Not Their Time  

   The aircraft eventually leveled off, and the whine of the jet engines settled into a steady hum. There was something about air travel that always made Chris relaxed, even sleepy. He tended to be a little more introspective as well. Right now the sun streamed in through the tiny window, and he felt optimistic; maybe this assignment wouldn't be that bad after all.
   His thoughts then turned to his ex-wife. He and Jessie had developed a comfortable, relaxed friendship of late. As he got older, he valued this kind of relationship. Dating could be a lot of fun, but he often tired of the pressure, and the games. Just having someone like Jessie to talk to was a definite asset. She seemed to know what he was thinking, and that appealed to him.
   He checked his watch. 12:44 p.m. Las Vegas was three hours behind, so he carefully changed the numbers to 9:44 a.m. These damned digital watches are so complicated, he thought. Looking at the new time, he laughed; there were now three extra hours in his life, but then again, maybe not. Humans are obsessed with this arbitrary concept of time. It's only relative; sometimes it moves too slowly, and sometimes it moves too fast.
   They hadn't spoken since take-off, so Chris turned to his traveling companion and broke the silence:
   "What do you make of this business, Jess?"
   Jessie put down her magazine. "You mean, do I think that dead celebrities really are showing up in a little town in the middle of the Nevada desert?"
   "No. I mean, will we look silly covering a story that should be in the National Enquirer. I've taken pictures at some pretty strange events, but I like to think it was always a case of 'truth being stranger than fiction' . I only cover real stories - I have a pretty good reputation right now."
   Jessie couldn't resist: "Like for your male fantasy shots of all those beach bunnies chasing a volleyball around in the sand?"
   "Hey - Beach Volleyball is serious business, now. It's the fastest growing sport, and it's attracting huge sponsors. These players actually make money playing volleyball on the beach. It's a $200 million dollar business, for Gods' sake! I think that's a valid story. If I..."
            Chris stopped. He realized she was just goading him into making a speech. He hated that, but he knew there was no malice intended. Jessie just liked to press people's buttons every now and again. Ignoring her smug little grin, he continued with his original thought.
   "This whole thing is obviously a hoax, designed to bring some attention to the middle of nowhere. I mean, who ever heard of Eureka, Nevada?"
   "I think we should keep an open mind." said Jessie. "Maybe it is a hoax. If it is, it will be a human interest story, and I intend to write a fair and objective account of whatever we find there. You shouldn't be so quick to judge things."
   Jessie took pride in her chosen career as a journalist. She sometimes resented being sent on what she considered 'fluff' stories. But being fairly junior, she saw this as part of paying her dues. In fact, the worse the assignment, the harder she worked.
   The airplane hit some turbulence, and the seat belt sign popped on with an electronic 'ping'. Jessie grabbed the arm rest tightly, and then felt a little self-conscious for being alarmed. She never got used to the concept of flying. It seemed to her a very risky proposition; stuck in a metal machine full of explosive fuel 40,000 feet above the ground. Whenever there was a horrible crash, she refused to even think about it. She didn't like having fears, in fact, she hated having any kind of weaknesses at all. But Jessie was quite definitely a 'white-knuckled flyer'. Chris sensed her unease, and continued the conversation:
   "Anyway...I learned long ago not to argue with you."
   "That's because you don't like losing". Jessie was eager to take her mind off the flight.
   "I can beat you at anything, lady!"
   "Oh, ya - name one thing."
   Chris thought for a few seconds. "Arm wrestling." He felt a little silly for saying it.
   "I let you win" she replied.
   "Did not."
   "Did too."
   "Did not!"
   "Did too!"
   Chris rolled his eyes. He certainly couldn't win at this game. Jessie laughed, and punched his arm. As the aircraft settled down again, they both fell silent. She went back to her magazine while he stared thoughtfully out the airplane's scratchy window at the passing farmland. Ten minutes saw a small village and large, meandering river pass beneath his view.
   "Why did we break up?" he suddenly asked.
   Jessie smiled as she turned to him. "Because you were just too immature." She noticed that he didn't react, and nudged his arm. "You just wouldn't grow up, and acted like a child all the time!"
    His eyes were still fixed outside, but he was smiling now: "Did not!"
   "Did too!"
   "Did not!"
   One of the other passengers did a half-turn, and Jessie instinctively lowered her voice. "Did too, did too, did too!" She giggled, and waited for his reply.
   Chris was quiet for a moment, then turned to look at her. "We did have some good times together, didn't we? I mean, if you had it to do all over again, you would, wouldn't you?
   It was Jessie's turn to look away now. She didn't like to think much about the past. She had made a few mistakes, but that was behind her. If there was one thing she was good at, it was moving on. After the divorce, it had been surprisingly easy to get on  with her life. Maybe it was because they were so young, or maybe it was because the split was quite painless...
   Chris was watching her, hoping for some kind of response.
   "Oh, sure...we had a lot of fun back then. At least for awhile."
   Chris was about to say something, but thought better of it. By now the constant noise from the aircraft's engines seemed to overpower the thread of the conversation. Jessie closed her eyes and Chris put on a pair of headphones to watch the in-flight movie. The air seemed to get colder, and some of the passengers were wrapping blankets around themselves.

