Freddy The Time Traveler-2

Freddy The Time Traveler

(c)2008 by Clete Goffard

Episode 2 "The Mad Vegetarian" I. The Time Travel Argonauts and Saturday Evening Cribbage Club was enjoying a post lecture repast of rum cake and coffee in the drawing room of Professor Thistlepath's spacious Victorian mansion when the front door blew open and the Professor's daughter, Hyacinth Marie, burst laughingly into the room, towing a young man behind her. "Oh, Daddy," she excitedly exclaimed, "Freddy and I have spent the most wonderful afternoon at the Chautauqua! We saw a magic lantern show of pyramids and camels and dead people wrapped up in bed sheets, and then an amazing performance by the, ah...". She paused and looked at Freddy who replied, "The Steinglass Family Yodelers and their dog, Bruno". "Yes!" she cried in delight, "The Yodelers! It was a performance one cannot easily forget." "I would expect not," replied the Professor, drily. "And the little white dog, Bruno! He wore a tiny Alpine hat with a feather in the brim, and an embroided Swiss vest, and yodeled a mountain tune while the family hummed in accompaniment. Did you know that Bruno is the world's only yodeling dog?" "One would be enough,dear," replied the Professor. "And what was your opinion of this exceptional canine, Freddy?" "I must confess,sir," said Freddy, "That my ear is deficient in musical training. It cannot distinguish between a yodeling dog, and a howling dog." At that moment Mr. Weeble ambled up and exclaimed, "Ah, the nattily dressed Frederick! You have again missed a notable lecture, my dear fellow. To wit: imagine yourself and your temporal machine crashing into a primeval swamp with dinosaurs stomping about and all sort of noxious creatures lurking nearby. How might you tell when you were? Could you determine, from what is now known, if the date were sixty-five million years ago, or sixty-six? You might err on the date by a hundred thousand years and miss our piddling civilization entirely on your return. You would find yourself in a pretty pickle, a pretty pickle indeed, were you not armed with a sextant and charts showing the position of the celestial luminaries many millions of years in the past. Else, how would you know how far to come back? You cannot ask a dinosaur for the date and hour! Ha, ha." "But you would carry a clock with you," said Freddy furrowing his brow.. "A fine lot of help that would be," snorted Mr. Weeble, " the clock would measure the time it took to make the trip, not the date at which it arrived. There are no dates sixty five million years long gone. And what is more, should you be too awestruck at at the appearance of a bellowing reptile to note the exact time of arrival..." Weeble was suddenly hit by an insight, abruptly stopped, peered over his glasses at Freddy, and enquired gravely, "It is because of the disasterous experiment that you have come, isn't it ?"

Freddy looked at the Professor in alarm. "A disasterous experiment? Was someone killed?" "No," said the Professor slowly, "Not killed, but we thought at first that the poor wretch might be better off dead. Come with me and I shall show you all." Weeble called after them, laughing at his own joke, " No! You cannot ask a dinosaur for the time. Ha,ha." They made their way downstairs to the basement room used as a laboratory and the Professor took a key from his pocket and unlocked a sturdy door bearing a large sign that proclaimed "WARNING. DANGEROUS ELECTRICAL APPARATUS IN USE WITHIN." Thistlepatch gestured to the sign with his thumb and quietly said, "The story of our downfall." The door was pulled open and both men gazed silently at the scene of utter destruction within the room. It seemed to Freddy that miles of tinfoil and waxed paper were looped and scattered about the room so that there was barely a clear space on the floor on which to stand. Extensive charring and a dank smell gave evidence of a fire, as well. In the middle of the room, suspended from a chain, were twisted and blackened remains of a small enclosure made of copper mesh in which one could make out a chair-like seat. Other apparatus lay broken and strewn about. After a few minutes of silent observation, Thistlepatch closed and locked the door again, as neither had the least desire to venture into such wreckage. The Professor led Freddy back upstairs to his reading room and poured each of them a stiff drink of scotch whiskey. "The story began several months ago," the older man began, "with the arrival in our fair city of one Lemuel Swift Finche, heir to the Swift Finche Patented Buggy Whip fortune. Finche's flamboyant manner, his ready wit, and his free spending ways -- he insisted on buying new rattan furniture for the club room--led us to thoughtlessly let down our guard. He was not after money, so what other motive could he have for deceiving us? Finche, en passant, departed suddenly after the accident and has not returned. His entire scheme, it appears to us now, was to recruit dupes to test out his wildly pseudoscientific theories, especially his so-called "Law of Power." "The reason any plan, enterprise, or experiement fails, according to Finche, is entirely because of a lack of power. With enough power one might accomplish anything. He was fond of saying that with enough power one could travel to the moon! If at first you don't succeed, to paraphrase the old adage, try using more power. The answer is always more power. With enough power, something has got to happen." The Professor paused for a moment and said, " I expect that you get the thrust of the man's thinking, Freddy." "Oh yes, indeed," replied Freddy, "Why, power and money is what everyone seems to be after. Time is money, money is power, and so, time must be power." "You have described his attitude perfectly," said the Professor, "and in a flash. Would that we had been so perspicacious. If he could control time, Finch possibly imagined, he would control the power that controlled all other powers. That he and his scheme were insane, absolves him somewhat. But I cannot absolve the lacunae in my own judgement." "I have a small confession to make, dear boy. As an entomologist whose specialty is the study of the

