April 5, 1976
"And that will be your long-term assignment," says Mrs. Mallory. "You will make your presentation in three weeks. It's a third of your grade, so don't procrastinate."
A bell rings, and the students of her class walk out of the classroom and out to lunch. Among those students is sixteen-year-old Jason Treborn.
He looks down the hallway and sees a boy with slick black hair.
"Neil," he calls out.
"Yeah," says his longtime friend Neil Cross. The two boys head out into the quad, where hundreds of students in this high school in Connecticut are getting their meals under a cloudy sky.
"Mallory gave me this assignment about learning my family history," says Jason.
"So you have to ask your dad for help?" asks Neil.
"Yeah, I guess."
"I've some business to take care of."
Neil approaches a tall boy sitting on a bench under a huge maple tree, its leaves beginning to turn red. He hands the boy a slip of paper.
"Here you go, Cross," says the boy, handing Neil some money. "Just like I promised."
"Thanks," replies Neil.
The boy then comes across Jason.
"Better luck next time, Treborn," he says, before seeing a girl with long dark hair. He puts his arm around her waist, turning his attention to other matters.
"Don't worry about it," says Neil, approaching the school cafeteria.
Oooooooooooooooo
Jason walks into the corner grocery store. It is a small store, selling food and candy and soda and cigarettes and, of course, liquor.
"Hey Dad," he says.
"Hi, Jason," replies Chris Treborn, who had owned and operated this store for as long as Jason could remember. "How was school?"
"Okay, I guess," says Jason. "My teacher's giving me this stupid assignment."
"About what?" asks Chris.
"Family history. I have to make a stupid report."
"So you need our help?"
"Yeah. But I don't want to visit grandpa in the loony bin."
"He is family, Jason. But so are we. And your brother and I are part of history. I came back from Korea, and your brother Scott came back from Vietnam."
"I just don't like history," says Jason, leaning back against a glass refrigerator door.
"It's important to learn about the past," says his father. "It can teach us lessons. I've learned from my family history, and so should you. Come, I'll help you. And your mom can help you with her side of the family. Did you know her great grandpa served under General Lee?"
"Sure."
"I have some stuff in the attic. I can get it for you after I close up shop."
Oooooooooooooo
Chris Treborn steps down from the wooden ladder with several dusty cardboard boxes, like ancient artifacts exhumed from an Egyptian pharaoh's tomb. He walks over to Jason's room.
"So that's it?" asks his son.
"I did research on family history a couple of years ago," says Chris.
"And I suppose I can copy your report?"
"Jason, you can read the materials, but you'll have to type the report on your own. I'll try to get the stuff about your mom's family later. When's it due?"
"The end of April. My teacher, Mrs. Mallory, said it would be a third of my grade."
"You're a good student, Jason."
"I made the honor roll the past two years. I'm beginning to hear from colleges all across the country."
"Just get your work done."
As Jason takes the dusty papers out of the cardboard boxes, he thinks of certain things he would rather do, such as going to the theater and watching a movie like All the President's Men or Sky Riders.
Of course, Jason thinks, Neil and the others have a shitload of homework, so it's not as if I have anyone to go with.
He looks at the papers before him. He can read old notes about Ezekiel Treborn, who was one of the Pilgrims that came on the Mayflower centuries ago, settling in what would become Boston, Massachussetts.
Ezekiel's sickness is something that can only be described as a curse from the Devil. He speaks like a soothsayer or prophet. Indeed, every one of his prophecies came true. But he can not learn anything new. When he wakes up, it is as if he had been asleep for thirteen years.
I have spoken with the pastor. Even he can not say if this is a punishment from the Lord, or if the Lord is allowing Satan to do this to test our faith.
The passage was written by Ezekiel's wife.
Jason continues to read about Ezekiel's descendants. There were a few notes that stand out.
"Holy shit," he whispers.
"I have some of my pictures and notes from when I was in Korea," says his father, walking into the bedroom. "I'll call Scott and ask if he can send some stuff about his service in Vietnam."
"Thanks, Dad," replies Jason. "I'll copy these notes and put the boxes back in the attic."
