brainiac.

He positioned me where he wanted and then immediately stepped out of the area. Then he turned back around and smiled.

“Good luck, Tyler,” he wished me, as he saluted and pushed the button.

The wheel began spinning and even as large as it was, it picked up speed quickly. Electrical impulses seemed to jump off the surface randomly, but with more vigor as the speed increased. They grew larger and the sounds, louder. As I watched the team do their thing, I thought nothing was happening, but I didn't know what to expect. My reality seemed to become transparent as another took its place. At some point it looked like one transparent film over another, held up to the light. As the second scene replaced the first the brightness subsided and a normal reality took its place. But this reality was in England in 1912. I was flabbergasted. Here I was on the deck of the Titanic moored there. Men and women walked by on the docks looking at the ship, a curiosity because of its size. There were representatives from the White Star Line there passing out papers advertising the maiden voyage in a short while. I needed to get below before someone questioned me about being there. I didn't want to begin the suspicion I was a stowaway and get thrown off before the trip began. I planned on stopping the ship from running into the iceberg and save over a thousand lives. If it changed history or created an alternate universe, I didn't care. As a sailor, I guess I felt I needed to do it.

I descended into the bowels of the ship. There, at the bottom of the steps, were where the refugees from a few different countries were placed. They were the poor, unable to afford expensive tickets. Packed into the ships belly, shoulder to shoulder, were men, women and children looking for a better life on the other side of the Atlantic, in America. They would land in New York to begin that quest.

I was there in the bottom of the ship and staked out an area next to a Polish family, escaping the take over by the communists. They seemed nice but didn't speak English. I didn't speak Polish though I was part Polish. As we tried to communicate, the ship's departure whistle blew. I planned on waiting some hours before going to the deck. I knew I was supposed to stay below with the other refugees. Poor people were not allowed to fraternize with the wealthy who were on deck and could roam freely. However, I could not, would not, stay down there in the dark, cramped quarters with the others twenty-four hours a day. In my own mind, my mission precluded class separation orders.

A few hours later I moved my way up the stairs. It was already dark and I assumed I could more likely get away with my exploration. I couldn't just hibernate down there, not with being able to experience this history. There were 2224 people on board... I wanted to save the more than 1500 people that would perish. I wanted to see who this Captain Edward Smith was and figure out when a good time would be to approach him. He would think me either a madman or some kind of terrorist based on the way I explained things.

When I got to the deck the sun was just falling behind the waterline. I get to the deck without a problem. Evenings on the water is what I liked the best and always had. It was a close tie to sun rises in the morning. I loved the smell of the salt water on the cold or cool air. It was pretty chilly out that night with a good breeze blowing but then the ship was traveling at a healthy 22 knots, creating its own wind.

I walked along the deck, looking out over the moonlit water. There were a thousand diamonds sparkling there and it was mesmerizing as I looked.

“Thinking about jumping, there are better ways to go,” I heard a woman say behind me with an English accent. I turned to see a young, lovely woman step from the shadows into the dark, but I could see her better. I could see she was probably from the same part of the ship I had come from a little while ago.

“I wasn't about to jump anywhere. I've always loved the sea and this time of night looking out there like it does...” I was saying when she interrupted.

“Is otherworldly!” she purred.

“Exactly. My name's Tyler Bulova,” I told her.

“Pleased to meet you Tyler Bulova. My name's Eleanor Patch. Friends call me Ellie,” she introduced herself to me.

“I assume I can call you Ellie then,” I asked, not wanting to assume we were friends yet considering the times were different then.

“Of course. That's why I told you that,” she informed me.

“Based on my superlative grasp of detail, I assume you left England for America, with your accent,” I stated.

“I never go anywhere without my accent,” she replied, making me laugh. That put me at ease immediately, but humor always did.

“Do you care to sit down,” I asked as I pulled two folded lounge chairs from a stack that was nearby.

There we sat for a couple of hours, just talking about our past and expected futures. There were a couple of spots I got mired down because she had no idea what I was talking about, since they were in the future. I recovered well enough and the evening went on. There was a man in uniform that walked by the deck over us, with a booming voice, talking with various people as he moved. I looked, and was about to ask who it was when Ellie seemed to know what was on my mind.

“That's Captain Edward Smith. Seems like a nice man,” she told me.

“I was wondering who our captain was,” I answered, looking at him, thinking he looked like a reasonable man and hoped he would be when the time came.

The time came for us both to leave deck and go to sleep. We made no plans to meet again though we had enjoyed each others' company. I was married and didn't want to start something, especially where I would be gone at 1am on the 15th. Besides, it would be unfair to my wife and her.

Some of the people onboard, far below, brought bags of food to eat on the voyage, but you could go to the galley and buy food, if you could afford it, and needed it. I went to the galley and ran into Ellie there. She hadn't enough money for breakfast and was trying to work out a deal just for two biscuits.