   There was a double bump as the plane's massive tires grabbed the pavement. Everything rattled and shook and the engines whined, fighting the tremendous forward momentum. Soon flight 224 had slowed to a taxi, and the captain's dispassionate voice welcomed everyone to Las Vegas. Jessie woke up with a start, and looked over at Chris.
   "Here we are." she stated the obvious through a fog of drowsiness.
   Chris smiled and started collecting all their carry-on gear. He had been awake the whole way, and was anxious to get out and stretch. Leaving the plane, they both noticed how much hotter it was in Nevada. They also noticed the exciting sights and sounds of a few hundred slot machines right inside the airport terminal. The oppressive din irritated Chris, but Jessie found it stimulating.
   "D'ya want to hit the slot machines first?" Jessie was only half serious as she said this. Although she couldn't visit Las Vegas without going to the casinos, she really wanted to get her assignment completed first. That's the way it was with her - work before play.
   Chris laughed. "Tell you what. If you want to gamble, let’s flip a coin to see who gets to drive."
   "You're on." she replied. After losing the toss, she looked at him with narrowed eyes. "You must have cheated. I want best 2 out of 3!"
   "Oh, God" said Chris, "I've got to get you out of this town. In a few more minutes you'll be gambling away our return tickets."
   "Wanna bet?"
   They both laughed, and headed towards the car rentals. After a brief wait in line, Chris gave his name to a rather bored looking young man at the America-Wide rental desk. He typed methodically into his computer, and spoke without looking up.
   "Mr. Mills? I have a compact car reserved in your name. There are a few '96 Dodge Neon Coupes with air conditioning still available."
   "Can we get a red one?" Jessie stepped forward to make her request.
   "Yes, Mrs. Mills, I have one left."
   Chris laughed out loud, but instantly regretted it as he met Jessie's cold hard stare. She slowly turned back to the clerk with a professional smile. "Actually, it's Ms. Dickenson."
   "Sorry." the young man responded mechanically, "The plate number is VMN 829, and it's parked in lot 7-G."
   Chris was grinning, but bit his lip. He knew when not to tease her, and now was one of those times. He silently took the keys, and grabbed the bags. He noticed that somehow he was carrying her bags, as well as his own. Jessie walked on ahead looking at a small map she'd just taken from the desk.
   When they got to the car, Chris took out his Nikon. "Smile!...that's it - work with me, baby!"  Jessie turned, and he snapped a few frames. Her expression was more of patience than anything else.
   "You and your damned camera." she said, "I look horrible after that flight!"
   "Nonsense - you always look perfect." That was a lie, but it was meant as a peace offering.
   After some arguing about how to get out of the airport, they found themselves on a highway traveling north into the desert. Jessie held onto the little map tightly; she was convinced that Chris would get them lost, and the map seemed to be her only protection from his often spontaneous change of plans. But at least for now, they were headed in the right direction. Jessie found a good rock station on the radio, and enjoyed the passing scenery.  
   Forty minutes traveling brought them to a partially hidden exit from the Inter-State.
   "This is it, here." Jessie said without warning.
   The old road looked pretty primitive, and the sign was ancient, but Chris made a quick left. The Neon fish-tailed on the loose gravel before he could slow down.
   "Who taught you to drive?" Jessie asked with a smile. She was thinking about the time Chris had taught her when they first met.
   Not long after turning onto this deserted road, the weather started to change. A bright afternoon sun was being swallowed up by dark, boiling clouds coming from the north. The speed with which they moved was unreal. Out of this darkening horizon, an old rusty pick-up appeared. As it passed, a stone flew up and hit the windshield with a loud crack. A small chip appeared on the passenger’s side, and Jessie flinched.
   "We bought insurance, didn't we?" She asked.
   "Yes, but I think we have to pay the deductible." Chris replied.
   Then the pick-up truck passed them, and a stone flew up and hit the windshield with a loud crack. A small chip appeared as Jessie flinched.
   "We bought insurance, didn't we?" She asked.
   "Yes, but I think we have to..." Chris stopped. He had the most overwhelming sense of deja vu. But looking over at Jessie's puzzled face, he realized it was more than that.
   "What just happened?” He asked.
   "I...I think everything happened twice. Did you see it too?"
   "Yes, but...how could that be possible?" Chris felt as if he was in a dream, only he knew that he wasn't.
   "Maybe we're both over-tired". Jessie suggested this more as a defense than an explanation. She had a bad feeling about this, and wanted to somehow shrug it off.
   "Ya, that's probably it." said Chris. But he knew that it wasn't. 
   The rock 'n roll station they were listening to started to pick up static, and soon the music faded completely. Chris scanned up and down the dial, but found nothing. Out of frustration, he switched to the a.m. band, and a peppy instrumental version of 'In The Mood' crackled on. Chris frowned, and continued his search.
   "No." Jessie protested, "I like this old music. It's timeless."
   Chris went back to the station. It was kind of catchy, he thought. The song was finishing, anyway, and an enthusiastic voice announced:
   "That little ditty was dedicated to our brave boys in the 7th Army Air Force, out there in the Pacific somewhere. Come on home, guys! And now a word from our sponsors. Ladies, want to look best for your man? Want to give him a perfect home to return to? Then just listen to what we have to offer.."
   Chris turned the volume down and smiled at Jessie: "I guess this oldies station really is timeless. They saved all the old dedications and commercials, just for realism."
   "Or..." Jessie said in mock excitement, "maybe we've gone back in time!"
   "Ya, really."  said Chris, "Just don't let me forget to buy shares of IBM."
   They both laughed and Chris turned the volume back up. A hopelessly perky woman was singing "...Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me...". They looked at each other and smiled. This station was certainly amusing.
   Chris concentrated on driving for awhile, but eventually spoke up: "I suppose that time travel is possible - but we can only understand the concept of time from our narrow little perspective. Our experience is based on a beginning and an end. We can't deal something that has no beginning or..."
   "What about a circle?" Jessie interrupted. She'd heard most of his theories before.
   "Hmm...Good point! But using the analogy of a circle is a conceptual leap of faith - at least for me, anyway - I keep wondering what's outside the circle."
   "You would."
   The dark clouds continued rolling ominously over top of them, and their little rental car was buffeted by sudden gusts of wind. Jessie had that same look she got on the airplane.
   Chris smiled at her. "And another thing that makes time travel seem unlikely is this: someone from the future is eventually going to come back to make a change, for better or worse. Somebody else won't like it, or may want to make a change of his own..."
   "...or her own!"
   "Right, but the point is this: given the infinite expanse of time, there will eventually be, or should I say, already are, an infinite number of changes being made to our version of history."
   Jessie thought for a moment. "You mean, one person could come back thousands of times in a vain attempt to have her life turn out better?"
   "Exactly. And multiply that times everybody that is born after time travel is invented! There would be an infinite number of attempts to change even one moment in time, say...a pivotal event like the exploding of the first atomic bomb."
   "Hey..." said Jessie, "that would make a great story. Going back in time to stop mankind from inventing nuclear weapons."
   "I guess so - similar theories are already out there. In fact, there are those that believe the original testing of atomic bombs attracted attention from outer space. The big Roswell UFO incident just happened to be in this same desert and not too long after the first explosion..."
   Just as Chris finished this last thought, the horizon suddenly shrunk, and objects within the car seemed to lose their previous solid properties. He and Jessie felt as if they had been turned to sand, and were leaking out of the containers that were their bodies. Chris tried desperately to steer, but there was no longer anything that resembled a car. There was only a constantly shifting gray texture, and then nothing.