As Jason copies the notes, he figures there is one person whom he can talk to.
Oooooooooooooo
April 10, 1976
Matthew Treborn wakes up. As his eyes focus, he can make out his surroundings. He seems to be in a strange, unfamiliar room. A carpet covers the floor, and there is a dresser.
He wonders if he is still in an underground bunker. His question is answered when he looks out the window and sees trees blooming in the spring. People walk, stand, or sit outside, all wearing sweaters.
"I must have done it," he says. "But why can't I remember how?"
Pushing away his most recent memories, he walks through a wooden door. Inside is a bathroom, with a toilet and shower stall.
The sight that greets him in the mirror is that of a man in his eighties, with white hair and wrinkles.
"What happened?" he asks.
The last thing he remembers, he was in an underground bunker, looking through some old photos. He can not remember exactly what happened, due to the chaos of that day.
"You're awake," says a female voice.
Matt looks and sees a woman with black hair; she looks as if she were born in Japan or China.
"Why do I look old?" he asks. He touches his throat. He sounds old, too.
"Dr. Von Braun will be with you; I'm new here. He's more familiar with your case than I am. Would you like to have breakfast, sir?"
Matt is escorted to a cafeteria, much like the one in that underground bunker in West Virginia. Breakfast is simple- scrambled eggs, bacon, Kellogg's Corn Flakes. As he eats his breakfast, he does not recognize any of the faces. A color television is on.
At least the world did not blow up, he thinks.
Another orderly- a man with red hair- approaches.
"Mr. Treborn," he says. "Dr. Von Braun will be seeing you."
He is then led into an office, sitting on a chair. A wooden desk is the centerpiece, and a Smith-Corona typewriter dominates the desktop. Framed diplomas hang on the wall.
He glances at a calendar, seeing color photographic images of various nature scenes.
What catches his eye, though, is the year on the calendar.
1976.
"What the hell?" he asks. "How did I get to the future?"
Two men enter the room. One of them is tall, with graying blond hair, who appears to be in his late fifties or early sixties. The other man appears to be no older than thirty, and handsome.
"Mr. Treborn," says the older man. "I am Dr. Emmett Von Braun. This is one of our interns, Dr. Harlon Redfield."
"Hello, Mr. Treborn," says Dr. Redfield.
"Could you tell me what happened?" asks Matt.
"You were in a coma," says Dr. Von Braun. "It is now April 10, 1976."
"1976? And I just woke up from it?"
"More or less," says Dr. Von Braun. "How do you feel?"
"Tired, but I guess I should, considering that I'm eighty."
"Mr. Treborn, you're in the Sunnyvale Institution in upstate New York. It's a special institution for people like you."
"If it's 1976, I guess I'm not running things anymore."
"You do have a scheduled visitor," says Dr. Von Braun. "Your grandson, Jason."
"Jason?" asks Matt. "Oh, that's Chris's boy. He has a brother named Scott, right?"
"Right."
"I remember them."
"We'll let you know when your grandson comes," says Dr. Redfield.
As the two psychiatrists leave, Dr. Redfield asks, "How could Matthew Treborn know about his grandson if he was hospitalized before his grandson was born? Or did he develop his condition later?"
"He had this condition since he was here," says Von Braun. "But his condition is quite unique. I'll explain later."
"Yes, sir."
Oooooooooooo
Jason Treborn parks the green 1961 Pontiac in the parking lot of the Sunnyvale Institution. The place is familiar to him, as he had been here a couple of times to visit his grandfather. This is the first time he has been here alone. Not for the first time though, he wishes he could have used his dad's more recent car, a 1968 Cadillac. The engine is noisier than normal.
He walks into the reception area, which looks pretty much the same as before, except the copies of National Geographic and Time are more current.
He tells the nurse that he is waiting for Matt Treborn. Minutes later, two doctors approach. They introduce themselves as Dr. Von Braun and Dr. Redfield.
"Your grandfather is in a visiting room," says Dr. Von Braun. "Your father did not come?"
"Uh, no. Actually, this is for a homework assignment. I came alone."
