Time Heals by Andrew Newall
Jennings’ fingers impatiently kneaded away at his chin through a neatly trimmed silver beard as his eyes remained locked on Carolyn. The well-respected head of the department of scientific research lay slumped across his desk, twitching. Blood trailed its way from her head wound to his paperwork, his laptop, her pendant necklace lying on the desk and the paper weight he used to hit her.
All staff had finished for the day. He and Carolyn were alone. He waited and watched. The only sound in his office was his own anxious breath reverberating from each wall, taunting, reminding him of what he had just done. Now, the scientist’s head flooded with thoughts of how she supported him through his years of research, her photographic memory a Godsend on many occasions.
As the longest serving scientist, the eccentric Jennings’ wanted the respect from his peers that he used to have before his project consumed him. Time travel was impossible, they all told him. Not time travel, he would correct them. Time reversal – manipulating its very movement in such a way as to turn back the minutes, the hours, even the years.
When Carolyn was appointed the position of his superior and he discovered her love of his work, his ego was recharged. She seemed curiously drawn to Jennings’ atmosphere and his peculiar work, as though she wanted to be there at the culmination of a lifetime of comic books, science fiction magazines, physics education, growing into actual science experimentation. Jennings revelled in Carolyn’s attention and with her gift, he never needed to worry about losing any scrawled calculations.
However, that very morning, Jennings discovered that he in fact had little time left. Carolyn announced that the board were stopping his funding amid rumours of dismissal for wasting time on fantasies.
“I need one more chance. If you could just explain to them…” he pleaded.
“I’m really sorry, Gil. They’ve made up their minds. This is totally outside my control.”
“Carolyn, I’ve hit on it. The missing factor in my research. The answer has been in front of me all this time and I never noticed.”
“Okay, what is it?” she asked, half-heartedly.
“Not right now. This needs a demonstration, not words. Meet me here this evening after everyone’s left and I’ll show you.”
“One last time” she conceded. “That’s all I can promise.”
That was all Jennings needed. He had everything planned, including a pompous email he compiled while waiting for Carolyn to arrive, addressed to all interested parties in the department. The ‘send’ button was pressed and the laptop lid closed as he heard her footsteps clicking their way towards his office.
It was straight to business when Carolyn entered, declining his offer of a coffee, usually accepted. Not even a cup of water.
“Not thirsty?” he asked.
“No thanks, Gil. Let’s just talk about what you’ve found.”
They sat silently on opposite sides of his desk, him looking into the face of the one person he trusted, her staring back at a soon-to-be ex-employee.
“Before I start, can I borrow your necklace?”
#
The twitching stopped. His test had failed. Carolyn was dead, all thoughts of her downsized to memories in the seconds it took her to die and he, the self-proclaimed genius always on the brink of that scientific ground-breaking discovery, cried like a baby, teeth gnawing on knuckle. Someone must have read that email by now.
#
My dear so-called colleagues
Our Head of Department, Carolyn Moss, has informed me that your intention is to withdraw funding for my time reversal project. I am sending you all this email because I passionately believe that I have finally made my breakthrough.
Looking back, I have concentrated too much on the magnitude of time itself. My latest findings suggest that one has one’s own individual “earth’s rotation” and this can be altered. I have asked Ms Moss to meet me at my office this evening to discuss this. I believe her unique attribute will be key to my latest theory.
A person with a photographic memory can recreate writings, photographs, or even film almost exactly as it happened. Using my film theory, they can play this footage normally or, if they choose, they can play it in reverse. My theory is that playing this film in reverse in their head will rewind their very physical being simultaneously.
My intention is to place Ms Moss under hypnosis. I will instruct her to play, in her mind, a piece of film. I will then ask her to rewind this film. As she does so, I will inflict a potentially fatal blow to her head.
I fully expect that with Ms Moss’ mind in a state of reverse, her body will also reverse the damage caused by my attack.
Should my experiment fail, resulting in her death, the department shall consider this email as acceptance of my actions and my guilt. Should it succeed, I wish for you to reconsider your decision with regards to my funding and for each of you to send in writing, an apology to myself and Ms. Moss.
Sincerely
Dr Gil Jennings
#
His gut jerked at every sentence. He threw himself down on the table, head in one arm, the other reaching out over Carolyn’s back. Everything was ruined. He wanted to die with her.
Something made his hand flinch. Carolyn’s body started tiny spasms, then barely audible whimpering. He wiped his eyes frantically, peering through tear clouds. Blood began to trickle from the paper weight, across the pendant necklace, his laptop and paperwork, leaving behind a path of nothing as it meandered its way back home and her head wound started to close.
Jennings thumped his desk, gripping his hair while cursing his department in wicked delight. Uncontrollable crying morphed into maniacal laughter and his despair became sheer joy as Carolyn groaned in pain which would soon pass. He fetched a cup of water from the dispenser.
—
Andrew Newall writes short fiction as a hobby. Most recently, his work appeared in the online magazine Friday Flash Fiction in December 2020. He lives near Falkirk in Scotland.
