Latest Entries »

Molly,

Have a look at the video via the link below.
That “P.E.” fellow has been at it again.
I told him to put the camera away when he visited the lab but it appears he didn’t listen.
I know your good at all of this internet stuff. Can you see if there is any way for us to get this video to vanish before too many people see what my lab looks like? I really don’t need the attention right now.

Thanks,
Uncle B
Here’s the link;

Advertisements

I was stuck in an elevator this morning.

Well… not actually this morning… It was about forty-years ago, but this morning just the same.

I planned on arriving at the Chrysler Building in NYC to meet a fellow traveler regarding an transmitter being installed at that location. Instead of arriving at the base in the janitor’s closet, I ended up, somehow, in the elevator. I fell right through the ceiling panel onto a rather large looking older fellow. If it wasn’t for him, I may have broken something. His plump frame padded my fall. The event didn’t seem to rattle him too much. He rolled me away from him and I quickly stood up.

“Sorry about that, Sir,” I said.

“It’s not a problem,” he said but his facial expression told a different story.

“My name is Buster Brightbuckle,” I said offering my hand to help him up.

“I’m Jonathan Lender,” he said groaning a bit as he stood up. “Of Lender Advertising.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said and pushed the button labeled “L” for lobby.

“When are you guys going to fix this blasted elevator?” He grumbled. “You’ve been working up there for weeks!”

He assumed I was an elevator repairman. The lab coat I was wearing and the shoulder belt of tools had obviously given him that impression.
“Sometime today, I imagine,” I replied.

He pulled a large cigar from the breast pocket of his jacket, snipped off the end and stuck it between his pursed lips. I watched as he pulled a fancy lighter from his side pocket and flicked it a few times before a bright flame popped from the point.

“Nothing like a Cuban…” He muttered referring to the origin of the pungent object protruding from his jowls.

Pale smoke filled the small enclosure as I held my breath waiting for the door to open.

The elevator jerked to an abrupt stop causing both of us to stumble into each other.

The fat man looked at me for an answer. “We’re stuck,” he said frantically pressing the buttons on the control panel. “Stuck again!”

“It appears so,” I said and coughed.

“Well, don’t just stand there! Do something!”

Oh… that’s right. I am the elevator repairman…

The smoke was getting thicker as he puffed and puffed on his dark cigar.
I wasn’t feeling so well… I coughed again.

“Oh,” said the big guy, “I hope you don’t mind if I smoke?”

I put my hand up. “No… Not at all.” I leaned forward. “I hope you don’t mind if I get sick…”

And then I puked on his shoes…

It was not one of my finer moments.

This reminded me of the day comic books may have saved my life.

Long ago, in a reality far, far away, I was actually a kid.

Sure, I was interested in all things science and tech back then, but I also loved a good comic book.

Each week, I had an allowance. One whole dollar! Oh, I had big plans for that dollar each week. With that dollar I could buy five comic books, a candy bar and a cream soda and still have a little change to save for another day. Yes, a dollar went far when I was a kid.

On this one particular afternoon, I was sitting under the cool pipes on the aqueduct with two friends; Tony and Denny. Normally we would swap comics and read them on sunny, summer afternoons and then chase each other around town on our three speed bikes. This day was different.

Denny pulled out a pack of cigarettes smacked in his palm. Few times before gently pulling one from the pack. I watched in horror as he stuck one between his lips and then revealed a pack of matches. With one hand, he was able to fold out a match and flick it with his thumb. The small fire burned the tip of the cigarette and smoke filled the air. After a few puffs, he offered the pack to Tony who mimicked Denny’s entire routine.

I returned to reading my comic. Batman was on the case!

“Here,” mumbled Denny. “Have one.”

“Nah huh, not me,” I said.

“Why not? They’re cool.”

“Nothing is going to make me cool…”

“Sure they will…” Denny balanced the lack in his hand. “Old man Patterson sells these to the kids at the ship for only ninety cents a pack.”

I considered the price. I got a buck a week and these were less than a buck and Denny said it would make me cool if I smoked them….