"He must trust you to drive all the way from Connecticut."
"It's only two hours, and our town's right at the stateline. So what is his condition?"
"We know he has anterograde amnesia," says Dr. Redfield. "It means he can't form any new memories. But what is weird is that he has all these false memories, memories of events that apparently occurred during his stay here, as if he was living a different life."
Jason enters a small room, covered in carpet, with some wooden tables. A bookcase with books stands in a corner.
"Hi, Grandpa," he says to Matt, sitting at a table.
"So you're Jason," says Matt. "You've grown quite a bit, although I guess it was what, thirteen years?"
"How are you feeling?"
"I'm still trying to adjust. This is my first day here, and my grandsons grew from a toddler to a teenager overnight."
"Practically, I guess."
"Why isn't your father here?"
"He has other business," says Jason. "What do you remember?"
"Why are you asking me? Shouldn't I be in the history books?"
"History books?"
"Yeah. If it's 1976 now, my name should be in the history books by now. After all, I led a nation through its greatest crisis. And we obviously survived."
"I'd like to hear it from you."
"Ah, the defining moment. The Soviets placed some of their missiles in Cuba. I had to do something. I ordered the bombing of the missile sites and the Cuban capital. Don't know if Castro made it. But the Soviets, they decided to retaliate. They struck us, we struck back."
"What happened afterwards?" asks Jason, curious about the story his grandfather was telling.
"I..I'm not sure. I remember being evacuated to a bunker constructed from an abandoned mine somewhere in West Virginia. After that, I ended up here, I guess. I suppose we survived."
"I guess so."
"You ever looked into a photograph, Jason? Ever really gazed at it?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Ever notice that sometimes, when you look at a photograph, you find yourself back there when the picture was taken?"
"Uh, yeah, now that I think of it," answers Jason, thinking it is a weird question.
"Those are doors into the past. Anyway, how are your parents and brother doing?"
"Fine," replies Jason. "In fact, Scott's getting married next month. I met his fiancé Dana, she's such a sweet girl."
"At least the world's still going on even after what happened."
"Uh, thanks, Grandpa. I'd better call home and tell them I'm leaving."
"Goodbye, Jason," says Matt.
Jason walks to a pay phone to call his home.
Ooooooooooooo
"Matthew Treborn is one of our most interesting cases," says Dr. Von Braun as he and Dr. Redfield walk through the yard. "In fact, we're treating him pro bono."
"Imagine not being able to remember anything new," says Redfield. "It would be like being stuck in the present. You wake up one day and find out you're a hundred?"
"That's not all, Redfield. I've been his doctor for twenty-eight years now. In the early years he had memories from the future."
"The future?" asks Redfield, clearly surprised.
"He spoke about future events, about his children being older than they are."
"And what did he say?"
Von Braun looks through some files that he is carrying. "The first time he mentioned having a grandson named Jason was back in 1950, I think. Back then, he had no grandson by that name."
"But he has a grandson by that name now."
"Yes. Jason Treborn appears to be sixteen or seventeen, I'd guess. I did ask him about world history."
"And what did he say?"
"He mentioned the Russians launching Sputnik in 1957, a full seven years before it happened. He mentioned the U2 spy plane incident in 1953, which happened in 1960. There are so many predictions he made. I have more of them in his file down at Records."
"What does he say about the future now?" asks Dr. Redfield, curious. "Who's gonna win the World Series this year."
"He no longer makes predictions. He stopped around October of 1962, after the Cuban Missile Crisis. His prediction about that was wrong; he predicted a nuclear holocaust."
"Wow."
"I made sure to store up on canned goods, even bought a few rifles. I dreaded that day. I was relieved when it was all over. I suppose maybe it was because Kennedy was running things. Matt remembers that he was running things."
"Another false memory," says Redfield.
"Maybe," says Dr. Von Braun. "Anyway, I might have you as his alternate doctor when I'm not available."
"Are you kidding, sir? This patient is an opportunity. There's none like him!"
ooooooooooooooo
"How was your visit with Grandpa?" asks Lucinda Treborn, looking into her son's bedroom.
