One of us was going to get hurt, and badly. Devastated, more likely. It would be either my colleague, Kitt Peks, or me, Ralph Artemit. If Kitt, she would be forced to accept that her life's work, her greatest achievement and the most important thing in her world and in her entire life, was wrong, all wrong, and with no doubt about it. That in itself would devastate Kitt. But to find this out after she had witnessed, time and time again, experiments that had proven her work to be fully correct, that would devastate her beyond description. Kitt could be spared this pain, at the cost of me having to face a horror that is almost unbelievable. For Kitt to retain the joy of her success, I would have to face my childhood monsters, and, as hard as it may be to believe, I mean that literally. One of us would be destroyed; one of us could be saved.
The worst part of all this is that it would be up to me to choose who would be spared, and who would be crushed.
Kitt and I were both theoretical physicists. She and I had opposing views of what was, at that time, a respectable field of scientific investigation. Kitt's work said that sending a message back in time was impossible, whereas mine said that it could be done. The issue was settled when Al Turen made brilliant advances in experimental methods, allowing for definitive experiments that would test the two theoretical views: one shown to be correct, the other hopelessly wrong. When the experiments were all done, witnessed by all, and indelibly recorded, it was concluded that Kitt was right: time travel never happened, not even once, just as she had predicted, and that meant my theory was wrong. That's what was recorded and reported. That's what everybody remembered.
Everybody except me. I had seen what had really happened. Time travel was observed, but nobody but I had remembered that. Everyone thought they had seen evidence that my theory was incorrect, and they were all wrong.
I can imagine how that sounds, but it is the truth. Here is what had happened. Each experiment was done by sending a signal, a message, back in time, to the very same apparatus that had emitted it. Kitt and I, along with Al Turen and several of his assistants, did the experiments and observed the results. Many times we saw evidence that the signal had traveled back in time. That was confirmation that my theory was correct, and that Kitt's was not. However. every single time this happened, we all argued about what we had seen. Each of us had a different recollection of what we had seen. We argued and argued until, eventually, everyone agreed that never, not even once, had a signal traveled back in time. The record in the computer confirmed what was agreed! Everyone ended up remembering the same thing: no time travel.
Everyone except me. For some reason, I was the only one who recalled all the arguing, the lengthy and exhausting route to the final result. I alone remembered that signals had traveled back in time. Everyone else thought backward time travel was impossible and that my theory was wrong.
If only that was all there was to it! Of course, it bothered me that my life's work was regarded as wrong. It bothered me that there was no way to prove that my theory was right. But these troubles were nothing, nothing compared to what I now had to face.
Because of these experiments, amazing as it sounds, I now had to face my childhood monsters. Literally. I am not talking about emotional problems, or bad people. I am talking about what I saw, what only I saw, as a boy. They would come for me every night. They were hideous things, frightening creatures. They had impossibly skinny, long and dark limbs that glistened sickeningly like slime. Their heads were bloated, impossibly huge. It was only I who saw them. My parents didn't see them, and eventually convinced me that these uninvited visitors were all in my mind. Slowly, but eventually, I was persuaded by my mother and father, and their legion of shrinks, that this was all in my imagination, and the monsters did go away. I adjusted and recovered and led a reasonably normal life.
Until the time travel experiments, when I was the only person who saw and remembered the actual experimental results, and had to face everyone remembering differently than me. That was when it hit me.
The monsters were real. They would come back.
Who were they? What did they want? Would they harm me? Could I somehow avoid them?
These questions I asked myself for two full days after the experiments. While Kitt celebrated her theory being verified, and Al Turen enjoyed having settled the issue by experiments, I had withdrawn, isolated myself, broken off all outside contacts. I am sure people thought I was distraught about my theory being wrong—how I wish that was all!
Knowing that the childhood monsters would return absolutely terrified me. I was badly frightened, and I had no idea what to do. I had noticed as a boy that they had come for me only in the dark, only when I was sent to bed, to go to sleep. So, in these two full days and three full nights, I refused to sleep, I kept on all the lights, and wracked my brains for a way out of this mess.