   It slowly became apparent that they were driving down the highway again, not sure of what happened or why. The confusing black-out seemed like it was years ago, yet Chris knew it was only seconds before. And now it was bright and sunny again. Neither spoke, each assuming the other was in their dream. But Jessie realized she felt sick to her stomach, and eventually spoke:
   "I don't feel well."
   Hearing her voice, Chris snapped out of his trance and pulled the car over to the side of the road. He turned to Jessie.
   "Are you going to be okay?" He felt a little dizzy himself.
   "Yes...I think so." She looked at him. "What on earth was that?"
   "I don't know, but something sure is wrong. Maybe some fumes leaked inside the car. Maybe the government was doing some kind of experiment, and it got out of hand. Maybe a strong earthquake..."
   Jessie interrupted. "Maybe you just don't know. Why do you always have to know everything?" she realized she sounded a little irritated, and paused. "Let's not worry about trying to explain things; let’s just figure out what we're going to do next."
   "Do we keep going?" Chris asked.
   "Unless you're too chicken," Jessie's sense of humour had returned. "I'll hold your hand if it gets too scary!"
   Chris smiled. "Sure. And this from a lady who's afraid of cute little mice!"
   "Rats," she corrected, "big ones, and so were you!"
   "Was not!"
   "Were too."
   Chris put the car in gear, and drove off. "...was not."

   Jessie took out her lap top and began typing. She wanted to document everything as it happened. Chris helped her by giving his impressions, but they tried to stick to the facts whenever possible. They enjoyed working together like this; it gave them a sense of teamwork. They were closer than they had been in years.
   A lone figure stood at the side of the road, his thumb out for a ride. His look was straight from the forties, complete with a fedora hat and two tone shoes. He also looked a little on the grubby side, but Chris couldn't resist.
   "I gotta give this guy a ride" he explained as he pulled over.
   "Are you sure that's a good idea?" asked Jessie.
   "You're a journalist, ask him questions."
   As the car stopped, Jessie noticed a bewildered look on the strangers face. She had to get out to let him in the back seat. But he just stood there for a few seconds, puzzled.
   "Hi. I'm Jessie, and that's Chris." She used a relaxed, but professional tone, the one that put most people at ease. Chris bent forward and waved.
   "I'm Jack." he said, offering his hand to Jessie. She shook it tentatively. It was very rough, but at least clean. She made a mental note: he does manual labour.
   "What is this, some kind of space car?" Jack climbed awkwardly into the back seat.
   "It's just a cheap old Dodge." Chris said as he put the car in gear.
   "I've never seen no Dodge like this. There's no fenders, and the headlights ain't even round...where the heck's the back doors?" Jack was looking around as he spoke, seemingly fascinated with every little detail. "This is the smallest car I ever seen."
   Jessie turned around to their new guest in the back seat. "By the way, we're going to Eureka. I hope that's okay for you."
   "That'll be Jim Dandy by me, ma'm." Jack took off his hat, and fiddled nervously with it. "Say ... are you two famous or something?"
   Smiling, Jessie asked him: "What makes you say that?
   " It's...it's just that you're dressed funny. And nobody normal has an automobile like this here one. Fact is, no one 'round here can afford a new car, what with the war and all."
   It was clear to Jessie that this man was out of step with the nineties. She decided to find out more about him, to see what made him tick. Skillfully she asked questions about his life and his past; but not so forward as to sound like an interrogation. Soon Jack's experiences in the depression and the second world war came to light. The odd thing about his whole story was the immediacy of events that happened over fifty years ago, not to mention the fact that he was still a fairly young man.
   Chris marveled at Jessie's talent for getting people to open up, and he listened quietly. But this guy had to be some kind of clever hoax - he didn't mention a single event that happened after 1945. Chris finally interrupted:
   "Say, Jack - what year do you think it is?"
   Both Jack and Jessie stared at him, but for different reasons. Jack paused. "...Don't you know?"
   Chris noticed the familiar don't-say-anything-more look in Jessie's eyes, but it was too late, he was committed now.   
   "I always forget!"
   "How could you forget it's '46? You drink too much on New Year's?"
   They all laughed it off, but the conversation was awkward after that. Jack seemed a bit self-conscious, and his enthusiasm towards the questions stopped. Chris still thought the man a con, but Jessie saw genuine confusion in his reactions; Jack sincerely believed it was 1946.