"Fine, Mom," replies Jason. "He had a lot of stuff to say."
"He doesn't know reality, Jason. It's sad, really."
The telephone in the room rings after Lucinda closes the door. Picking up the handset, Jason answers.
"Hello?" he asks.
"Hi, Jason," says Neil Cross. "What are you up to?"
"I have to research this stupid assignment about my family history. It's for my English class."
"Yeah, I understand. I have to do this history report on the effects of nuclear weapons on history. It's a quarter of my grade."
"It's a third of my grade."
"I guess we won't be seeing much of each other except at school."
"See you later, then."
Jason hangs up the phone. He takes some pictures. He looks at one of the photographs. It is a picture of him and Neil, standing before a car. On the back is a caption.
Neil's First Car, 1972 Chevy Vega 10/25/75
Jason looks at the picture. While the car is not exactly brand new, it is eleven years newer than the Pontiac that he is driving. He remembers the event. He had gone over to Neil's to study for an upcoming test, and they decided to pose with Neil's car.
The picture suddenly blurs. Jason wonders if something is wrong with his eyes.
And then he notices the air smells different.
He also notices increased brightness.
He is not in his room.
It is daytime, and he is looking at a girl holding a Nikon camera and wearing a Bradbury University T-shirt. She lowers the camera, revealing her face.
That is Neil's older sister.
He looks and sees his friend Neil, and behind him is a yellow Chevrolet Vega, sitting on a driveway.
"Okay, fun's over," says Neil's sister. "You two are supposed to study, right? Midterms and all?"
"Yeah," says Neil. "Come on, Jason."
"Coming," he replies.
The two of them enter into the Cross residence's kitchen. It looks familiar to Jason, as he had been to the Cross home on more than one occasion.
Except there is one thing out of place.
"I thought you guys got a new refrigerator," says Jason. The last time he remembers being here, the refrigerator was green, not white.
"Uh, no," says Neil. "Want to study here or in my room?"
Jason looks at a newspaper sitting on the kitchen table, glancing briefly at the articles.
He then looks at the date.
October 25, 1975.
The boy is confused. Last he remembers, it was 1976.
Was it a dream or something?
He follows Neil.
Suddenly, images flash by, sights, sounds, touches, tastes.
And then Jason finds himself back in the room, with the picture of himself and Neil sitting on his desk, the only light coming from a table lamp.
"What the hell happened?" he asks.
He then recalls what his grandfather had told him.
Those (photographs) are doors into the past.
Wiping blood of his nose, he goes to the closet in the living room for the photo album. He looks through the photo album, glancing at the pictures of himself, his parents, Scott, and more recently, Meaghan.
He looks at a picture of him blowing out candles.
How do I do this?
He stares into the picture. It then becomes blurry, jumping at him.
And then he is looking right at a chocolate cake, with five blown-outcandles embedded.
Happy Birthday, Jason"I'm five years old," he says.
"Yes, you are," says his mother.
Jason looks around, seeing his father, his brother Scott, his uncles, aunts, some of his cousins, and his friend Neil, who is also five years old. Looking around, the kitchen, the living room, the whole house looks so much bigger.
What the hell is happening?
"Why don't we open your presents?" asks his father.
"Uh, sure," replies Jason.
He starts tearing off the wrappers for the presents his parents, brother, uncles, and aunts gave him. Most of them are clothes, and one big present is a die-cast toy fire truck in its cardboard box.
That fire truck is still in the garage, he remembers. I'm reliving my memories, my past.
Jason eats the cake and drinks Coke and plays games with his cousins and big brother Scott.
Will I have to relive eleven years of my life?
He hopes not. After all, there are parts of his life he would much like to skip.
Around sunset everyone leaves. Jason and his family say goodbye.
"You like the party?" asks Scott.
"Uh, yeah," replies Jason. "It was great, you know. I like the fire truck."
Scott frowns; his little brother never spoke like that before. "I'll go to the kitchen to help clean up."
"Okay. I hope you and Dana have…"
And then all four senses flash before him in rapid succession.
And he is once again looking at the photo album. He looks at his hands, which now look typical for a sixteen-year-old boy.