The only idea that made any sense was for me to talk with the one and only friend I had. If my friend would listen to me, help me think, then maybe I could block the seemingly inescapable horror I was headed for.
But I couldn't ask my friend for this, because that would be sure to result in one of us getting hurt, for my one and only friend in the solar system was none other than Kitt herself! If I told her what had really happened, both with the time travel experiments, and my experiences as a youth, and that these demons awaited me, Kitt might actually believe me and thus lose her great, lifetime achievement. I couldn't bear to see Kitt lose what she had achieved. More likely, Kitt would not believe me, I would have to face the creatures alone, and I would also have to live with the knowledge that Kitt would think less of me, and I couldn't face that either. I simply could not tell her about the monsters!
It had been two days and three nights now, and I had not slept, had not had the courage to sleep. I had no new ideas and I was running out of time.
It was time to act. Yet I had no idea what to do. I’d made no progress indoors, so I decided to go for a walk. Maybe I’d get an idea. I opened the door —
—and Kitt was standing right there.
I congratulated her on her success. She smiled and thanked me.
"Please don’t take this the wrong way, Ralph, but you look terrible! Have you even slept these last two days?"
No doubt, my appearance left nothing to question.
"No, Kitt, I haven't slept."
"You must be very sad about the experiments," she said. She paused. I said nothing, just nodded. "It's more than that though," she said, and then simply waited. I was silent.
"Well? Are you going to tell me about it, or not?" I hesitated, then suggested that we walk a bit, maybe stop for coffee. What would I say to her?
I decided to tell some of the truth, but not all. "Kitt, believe me: if I told you, truthfully, everything, you would not believe me. You couldn't believe me. You'd probably think that I believed what I'd be telling you. But you wouldn't believe me, not really, and I'd feel badly that you'd be thinking less of me, maybe not consciously, but deep down there'd be something there."
We stopped for coffee and took a table in the corner, away from the others.
Kitt waited, looked at me, grew impatient.
"You can not do this Ralph! You simply cannot raise a subject like this and then clamp down! No, Ralph. Not acceptable." She'd finished, and she waited, and we both know she had me, and now I would have to tell her something.
"OK. I'll tell you." I paused. What to say? Where to start? "OK. Suppose, just suppose—and I'm not admitting to anything, at least not yet—suppose that I told you that I noticed something odd about the experiments. Something nobody else noticed. And I tried to tell you, and Al, and ... and nobody, not even you Kitt, nobody believed me. Nobody noticed what I'd noticed. And nobody remembered what I'd noticed." I paused and asked, "What would you say to that?"
"Well, what did you notice? And why wouldn't we pay attention to it?"
"Before we go there Kitt, please: just suppose that this happened, just as I've described it. What would you think about that, about me? Honestly."
"Of course I'll be honest," she protested. And then she finally said it. "I'd think that something happened ... to you ... because why wouldn't anyone else notice? I mean, especially if it's as important as you think it is."
"So, basically, you're saying, in nice words, that you'd think I'd lost it, that I was crazy? Right?"
Kitt shifted in her chair. She was uncomfortable. Eventually she said, "OK. Yes. Something like that, yes."
"And so you see my problem! If I tell you what I noticed, you'll think I am crazy. So, if something actually did happen, how could I possibly tell you about it?"
I was uncomfortable being in this situation, but, somehow, just having Kitt near me, just talking with her was helping. I had no idea, at that point in our conversation, just how far this was going to take Kitt into the strange and disturbing world I had been in before. If I’d known what was in store for her I wouldn’t have said another word.
She looked at me, with a hint of a smile on her lips, and a sparkle in her eyes.
"What if I promise not to think you're crazy? Would you tell me what you saw? Could you tell me why it's so important?"
She stopped dead. Her eyes widened as she thought of how I might take this, and she quickly added, "Oh, Ralph, no! I don't mean your work isn't important! It is! I... "
"No, Kitt: my work is not important! Not anymore. Not to me. I've lost that. That's not what is wrong. That's what I'm trying to tell you. What is wrong, what I'm up against, is so much worse than me losing my theory … "
That stopped our conversation. I had laid it out for her. Whatever it was that I had to tell her, she knew it was going to be big. I could imagine her thoughts. What could possibly be more important to me than my life's work?! I had no wife, no children, no family, and except for Kitt, no friends. So what was so important?
