: The Missing Forty-Nine Years

The modern Imagination Station landed on the roof of the Hotel Marguery.

Patrick heard pounding. He saw a small hand come down on the windshield.

“Get out!” Beth shouted. “Get out! Someone stole the Model T Imagination Station!”

Beth moved to the side of the machine. She yanked the door open.

She grabbed Patrick’s arm and tugged. “Come on!” she said. “We have to do something!”

Patrick staggered out onto the roof. He glanced at the city skyline. Then he noted the large object covered with a tarp. He thought it might be a storage unit for the janitor. He saw a dozen pigeons perched on the roof ledge.

“Patrick!” Beth said.

He took Beth’s hand. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Where’s Mr. Tesla?”

Beth looked at him. Her eyes were wide open with shock. “I am not all right. Didn’t you hear what I said? The Imagination Station is missing.” She was breathing hard. “I have no idea where Mr. Tesla is. I think he stole the Imagination Station.”

Suddenly Beth’s eyes grew even larger. Her pupils shrank with fear. She was staring at something behind Patrick. What was it?

Patrick turned around. Eugene had stepped out of the Imagination Station. He was standing next to it. His laptop was in his hands.

“Who is that?” Beth said. “It looks like a wax statue of Eugene. But it melted.”

Eugene waved. “Greetings,” he said. He shuffled forward.

Beth rushed toward him and hugged him tight.

“Mr. Latimer was right,” she said. “You are old.”

Eugene seemed to totter when she let go of him. She took the laptop and held it under her arm.

“Do you need to sit down?” she asked.

“Yes, I believe I must,” Eugene said. He shuffled to a little air-vent hood jutting up from the roof. It was the right height for a seat. He sat on it.

Beth handed Eugene the laptop. He lifted the cover. Then he opened a few programs and typed on the keyboard.

“I can’t tell who took the machine,” Eugene said. “The computer shows the Model T Imagination Station is at Wardenclyffe.”

He keyed in something else. “It’s locked now. No one can use it to leave. Whoever took it will have to exit immediately.”

Beth sat next to Eugene and held his hand. “I still don’t know how he beat me to the rooftop,” she said. “He must be in great shape. He ran up eight floors faster than I traveled in the elevator. And I had a head start.”

Patrick sat on the rooftop with his legs crossed. His chin rested on his palm.

Patrick said to Eugene, “Tell us what happened to you. How did you get out of the Arkansas jail?”

Eugene coughed. “Well,” he said. “It began on a dark and stormy night.”

Beth groaned.

“It really did happen as the result of a storm,” Eugene said. “Rain caused a flash flood. It loosened the ground. The bricks in the jailhouse shifted, opening a crack in the wall.”

Patrick said, “And you clawed at the bricks with your bare hands. Then you escaped through a hole.”

Eugene shook his head. “I had to disassemble the metal bed frame first. I used one of the rails as a crowbar and shifted the bricks to produce a hole.”

Beth added, “And then you escaped through the hole.”

Eugene shook his head. “I didn’t have the laptop,” he said. “Mr. Pinkerton had it. I needed to wait till Detective Pinkerton trusted me. So I had to replace the bricks and reassemble the bed.”

Patrick yawned. “Get to the good stuff,” he said. “What did you do after you crawled through the hole?”

Eugene smiled. “I never crawled through the hole.”

“What?” Beth asked. “Then how did you escape?”

“I didn’t,” Eugene said.

Beth groaned again. “Just tell us how it happened, please,” she said.

Patrick saw her squeeze Eugene’s hand.

Eugene sat up straighter. He seemed proud of himself. “I showed the hole to Detective Pinkerton.”

Patrick was surprised. “That was brave,” he said, “and perhaps not so smart.”

Eugene smiled again. “Indeed, it was both. But it worked exactly as I had hoped. Detective Pinkerton saw I could be trusted, and he returned the laptop.”

Beth giggled. “Then you crawled through the hole!” she said.

“I was set free,” Eugene said. “It was much more satisfying. And I wasn’t a fugitive.”

Patrick said, “Okay, what happened during the next forty-nine years?” He picked up a pebble. He tossed it gently at a pigeon. The bird flew off.

“First I worked for the Pinkerton Detective Agency,” he said. “Then I moved to New York and, shall we say, acquired some wealth trading stocks.”

Patrick said, “You knew which companies would be successful. And you got rich.”

Eugene nodded. “I kept only the funds I needed to get us home. I gave the rest to charity,” he said. “Next I worked in science labs around the city. Then Nikola Tesla came to America in 1884.”

“You were aging the whole time,” Beth said. “That’s why you’re so old, and Patrick and I aren’t. For us it’s been only a few days.”

Eugene sighed. “Yes, I am now what might be called elderly,” he said. “But I’m still smart enough to help you.” He released Beth’s hand and patted the computer.

“I knew when and where you were at all times,” Eugene said. “I was able to keep the computer charged with an adapter I made. It worked with chemical batteries till electricity power became available. Just this month I was able to get the Imagination Stations working.”

Patrick said to Beth, “The Imagination Stations can move around the world. But they can’t get to a new time yet. We’re stuck in 1923.”

“Actually,” Eugene said, “they currently can move only through portals I programmed. One of the portals is here on this rooftop.”

Beth looked confused. “But you have the computer,” she said. “Why do you need Mr. Tesla’s help?”

“The machines were severely damaged by lightning. I believe that only Mr. Tesla has the answer to completely fixing the machines,” Eugene said. “So I followed him and studied every patent of his. I’ve re-created all his experiments in his abandoned lab called Wardenclyffe. He never knew.”

Suddenly Patrick heard the beating of wings. A pigeon flew down and landed near the ladder. It started cooing.

Beth said, “I recognize that bird. It follows Mr. Tesla around.” She hopped up and went to the edge of the roof. She looked down the ladder.

“It’s Mr. Tesla!” Beth said. She folded her arms across her chest. “And I’m sure he heard every word.”

Tesla climbed the rest of the way up the ladder. He wore a sheepish expression.

Eugene stood. Patrick could see he had tears in his eyes.

“Mr. Tesla,” Eugene said, “it’s an honor to meet such an esteemed inventor. I admire nearly every aspect of your work. The Tesla coil is exceedingly clever.”

He shuffled toward the scientist. “Please allow me to shake your hand.” Eugene politely offered his right hand.

Tesla bowed halfway and put his hands behind his back. “Excuse me,” he said. “I cannot shake your hand.”

Eugene looked crushed. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

Patrick had never seen Eugene speechless before.

Eugene finally gained some self-control. “Is it because I was spying on you?” he asked.

Beth said, “Oh no. He injured his hands not long ago in a laboratory accident.”

Eugene paled. “Do you need a doctor?” he asked Tesla.

Patrick saw Beth wink at Eugene.

Beth added, “Mr. Tesla notes your concern. But he doesn’t need anyone to look at it.”

Tesla said, “Exactly.”

“Wait,” Patrick said in a loud, panicked voice. “Something’s not right!”

Everyone looked at him.

“If Mr. Tesla is here, who has the car Imagination Station?”