Toolie the Time Traveler

Toolie Ingersoll sat on the padded seat he just installed yesterday, staring at the console in front of him. Where did he want to go today? He’d never traveled in this machine before. Hell, he’d just put on the finishing touches yesterday.

He thought about the question. In case this didn’t work as planned, or in the event he got stuck back there, maybe he shouldn’t go farther than his own birth. Maybe to his high school days? They hadn’t been all that wonderful, but it was the first idea that came to mind.

After several minutes of consideration, Toolie twisted the dials to set the date. As he remembered it, it was in early May, on the evening of the 23rd. The year was easy, it was his senior year, the night of his high school graduation.

He pushed the big green START button, something he’d removed from a derelict video game.

Nothing seemed to change much. There was just a little wobble that shifted him slightly in his seat, but he felt a little dizzy for a moment. It soon passed and he looked around. His rented room in the old boarding house was nearly the same, only the paint was a little brighter, and the formerly bare wall now held a single poster of some old movie he’d never watched.

The motorcycle handle bars he held onto suddenly felt too hot to grasp, so he let his hands drop to his sides.

Toolie looked down at the dials he’s set before leaving the old present. Damn! He hadn’t taken his dyslexia into account. Instead of 05:23, he’d punched in 05:32. There was no May 32nd. So where was he? When was he?

Maybe in some alternate reality, where there was a 32nd? Perhaps stuck between May 31 and June 1? But everything seemed okay, at least so far.

Toolie climbed from his machine then looked back at it. He’d done it! He’d actually built the damn thing, something that not even Albert Einstein could have accomplished. It appeared that it even worked. Just a little twist of the dial was his sole mistake.

Should he get back in and just go straight home? Or maybe at least, reset the dial correctly to his chosen date and try again.

Or just maybe, he could walk out that door and see what was there. After deliberation, he decided that was exactly the thing to do.

He turned to the doorknob. It had changed to brass, an obviously older style than when he’d left home. Below it was one of those old-fashioned holes to insert a large heavy key. Was the door locked? Could he be a prisoner on this date?

Toolie walked over and turned the knob and breathed easier. It turned smoothly, so he pulled open the door and looked out. It was the same old hallway as when he’d left. That was an alternate choice he hadn’t thought about. Maybe his machine didn’t work after all, and he was still at the place he’d never left. Or he was in an alternate reality where the only difference was the wall poster and the door knob. Wouldn’t that be the hell of it?

As he stepped out the door, carefully closing it behind him to hide his invention, he looked down the stairs. Newer carpet covered the steps, but the pattern was identical. Probably was identical, he decided. The wooden stairwell only creaked slightly as he stepped down the stairs.

No one was in the foyer, or vestibule, or whatever it was supposed to be called. He’d never known the proper name for that area. The place he lived in was just too lousy for such pretentious names. However, this area now looked special, with an overhead chandelier.

He stepped out the front door onto the sidewalk.

And things had changed.

A green beetle, sort of like a june bug, lifted his hat in greeting as it walked past, its six bare feet thrumming the asphalt, fat antennae waving in the slight breeze. In the street, huge scorpions ferried soldier ants. Toolie realized that the roadway was actually a water canal. Golden starfish spun eccentric circles on the sparkling surface.

Toolie lifted his arms to block the sun. This was just all too bright. He backed up to the door, felt anxiously for the knob, then pushed it open. He tripped, nearly falling to the floor, and kicked the door shut with one foot. What was that? In what nutty universe had he arrived?

He hurried upstairs, climbed onto his machine, and twisted the dials. Back to good old Manhattan and 2021. He entered the date. 09:11: 2001