The World of Computer Software/World_Of_Computer_Software-02-387-Vol-3of3.iso/r/rubyv19.zip/RUBY19-8

Text File | 1993-02-19 | 9KB | 147 lines

Copyright 1992(c)
                           TIME FLIES
                        By John Chambers

     Benjamin Walker's interest in speed began in his youth. Ben
would often think of this while he was playing baseball or
football, just hoping to get that split-second jump on his
opponent. He thought of it as he ran and played with his friends,
and it filled his boyhood dreams. Ben wanted to be the best and
the fastest at everything he did.
     As Ben grew into a young teenager he became interested in
electronics. He studied for many hours to learn Morse Code, and
earned his ham radio license during his fifteenth year. He read
every electronics book he could find, and spent endless hours
tinkering with the electronic items he would find in the
neighborhood trash piles on Monday mornings. Ben's room, and then
his parent's garage, began to fill with televisions, radios,
telephones, antennas, digital clocks, and anything else with
electronic insides. Ben spent hours pouring over his finds,
searching for just the right transistor or resistor for his
projects.
     Ben's knowledge of electronics and physics grew as he
continued to read and experiment. The hours he spent studying
electronic tables and schematics began to turn Ben into a recluse,
but he was happy. People who knew Ben would describe him as
obsessive and introverted, even weird. Ben lived on the fringes of
that great bell curve which describes human behavior.
     Ben still dreamed about time. He could imagine himself
standing at home plate as the pitcher wound up for the toss, and
everything would be in slow motion. Ben could see the ball coming
toward him like a big ripe melon, and he would time his swing just
right. In his dreams, Ben always won the game in the bottom of the
ninth, to the loud cheers of the fans. Somewhere in Ben's mind he
just knew that he could control time and make his dreams come true.
     The hours of study and reading served him well, and when he
graduated from high school he won a scholarship to M.I.T. Ben
studied hard through college, avoiding most of the other students
and their activities.
     Upon graduation, Ben accepted a position as a research
physicist with the federal government. It was the perfect job for
him. He had his own laboratory and projects, and his supervisor
seldom bothered him. Ben worked hard on several projects, and spent
time thinking about his "time machine."
     Ben's time machine wasn't your typical science fiction time
machine. It wasn't intended to propel you into the past or the
future. Ben's machine would speed up time in a very small area.
     If Ben were to explain it, it would go something like this:
The machine would speed up time in small increments in a small
area. His dream was to invent a small machine that he could attach
to himself in order to speed up his apparent time. With such a
machine, Ben would appear to have fantastic reflexes. He could win
any foot race, outrun any football player, and speed around the
bases in a baseball game. A time machine such as the one Ben was
designing would answer the dreams of every small boy in the world.
     Being the sort of person that he was, Ben worked every free
hour in the design of his time machine. He studied every paper he
could locate on the subject, and conducted hundreds of experiments.
At the tender age of 23, three short years after he left college,
Ben produced the first working model of his time machine.
     The first model was about the size of a refrigerator, much too
large to be of any use to Ben. The area in which it would
accelerate time was too small, about the size of a shoe box. It
worked though, and that was all that mattered to Ben. By using the
220 volt outlet for his clothes dryer, Ben could generate a small
but strong series of pulses that would alter the flow of time.
     He placed various small insects and rodents between the output
probes and watched as they sped up while they were within the
limited range of his machine. He could place his wrist between the
probes and see the second hand on his watch speed around the dial.
Ben knew it worked, and threw himself deeper into his project.
     After about five more years of research and experimentation,
Ben solved most of the problems with his machine. He created a
small nuclear reactor that ran on Uranium filched from the lab, and
solved the problems of size. Ben's machine would now fit in a small
backpack, and he placed the probes in contact with his body. He
was elated with the results. The reactor could easily supply the
large amount of power needed, and it would run for hundreds of
years.
     Ben strapped the pack containing his machine onto his back,
and went outside for the first real test of his invention.
Standing at the bus stop, Ben took his little hand-held remote and
set the running time for one minute. He then set the speed for
twice the "real" time. When the bus arrived he pushed the "start"
button. It was an amazing experience. When he pushed the button,
everything around him slowed just a little. Ben dashed around the
passenger who was stepping onto the bus and ran up to the driver,
token in hand. The driver looked shocked to see this fellow appear
so suddenly, and just stared at Ben. Ben took his seat as the first
passenger dropped her token into the machine. It had actually
worked! A couple of seconds later the machine shut off and time
became normal again. Ben leaned back and smiled.
     Ben was the first passenger to exit the bus when it arrived
downtown, although he was the last to leave his seat. This was fun!
He spent the afternoon popping in front of unsuspecting
pedestrians, grabbing cabs before others could get their hands up,
and generally playing around with his machine. He tried different
settings and times, and the machine worked perfectly.
     When he got home that evening he was tired and happy. He went
to sleep knowing that his dreams were going to come true.
     The following morning, Ben again took the bus downtown. He
decided to play "shoplifter" once or twice, and managed to grab
several objects and run away without ever being seen. He could
speed up his "personal time" so that he would only appear as a blur
to others.
     Ben had tried several time settings, increasing his "personal
time" with each turn of the little knob. Ever curious, Ben finally
decided to go all the way. He turned the timer setting all the way
to the right, and then did the same with the "speed" knob. He was
anxious to see the results.
     When Ben hit the "start" switch everything stopped. Ben stood
and looked around in awe. He had increased his "personal time" so
much that everything around him actually stopped. Pedestrians were
standing on one foot, waiting to finish their next step. A cup of
coffee that was being poured when Ben hit the button had stopped
in mid-stream.
     Ben wandered around among the other pedestrians and smiled at
their antics. He could go anywhere he wanted, do what he wanted,
and he would not even be seen by those around him.
     After walking for about two blocks, Ben started tiring. He
looked for a bench along the main street, located one, and sat.
Still smiling at what he had accomplished, Ben looked down at the
remote control in his hands.
     "What?", Ben said aloud. His hands looked older somehow, and
Ben jumped up to find a mirror. Half a block away Ben found a
clothing store and rushed in. He walked to the fitting room and
found a full length mirror.
     What Ben saw in the mirror was shocking. He was no longer in
his late twenties. He looked about seventy. His hair was white,
his beard was long and white, and he was very wrinkled.
     Ben grabbed the remote and tried to turn the knobs. His hands
were getting frail now, and it was difficult to grab the slick,
small buttons. He tried again, but just couldn't get a grip on the
knobs. He felt a terrible pain in his hands, apparently arthritis.
Getting desperate, Ben held the remote control up to his mouth in
an attempt to grab the knobs with his teeth, but they had fallen
out.
     Ben was having trouble standing now, and sat on a nearby
chair.
                              ***
     Mr. Rosenthal, manager of the clothing store, yelled angrily
at young Jack Babbitt, the store clerk. "Get over here Jack!"
     Jack came over to where Mr. Rosenthal was standing and looked
in the direction of his pointing finger.
     "Some damned hippie left his dirty backpack on my new chair,"
he said. "Now clean up this pile of dirt and throw that filthy
thing into the trash."
                               END