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Wednesday, April 09, 2014

Voicemail from Kenny, received Sunday, May 26, 2013 - three minutes

Voicemail from Kenny, received Sunday, May 26, 2013 - three minutes

Hey Sam.  It’s me man, it’s Kenny.  I’ve been holding out on this call, just hoping that things worked out.  But it hit me today like a bolt of lightning, and I wanted to say that I get it now.  You fooled me!  I know you didn’t go back in time.  There’s just no way.  Come on, Sam!

Look, I knew all along that you weren’t going back to fix that land deal that got your grandpa shot.  It was obvious that you wanted to go back for Ann.  That’s why you set the target year for ninety-six.  Thirty-five year-old you was going to creep it up and try to pick up eighteen year-old her, that first year in college.  Or maybe you were going to risk destroying the space-time continuum by trying to talk eighteen year-old you into driving cross country for her.  Either way, I’ve been watching her Facebook for ripples, and there’s nothing.  You’re still not one of her friends, and she’s still married to that real estate guy from San Mateo.

So I started to get suspicious, especially of how you picked an impossible dead drop for passing messages.  Like I’m going to drive to Ohio to hunt through a copy of The Stand at your high school library?  You know my car overheats on the highway!  But still, everything in the field was so convincing that I nearly bought that Greyhound ticket, until I realized I could keep tabs on the Ann situation online.

It was crazy in the field when you and the machine just vanished.  No wobbling around, no time field distortion, just there one second and gone the next.  When I realized I was duped, I thought that maybe you pulled a Copperfield with smoke and mirrors.  But I looked all over the field that day and didn’t see any pieces of the machine, or any smoke or mirrors.  Then I thought that you might have shrunk yourself and the machine down and hid in the grass.  Except you knew that I’d walk all over the field to look for any parts of you or the machine, and I’d probably step on you.  And then it hit me - you teleported!  I don’t know if you found a quick mod to convert the machine, or if all this time you were building a teleporter and lying to me about the time machine.  Either way, I should have been kept apprised of that sort of thing, since it was my disability money and my parents’ savings that funded everything.

I really hope you’re someplace where you can check your voicemail.  I understand that the machine wasn’t a sure thing, but if it wasn’t going to work you should’ve told me.  I just hope we can sell off the more expensive computer parts, and the fifty-two Prius batteries, because that second mortgage I talked my folks into has a balloon payment coming up real quick.  I figured that was no big deal, because you’d be making serious cash on the races if the machine had worked.

Anyway, please come clean and call me back soon.  I tried to email, but my messages all bounced back.  And I was going to leave you a letter, but your mailbox has somebody else’s name on it already, so I’m assuming you didn’t take my advice and pre-pay your rent for the next few months.

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