Observation Only

Each image was more amazing than the last. Low orbital photos of lush forests and campfires. He couldn’t believe he was looking at campfires from 15,000 years ago. The Orbital Observer was a success. Double O, as the team liked to call it, had been inserted into a synchronous orbit 250 miles above the earth, 15,000 years in the past to observe the area surrounding the Altamira caves near Cantabria, Spain. Double O surveyed the area for six-hours, then came home via wormhole. No threat of timeline contamination. Just his style; no interaction, just observe and record. He really wished his employers would let him call it Observation Only.

He was so excited he barely registered the loud crash from the kitchen downstairs. Obviously his four-year-old stepson had caused another minor upheaval. His wife sounded very unhappy.

The next image showed a group of hunters returning to camp. He could clearly see animal skins and spears. One figure even had a fairly large animal draped across his shoulders. The detail was incredible.

No one had believed he and his team could send an observation platform into the past without affecting the timeline. Finally, he had a successful project. He and his team would be recognized for their hard work. If only his father were still alive to see his accomplishment. There is no way dad could ignore this achievement.

He had just clicked to the next image when Abby’s voice echoed up the stairs into his home office. “Dinner in fifteen minutes, Leland.”

Leland’s eyes darted to the clock on his laptop screen. “Got it,” he shouted back, hoping his voice didn’t convey his irritation. He was still upset over the conversation his wife had initiated earlier that morning. Double O had just returned and she chose today, of all days, to have a talk with him about Caleb. He rolled his eyes as he recalled the conversation.

“There’s a boy downstairs who desperately needs a father figure,” she had said.

“I work from home three days a week so I can be with him.”

“But you don’t interact with him. You ignore him.”

“I’m giving him his space. He’ll be more self-reliant because of it.”

Abby had rolled her eyes. “He’s four. He needs attention and direction. And he needs it from you.”

“He doesn’t pay attention to anything I do,” he had said, really hoping it didn’t sound like an excuse.

“That’s because you don’t interact with him.”

“I’m a scientist. I observe.”

“That’s the problem. Can’t you see the impact you have on him?”

Leland’s face turned crimson from the implication he was failing at his duties as a father. “What impact? I’m invisible to him.”

“I know you’d like to think that, but he notices everything you do. And he notices when you ignore him. How do you think that’ll affect his relationships when he gets older?”

“Are you watching daytime talk shows again?”

“No, I’ve been discussing this with his therapist.”

Leland’s eyes widened, heat running up the back of his neck. “Why is he seeing a therapist?”

“Because I’m worried about his development. His therapist agrees he needs a positive male role model.” She had gently squeezed his arm when she added, “we discussed this before we got married, remember?”

He could still feel the sting from that conversation. He was a scientist, an observer. He wanted to let the boy develop on his own. How dare she accuse him of being an absent father. Leland wasn’t anything like his own father.

The laptop chirped; a new message icon appeared on screen. With a huff, he clicked the notification. “Are you watching the national news?” The message was from Martin, a colleague from the Double O team. A link accompanied the message.

Leland’s chest swelled. National news about Double O. It had to be. He quickly typed back. “No, tuning in now.” He clicked the link.

“Rewind the broadcast three minutes,” Martin replied.

Leland clicked back on the timeline. The monitor settled on a still image of the Altamira caves. Leland creased his eyebrows. Why were they reporting on the caves?

The audio started playing, then the video caught up. The image on screen was moving through the Altamira caves, the camera’s on-board light highlighting the magnificent paintings produced thousands of years in the past.

The news anchor narrated over the image. “Researchers are baffled how this portion of the cave has gone unnoticed for so long. There hasn’t been any seismic activity to open the area. But, like one researcher said, ‘Suddenly, there it was.’ Once the rubble had been cleared, they found this.”

The image on screen was that of a darkened section of the cave wall. Several pinpoints of white had been painted over the black, obviously representing the night sky. At the center of the image was a large swirling shape that resembled the eye of a hurricane as seen from space.

The blood pounded in Leland’s ears. His laptop chirped again with another message from Martin. “Doesn’t it look like the wormhole created by Double O?”

Leland just stared at the monitor. It never had occurred to him the people of that time would look up at the night sky and notice a flash of light lasting all of three seconds. Observation Only had contaminated the timeline. To what extent, he realized, he would never know.

The laptop sounded again. He quickly replied. “Talk to you in the morning, Martin.” He folded the laptop monitor and leaned back in his chair. His project was a failure. He was a failure.

“Dinner’s ready, Leland.”

He glanced toward his office door. He could hear his four-year-old stepson downstairs. Maybe Abby was right. Maybe he was a failure with the boy too. Maybe he should interact with him more. What would his own father have done in this situation? Run back to work? It’s true that his father had raised a self-reliant young man. But how had that stunted Leland? Until he had met Abby, he’d never dated. He didn’t have many friends. Is being a carbon copy of his father the best thing for Caleb? Damn, he wished he could ask his father for an explanation. Why weren’t you interested in me?

He was reminded of an old teacher, a man better suited to be a father than Leland’s father. He was fond of saying, “the data is what the data is. Your job is to study it and adapt to what you find.” Leland felt like he was finally gleaning what his teacher had tried to tell him. Maybe he had resisted adaptation. Maybe it was time to give it a try.

Leland descended the stairs, leaning hard on the handrail. He entered the kitchen just in time to see Caleb run his tricycle into the back of his mother’s leg. With a pained look, she still managed a smile. “Not nice,” she said.

“Caleb, what do you say we help mom and get you seated for dinner?” Leland felt a stab in his chest when the boy’s face lit up. Caleb leaped into his arms with the energy of a wrecking ball.

Abby stared, mouth agape, as she watched her two boys at the dinner table.

Leland was pouring a glass of milk when Abby placed her hand on his shoulder. She delivered Caleb’s plate, and returned to the stove.

“Maybe we can read Blue Bear tonight. Would you like that, Caleb?” Leland said as he placed the milk in front of him. Caleb’s head bobbed up and down with excitement. Leland smiled and thought, maybe my stepson can be my greatest success.