(All The Time In The World)
The next time Jamieson awoke, he wasn’t fighting the effects of anaesthetic. The nurse fetched a police-detective, who was just down the hall.
“Dr. Jamieson?”
“Yeah,” said Jamieson, still sodden with sleep.
“I’m Detective Knudson of the Seattle P.D.” Knudson showed Jamieson a badge, which he didn’t bother to read – it wouldn’t have been any use, anyway, and this Knudson-fellow couldn’t have gotten past the door unless he’d been secured at the front-desk, anyhow.
“I suppose you want to know why Kelso shot me.”
“That’d be a good first step. Next, I’d like you to tell me where we can find him.”
Jamieson laughed – and winced; his shoulder reminding him that a 9MM had shattered his shoulderblade a few hours before. He was still trying to recover from the dream, also.
“Kelso’s likely in plain sight. Not one to do this sort of thing – he’s probably home, waiting for you, if he’s anywhere. Maybe down by the water, watching the tugs come through the locks, or up at Seattle Center, wishing for the Future We Never Had. Have you tried his office?” Jamieson was starting to feel something else – irritation and anger.
“Dr. Jamieson, that’s the odd thing. We’ve looked everywhere – and I mean everywhere. Dr. Kelso is gone. Not just missing – gone. We were sort of wondering if you knew if he had any enemies – because his wallet, keys – everything, in fact – are right where he left them.”
“That son-of-a-bitch,” muttered Jamieson.
“Come again?’, said Knudson.
“That son-of-a-BITCH!” This time, Jamieson was forceful; shouting almost. “He went and DID it!”
The nurse was there by this time; gently restraining Jamieson, who could go nowhere in any event.
“Now, Doctor,” she said, the last word coming hard for her – she viewed Jamieson as not-really-doctors; not the kind she respected, anyway – “You’ll pull your stitches; that collarbone is held together with wire and pins, and you’ll be lucky to use your arm in six months, let alone any time soon.”
Jamieson sank back to the pillow, realizing his position was hopeless.
Knudson continued, “We spoke to one of your colleagues, a fellow named Andrew–”
“Carlson Andrew, yes”, said Jamieson, impatient now.
“Well, Dr. Andrew told me some pretty interesting things about your work over at the University,” said Knudson.
“Go on.” Jamieson’s voice was flat. Either the detective knew, in which case he’d have to explain everything (to the chagrin of his backers, who wanted the technology for themselves), or he didn’t, in which case he had a pretty good idea what his next move would be — in a day; six months; ten years – it didn’t matter….
“Yes. Andrew told me you were working on a – time machine.” Detective Knudsen could barely hold his snicker-smile from his face.
Jamieson paused. “What the hell”, he thought. “Might as well see what his face does next.”
“That’s correct, Detective.”
Knudson’s smirk froze, then turned to stone. “You are kidding, right?”
“No, Detective. I’m not.” Jamieson was equally stoic.
“Christ!”, said Knudson. “You mean that Dr. Kelso—“ he flipped through his notes, “—could have used this thing and disappeared like–” He let his words freeze in midair; colder than the turn of the conversation.
“Yes”, said Jamieson, locking eyes with Detective Knudson. “He could.”
Knudson got up and quickly walked out the door. Jamieson could hear muffled conversation between he and the nurse; voices getting louder as both sides stood their ground.
Knudson walked back in with Dr. Noyes.
“We have to find a way to get you on your feet, and quickly”, said Knudson.
Jamieson chuckled.
“What could be funny now?”, said Knudson.
“You don’t understand. At all.” Jamieson allowed the smile to ease from his face, then said, “Detective, tear a piece of paper out of your notebook there.”
Knudson did so. “What do you want me to do with it?”
“Sit.” Jamieson nodded to the seats at the side of his bed. Dr. Noyes sat beside Detective Knudson.
“What you’re holding is a graphic representation of the universal-timeline, Detective. What my ‘machine’ does is very simple – it creates two points, both in space and time. One is here-and-now; the other is then-and-there.”
He waited for Knudson and Noyes to grasp this, then continued. “Now, take your pen. Make a mark at any point on the paper. Then, make another mark at any other point.”
Knudson did so; then looked intently at Jamieson.
“Now, hold the paper together until the two points meet.”
Knudson did so, his eyes widening. “We ‘jump’ at that point, Detective. And, before you ask the question – yes – it really is that simple.”
“That explains the use of electricity by your facility,” said Knudson.
“I can see you’ve done some of your homework well, Detective. Now, I’m going to give you some very clear instructions. I want you to write these down; read them back to me, then go find Dr. Andrew to help you.” He spent the next half-hour instructing Detective Knudson in the operation of the machine.
“Now, I’m going to tell you something else. Listen carefully, because I will only say this once.” He paused to allow the words to sink in.
“There are some people who have funded this operation who would be v
ery, very disappointed in what I’ve just done. For that reason, the information I’ve just given you must never leave this room in your case, Doctor, and must never go any farther than Andrew, in your case, Detective. If you do, everyone in this room will be dead in a week, and likely your families as well. Do you understand?”
Detective Knudson froze, then nodded, slowly.
“Good. Now, go find Andrew, and come back when you have finished.”
Knudson didn’t like being told what to do by a civilian. He started to object; Jamieson cut him off.
“Detective – I can appreciate your situation – you’re usually in charge of such things. Let me quite assure you that this is far beyond your pay-grade and far beyond your scope of authority. Please just do as I’ve requested, and then come right back here. I’ll assure you’ll see then that I’m cooperating fully, and then some, with your investigation.”
Suddenly tired, Jamieson relaxed fully on his pillow. In a moment he was asleep.
About an hour later, he was nudged awake by the detective.
“Dr. Andrew and I obtained what you wanted. It’s here.” Knudson placed a piece of paper in front of Jamieson’s face to read.
“Pull that back about four inches, will you?”, said Jamieson. Focusing, he read the numbers on the page, along with some other data. He smiled.
“What is this, Doctor Jamieson?”
“It’s the proof I needed, Detective.”
“Suppose you tell me what I need to know, Doctor?”
“Detective, that information is proof that the machine was used, as I had intended to use it, although to a different location and different point in time. It’s proof that Dr. Kelso was the one who used it, and it’s proof that you will never find Dr. Kelso unless you are fully willing to wait for me to heal.”
“We don’t have that kind of time, Doctor. He could be anywhere.”
Jamieson laughed. His face told Jamieson that Knudson couldn’t see what was funny at all.
“Detective, remember my little paper-analogy about time travel?”
“Yeah, and?”
“Dear Dr. Kelso forgot one thing. He forgot to erase his coordinates. That means he intends to come back. That also means he’s left the relative equivalent of a paper-trail – because it works both ways; what he can find, we can use.”
Jamieson continued, as if in a classroom. “You see, it’s all relative. He could be gone half a lifetime – but the absolutes are still in the machine. We can go find him, right where he materialized, a moment after he does so. We can even show up five minutes beforehand and have the handcuffs ready, or whatever you folks do nowadays.”
He finished, half-laughing, “No, Detective – we don’t have to rush. If this shoulder takes six months to heal properly, we have six months.”
“We have all the time in the world.”