forelegs of beetles, I have often shamelessly indulged in the phantasy of being in the time when the first insects appeared on our fair planet. Imagine, if you will, the thrill of seeing the fiirst dung beetle, or even, the first mosquito!" "Then you must not include me on your expeditions, Professor," said Freddy, "For I would be inclined to smash the latter pest so there would be no second mosquito." Our time traveler of the present instant," said the older man, " is a derelict that Finche discovered in the streets and alleyways of some unknown metropolis. A homeless drunk, named Stiles Huddlestump, who could be induced to take on any risk for the promise of hard spirits." "What you saw a few moments ago, was the remains of Finch's apparatus. The paper and foil are the remains of five giant electrical condensers which were connected to the wire cage containing the time traveler, Huddlestump. When fully changed, Finche intended to throw a switch which he hoped would produce such a powerful disturbance to the natural order that nature would regain its balance by throwing Huddlestump into the future." "Alas, the result was not that which was anticipated. Before the switch could be thrown, a horrendous discharge of lightning bolts occured as several of the condensers exploded. Fortunately for us, we were safe behind a protective wall, but Huddlestump was exposed to it all. We found him lying unconscious, and were fearful that he would never regain his consciousness." "After some days in convalescence, he did so, much to our relief. But we could not understand his wild rantings. I am afraid we had sent his mind into the future, but not his body. But we were again gratified when he slowly regained his awareness of the present. He has brought back astonishing information about the future, but a portion of his mind is somehow trapped there. " "One of things that might be of interest to you, Freddy, as you are interested in the future, is his insistance upon having seen aeroplanes, made of metal, that were dropping huge bombs on cities below." "With all due respect, Professor," said Freddy, "This Huddlestump must be crackers. Metal aeroplanes! Why, the most advanced aeroplane can barely rise into the air when made of the lightest of materials. It lacks the power to carry heavy loads." "Yes," said Thistlepatch musing on this, "it lacks power. Perhaps Finche was right all along." After a moment of thought the distinguished entomologist said abruptly, " In a few weeks, if Huddlestump's health improves to the point that he can endure a public interview, we shall schedule a meeting of the Club to examine his claims of future calamity. I shall send word to you when this will occur. It is pointless to look in on him now as he is generally asleep at this time of day." "If I am not being to forward, Professor, you might send word through Hyacinth Marie--a messenger I shall be only too glad to receive." said Freddy, " I do wonder why she said nothing at all earlier this day about your scientific misadventure." "Hyacinth Marie, and her dear departed mother," said Thistlepatch," learned long ago to think of the Club members as boring old fuddy-duddys, and so she gives no attention whatever to our pursuits. Her fancies at the moment seem to be parties, balls, and other exciting amusements." Half to himself, he said, " And I do believe that her hair is growing progressively shorter with each cutting." II.