Then I looked at the comic book in my hand. Smoking would take away my ability to afford my pile of comics every week. No way…

My decision was made.

“Nope. Thanks anyway,” I said. “Comic books are much cooler.”

He puffed on his cigarette. “Can I have that one?” He pointed to an old Captain Marvel comic in the pile.

“Got anything to trade for it?” I asked.

“Nope,” he said with a shrug. “‘Can’t afford comics anymore.” He waved the cigarette in the air and then blew a a ring of smoke through his lips.

And that’s my comic book story.

So, back to the man with the soiled shoes; Mister Jonathan Lender.

I convinced the big guy to let me climb up on his shoulders so I could get through the ceiling panel… Little did he know, the door back home was waiting for me up there.

I wondered how long poor Mister Lender was stuck in that elevator. Even though it was this morning, it was actually so long ago… Could he still be among the living? I checked on line and found an obit from two decades ago. He was, indeed, no longer alive.

Then again, come to think of it, neither was Denny.

IMG_1423.JPG

—- Unlock —–
—- VR Molly Brightbuckle —-
—– kisum*26-EP —–
—- Begin Transmission —-

Uncle Buster!!!

Only you could come up with an idea like that;
Change the future by sending your niece to the grocery store!

Really?!

You go flying off into the future on the same day I’m performing in my school concert? Come on! Yes… I am stomping my feet…

Stomp, stomp, stomp!!

Arrrrrrrg!

Mom and Dad are away on business… You were supposed to stay here and “watch me.” You left me all alone, Uncle Buster! Again!

I know you’re going to read this transmission sooner or later. When you do; You get back here right now! You were supposed to drive me to the hall for the school concert tonight. Now, not only isn’t there anyone here to see me… (and I practiced for weeks..I can’t even get to the hall.

Are you saving the world again? Is that what you’re doing?

Well, can it wait?!

Get back here now! Please!

I’m not going to be a kid forever, y’know?

I’m sending you the location key with this transmission. Punch it in and get back here!!

Jeeeeesh!

—-54bb789-12-2;-66-999 —–
—- Encrypt ——
—- end transmission —-

20140619-085514-32114213.jpg

—begin voice command—–
—-open file—– record text—-
—-hold file and do not release until the code is given——
——lock 45110**Bb—–

Molly,

I’m sure you’ve heard the following saying with many variations; “Don’t shoot me…I’m only the messenger.”

Sometimes people twist it and say “don’t blame me…” Or “don’t look at me…”

What I’m about to say is kind of like that…

Despite how much responsibility I should take for inventing the machine I feel I am still only “the messenger” when I am faced with telling you the truth about the future.

I feel the need to type this today but I will not release it for your view until I think you are old enough to read it.

I saw future that would have happened but will not happen because I have changed it. In this future you hurt yourself pretty badly following me through one of my doors. I should have been more responsible. I was furious when “S” sent that note. I was blinded by my need to make things right and bring that criminal to justice. I should not have left you behind.
Or did I?

When I arrived, there you were. Hurt and mentally exhausted from the waiting. He was nowhere to be found. After seeing you, he didn’t matter to me any longer.

I knew that what I had to do was go back… Go back to before the moment when you were pulled through that door…. Go back and stop the event from happening.

And I did.

Now, what happened, happens to not happen.

That’s the way it should be.

I know you’ll have questions.

I know you’ll want to know what I saw in the future.

You’ll be curious about this future self… About what she was going through.

I just can’t tell you yet… But if I don’t write something now, I’ll go mad.

So, I am locking this transmission until you are old enough enough to read it. After you read this, come and find me. By the time you read this, I’ll probably have been missing for several years. The code is at the bottom of this transmission. Type it into the Cobalt 678 console and everything will be clear. You’ll know what to do.

I always tell you and your friends to be careful. Small events can change the future dramatically. Correcting an event in the past can, sometimes, do more damage than good. I had to take that chance. Your safety and happiness is what is important.

Looking back you’ll understand why I had to do what I did. You’ll know why I had to go away.

You’ll understand why, when you returned from the grocery store, the doors in the lab were charred. Why there was a fire. Why the doors were dead.