"I can relive memories," he whispers. He places the photo album back into the closet.
About two hours later, as he sleeps, one thought occurs to him.
How could I have told Scott about Dana back then if I didn't meet her yet?
His thoughts jumble as he falls asleep.
Oooooooooooo
April 17, 1976
Jason feels the water flowing across his hands as he washes the breakfast dishes. He puts the last of the dishes away.
"What are you doing today, Jason?" asks his ten-year-old sister, Meaghan.
"I'll study for the day, and I'll hang out with my friends tonight," replies her brother. "I have this assignment due at the end of the month, plus two tests."
"At least I don't have homework over the weekend."
"You will in four years."
"Mom's taking me to the tailor to fit me for a dress for Scott's wedding. I can't wait to go. I never been to California before. Dad said he'll take us to Disneyland the day after the wedding."
"Meaghan," calls out Lucinda. "We have an appointment."
"Coming, Mom," she replies.
"Jason, we have to take the Pontiac," says Lucinda. "We'll be back this afternoon."
"Okay, Mom," replies Jason.
Once Lucinda and Meaghan were gone, he takes the photo album from the closet. He had some flashbacks with the pictures since his discovery. However, there are some unresolved questions about the nature of the flashbacks.
"We'll see if my hypothesis is correct," says Jason.
He looks into the picture of him blowing out candles. The picture starts to blur.
And then he is looking right at a chocolate cake. This one has ten candles on it, though. He sees his parents, his sister Meaghan, aged three, his cousins, and his friend Neil, aged ten. All of them are clapping.
He skims a newspaper lying nearby. The date is September 13, 1969. He walks towards the hallway.
"Where are you going?" asks his father.
"To get something," says Jason.
He walks into the bedroom which had been Scott's room. It still has his bed and belongings, instead of being a guest room with only a bed and dresser. A Beatles poster still hangs on the wall. He takes out a notebook which Scott had used until his high school graduation in 1969.
Scott's still stationed stateside, Jason thinks. He hadn't gone to Vietnam yet.
Tearing out an empty page, he scribbles a simple note on it.
He then walks towards the kitchen. Most of the people are still busy talking to each other. Opening one of the lower cupboards, he finds several empty glass jars. He takes a jar which once had Heinz pickles and places the note inside.
He sneaks out into the backyard. Looking around, he finds a hole where he can crawl under the back patio. Below the patio is bare dirt. He spends over a minute digging a hole deep enough to contain the glass jar. He places the glass jar in and covers the hole.
And then his senses flash rapidly, and he finds himself looking at the photo album again. He can feel something wet dripping from his nose.
Checking the newspaper to confirm the date, he then goes into the backyard, where he remembers burying the jar.
It is a much tighter fit, as he is taller than he was six years ago. It takes a while for him to dig into the loose dirt before feeling something solid. He looks and sees glass. After more minutes of digging, he finds it is a Heinz pickle jar with a piece of paper inside. Holding the jar, he wriggles his way out from under the patio and goes back into the kitchen, already excited.
He removes the lid and takes out the paper.
April 17, 1976
September 13, 1969
I was here.
Jason Treborn"Holy shit," he says. "I was back."
He goes to his room, taking time to take in exactly what he had been doing.
Those other times, when I found myself in the photographs, I was really there again!
Ooooooooooooooo
April 30, 1976
"For his bravery in the Battle of the Chosin Reservoir, my father, U.S. Marine Corps Corporal Christopher Lucas Treborn, was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross," says Jason Treborn. "And my own brother, Scott Matthew Treborn, made his own contribution to history, serving in a war unpopular at home. While not demonstrating the same bravery as our father, he served admirably, being awarded a Silver Star."
"Thank you, Mr. Treborn," says Mrs. Mallory. "Miss Galt, you will give us your presentation now."
Jason reflects on the past month. He had learned a lot about family history – he had briefly described his great-great-grandfather's service in the Confederate Army in his report, as well as Ezekiel Treborn's trip on the Mayflower.
And he learned about his ability to actually visit the past.
He is now interested in history.