   Up ahead Chris saw an intersection with the first signs of civilization. Run down would be a generous description of this tiny village. There were buildings of sorts on all four corners. Covered with faded wooden boards, they all looked as if they were built by the same carpenter. A classic billboard advertising Coca-Cola provided a splash of colour.
   The gas station was the main attraction here. A solid looking Hudson was parked out front, and just behind that, a Model-T Ford. The Ford was in fairly good shape; it was just missing the front wheels. With two old-fashioned pumps providing shade, a lazy beagle was taking an afternoon nap. He opened one eye as they approached.
   "Here's just fine for me. My brother-in-law owns this here fillin' station." Jack suddenly spoke up again.
   "No problem." Chris pulled into the station, and instinctively checked his gas gauge. It was almost empty. "It looks like we need a fill up, anyway."
   "But we've only been driving for an hour." Jessie protested.
   "See for yourself." said Chris.
   She didn't bother, but instead let Jack out of the back seat.
   "Thanks for the ride, folks. Ron, he's my brother-in-law, he'll be glad to fix you up. Business is still pretty slow around these parts."
   A burly man in greasy overalls came out of the largest of four shacks, wiping his hands on an old rag as he went. He saw the little red car and his jaw dropped.
   "You must be Ron." Jessie smiled and offered her hand.
   The man silently shook her hand, his eyes glued to the car. A smile came over his face as he spoke:
   "Is this some kind of toy? I never seen no car like this."
   "It's a Dodge, too." added Jack.
   "Maybe just a baby Dodge." Ron laughed proudly at his own joke.
   "All the same," said Chris "we could use a fill up. We're on our way to Eureka, and we're almost out of gas."
   Jessie rummaged through her purse. "Oh, by the way, do you take traveler's cheques?"
   "I don't take no cheques from strangers." Ron obviously had no idea what a traveler's cheque was.
   "What about credit cards?" Jessie had not brought any U.S. currency, just some change for the toll roads.
   "I'm sorry ma'am, I can't give ya credit, neither."
   Sounding a little worried, Chris offered : "I've only got a couple of tens, plus some Canadian money."
   "Canadian Money!? Don't know why ya want that, but this little car ain't goin' ta take but two or three dollars worth." Ron was amused that someone would mention Canadian money in the middle of the Nevada desert.
   Chris showed him where the tank was located, and asked about un-leaded gas. Ron gave him a great big grin. It was the grin he always gave city folk, especially those with no clue about practical matters.
   "You sure do talk funny." The spout wouldn't fit, so he let the gas dribble down in. The smaller opening confirmed his toy car theory.
   While the tank was being filled, Chris walked over to Jessie and whispered: "You know, I sure hope they're not as backward in town. Without credit cards and traveler's cheques, we're up the creek. It's a good thing I happened to have a little U.S. cash."
   "Maybe we're missing the point, Chris. Did you see the price of gas? Look these guys - they're just too real to be a setup. And what about that blackout during the storm? I just have a really bad feeling about all of this."
   "Come on now, Jess. Just listen to yourself. Do you really think that we've magically gone back in time? There has to be some other explanation!"
   Jessie thought for a moment, then pulled a cellular phone out of her purse. "Here," she said. "why don't you call home and talk to someone?"
   Chris dialed, but heard nothing more than mild static. "We're probably out of range. But there has to be a phone around here."
   Walking over to Ron, he asked: "Excuse me, could we use your phone? I'll reverse the charges, so it won't cost you anything. I'll even leave you a quarter."
   "A quarter for a phone call?" Ron was beaming again. "Sure, it's just inside the door." Damned city folk, he thought to himself;  they're always wanting to pay more than something was worth.
   After some considerable frustration with the local operator, Chris was finally talking to someone who could put him through to Canada, but it wasn't to be that easy.
   "Area code 905? Sir, there is no such thing. I can get you Toronto, but I've never heard of something called 'Area Code 905'." The woman's voice was friendly but overly patient, as if dealing with a young child. "Maybe if you give me the person's name and address, I can look it up in my book."
   Chris didn't feel like arguing with her. But he had an idea. "That may be a problem, I'm feeling a bit woozy...I can't even remember what day it is."
   She took the bait. "It's Saturday, sir; Saturday February 10th" and then sarcastically: "Nineteen hundred and forty-six."
   The fill-up came to a grand total of $3.57. Chris handed Ron a ten dollar bill. The man eyed it suspiciously, but put it in his pocket. It seemed to take him forever to count out the change; math obviously wasn't his strong suit.
   "Well?" Jessie had that familiar I'm-right-aren't-I look on her face. "Did you manage to talk to anyone?"
   "I'll give you this much, everything is consistent with the year 1946. Somebody sure has gone to a lot of trouble."
   "Even the operator?"
   "That would be easy to fake."
   "But why would anyone go to so much trouble? It certainly wouldn't be for our benefit; nobody knows we're doing a story. And we still can't account for that horrible feeling when the whole world turned upside down!"
   Chris had no immediate response. He grabbed his trusty Nikon, and took pictures instead. Photography always helped him calm down and think clearly. Chris didn't like being in limbo. The universe could be explained with science; cold logical science. Right now he didn't understand what was happening or why, but the possibility of a hoax was his only comforting thought.
  