The Time Travel Argonauts thought the revelations of Huddlestump would be of keen interest to others, and a boon to enrollment in the Club, and they invited all interested parties to attend. Thus, dozens of curious faces turned to a doorway where one of the club members appeared with an old man and guided him to a chair beside the lectern. Huddlestump's gaunt and pale appearance made Freddy think of a deceased chicken, although he was uncertain if this was a result of the accident or Huddlestump's dissolute life. The skin of his face around his eyes seemed to have been blackened, but the most notable feature of his appearance was his hair, now totally white, which stood out from his head as if he were connected to a Leyden jar. Upon being seated in the chair his hends began to tremble so markedly that he was given a brandy glass with a generous amount of whiskey to calm his nerves. He gulped this down greedily, wiped his mouth, and stared out at the assemblage with wild darting glances. He then began to laugh with an endless, insane, cackle. "YOU ARE ALL DOOMED!" he suddenly shouted, "DOOOOOOMED!" "I believe my first impression was correct," Freddy commented to Hyacinth Marie, sotto voce, "The man is a delirious drunk." There was a sharp tap of the gavel on the lectern by Professor Thistlepatch, who declared, "Welcome, ladies and gentleman, and honored guests,to a special presentation of the Time Travel Argonauts, et cetera, to examine a remarkable event. We have The testimony of a fearless time argonaut who has penetrated the mysteries of the future--and mysteries they are-- to return to share them with us. I present at this time, Mr. Stiles Huddlestump." There was polite applause and the audience grew silent,eager awaiting the revelations promised. Much to Freddy's delight, Hyacinth Marie's delicate hand found his, and when he stole a sideways glance at her she returned it with a shy smile. "The journey of time argonaut Huddlestump," continued the Professor, " was one of the mind alone. He was suddenly transported to a time in our future and perceived remarkable events in the moment of their occurance. We shall now attempt to penetrate deeper into this enigma." "Mr Huddlestump," said the Professor addressing him directly, "What is it that you see now? What do you see!" Huddlestump shot a quick glance to Thistlepatch which signified that he received the question. He then began to moan softly and eerily, cradling his head in his arms. So suddenly it caused some of his listeners to start in their seats, he cried, " I SEE THE BOMBS! THE BOMBS ARE FALLING! AIEEE--GIANT SILVER AEROPLANES!" He then began to shiver uncontrollably, and a member of the Club rushed up with more whiskey to calm his nerves lest the vision be lost. "I SEE A FLAG WITH A BLACK SPIDER! THE LEADER IS THE MAD VEGETARIAN! THE LEADER IS THE WALLPAPER HANGER! He then sank back into silence, and there was a flurry of conversation among the Club members. "Vegetarian, wallpaper and spiders," commented the Mr. Bovinas, "What can one make of that unearthly combination? We must face the question of whether this man is at all sane." "The giant silver aeroplanes," commented Weeble, "may be balloons made of a silvery fabic appearing to be metal."

"Can you describe the spider?" enquired Mr. Bovinas of Huddlestump. "How many legs does it have?" "For God's sake, Bovinas!" exclaimed Kramp, who was always difficult to please, "It is common knowledge that spiders have eight legs! You ignorance of elementary biology is astounding." "THE BLACK SPIDER WITH FOUR TWISTED LEGS!" shouted Huddlestump, almost in defiance of Krampe. "This is not rational!" shouted Krampe. "Please Mr. Krampe," said Bovinas. "I have an idea. It is not a spider but a symbol." He then made a quick sketch in his lecture notes and held it up in Huddlestump's face. "Is this the spider?" he asked. Huddlestump shrank away in terror. "THE BLACK SPIDER!" he cried with agitation. Bovinas proceeded to the blackboard behind the lectern and drew a design large enough for all to see. "This is the black spider," he said triumphantly. "Why it is only a fylfot!" exclaimed Weeble. "Yes," said Bovinas with the air of a savant, "a fylfot, a decorative design, although in the form I have drawn it it is called a swastika, a symbol of the Hindoo god, Shiva." Krampe pounced on this with glee. "Oh! So now we have Hindoo gods, wallpaper hangers, mad vegetarians, and balloons with bombs! And all from the mind of a neer-do-well whose brain is pickled in alcohol!" "I believe the Hindoos are vegetarians," said Weeble, "though I have not heard of them associated with hanging wallpaper." "The Hindoo's also venerate the cow," replied Krampe sneeringly, " from the rear end of which all of this symbolic excrement emerges!" "I do not believe that I like your attitude, Mr. Krampe!" replied Weeble, clearly irritated. "Nor do I!" interjected Bovinas. At this point the Professor, as the Maestro of ceremonies, felt it necessary to rap sharply on the lectern several times with his gavel and exclaim, "Gentlemen! We shall behave with decorum, here." Sometime during this exchange of words, Mr. Arrex, the druggest, found himself teetering on the edge of tolerance. Arrex 's emotional nature had been severely damaged in childhood (in a way we cannot describe here) and he could not tolerate that which struck him as frivolous or nonsensical behaviour. He was known about town as having a hair-trigger temperment that a single ill-chosen word could set off. He had attended the meeting out of respect for the learning of the Professor but had misgivings about the seriousness of its members. Arrex's patience suddenly evaporated, and jamming his hat on his head, and holding his rolled umbrella before him, charted his grim-faced course to the doorway with the single-mindedness of a woodchuck marching off to its burrow. As he did not have an aisle seat, his heedless flight took him directly past Miss Mulligan, the librarian, a young woman of extraordinary proportions, who happened to be