It wasn’t an accident.

It’s time I returned home.

Kisum26-11-EP

—–hold transmission—–
—–end recording——-

20140618-110308-39788644.jpg

—- activate voice command —–
—- Start Recording —–

The mysterious Chronicler has done it again; releasing a third book relating to events in my life.
This time the focus appears to be on Molly’s friend Spebbelped… Snegelteg…. Ummmmm….Something like that. I can never get his name right.
Anyway, I was just sent this link and thought it would be fun to post it.
I’m told today is “Launch Day.”

http://amzn.com/1500185825

20140616-093113-34273979.jpg

—– end transmission —–

Reverse Trans-shp:5437789226:network:55:time4.30.2014 2:48

Uncle Buster,

I have no idea what happened.

I was pulled through the door after you I saw you soaring a few hundred feet ahead. (You looked so relaxed. I always wonder why traveling this way never bothers you. I just want to hurl George feels the same way.)

I aimed my hands straight out, just like you taught me and I was flying like Supergirl when something grabbed hold of me. Not a thing really, but a force. I felt it hug me and then tug me sideways and away from your path.
I saw you vanish in the distance.

For a long while I couldn’t hear or see anything.

I just felt the tight hug that the force had on me and I was starting to have trouble breathing. I think I came close to blacking out. (I recognized the sensation from that time I had that awfully high fever and my knees gave out on me.)

The door rushed up towards me and I crashed through and into your lab. I tumbled on the floor and hit your desk with such force that I bruised my knees and smashed my face on the corner of the desk.

It was awful!

The pain was so bad I couldn’t get up for a long while. I cried, Uncle Buster… I kept crying for someone to help me but there was nobody upstairs.

Finally, after almost an hour, I made my way to the basement stairs and crawled to the top. The door was locked. I kicked it and threw my body into it over and over but it would not budge.

I went back down the stairs to your spare-parts case where I knew you kept your failed gadgets. I found the sonic-drill you made last year. Remembering that you were disappointed that it didn’t do so good a job at drilling holes as it did blasting things to pieces, I tried it out in the door. One pull of the trigger and the gun glowed and screamed and then blew a giant hole in the basement door.

I crawled through the hole and into the kitchen.

The house was empty and the lights were off. I called for Mom and Dad anyway.

The windows were so dark. I peeled back the curtains and found that there were bricks behind the frames.

I tried to open the side door to see if anyone’s was outside and the door was locked somehow so I used the sonic-drill again. The door exploded.

Carefully, I leaned out of the doorframe and looked around.

There was nothing to see.

The world outside was black, like the deepest of space.

The neighborhood was gone.

I crawled back into the house.

Wired things; The kitchen was stocked with food. The electricity worked. The lights turned on. Even the TV worked.

I found my room just as I had left it.

I have no idea where I am, Uncle Buster, but I’ve been here for almost a year.

The doors in the basement no longer had power.

The phone doesn’t work, but your lap-top seems to work.

No internet.

The kitchen never seems to run out of food and the water runs just fine… But I am going crazy. I am so alo xxgtuisjjn nnjsnxjjsnx x
43740!;:69076 be, so, figuring that the electricity was on I spent a lot of time in the lab trying to find a way out. I thought maybe I could get the doors to work. Cgdhtttbennsooisn3333333; ynx600011 md b.Ut your main comm unit finally popped on line and I figured, I better try and send you a message before it was too la77777773.;;:@# interupt 555 code 684562.45
I don’t know if this is going to work or not, but I am going to send this to the last time I saw you hoping that you’ll retur4444 code 555 interup:—–
55339.445 coordinates and find me here soo444…