Kitt spoke quietly, but intensely. "Whatever this is, you've got to trust me. You’ve opened up to me because you think I can help. So tell me what it is."
"If I tell you, and you believe me, you are going to lose your life's work. And if you don't believe me ... "
Silence again. Both of us were thinking.
"Ralph, I cannot lose my life's work, no matter what is troubling you. I saw the experiments and I know my work is sound, and I won't lose that. So, tell me what this is all about."
Hearing those words, I made a choice. My fear of those creatures won out, made me choose to ask Kitt's help. It bothers me now, to have to admit that this fear was stronger than my wanting to ensure Kitt's happiness. I suspect that, at that moment, I suppressed my awareness of my choice, but there is no way for me to hide from this now. I think that, knowing deep down that I was risking Kitt's happiness, I think that was the reason behind the things I was soon to do.
I told her everything. There had been experiments that had proved my theory, and there had been many experiments showing that signals had traveled back in time. We all saw these results and we argued about what we had seen. The arguments went on and on, until, collectively, as a group, everybody "remembered" that no signal had gone back in time, everyone but me, and this happened over and over again. Worse: the computer records agreed with everybody's final memories—everyone’s except mine. II told her that I had had a similar experience as a boy, though I went no further, not at that time.
"Kitt, I know that you probably think that I'm imagining all of this, that it's all in my head." I shook my head slowly, looked down into my coffee, and exhaled deeply, realizing only then that I'd been holding my breath. "I've thought about this a lot. The easiest, most sensible way for you to react to what I've just said is to say that you believe me, knowing that for some reason I'm imagining it all, maybe as a psychological way of not having to give up my theory.
"But Kitt, it's not about my theory, not anymore. I had to tell you about these experiments, because if you find that hard to believe, what I'm going to tell you now is, …. it's going to sound ludicrous. That's why I told you about the experiments: there's something physical there, and maybe you can suspend your judgment just a bit. What happened to me when we did the experiments made me realize that …. that what I saw as a child, what I saw and what nobody else saw, really did exist. Just like those experiments! And now I …. I am afraid." I whispered, "I'm afraid they are going to come back."
When I heard Kitt's next comment, I knew that she hadn’t heard what I’d whispered.
"Wait, Ralph. I want to talk more about the experiments. Why don't we just go and do them again? If what you say is true, I want to see it for myself."
She paused and I could see she had an idea.
"Can we prove what you've said? Why can't we go back and do them again and this time get—I don't know how—get an indisputable record of the results? Hard evidence that will prove what you're saying?"
"No Kitt! No! I don't want to do any more experiments. I saw what you went through before, and I don't want to see you go through that again! Please, just believe me. It's not the experiments that bother me. It's what happened to me when I was a boy. And there's no point doing the experiments again, because we'll just get the same results."
"It's up to me to decide what I want! I want to see what you've seen. How can you say we'll just get the same results?"
I started to tell her why, but she continued. "If you were in my position right now, what would you do? Could you just accept my saying so? Wouldn’t you want to see for yourself?"
She had me there, again. I couldn't argue, and I regretted having gotten myself into this position. But I still tried to convince her.
"There's no point Kitt. In the end, just like before, you won't remember, and we can't make a permanent record: the final record in the computer was the same as what all of you remember, and it's not going to be any different now!"
"If I'm just going to remember the same as I did before, what harm can that do me? OK, sure, if I go through what you saw before, that will bother me, but only until it's all over, and then I'll feel just the same as I do now! So in the end I'm not going to be harmed."
"But Kitt, it devastated you, and ..."
"And it might devastate me again, but I feel just fine right now. Besides, we can make a permanent record."
I was baffled. "How can we possibly do that?" I asked her.
She had that look in her eyes. Kitt was thinking. I could see she had an idea. A very good idea.