  

   Traveling down the bumpy old road, Chris and Jessie were lost in their own thoughts. Neither one wanted to bring up the previous subject. The silence was awkward, and it was beginning to bring back sad little memories of their break-up.
   Chris looked at his watch. 3:30 - at least that made sense. Jessie saw him, and took the opportunity to start a new conversation.
   "Were did you get that tacky digital watch? I thought you hated them."
   "It was a Christmas present from Candice. I thought I'd wear it traveling so I won't lose my other watch. But you're right - it is tacky."
   "Candice? You mean Candy? I've always wondered, is that a 'y',  or an 'i' with a little heart instead of a dot?"
   Chris smiled. "You know, she was always impressed with you. In fact, I think she's jealous of your career. Anyway, we broke up a few weeks ago. There was nothing to talk about."
   Jessie suddenly felt badly about teasing him, but was secretly happy about Candice. Chris was wasting his time with her.
   "I'm sorry." It didn't sound convincing. With nothing more to say, she turned the radio on, and listened to the 'big band sounds of Tommy Dorsey and his Orchestra'.
    A tremendous roar drowned out the radio. Three huge propeller-driven aircraft were passing overhead at no higher than a hundred feet. Chris had never out-grown his childhood fascination, so pulled over and got out of the car. The uneven drone of the radial engines shook the ground in a stunning display of man-made power. Chris excitedly grabbed his camera.
   "Wow!" he shouted, focusing, "B-29's! Three of them, even. I've never seen one in the air, before. And they're in really good shape, too."
   "They're awful loud!" Jessie shouted as she stepped out. Moments later the planes disappeared over a distant ridge, shimmering in the hot desert air. She smiled to Chris, and remarked "Just a guess - but are they the type of airplanes you would expect to see in, say, 1946?"
   Chris didn't reply right away. They got back in the car and he drove off, looking very serious.
   "I'm going to take these pictures, and see if there's a local aircraft heritage society that can account for it. The U.S. Air Force certainly has no use for them." This plan made Chris feel better, but a little voice quietly suggested something was wrong. He was arguing that they weren't 50 years back in time, but he seemed to be losing...