——–Molly

End transmission :5437789226:network:55:time4.30.2014 2:48

20140430-144705.jpg

There’s a long period of time when I am floating and surrounded by a darkness that is actually comforting.
No sound.
No light.
Just me and the feeling of my own breath and the pulse of my heart slowing down.
The air is actually cool and filled with more oxygen than I’m used to. This is one of the nice by-products of traveling the way I do.
During these moments, life is serene and my troubles melt away.
The other door opened and sucked me through catapulting me across the lab floor with such speed as to have me crashing into side of my old wooden desk. The loud crack could have been the splintering wood or a few bones. Maybe both.
The door slammed shut and the lights around the frame blinked. The low pulsing sound indicated that the door would soon open and another body would come flying into the room. Molly had followed me through the door and I was certain that, if she was thrown with the same force, she might get seriously injured. With much effort I got to my feet and stood with my arms out waiting for the door to open… waiting to catch my little niece before she kissed the desk behind me.
Foop-foop-foop!
The pin inside the Deltri-pham meter on the side of the main coil rig was tapping the the end of the scale in the red.
Foop-foop-foop!
Any second now. I clapped my hands and hunched over like a baseball pitcher and prepared to catch my niece.
Foop-foop…
The door burst open and the room filled with light. I could barely see the body as it was ejected through the frame in my direction. It hit me with enough force to send both of us back into the desk. This time the desk completely collapsed and my shoulder dislocated.
My vision cleared and I saw the dazed body stir before me. She was feeling her way along the floor trying to get to her feet.
Too tall for Molly, I thought. Thinner too.
The young lady crawled toward me. Her damp, matted hair covered her face. She flipped her head back and, with her curled lips, blew the hair back away from her eyes. Stubborn strands clung to her cheeks and mixed with her sweat. I couldn’t make out her features until she was a few inches away, staring into my eyes.
“Uncle Buster…” she whispered. “…are you okay?”
I looked at the adult face before me. Despite a long scar running down her cheek, mud caked around her neck and matted, uncombed hair, she was my pretty side-kick-kid with eyes just as beautiful as I remembered them from only a few minutes earlier.
“Molly?”
She shook her head and hugged me close. I tried not to gasp as her weight pressed against my injured shoulder. I felt her tears quickly dampen my shirt and I patted her head.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she said. “I’ve been looking for so long…”

20140415-145317.jpg

When I created the very first door, it was not as elaborate as the three colorful designs currently humming away in the back of my basement lab. The first door was smaller and not meant for people to walk through. In fact, it was so small and thin, the most that could pass through was a small book or, maybe, a mouse.

My first test was to send a message to my future self. I had not figured out how to designate locations yet, so the page would have to be sent in it’s place but skipping to a different time.

The door was mounted on a metal block the size of a shoebox. I had pulled it from the side of Molly’s doll house. It was the perfect size and , frankly, I never saw the kid playing with it anyway, so I didn’t think she would miss it. The block was solid and surrounded by fab-wire and super-transmutational-electro-magneto-hyper-plasma-time-space-warping-mini-coils.

I opened the little door. Just beyond the frame was the aluminum sheen of the metal box. I closed the door, pressed the corners until I heard it click and then turned on the power. The silvery color of box changed hue several times as the system powered up.

Blue… Purple… Red… Green…

The mini-coils started to hum. I knew it was time. I opened the door and, this time, the silvery surface of the box was replaced by a dark void. I held the letter in front of the void and, gently, guided it through the door being careful not to touch the frame. (I remember thinking Molly would be a great help. She was always beating me at the game OPERATION and this procedure was very much like playing a round of OPERATION. The difference being in OPERATION, the patient’s nose lit up and the game buzzed. In this case, the patient was a time machine and it would not just buzz if I touched the frame… it would blow up… the whole neighborhood.)

90% of the paper was through door when I felt a tug from the other side. I let go and winced when a bright flash exploded from the other side of the door. I fell backwards onto the floor. When I got up I saw that the machine had powered down to a steady hum.

I waited for a response. If my other self, in the future, had received the letter, he would have written a response on that same paper and sent it back through the door.

I waited all night.

I checked the box every day and there was no indication that anything was delivering itself from the future.

I left the box in the dark corner of the basement and, after a few months of watching it blink at me, I covered it with a tarp and pretty much forgot about it as I moved on to other designs and experiments.

That was several years ago.

This morning, Molly was in the basement looking for Spring decorations for the windows when she pulled a tarp away from a table and saw the blinking box.