"Let's suppose it all happened just as you say it did. We did the experiments. We argued. In the end we got our way and you lost out. But there were several of us remembering one thing, and just you remembering another thing. There was me," she said, lifting a finger, "and Al," lifting a second finger, "and his assistants," and she raised her hand, fingers and thumb, "and there was you," and she lifted one finger on her other hand. "But now, let’s go back, just you and me Ralph, and do it all over again. It's just my mind and your mind."
"How can I explain this …. What we saw before, what ended up as all of your memories, and what the computer recorded: that result has been selected, out of all possible outcomes as the final and definitive result. We won't see anything different Kitt."
"Maybe not. So here's what we do. One: we do different experiments. Two: we won't use the computer to make a record!"
She explained what experiments we would do, and what we could use to record them.
With that, we were on our way, back to Al Turen's lab. I felt relieved that I hadn’t had to tell her about my childhood monsters, and I had hope that maybe I wouldn’t have to tell her at all. I had hoped for too much.
Our pass codes were still active, and we had no trouble getting into Al Turen’s lab. It was, as we expected, deserted: Al Turen would still be celebrating, no doubt about that.
We set up the equipment, and before long we were ready to do the experiments Kitt had suggested. The two of us, both theorists, knew how to do the experiments. We'd seen hundreds done just two days ago. We knew how to send out the beam of light—the "signal"— to the "time machine," a colloquial name for the space-time funnel that would direct the beam back to the lab so that it would arrive at the apparatus several minutes before it was sent out.
The experiments could be done in a variety of ways. Two days ago, we had set things up in the "paradox mode." In this set-up, a signal is sent if a signal is not received, with the signal being sent after no signal being received. Similarly, a signal is not sent if a signal is received. The paradox is: how could a signal be received if no signal was sent back in time? Where had it come from? If no signal was received, where had the sent-signal gone?
My theory was based on multiple universes: a signal sent back in time that was not received by us was received by our "duplicates" in another universe, and a signal received by us but not sent out by us was sent from another universe. Kitt's theory said that such a scenario was virtually impossible, and her reasoning was as sound as mine. That is what made Al Turen's experiments so important.
The paradox mode experiments were done with our having agreed not to tamper with the sending/receiving apparatus after a signal was, or was not, received and before the signal was, or was not, sent. I didn't want to repeat these experiments. Kitt's idea was to do experiments by tampering in the paradox mode: set up the sending/receiving apparatus in the paradox mode, but change the computer's commands during the time between receiving and sending. For example, give the command to not send a signal out if a signal was received, and when a signal was received, change the command to send out a signal, and make it be a different signal than that received. In such a scenario, the signal in could not have come from us, it would have to have come from another of the many universes.
We also had to wipe the computer's record of the results, but still record them in some fashion that would serve as evidence of what we observed. Kitt insisted that the method of recording had to be convincing to her, so that, whether she remembered or not, the record would convince her as to what we actually observed, before any discussion, before her memory could be changed. How could we do that?
We would write the results as they occurred, using a very old method: we would write them using our hands. Long ago, people used to do calculations and record events by putting a thin rod—called a "pen"—between one's thumb and fingers, and by moving a rolling ball at the end of the rod over a piece of paper. The ball would deposit ink and the pattern on the paper would be words and letters and symbols, the same as what is displayed on a computer monitor.
Some time ago I had told Kitt about this, and she had been as intrigued as I was, and we had gotten into exchanging messages by "hand-writing": by using the pens to write them on paper. We each had sets of these pens, and several sheets of paper.
On the way to the lab we had picked up two pens and a few pieces of paper from my place. We agreed that Kitt would record positive time travel results—signals having traveled back in time—and I would record negative or "null" results: no evidence of backward time travel. The reason we did this is because you can tell who wrote what, because the pattern of the letters and words you write by hand is unique: my "hand-writing" and Kitt's were easily distinguished. We agreed to make these records as soon as they occurred, before we discussed them or argued. For example, for a signal coming in and a different signal going out, Kitt would write: "SI-DSO (KP)." If no signal came in, I would write: "NSI (RA)."