   The sign ahead announced the city limits of Eureka, Nevada. Moving through the outskirts of town, they saw before them a perfect Hollywood set of the 1940's. The cars, the people and their outfits, even the advertisements were perfect in every detail. Their mouths opened in astonishment.
   The voice in the back of Chris' mind was now screaming at him. This was no hoax. He started to giggle, then laugh out loud. Jessie was laughing with him. How could this be? But look, there was no denying what they both saw. Somehow, it was 1946!
   Jessie spoke first: "What do we do now?"
   "I'll take pictures, and you take notes. That's why we're here."
   Chris pulled up outside a glass and steel storefront with a bright pink neon sign identifying itself as "Dan's Diner". It was by far the most colourful display in an otherwise drab looking town. He snapped a few pictures out the window, but by now people were starting to point and stare at their little red Neon. As they got out of the car, they realized they were surrounded by onlookers. Chris was starting to feel uncomfortable.
   "Brand new model." he said to nobody in particular. "Quite sporty, don't ya think?"
   Then quietly to Jessie: "Lets go in here for a cup of coffee or something."
   "Yes - we're drawing a crowd."
   They hurried inside and found a semi-private booth with chartreuse coloured seats. Tucked away in there they felt less conspicuous, and began to relax.  An attractive young waitress spotted them, and headed their way. She was dressed in a short frilly dress that matched the green of the seats, with a pink apron over top of that. Her shoes and the bow-shaped ribbon in her hair were also pink.
   "Hi, folks." she chewed gum as she spoke. "I'm Donna. We've only been open a few days, so we can't do anything too tricky." She eyed them with intelligence and maturity that seemed to conflict with her youth.
   "Two cups of coffee, please" said Chris, looking at Jessie for confirmation. She nodded yes, then added:
   "I'm a little hungry, can you make some toast, or something?"
   "The apple pie is pretty good, if you're interested"
   "That sounds great." smiled Jessie, and Donna headed back to the kitchen.
   The jukebox in the corner clicked, then buzzed briefly before a scratchy song started up. It was another bouncy number, and both Chris and Jessie smiled at the lyrics: 'Five foot two, eyes of blue...Has anybody seen my gal?'
   "Just wait 'till Elvis is discovered" joked Chris.
   Jessie noticed that other customers were looking in their direction. She spoke quietly to Chris. "You know, people are paying way too much attention to us. We could be in trouble if they ask a lot of questions. There's just too much that we won't be able to explain."
   "Like why I paid $130 for these Air Nike shoes?" He brought one foot awkwardly up to the table for emphasis.
   "Oh, stop." she frowned. Jessie didn't always appreciate his sense of humour. "Think about this: what if we were cornered, and had to explain where we came from. Nobody would believe us. They'd end up putting us in an institute."
   "Or worse," Chris was more serious now, "they could believe us. Then the CIA or the Army would perform all kinds of nasty tests on us. The military implications of what we've just done are staggering!"
   Jessie shuttered at that last thought. "Just be careful with what you say, okay?"
   "I'll let you do all the talking." whispered Chris, as Donna re-appeared with their coffee.
   "Two of the Nevada's best coffees!" announced Donna, as she carefully placed them on the table. "I'll  get your pie in a minute." She hesitated for a moment. "Excuse me for being forward, but are you two in some kind of trouble?"
   "Why do you ask?" said Jessie.
   "It's just that....well, you seem like you don't belong here. You look really lost."
   "No problem, she has a road map." Chris pointed to Jessie.
   "No, not that kind of lost. The kind of lost when your soul has been reincarnated, but in the wrong body. When I was a kid..." Donna stopped suddenly. She looked self-conscious. "Sorry, I'll go get your pie, now."
   After she'd left, Chris and Jessie looked wide-eyed at each other. They didn't speak, but shared the same thought: she knows. Somehow, she knows.
   Donna came back with two huge slices of apple pie, and placed them on the table. She looked over at the counter to make sure there were no customers waiting. Turning to Chris, she spoke in a serious tone.
   "I have a knack for reading people, and I'm usually right about their future. In fact, my friends tell me I'm clairvoyant. But with you, there is something out of place, I can't quite put my finger on it."
   Jessie was almost afraid to find out more about this persistent young woman, but her natural curiosity got the better of her. Being a journalist, she instinctively asked questions. "That's very interesting. I'd love to hear more, if you have some time..."
   Donna sat down instantly. "If I could read your palms, I'm sure I can tell you all about your future. I'm hardly ever wrong."
   Grabbing Chris' hand first, she carefully traced the lines with her finger tips. She looked excited, but didn't say anything. Then she reached over and grabbed Jessie's hand. A surprised and confused look spread over her face.
   "Both your life lines are wrong. It doesn't make sense to me, but neither of you should be born yet! And then again - you're sitting right in front of me."
   "Really..." Jessie began.
   "...and I'll tell you something about your future, too. You're going to get married one day, I just know it," Donna interrupted. "it may not last, but don't worry, though, 'cause it'll all work out in the end."
   "Actually," said Chris hesitantly, "we already have been married."
   Donna looked discouraged at this news. "Really? I can't understand it. It's...it's just not your time yet."
   Jessie felt Donna's disappointment, but couldn't tell her the truth. "Don't worry, you may be right in ways that no one could even imagine."
   Donna smiled inquisitively, but was distracted by Chris' digital watch. "Oh, well - I'm not always...say, is that ever a strange watch. Where are the hands? And look at all those little buttons. Are you Dick Tracy, or what?"
   Chris held it up for her to inspect. "There are no hands, just numbers. It's sort of like military time, but it only goes up to 12. There's a tiny little "p.m." down in the corner, see?"
   "How do the numbers change?" Donna had his wrist in a firm grip.
   "Oh, it's called liquid crystal..." Chris stopped as Jessie kicked him under the table.
   "It's only a toy." Jessie said.
   "Liquid crystal?" The time changed as she examined the numbers. Startled at first, a smile soon crept across her face. "Like a thin layer of dust forming numbers. How clever!" Donna glanced up and noticed another couple entering the diner. "Oops, gotta fly. I've got more customers."
   She headed to the front of the restaurant, and Chris closely followed her progress. He smiled, seemingly mesmerized by her walk.
   "Cute girl." remarked Jessie. She subtly emphasized the word girl.
   "Yes," said Chris, still watching her, "and she's pretty smart, too."
   Jessie suddenly changed the subject. "Chris, listen to me - I think we should leave, and try to get back to where we belong. This isn't right. God knows what we're doing to these peoples' lives just by talking to them."
   "Sure, but I want to get as much photographic proof as I can. Otherwise, who's going to believe us?" Chris took the lens cap off his camera. "I wonder if Donna would like her picture taken?"
   "I don't think photos will be enough to convince anyone, do you?"
   "Maybe not, but at least I'll have a record for myself." Chris beamed as Donna returned to their booth. "How would you like to pose for a picture, Donna?"
   "Oh, sure! Do you want my Betty Grable look?" she giggled. Turning her back to him, she smiled sweetly over her left shoulder.
   Jessie sighed, but kept her mouth shut while Chris took his pictures. Typical male, she thought - we have to get out of here without drawing attention to ourselves, and he's taking pictures to pin up on his wall!