“What’s this thing?” She asked.

“Just another failed experiment,” I said without looking up from my work.

“Why is the blue light flashing like that?”

I looked up. All of the breathe escaped from my lungs. I couldn’t respond beyond a gasp. I pushed my chair back and stumbled to the box. My right leg had fallen asleep so I almost fell into the desk.

“What’s wrong, Uncle Buster?”

I turned the box around and showed her the door. It was glowing.

“Hey… Isn’t that the door to my doll house?”

I pried the door open and saw the letter floating just beyond the frame. I took a pair of tweezers from my utility belt and gently plucked it from inside the box.

“Just like that game Operat…” Molly begAn to say when a bright flash of energy burst from inside the box. For a moment, I thought I touched the frame.

I took a few deep breaths and examined Molly for a moment to make sure she was okay.

Molly watched as I opened the letter. “Who is it from?”

“It’s supposed to be from me… In the future,” I said but my face revealed that it was not.

“Uncle Buster… who is the letter from?”

“He says hello…”

“Hello?”

“Yes… Hello.”

Molly reached out for the letter. I handed it to her. “There has to be more than that,” she said.

“There is,” I replied and watched as she focused on the words printed in the center of the page.

“Hello,” she read aloud. “If you’re wondering who has taken over your basement laboratory, you should travel to the coordinates written below…” Molly glanced at the complex string of numbers and letters printed at the bottom of the page and then continued. “Your family will be home soon. You should get her before they do. You really should. Don’t forget the key.” Molly wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and then read the signature at the bottom of the page, just above the coordinates. “Sincerely, S.”

I tapped a series of numbers into the locking pad on the side compartment of my work desk. The door beeped and hissed as it opened. From inside the compartment I retrieved the brass key and stuffed it in my pocket.

“What’s that for? Is that the key S mentioned in the letter?”

“It is,” I said marching to the three doors. I swiped my hand across levers and slapped buttons along the way and listened for the familiar hum as the doors powered up.

“I’m going with you,” said Molly.

At this point, I knew not to argue with Molly.

“Okay… let’s go.”

I pulled open the door and stared into the void for a moment and then that moment was gone.

20140409-111010.jpg

I was in the laboratory all morning and afternoon. The day went quickly. I have found ways to travel through time but not any way to slow it down. Any day is never long enough to accomplish all that I want…need to do. It was about 4 PM when I heard Molly’s little footsteps on the staircase.

“Are you mad?” she asked.

I looked up from the work I was doing at the long bench. I had to tilt my head to see her around the glare from the bright light shining on the metal box before me. She looked concerned.

“Mad? At you? No. Should I be?” I had to ask. It’s not that she would intentional do anything wrong, but she can get swept up into a bit of nonsense when her friend George was around. Sometimes that boy was a bad influence on her. “Did he get you snooping around my lab again? Is something broken?” I eye-balled the lab for a shattered tube or a burned out control box.

“No, Uncle Buster. Kids in school are saying that you are a mad scientist.” She shuffled her feet a and stared at the floor.

I laughed, “Is that all? People have been calling me that for years.”

She looked up and wrinkled her nose. “It’s not funny. They say I live with a mad scientist. ‘Like you were a monster or something.”

I suppressed another laugh and did my best to look serious. “I’m sorry Molly. It’s just a figure of speech,” I said and saw that she was gnawing at her lip and giving her nose a few extra wrinkles. “Don’t you remember that time when I exhibited the Ultra-CRB 6500 Cloudburst machine and the Mayor was there? Everything was under control until the Mayor’s wife insisted on being the one to press the pretty launch button. I warned her but did anyone listen? No, they never do. Sure, she stepped a little too close to the propulsion array and singed a few hairs… okay, all of her hair… but she was, otherwise, unharmed. But, was it my fault? No. I sent her flowers. I was very sympathetic. And… what did they call me?” I looked at Molly for an answer.

“A mad scientist?” she asked with small shrug.