So there we were, in the lab, ready to do the experiments. It was a tense time for Kitt: just one experiment with the arrival of a signal would show her theory to be wrong, and I could see that she was thinking about this. There were softer implications for me for any experimental result: no signal in just meant that no signal was sent, so nothing had happened. It would be not just one, but very many such results that would indicate my theory to be wrong and Kitt's to be right.
On our first two trials, no signal arrived, and I wrote down these results.
On our third trial, a signal arrived. This spelled doom for Kitt, and her reaction was extremely painful.
"Oh, no!!" she shouted, and covered her face with her hands. Tears squeezed out and rolled down her cheeks. "No! No-no-no-no-nooo!!" She looked at me and I saw the depth of her pain. Again. This is how she had felt before, but last time, she withheld her pain because there were so many other people around. Now, it was just me, and her agony came spilling out. Her eyes asked me to find a way to change this result.
I really couldn't stand this. I wanted somehow to soothe her pain. "Kitt, I " She broke in.
"Oh, Ralph! All that you told me is true!!'" She was crying now, and I felt utterly helpless. "Ralph! I remember!! I remember all those experiments we did! And they went just as you said! A signal arrived ... I was upset ... We argued ... Oh, no. I remember it all. And now it's happening again. A signal has arrived..." She trembled and sobbed, in gasps and moans. "This means ... my work ... all of it ... wrong ..."
I couldn't bear to see her suffer like this. I shouldn't have agreed to do these experiments. I was struck by a sudden chill: what if Kitt remembered, this time, and lost what she had? I wanted Kitt to have back what she had before.
While I was thinking this, scientist that she was, Kitt had written down "SR (KP)". The pen and paper fell from her hand, and I wished she could have it all back, that her recollection of these experiments that we were now doing could, somehow, preserve her theory, and her life’s work. I remember, as clear as if this had happened yesterday, I wanted this for Kitt, and I wanted it very, very much!
That is when it all happened. It was as if time had stopped, and everything had been changed. I sensed this all around me. I felt it inside me. It was as if a loud, booming, pounding noise had suddenly stopped, replaced by an absolute, roaring silence.
I looked at Kitt, and I knew then that … it had happened again! Just like before, when we'd done the experiments the first time.
All around me, things had changed. Subtly, but unequivocally.
I watched Kitt silently.
I hoped with all my might.
A moment passed.
She calmed, then spoke.
"Three in a row: no signal in."
I could not believe the change I saw in her. A moment ago, she had tears streaming down her cheeks and she was sobbing uncontrollably. But now, now she was totally relaxed. There was no sign that she’d been upset!
In a blur, I grabbed my paper and pen and recorded: "NSI (RA)." Just as quickly, I feared it might be hopeless: Kitt’s paper would still have her handwritten record that a signal had been received. But her paper was absolutely blank! What she had written was no longer there. Just as when we’d done the experiments before, the record had changed!
I felt a surge of thrill! Could we actually get out of this without Kitt losing her success? What to do next? Kitt would not agree to stopping after three experiments, so I couldn't suggest that we quit. We had to go on, or she would be suspicious of the results, so I made sure we continued on, set things up to do another experiment.
While we were doing this, the horror came bursting back into my life. Suddenly, and with no build-up or warning whatsoever, I felt every single molecule in my body tingle, and a chill passed through me and swallowed me whole. I knew, even before I turned to look, I knew it was there. Watching me. Analyzing me. Planning. I don’t know where the courage came from, but I willed myself to turn. To look. To look back at the thing. And I saw, for the briefest instant, I saw it. The hideous grin. The impossibly large head and the slit-like eyes. A feeling of wrongness, of horrible evil, filled me. I was thoroughly terrified, and could do nothing. It was gone, as abruptly as it had come.
Kitt was incredulous.
"What … what has happened to you Ralph?" Her mouth hung open and her face was blank. "What has happened?" she asked again. I wanted to tell her, but I wanted more to finish these experiments and get out of this place. Or even just skip the experiments and just go. I told Kitt that I would explain later, that it would be best to finish the experiments first. I insisted, and Kitt was eventually persuaded.
We continued on.
It was gut wrenching for me, horrid agony for Kitt, every time a signal was received. We both suffered through every such result, but each time, her memory changed, and I was grateful that Kitt would remember none of this.
