Time Traveler

"Are you ready? Do you have everything you need with you for your trip? Money, ID, luggage, newspaper? Do you have your 'second skin' on in case you have to jump overboard?".

Oh my god, don't these questions ever come up? This isn't the first time I've traveled back in time.

"Yes, I have everything with me and yes, I also have my fish skin on. anything else I might need?".

"You don't need to laugh like that, we don't want you to freeze to death or drown like a stone".

"Ha ha ha, I know. But a little joking is allowed. After all, it's me who put my head down, right?" I couldn't resist teasing my best friend.

I was a natural scientist with a focus on geology and he was an engineer for new developments in technology with a focus on teleportation.

He was an absolute genius when it came to teleportation. His first attempts ten years ago were nothing compared to what he accidentally discovered five years ago. In one of his attempts to teleport an egg, i.e. a raw egg, from one room to another without breaking it, he found out that with a slightly higher frequency of sound waves, this is also possible for humans. During this experiment, an assistant accidentally locked his dog in the room and increased the frequency because his glasses were fogged up from excitement. The egg, like his dog, teleported from one room to another without any problems. Veterinarians immediately examined his little darling to make sure everything was in place, and yes, everything was the same as always. This experiment also brought other results to light that had never really been considered up to that point in time. One thing led to another. Test after test was driven and then he knew that humans could travel into the future and the past.

The previously known quantum teleportation, which was mainly based on the transmission of information in the form of quantum states, e.g. spin, and its implementation at the recipient, was no longer up-to-date.

The 'String Theory' was a central player in his search for a consistent theory of quantum gravity. The theory forced him to re-evaluate familiar conceptions of space and time: and that was his breakthrough.

"John, you have 3 more minutes. Please don't forget to bring me a handwritten menu card. You know I'll collect them."

"Don't worry, I won't forget to bring my best friend a present."

"Attention: the countdown starts: ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one...start."

The feeling you get when you travel back in time is hard to describe. It tickles, it stings, it pinches, but it doesn't hurt. You want to scratch yourself, but it's not that bad. And everything goes so fast. One second you're still in the lab and the other second you're somewhere else. You always hope to arrive somewhere where there aren't a bunch of people walking around and where you don't bump into anyone when you suddenly appear there.

A short flicker and bang there I stood in the middle of the harbor between trucks delivering fresh fruit and meat.

No one showed great attention when I suddenly appeared at the harbor for which I was once again grateful. Because every time I went on a journey through time, I needed a few minutes to orient myself and 'fit in'. Every journey through time was different and every mission and job was different. This time I should travel on the Titanic and try to 'avoid' or 'minimize' the catastrophe. A task that was anything else but easy. My previous missions had only been there to observe and fill in or clean up gaps in history. This was something completely different and we all didn't know how this would affect the future. Only one thing was for certain: I would go back to my time, but what my time would look like if I could make a change in history, none of us knew.

So, that was the only constant that could not be 'calculated' in my current journey through time.

I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out my newspaper ID. According to my ID, I worked for the New York Times. I was supposed to follow Titanic's first voyage and write a report about it. A photographer should be by my side. As we knew from the old reports, nobody would question my identity. John Miller, the newspaper reporter for the New York Times, was a very successful journalist. But what nobody knew until the sinking of the Titanic was that John Miller ended up in an accident on the way to the ship in the hospital, without papers and he didn't know who he was because of his memory loss. So, like John Miller, I was able to take over his position without any problems. The photographer, Devon Kings, didn't know what John Miller looked like because he had filled in for another colleague at short notice. He accepted the opportunity to make a maiden voyage with such a famous ship without ifs or buts.

The steward who was responsible for checking in the guests greeted me with a hearty laugh and a firm handshake. He handed me my first-class boarding pass and wished me a pleasant stay on the Titanic's maiden voyage. A bellhop shot out of nowhere, grabbed my suitcase, and ushered me through the crowd to the first-class deck and my apartment. He opened the door for me and put my suitcase on a shelf. Then he turned around and made his way to the next 'customer'. I called him back. "Hey young man, wouldn't you like a tip?" His face turned red and he didn't know where to look. "Thank you, I'll gladly accept that." He bowed again and disappeared. I knew he would survive the catastrophe. His name was on the list of those saved.