“Right! A mad scientist. And… what about that time I delivered my Solar-Powered ZTA-54 Building Generator to the new Sport Complex in Shanetown? Do you remember what happened?”

Molly shrugged.

“I’ll tell you what happened. I gave them detailed instructions on how to hook it up and bypass the main electrical feed. It was meant to run everything in that building without a hic-up. It could have saved them millions. But did they listen? Noooooo. They had to have both hooked up. Greed. Greed, I tell you. And you remember what happened to the Shanetown Sports Complex, don’t you?”

“It imploded?”

“That’s right. It imploded. Thank goodness nobody was killed. I insisted that they keep it empty the first time it was turned on… I’m all about safety. But what did they call me?”

“A mad scientist?”

“Right! A mad scientist.”

Molly shrugged.

“Then there was that time when the government asked me to help them dismantle their failed attempt at a matter-to-anti-matter converter…”

“Your point, Uncle Buster?” She was no longer nibbling her lip or wrinkling her nose. One eyebrow was a little higher than the other and she was not blinking.

“My point?” (I have to admit, I do go off subject a bit and, at that moment, I was lost.) “My point was… ummm…. what were we talking about?”

“The kids at school teasing me… ‘calling you a mad scientist.”

“Right. Right,” I said and gave her my best-uncle-in-the-whole-world smile. “So, there you have it. And that’s all there is to it.” I threw my hands up and smiled a little more. Then I shook my head for that extra bit of impact. The shaking-head thing works a lot. I’ve brought many lengthy discussions to an end with my infectious head-nod.

She shook her head along with mine.

Success!

“Well, thanks for explaining that to me Uncle Buster,” she said. Then she sighed, turned and went back up the stairs.

“Any time, Kiddo. Any time. You need to talk about something, your old Uncle Buster is right here.”

The door to the basement shut with a little more force than I expected.
“You know where to find me,” I yelled through the door.

20140325-143812.jpg

It took a few weeks to decipher the transmission I had received on the old box.
I had been rummaging through retired equipment in the back of the lab. When I lifted the blanket from a pile in the corner the old s-58m receiver was twinkling. It was almost imperceptible. ‘Just a tiny light on the corner of the metal frame.
Blink… Blink… Blink…
I dragged it out into the middle of the room, plugged it in and powered it up.
The backup battery was still pumping a little trickle into the processor and TZ3 Converter.
The light was was indicating a message.
After a bit of extra pressure on the front plate, I brought the keyboard down and activated the main screen. Little green lights danced and pulsed as I typed in the commands necessary to get the main menu in place.
Oh… It took an hour of pacing and three cups of joe before I remembered the password. Why do I do that? I create passwords that are supposed to be easy to remember and then… Bah! Pacing, pacing, pacing.
Anyway… I remembered.
But, despite seeing the origination of the message and the date it hit the console, the content of the transmission required decryption. I uploaded the entire pack to the new console and as I did this, another message hit the screen.
This was very puzzling. Nobody should be up there…
If I remember those days correctly, they brought the crew back a long time ago.
Who is sending this communication? I had to know.
So, the decryption of the first message was complete.
As I was reading this remarkable tale I saw my personal computer flash a message.
The exact words I was reading had just been posted to my “Blog.” This blog. The blog Molly convinced me to start a while ago in order to get me communicating with the world.
I’ve seen many impossible things. I’ve invented impossible machines.
But this simple posting on the blog seemed more impossible than anything my mind could wrap around.
Someone was writing me from a time long past, to a machine long retired and it was posting onto a blog I have yet to understand.
I read the first post and then the second with my heart racing too fast for this old body.
When I was done, I needed air.
I don’t remember running up the stairs, out of the basement lab, or charging through the kitchen past my family…
Time skipped from my staring at the screen and suddenly being on the side porch, sucking the cold air into my lungs.
My heart was on fire. Was I having a heart attack?
No… I was not. I think…. Maybe not….
I’m not dead… So not.
I gasped and looked up into the night sky where stars twinkled and clouds drifted by like dark ghosts.
I felt the panic saturate my entire being.
Where is it?
Where is the moon?

20140131-110046.jpg