Eventually, mercifully, we had gone through only three results with a signal received and a different signal sent, and also eight results with no signal received. Kitt didn’t remember the three signals received: her recollection was that these too had been cases where no signal had come in. As a result, I had recorded, in my handwriting, that we had witnessed eleven experiments confirming her theory. With these eleven results, I convinced Kitt that we had done enough. None of what Kitt had written remained on the paper she had used. Once again, the record of the experiments had been changed.
"OK, Kitt," I said as I passed my piece of paper to her, "all null results."
She looked at her piece of paper, and my piece of paper, and nodded. Then her eyes met mine. "What do you think this means?"
"I think it means that there is no backward time travel." I took a deep breath, turned away and began to pace. "There was, for me, in our experiments two days ago, there was time travel, but, I think that is all over with now, for all of us, including me. There can no longer be backward time travel, the sending of signals back into the past," I lied. "Not for me, or for any of us—not in our universe, anyway."
"But there was, before, for you Ralph. You witnessed signals being sent back, didn't you?"
"Yes! I did. I truly did. I know it sounds crazy ... "
"Quantum physics is crazy."
Kitt paused and looked into my eyes, looked right into my soul, and she said, "I believe you Ralph. I don't know why, but ... I do believe you. I wasn't sure before, not really, but I am now."
An awkward silence followed. My mind was off of time travel and fully back onto the demons awaiting me. I needed Kitt's help, but I didn't want to ask for it, I wouln’t ask for it.
She looked into my eyes again, and I knew that she had not forgotten everything.
"What happened back there Ralph? What was it? You were frightened, weren’t you?"
I was thinking about how I could answer her when she spoke again.
"When we were having coffee, you said that something had happened when you were a child. You said that you were frightened then and now frightened today .
With that, I had to get out of that lab! We quickly tidied up and left the lab, and started walking back.
I told Kitt all about the childhood monsters, that they were hideous, that they’d frightened me, that they came for me in the dark, when I had gone to bed. I told her what they looked like, and I told her about my so-called "imaginary" friend, Doc. I told her that these creatures were real, just like backward time travel had been real. Then I described the brief instant where I had seen one of them, standing, staring, grinning, in the lab just a short time ago.
I don’t know what Kitt thought, but I wanted her to stay with me.
As if reading my mind she asked, "What do we do now? You need to sleep Ralph, and you shouldn’t be alone."
I nodded.
"Let’s go back. You won't be alone."
That meant more to me that I can explain. Kitt knew that my fears were real, at least to me. I would now have to face my fears, but I wouldn't have to do it by myself.
I was too worried that night to realize the implications of these experiments, but I did eventually. My reality allowed for the sending of signals back in time. More than that, I also had some kind of power. It was somehow due to me that Kitt had been able to see the experiments with backward time travel, and that it was somehow because of me that Kitt had actually remembered what had occurred in the very first experiments, even though she’d ended up forgetting. I had some kind of power that I didn't want to have. If I could change Kitt's reality, I could change the realities of others too, and I was not comfortable with this. It would be some time before I would understand that I had changed Kitt’s hand-written record, an ability that I would need when the time came to face the creatures.
As we walked, it seemed to me that some good things had happened. We had done the experiments that had satisfied Kitt, and her own reality had been preserved. Her life’s work was safe, her theory was safe, and her happiness was safe, and nothing could take that away from her now. We had used Al Turen’s lab, and left it just as we’d found it, and he would never know we had been there.
It seems incredible to me now that I had thought such things. I was wrong about so much! Al Turen had, of course, recorded everything we had done, and I cannot explain why I didn’t see that then.
But I was right about one thing. He was not the only one to see all that had happened, and I would soon find out more.
I shuddered to think of what was just ahead of me. I now had to live in my reality, and that meant I had to face my childhood monsters. I’m not sure when I realized the implications of my having seen one of them in the lab, in the light, no matter how briefly. They would come soon. There was no way to avoid this. The childhood monsters had been watching. They were now ready. There was nothing I could do to stop them.
They would come for me this night.
http://www.scrollinspace.com/article.php?story=20050419235134322