“Hey...,” I announced, coming up behind her but talking to the man in the door,” give the lady whatever she wants, I want something too and I'll pay for everything.”

“My knight in shinning armor,” she blurted,”you are a life saver. Thank you so much. I spent most of the money I had on the ticket and I' ve forgone eating the last two days. I was ready to bite you last night.”

“Well, I'm glad I could help. We have to keep up you strength without biting fellow passengers. We don't want to have to carry you off ship in New York,” I joked.

We took our food and went back to a lower deck but not all the way down. We sat on the carpeted stairs of a lower deck where we would be comfortable without antagonizing others who were hungry. The breakfast turned into afternoon and before long, it was the end of the day. By then I realized I had feelings for this woman but I refused to do anything or express anything about them physically or verbally. I sensed she felt the same. Even though I traveled constantly and was home maybe two months out of the year, I was faithful to my wife. I wasn't about to do otherwise. We spent the evening back on deck, wrapped up because of the chill, until it was time to go to sleep. When I said my goodnight, I sensed she was looking for something more... a kiss, a touch... something but I refrained. I told her I'd meet her for breakfast again. I felt obligated to make sure she wasn't hungry , feeling it was a good exchange for her company.

The following day I had to stay low. I noticed crew members walking among the passengers and refugees asking for their tickets. I couldn't be caught now, so I made sure I kept an eye out and stayed away from them. Ellie noticed my nervousness as one of the men walked by, near where we sat close to the galley.

“You're a stowaway aren't you?” she asked me as I sat back down disappearing around the corner for a few minutes when I saw one of the crew making his way towards us. I waited until he finished talking with Ellie and left, before I returned. I tried acting nonchalant and sat back down next to her.

I decided I might as well be honest with her.

“Yes... I am,” I told her.

“Why? You have money with you,” she asked, wondering why I resorted to stealing passage.

“It's something I can't get into and I have good reason. Please just accept that,” I recommended to her.

“It's not any of my business. I won't say anything. I was just curious,” she informed me.

After breakfast we went below again, it was the only safe place for me to be, especially since none of us below were actually allowed on deck. In the dark hold it made for a long day but with Ellie's company it shortened things. These were our days. I hadn't expected meeting someone like her but I was thankful I did. Few people spoke English there and the few that did, were hard to understand. There were other English people on board but I was resigned to stay with Ellie. Most people I worked around on board ships these days, spoke English, so my understanding of foreign languages was dismal.

That evening, as we said good night, Ellie made a move. As I was turning to leave she grabbed my lapel and pulled me, stumbling into her soft body. As soon as we came into contact, a shock seemed to run through my body. My body felt something like static electricity running though it like when I came through the time machine. It was the same feeling. Seeing her so expectant, and against her, I plunged. I kissed her deeply and she returned the effort. Time seemed to be forgotten and my past seemed to disappear. There was only the present. It was like the first time with my wife but more exciting because this was a newer experience, I told myself. I couldn't let it happen, even though I could argue all the conventional arguments to myself.

“I'm married, Ellie,” I informed her. It looked like it was no surprise and thatshe already knew.

“I assumed as much but I don't care,” she told me.

“There are a few reasons why this won't work and you'd think I was crazy if I told you one of them, “ I told her.

“Try me,” she challenged.

“No. I can't but the explanation is bigger than the both of us,” I told her,”again... you're going to have to trust me.”

“Alright. I've fallen for you, damn it. I think under the circumstances we shouldn't be together at all. By the time we get to New York, it would make a bad situation worse. I would feel lost in America without you,” she said, and walked off.

I felt alone, really alone. It was the 13th and late tomorrow night, the Titanic would hit the iceberg. I would stop that from happening, and save all these lives. I would save Ellie. When that happened, I could make a decision to perhaps come back to this time . Who knows what changes would occur when I accomplished my feat. I could seriously change the future. The near future might even change because of my action. I could also stomp and crush the GPS I carried before 1am on the 15th.

Not seeing Ellie for breakfast on the next day was bad. She wasn't there our normal time, so I knew she purposely stayed away. I sat in the normal spot we ate, thinking she might come by, but she didn't. I threw my trash away and walked back down into the hold speaking then with a couple from a small community outside of London. They were enjoyable to talk to but my thoughts about Ellie continued.

As the day continued I became more anxious. The ship would collide with the iceberg at around 11:45pm. Six of its sixteen compartments that made it unsinkable would be ripped open. If only four had been opened originally the ship would have stayed afloat. The biggest problem with the whole event was the lack of lifeboats. There were only 20 of them. They weren't there to save all the passengers... they were there to ferry the passengers if needed. When they were actually used that fateful night, they hadn't even been full. In an effort to get away, they were launched without the full compliment of people, that could have been saved.

I watched my time closely on the antique wristwatch I wore. At 11:30pm I made my way up the decks towards the wheelhouse. I knew the captain would be there but I was unaware how receptive he would be to my interference or if he'd believe my story. Telling him I was a time traveler, would surely cause him to throw me below in some locked cabin.