   Outside a crowd was gathering around the now conspicuous red Neon. It certainly was an unusual sight for a lazy Saturday afternoon. There was a sense of excitement building; such a weird and wonderful automobile must surely belong to someone famous, or at least important. One man speculated that it was an experimental flying car, the aerodynamic shape helping it slide through the air. A few heads nodded in agreement.
   A patrol car drove by, then backed up and stopped. The lone officer slowly stepped out and adjusted his cap. He was older, and a bit out of shape, but moved with an air of quiet confidence. Checking his watch, he noted that it was 5:30 - his shift ended at 6:00. At first, he seemed mildly annoyed with the crowd, but perked up when he saw the tiny car. He approached, and most of the on-lookers dispersed, going about their afternoon's business. The officer circled once, then took off his hat to scratch his head. He was looking at the license plate.
   "What the..." he said to himself, then took out a note pad. He wrote down the number carefully, and sauntered back to his cruiser. He grabbed his two way radio.
   "Ya - Muriel, this is Frank. I want you to check out a plate number. Got a pencil...good. It's VMN, 829. What? oh, Victor Michael Norman. Ya, VMN, then 829. Thanks."
   He waited for a minute or so, then when back to examine the Neon.
   "Anyone know who owns this car?"
   A few people motioned towards the diner, but a 9 year old boy walked confidently up to him.
   "It belongs to those Hollywood movie stars, sir. They got loads of money. I saw them, they were dressed real funny. I'm gonna have a car just like that when I'm big."
   Frank patted the boy on the head. "Sure ya will, sonny. Movie stars, huh? Here in Eureka, on a Saturday afternoon. Don't that beat all."
   With that, officer Frank Williams entered Dan’s Diner in search of the odd little car's owners. Taking his hat off as he entered, he looked over and saw Donna. He gave her a big smile.
   "Hey, Donna - how's your father? Is he making any money in the restaurant business?"
   "We've had a few customers, but we're not Rockefellers yet!" Donna walked up and gave him a hug. " You here for a cup of coffee, Frank?"
   "No, thanks. Just checking on that car outside. The plates are for Nevada, but they're not like anything I've ever seen."
   "Oh, that's the couple over there in the corner. Real nice people."
   Chris saw the police uniform first, and his blood ran cold. This could be a real problem, he thought. There will be absolutely no record of the rental car anywhere. And if he checks our drivers' licenses, he's going to get a surprise!
   "Jessie, don't panic, but there's a cop coming towards us. I think he must have seen the car."
   Officer Williams approached their table, as Jessie turned around with a big smile.
   "Afternoon, folks" he said in a friendly, but official tone. "You own the car outside?"
   Chris jumped into action. "Sure do. That's the newest model from Dodge. She sure is one sweet little jallopy. Runs like a dream on just four cylinders."
   Frank wasn't about to be side-tracked by small talk, but was a car enthusiast, all the same. "Just four cylinders, huh? What'll she do? Eighty? Ninety?"
   "Not sure, Officer..." Chris read the badge name "...Williams, the speed limit's only sixty."
   "Yes, it is." Frank was unimpressed with the law abiding act. "All the same, I'd like you to come outside for awhile. I've got some questions about your registration."
   They got up and headed for the door. There was a low rumbling sound, and the floor shook. Frank appeared alarmed at first, but shrugged his shoulders.
   "Must be testing those damned atom bombs again." he muttered.
   Chris used the diversion to walk over to Donna and try and clear the bill. He had no idea what was about to happen next, but he didn't want to leave without paying.
   "Oh, that's okay - it's on me." Donna said pleasantly. "You two are so nice."
   Chris was grateful because of their money situation, but wanted to do something in return. With time to think, he probably would have realized the implications of leaving advanced technology in the past. But on the spur of the moment, he took off his watch and gave it to her.
   Donna started to object, but Chris was already half way out the door. "Thanks, Mister! I hope everything works out for you."

   Dark clouds appeared seemingly out of nowhere; stealing the late afternoon warmth. Within moments a violent, shifting wind had panicked people chasing their hats, and clinging to their possessions. Paper flew in every direction. A radio crackled, and Frank reached for the hand set. His hat flew off, but he just let it go. Turning to Jessie, he shouted over the sound of the wind:
   "You better sit in the car, little Lady. It's getting pretty bad." He noticed Chris furiously taking pictures. "You better come in too, fella."
   A voice broke through on the radio: "Car seventeen, come in. Frank, are you there?"
   "This is car seventeen. Go ahead, what d'ya got for me Muriel?"
   The reply was barely audible through the static and the ever increasing tempo of the storm: "...you're breaking up...State...Nevada...those plate numbers just don't..."
   A terrible crash drowned out the rest. Breaking glass and twisting metal grabbed everyone's attention - a huge sign had just crashed through the windows of the diner. Frank jumped out of the car, and headed towards the accident. He turned and shouted as he ran. "I'm not through with you two yet."
   Chris yelled to Jessie: "Let's get out of here!", but she was already half way to the car. He got in about the same time she did, and put the key in the ignition. The tires were squealing down the highway before Frank even looked in their direction. He made sure nobody was hurt, then headed towards his patrol car.

   After a few minutes of full -out speed, the Neon was starting to vibrate, but Chris held the road skillfully. He looked in the mirror, and to his great relief, there was nothing behind them but open road. Unfortunately, the angry black clouds seemed to be moving in their direction.
   "Slow down," said Jessie "you're going to get us killed."
   "I want to get as good a head start as I can. He'll be right behind us."
   Jessie held up a set of keys. "Not without these, he won't!"
   "You little devil." Chris stammered. He swerved slightly, then slowed down a little. "When did you get those?"
   Jessie giggled. "As soon as I sat down in the cruiser." She threw the keys out the window, and smiled proudly at Chris. Every now and then she could really surprise people, but this time she even surprised herself.
   "So. What do we do, head back to Vegas?" Jessie was still smiling.
   "I'm going to go back to that same spot and see what happens." said Chris. "These awful clouds might have something to do with all this, so I'm just hoping..."
   As if being spit back to where they came from, Jessie and Chris plunged into the void again. The world just simply collapsed around them. As everything faded away, Chris thought he heard Jessie's voice:
   "I'm really beginning to hate the way you drive!"

