Sigmund Deaves: Timepiece

Chapter 6: Mad Man With a Watch

The supposed "Timepiece," as Henry called it, displayed the time 5:15. This time was exactly five minutes ahead of what Sigmund's internal clock told him, so it was likely just some trick of the watch. Everything the watch had done so far could have been described by Sigmund easily without defaulting to "time machine." Well, everything except for the teleportation.

The teleportation thing didn't mesh too well with what Sigmund understood about reality. A moment ago he was in a hospital filled with sterile instruments, sick people, and people who knew bigger words than him, and a moment later he found himself in the Chess Room which was completely devoid of anything mentioned before. Sigmund stared at the device in his hand with evidence that it was something extraordinary, but his mind refused to believe such notions. Below, as usual, screeched something completely unhelpful: It's a time machine! Just like you always wanted. Now you can fly around in time without a care in the world. Can't you imagine the impossibilities!? Above said: Time machines are impossible. However, I must admit that it might be a teleporter that's pretending to be a time machine.

Sigmund sat at his, or rather the CCP's, desk and stared directly at the Timepiece. He sat in a light blue reclining chair; Sigmund requested a chair made specifically for him after he had been the CCP for over a year. However, even with his seniority, Sigmund did not receive the chair for several months after this request. Odd, nothing in this thing would signify that it's anything more than a pocket watch. Whatever kind of technology it's using is so advanced that it doesn't even look advanced. What am I saying!? This is impossible! Then again, why did I decide to use it without thinking when I left the hospital? He started running his hands forward and backward through his hair, the same motion he made in the game with Jessica Ozark. It took him about three seconds to come up with a way to test whether the Timepiece was everything it claimed to be. All he'd have to do was keep one eye on the clock on the wall while using the Timepiece to "jump" forward one minute.

After getting in position to do the experiment, he brought up the black pocket watch so that he could see both it and the clock on the wall, 5:16. I must look like an idiot; intently staring at a pocket watch. I'm so glad the security cameras can't see me if I'm in here. Sigmund Deaves cleared his throat before speaking to the pocket watch, he probably didn't actually have to be so polite to it, "One minute into the future. Stationery... please."

As far as Sigmund was concerned, nothing changed after he had spoken the words into the Timepiece. That is, until he checked the clock on the wall, 5:17. One minute ahead, eh? So, according to the criteria I set myself this is... a... time machine. Below, victorious, said: I told you! Above was surprisingly quiet and did not respond with a witty retort.

"This is a time machine. This thing... this thing that I'm holding in my hand. It's not possible, but it's there, in my hand. This... this is... perfect. Absolutely monumentally perfect in every way imaginable. Imagine the possibilities... with this I can go anywhere, anywhen, even. No, wait, "anywhen" is far too cliché. Any time or place in the world, no, the universe. I can go to: Paris, Berlin, Beijing, New York, Tokyo, Toronto, Moscow, D.C., Los Angeles, hell... I could go to other planets. And the implications are tremendous. I can use this to do anything. Win lottery tickets? No, too small scale. Stop bad events from happening? No, paradoxes. Visit important events? Certainly. The questions this raise. Who created the Timepiece? Is there some kind of entity in place to stop me from destroying the time stream? If so, why haven't they contacted me yet? But those are all thoughts for another time, only one thing is important right now. I HAVE A TIME MACHINE!!" If anyone was listening they would probably think he was crazy two times over.

Sigmund very nearly started dancing at the last thought, but he settled on a smile that reached from ear to ear. It was the kind of smile that would warrant a brief stint in a white room and a tight jacket. The only thing that stopped him from jumping between major landmarks until morning was Above. You do remember that your car is still parked at the hospital. Someone might get suspicious. Sometimes, Above really got under Sigmund's skin despite the fact that he was usually right. "Oh yeah," he said verbally, "I can test something while doing that. What'll happen if I don't specify a time?"

He whipped out the Timepiece, now with much more confidence, and flipped it open. Inside the Timepiece was an analog clock that ticked away slowly as if to stress the fact that the stream of time was unending. Sigmund said to the Timepiece, now much more to the point, "Driver's side of my car."

This time when he jumped Sigmund noticed a difference. His body folded into a sitting positions from the standing posture he had a moment ago. The madman's smile was still evident on Sigmund's face as he turned on the car. The sound of the car starting muffled the sound of a brief cackle. The ride home took approximately four minutes of hard acceleration, violent turning, and jarring stops. At some point during the car ride, Sigmund became aware of just how inferior this method of transportation was to the Timepiece. With the Timepiece he could be anywhere instantly, but the car, hindered by the laws of physics, had to take a certain amount of time to get from point A to point B. Where should I visit first? 1914? 1945? Maybe even the year I was born. Probably not, that would just be too surreal.

He parked his ancient bright red car in his family's garage with a small amount of disgust. I'm not done with it yet; I still need to keep up appearances. It just simply wouldn't do if someone realized that I teleported to school every day. Sigmund walked quickly to his small cubic room and stepped inside.

Sigmund's room was simultaneously very utilitarian and very disorganized. Pushed over to one side of the sparse room was a single twin-sized mattress which was not supported by a bedframe. One pillow and a blanket were piled up on top of the mattress in a state of gross neglect. Next to this pile of a bed was a closed laptop trapped under an assortment of black wires. The laptop was necessary because, as a modern day high school student, almost all of his homework couldn't be found without access to the internet. Sigmund was sure this was just another way that the class system had manifested itself, but that's a story for another time.

The only light sources in the room were a rarely used bulb attached to the ceiling and the laptop's screen. Sigmund would spend much of his time in complete darkness, just thinking silently to himself for hours on end. So, he figured, it wouldn't be too odd if the door to his room was locked until the next day. Immediately after locking the door he leaned against it, giggling like a madman. With a quick and dirty flourish, Sigmund unraveled his tie and unbuttoned his collar. Violent giggling and a rapid train of thought were saturated throughout all of Sigmund's being. One thought laid at the center of it all. This is gonna be so much fun.