After I had settled in comfortably I set out to explore the ship a little better. I hadn't seen my photographer yet, he probably hadn't checked in yet. So I left a message at the reception desk. Everything here was really like the Ritz or the Adlon. Splendor wherever you looked. I knew from blueprints and pictures that the Titanic and her sister Olympic offered the finest and most luxurious first-class accommodations to be found on any contemporary ocean liner. My first class stateroom was a double stateroom that contained a dressing table, horsehair sofa, wardrobe, and marble-topped washstand with a basin. It had also a "tipped" washbasin on a shelf that could be folded back into the cabinet to save room. Another interesting fact was, that the linen would be changed every day. All rooms were equipped with the latest technology for comfort, hygiene, and convenience. There was also a wide range of recreational and sporting facilities in addition which provided ample opportunity for amusement during this voyage.

"Mr. John Miller, please come to the reception desk, Mr. John Miller, please come to the reception desk", a small boy in uniform was walking slowly through the crowd on deck and calling for me. I raised my hand and drew attention to myself. "I am John Miller, what is this all about?".

"Please come to the reception desk, someone is asking for you".

I stopped my tour and set out to find out who was asking about me. Actually, it could only be Devon Kings, my photographer.

Yes, it was him. Almost two meters tall, blond, sparkling gray eyes and a smiling face. I liked what I saw. The work we should perform would go well.

Like me, he had a double room in first class and had already set himself up. Together we continued my exploration tour on the titanic. I had exactly 4 days to mitigate the tragedy that was rushing towards this ship, I wouldn't be able to avert it. The question I asked myself as I walked the ship with Devon, whom I had quickly become familiar with, was always the same: how was I to mitigate this danger that lurked there without being dismissed as a lunatic?

We took pictures of all the attractions this ship had to offer. As promised, I took a menu cart to my room. There I put it in my "second skin" to make sure I took it home with me. The time from morning to evening passed much too quickly for me. I just didn't know how I could help if the worst came to the worst: the collision with that damned iceberg. I had counted the lifeboats and yes, there were too few, I had spoken to the captain and asked him if this miracle ship was really 'unsinkable'. He said yes and explained the technical details to me. I kept digging and asked if there were enough lifeboats and lifejackets on board. He knew that I was a journalist and would ask crazy questions, but he was surprised that I kept mentioning a sea rescue. He assured me that there was not a need for so many lifeboats because the ship was designed not to sink and yes, there were enough life jackets, and since this ship would be equipped with the latest technology, for example, the wireless radio room, one could very quickly ask for immediate help in an emergency.

Devon wondered about my questions. But he was so busy taking picture after picture that he didn't really have time to think about it enough. His pictures were good and I wanted them to survive this disaster. The day before the collision I casually asked him how he keeps his films and the answer was not good as expected. He told me he kept them in a drawer where he could take them out anytime he needed them. I had thought so, but I wanted these pictures to be shown to everyone and so I told him that my best friend always kept his films waterproof. To do so, he takes an old life jacket, slits it open, and puts his photo rolls in there. Then he closes it again with glue. A bit crazy, but ever since he capsized a boat and lost all his rolls of film, this has been his new method. No matter where he is and what he does. Everyone laughs at him, but he hasn't taken a single photo for nothing since that day.

Devon looked at me and laughed: "well then I'll get myself a life jacket and put my films in it". I could only hope that he would do it.

Only 10 hours until the catastrophe.

I had combed the whole ship from top to bottom. There was nothing I could have given as an explanation for a course change. I had spoken to the weather service: everything was all right, everything was all good. I spoke to the radio assistant: no problems at all. I spoke to the captain again about possible problems such as illnesses that suddenly appeared. No reaction. He had an answer for everything. I had asked the captain why the third and second classes are separated by bars and his answer made me shudder more than I actually wanted. I saw my mission to change the course of history disappear more and more.

1 hour left until the accident.

Devon walked up to me, a life jacket around his neck. "What are you wearing there? Are we having a masked ball?" I asked him. He just laughs and said no. He just wanted to carry his photos close to his heart. I laughed too. Only my reason was different. I knew what would happen soon. We were joking around for a while when a heavy blow knocked us off our feet. The iceberg had eaten its way into the titanic. Panic broke out. The lifeboats were lowered to get women and children off the board first. Devon was in one of the boats. I was watching his lifeboat being lowered into the water when another blow threw me high in the air and then the waves of freezing water crashed over me. At the same time, I felt a familiar tingling sensation. With a loud thud, I fell on the floor in the laboratory. I was back home. My mission was not accomplished as I liked it, but I knew where we could find the pictures of the Titanic before the disaster. These pictures would show what really went wrong.

The pictures would show the elegance but also the arrogance and snobbery of a time that would never exist again. The future, our future will learn from these pictures.

You have to let go of the past so that the future has a chance. Let's pray!