: The Photo

Patrick stared at the 1917 photo of Whit at Wardenclyffe. He blinked. He looked at the newspaper clipping again. Whit was still there. The photo showed the transmitter tower being taken down.

It all began to sink in. Patrick put together his jumbled thoughts.

“Mr. Whittaker knew Mr. Tesla,” he said. “Mr. Whittaker built the first Imagination Station. He used Mr. Tesla’s ideas and maybe even his help. So Mr. Tesla knows how to build an Imagination Station.”

Eugene was quiet.

Patrick looked toward his friend and added, “But Mr. Tesla doesn’t know he knows. Is that right?”

Patrick’s second question was also met with silence.

Eugene was standing across the room. Now Patrick could hear faint clicking sounds. The noise was coming from a machine sitting on a wood table.

The machine looked half piano and half reel-to-reel movie projector. The row of piano-like keys had letters and numbers on them.

A narrow piece of paper was coming off a reel.

Eugene gently held the paper as it emerged. It was about as wide as the paper in a fortune cookie.

Patrick walked over to Eugene and stared at the paper. He was expecting a code with dashes and dots. But the paper had words printed on it.

The message said, “EM, I told NT about you. The girl was here with him. He has the patents. He’s headed to HM at a quarter to two. LL”

Patrick figured out that EM was Eugene Meltsner. NT must be Nikola Tesla. The girl had to be Beth.

He looked at a clock on the wall. It was nearly two o’clock. The telegram had taken only a few minutes to be routed.

“What does the HM stand for?” Patrick asked. “And who is LL?”

Eugene didn’t answer. He flipped a switch on the machine. He pushed the piano-like keys to enter “On our way.” The machine clicked for a few seconds. Then it fell silent.

Excitement lit up Eugene’s expression. Patrick thought his friend seemed a bit younger.

Eugene finally said, “HM stands for the Hotel Marguery. And LL is Lewis Latimer, a friend.”

Eugene picked up his laptop off a nearby desk. He started to shuffle to the door. “I can’t explain how long I’ve waited for this moment!” he cried. “Let’s go meet Nikola Tesla! We’ll take the Imagination Station to the roof portal.”

“Isn’t that risky?” Patrick asked.

“Not compared to the New York public transportation system,” Eugene said.