   When he came to, the first thing Chris noticed was the windshield; it wasn't cracked. Then he realized that they were parked at the side of the road. He turned to Jessie, his own voice sounding miles away:
   "There is absolutely nothing wrong with the way I drive."
   Jessie smiled through the confusing haze. "But you are one for getting lost, aren't you?"
   "It's not where we are that concerns me, it's when." Chris switched on the radio. He instantly recognized a refrain from a current Smashing Pumpkins' song. The title was '1979'.
   "That's better," sighed Chris, "my favorite band!"
   "I guess we should check in at work, just to make sure" said Jessie. Feeling a little nervous, she took out her cellular phone and called her editor in Toronto. The phone rang!
   "Cityscape Magazine, Jennifer here."
   "Hi! it's us." There was no disguising the relief in Jessie's voice.
   "Where the hell have you guys been? I was supposed to hear from you last week!"
   Jessie chose her words carefully. "Yes - sorry about that, we lost track of time." She could hear Chris chuckle at the irony of the statement, and shot him a stern look. "But we have a fairly interesting story. I'll tell you all about it when we get back later tonight."
   "Well, it's 5:30 our time, and I'm off for the weekend. But give me a call tomorrow."
   Jessie cut off the call, and thought out loud. "It's 5:30 their time, so it must be 3:30 our time...I'll bet we can still make that 6:00 o'clock flight."
   "You can count on it, Jess - I haven't been home in fifty years!"

   Chris entered the cold office building using his pass key. The front doors were kept locked on weekends, and that added to the loneliness of coming in on Saturday. But he carried in his pocket three rolls of film that just had to be developed. Entering the photo lab, he walked up to a familiar man drinking a cup of coffee.
   "Gerry, these are the most important shots I've ever taken. Treat them as if your life depends on their results!"
   Gerry looked up from his coffee. "What d'ya got - more volleyball girlies?"
   "You'll just have to wait and see, now won't you?" Chris carefully handed him the film. "I'll be upstairs talking to Jessie. Let me know when you've got the contacts done. Thanks, buddy."
   "Hey, no problem. It's not like I've got anything else to do at 8:30 on a Saturday morning. Except maybe sleep!" By then Chris was already gone.
   Chris bumped into Jessie in the hallway. He was beginning to feel those three cups of coffee. "Hey, Jessie, you're here already. Good! Did you put the story together?"
   Jessie was less enthusiastic first thing in the morning. And after staying up half the night, she wasn't in the mood for his energy level. "Yes, I've got it all here. A very annoying thing happened, though. There was nothing on my hard drive, not even the operating system. I had to start from scratch."
   "Well, Gerry's developing the pictures right now. This is going to be one hell of a story!"
   "Do you really think anyone will believe us?" Jessie asked.
   "I don't know. Let's just finish it, and then decide what to do, okay?"
   They sat down in an empty office and went over her piece. As the story unfolded on paper, Chris was beginning to have doubts. There were professional reputations at risk here. The photos would help, but then again - they were about to tell their editor that they went back in time to the year 1946. And even if Jennifer believed them, what about the rest of the world?
   A half hour later, Gerry walked into the room. By the look on his face, Chris knew he had bad news. "What happened?" Chris asked. His heart was in his mouth. "How'd they turn out?"
   "I'm sorry," said Gerry. "There's nothing on any off the rolls. It's almost as if this film has been sitting around forever. What was the expiration date?"
   "1948." said Jessie. She couldn't resist.

   By mutual agreement, the story was dropped. The magazine paid for the air fare, but all other expenses were up to Jessie and Chris. It wasn't that bad, really. They did, after all, live through a most incredible adventure, albeit one they could only share with the closest of drinking buddies.
   Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that the story was never released.  Maybe evidence would have ruined their lives, forcing them to perpetually defend incredible claims. On the other hand, it would have been nice to have something; anything, to re-assure themselves.
   Chris decided to toss out the useless negatives, along with boarding passes and other assorted pieces of paper in his pocket. Can't expense these now, he thought. He put it all on top of the overflowing garbage pail, and squished it down. The cleaning staff must have forgot again.
   "Are you doing anything, tonight?" Chris tried to sound as casual as possible.
   "No, why?" Jessie replied.
   "Why don't we go out for a bite to eat?"
   Jessie looked doubtful. "I don't know. Maybe we've seen enough of each other."
   "Donna says we're meant to be, and she's hardly ever wrong!" Chris was trying to be coy.
   "Listen," said Jessie, "Donna said that fifty years ago."
   They looked at each other. Would she remember them? Is she still alive?
   "We don't even know her last name, and she probably wouldn't remember us, anyway." said Jessie. "We could waste years trying to track her down, and still have no solid proof...I hate to say this, but I think it's best we just let it go."
   "Ya...I guess you're right. But I just wish I had something." Chris sounded tired. He looked at his watch. It was nice to be wearing his trusty old Seiko again: 6:30. "Dinner would be nice...my treat?"
   "No - we'll toss a coin to see who pays. And no cheating this time!" Jessie laughed as they headed for the elevator.

   It seemed that Jessie was right, there was no physical evidence. Not counting, of course, a crumpled piece of paper lying on top of an open garbage can. A receipt in the name of Chris Mills, from Ron’s Esso Service for $3.57, dated February 10th, 1946.