standing in order to get a clearer look at Mr. Bovinas' diagram. As Arrex brushed ruthlessly past, she moved suddenly in alarm, and tripped over her chair. Losing the balance of her considerable bulk, she fell noisily, utterly smashing several chairs. The noise of the crash stunned everyone, and the room fell eerily silent. Miss Mulligan, we must add, was not injured by this fall. Out of this silence came a weak, hacking, cough, and Huddlestump's rasping plea, "Water...please. Water." Mr. Weeble quickly supplied him with a glass of water, which he turned aside with his hand. "No doubt it is not aqua pura that the sot is asking for, but aqua vita," sarcastically commented Krampe. Another member replenished Huddlestump's glass with whiskey and, true to Krampe's diagnosis, he greedily drank it down with a loud sucking noise. The Professor again rapped on the lectern and declared, "If we may return to the purpose of this meeting, it seems that Mr. Huddlestump has presented us with a quandary. The questions that must be addressed, are (1) If bombs are falling, who is dropping the bombs and who is being bombed? (2) The location of the experience the traveler is encountering has not being determined. "Mr. Huddlestump," asked the Professor, "Where are you?" "I AM HERE" shouted Huddlestump. He then paused, looked around, and uttered a long moaning sound. His eyes then began to roll in his head and he suddenly leaped out of his chair with a loud "AIEEEE!" and collapsed to the floor unconscious. The audience was, of course, stunned by this turn of events. In a moment or two he regained consciousness, sat up, looked around and asked in a somewhat different timbre of voice, "What is this place? Where is Mr. Swift Finche? " The Professor's physician, Dr. Meade, who was in attendance to look after the time traveling argonaut's health, put him through a series of small tests. Huddlestump began to rant about a wage promised to him by Swift Finche. Mr. Weeble collected some small change from the audience, and the old man put this into his pocket with satisfaction. Most of the audience, who had left their seats to gather around Huddlestump, decided that the evening's events had played out and slowly began to drift away to the cloakroom. "I believe," said the Professor, from his post at the lectern, "that Mr Huddlestump's mind has now returned to his body, and the experiment has been concluded". "I, for one, have had enough excitement for one evening. At the next session, we shall consider the claims we have heard at greater length, and with less drama, and I challenge the Club members to come prepared for a scientific discussion concerning whether Mr. Huddlestump did in fact penetrate the veil of the future. As for now, this session is now concluded." With that he rapped sharply upon the lectern with his gavel and stepped down to join the group gathered around Huddlestump. After a moment of observation, Thistlepatch stepped to one side and beckoned two of his most trusted (and largest) associates. "I would take it as an enormous favor, if you should speedily escort Huddlestump to the Railway Station and place him on the first coach to any notable city, with an ample supply of liquor for the journey." They nodded, and he discretely passed them several banknotes. "The Conductor will put him off at the destination, and he will stagger to the nearest alleyway to resume the career interrupted by Finche. May God rest his soul, Amen."

III. When Freddy called at the house a day or two later, he found the Professor in an unusually somber mood. "I suppose," said Freddy, as a way of engaging the older man in conversation, "That now we shall never know who it was that was being bombed by the silver aeroplanes." "Oh," said Thistlepatch, coming out of his revery, "I believe we can reasonably conclud that it was the Germans who were being bombed. Several shouts made by the recuperating Huddlestump were in that language. It was the purpose of my public questioning to draw this out directly from his memory rather than concluding it by inference." "Then who were doing the bombing?" asked Freddy. "This is unknown," said Thistlepatch, " and for the last several days I have been pondering the validity of the presumption that the future can be known. We have, in the current instance, several details, but I suspect we will not know how they fit together until they happen in actuality --assuming, that is, that the prophetic element is correct. You are familiar, are you not, with the drama, McBeth? " "I believe that I am," replied Freddy, "If I can get Mr. Shakespeare's stories sorted out in my mind. So many of them have ghosts on castle walls and people in nightgowns wandering about at midnight talking to themselves. Ah! I suspect you have the three witches in mind." "Yes, I do," replied Thistlepatch. "You will note that the prophecies not only did not help McBeth, but one might say led him to his death." "But if we don't know what the prophecy means until it happens, then of what use is it?" asked Freddy. "I suspect," said Thistlepatch pondering this, " that it means the event is foreordained, should you call it destiny, fate, or kismet. Speaking of this, it is said that ferocious Mongols of Kublai Khan had a saying that in times of danger one had the choice of either riding out to meet one's destiny, or remaining in one's tent to meet one's fate. " *

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