I looked through the large window and saw the captain at the helm. Another stood next to him and a third man was standing looking at some other equipment on the wall and writing something on a clipboard. I went to open the door to go in but it was locked, so I pounded on it. The one individual came to the door and opened it slightly. He looked at me up and down disapprovingly.

“What can I do fo you?” he asked me.

“I need to talk to the captain,” I told him simply.

“The captain's busy,” he told me and began to shut the door which I stopped with my foot.

“It's extremely important,” I added.

“Maybe in the morning,” he told me.

“It can't wait until morning. I have to speak with him within the next fifteen minutes,” I clarified, looking at my watch.

I heard a deep voice then come from behind the door and behind the other man there.

“What's the problem?” Rob.

“This man say he needs to speak to you urgently,” he told Captain Smith as he opened the door revealing me standing there.

The captain motioned for the man to return to his station as he turned back to me.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Yes. There is an iceberg very near to us, I believe we will hit,” I told him.

“And you know this, how?” he asked me. “This ship is unsinkable.”

“I just know. And it's only unsinkable if less than five of it's sealed compartments aren't ripped open. If there are more it will sink like any other ship,” I told him, but by the look on his face I wasn't getting anywhere.

“Who are you? Let me see your ticket,” he demanded. I was in trouble. I had to lie and hope I got somewhere. The truth would really bury me.

“I'm Tyler Bulova from America. I lost my ticket yesterday,” I told him but immediately got the reaction I didn't want.

“You're a stowaway. First Mate Thompson, take this man below and lock him up,” he demanded. It was almost time, so I rushed into the wheelhouse, pushing the captain out of the way. I went directly for the wheel but rushed past the first mate to get there, He reached out and grabbed my shoulder but I stumbled away and grabbed the helm.

I had to steer away from the starboard since that's where the ship would hit the iceberg. I had no sooner grabbed the wheel than the captain was on me pulling me away but I held on steadfast.

“You fool, let go of the wheel,” the captain demanded.

The first mate joined the ruckus and fought with me as it became a push pull fight with me in the middle. I tried tripping each of the men to grab control of the wheel long enough to steer it away from the starboard side. As the three of us fought the captain stumbled backwards and I fell down with the first mate, accidentally pulling the wheel with me in the direction I didn't want it to go. The captain gained his feet and grabbed the wheel.

“Let go you son-of-bitch,” but no sooner did he speak then there was a movement that sent us forward. There was as terrified look on the captains face and I'm not sure what look of failure I suddenly showed.

The screeching and metallic noise that ensued ensured we hit the ice berg. In my attempt to avoid the ice berg, I caused the collision. The three men in the wheelhouse could have cared less about me at that point, and they proceeded to try to understand and minimize the damage if possible. The first mate took the wheel while the captain ran to the voice pipe to ascertain the damage below.

I stood there and watched for a few minutes and then I left, running to the main deck. I needed to find Ellie. People were already coming up on the deck, wearing life preservers. It was bedlam and the screaming already was becoming uncontrolled. People were fearful and rightfully so. There was already a slight list to the ship as water was rushing into six of it sixteen compartments.

People were coming out in droves from below deck, becoming more frightened and more verbose, as the list became greater. I began bumping into people and they into me increasingly. It became a battle upstream, sometimes each step I took carried me two steps backward. Where was Ellie? I had this idea I might wrap my arms around her when it came time to depart and she could travel back with me in time. I ran fervently down the deck and across it to the other side, retracing my direction over and over again. I looked at my watch realizing there were only minutes left. I had to save her. I knew I wanted to be with her.

Then as someone bumped into me and fell across the deck, they spun me around. There she was, some fifty feet away, but what appeared at that time as an eternity of space. She was looking around as lost as I was. I knew instinctively she was looking for me.

“Ellie! I yelled, again and again. I don't know if she heard me in that din, but she turned and looked at me. She called my name and began running towards me.

I ran towards her as well, pushing people aside while she was knocked to the deck. As she lay there pushing herself to her feet watching me all the while, I yelled again.

“Ellie... I need you. I love you,” but as soon as I uttered those last words I ever spoke to her, the image that night began to fade. As before, it was like looking between overlying transparencies . One slowly disappeared while the other became clearer. I was back in the lab I left.

The doctor came rushing to me then, wanting to debrief me. He saw something was wrong as he spoke.

“What happened?” he asked, watching me. His colleagues stood behind him looking.

“Nothing... you can't change the past.,” I revealed.

"What do you mean?" the doctor asked. "Did you try to stop the event?"

"I did," I answered, "but I couldn't change anything. I lost someone I met and fell in love with there. Can you bring up the Titanic event on the computer and what caused its sinking?"

"I can but everyone knows what caused it. Some madman broke into the wheelhouse and commandeered the helm. He steered the ship directly into an iceberg," the good doctor informed me as my emotions sunk deeper than the Titanic.