Chapter Nine

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"Oh my. Aren't you a cheeky little thing!"

His words echo through the cavern, burrow into my disbelieving ears, and bounce around like a pinball inside my brain. All I can do is stare for the longest time.

"E-excuse me," I stammer. "But did you just..."

Mayant-hattatar continues to smile like the cat who caught the canary. "I did."

"And you understand what I'm..." I point at myself while my question trails off into nothing.

"Yes, I understand you perfectly!"

As we both silently absorb this previously unthinkable turn of events, Ewar makes his presence known too. He flips the guy off. Blushing furiously, I ease down Ewar's raised finger and shake my head at him. Hopefully, he won't do it again.

Mayant-hattatar gives a funny look. "Did he..."

"Yes, he did - but Ewar thinks it's a way to say hello. He doesn't know it's an insult," I say in his defense.

"I see. And how did that come to be?"

I sigh. "It's a long story."

"I'm sure it is. I hope to hear it soon." His eyes glow with excitement. "Extraordinary! The odds of two English speakers bumping into one another at this exact point in history and place is simply... It's, well..." His smile stretches into a wide grin. "Small world, isn't it?"

"I guess so..." My thoughts turn inward, but I continue speaking out loud. "This doesn't make any sense. He understands what I'm saying. How is this possible?" I make a disgruntled face at myself. "I hope I'm not hearing things. It would be just my luck that I'm going batshit crazy."

The man furrows his brow. "Batshit crazy?" A moment of contemplation later, he chuckles. "While I'm not familiar with the term, I must say it is colorful. I suppose it must be an American term to go along with your accent."

His offhand comment gets me to thinking. He speaks with a British accent!

Suspicious, I squint at the man in front of me and compare him to a portrait of a certain gentleman I know quite well. They both possess mousy brown hair and mischievous smiles. The main difference between the two is that the gentleman's old-fashioned tweed suit and eyeglasses are missing from the person standing before me. Also, this man looks older. Touches of gray pepper his head. But, otherwise, they could be twins.

"You... You're Alistair Tuddleston!" I accuse.

He perks up. "I haven't heard my full name in... Oh, it must be going on ten years. We have no use for surnames here. How ever did you know?"

"I'm a tour guide at Tuddleston House Museum. I've seen your painting hanging in the library like a million times."

"Is that so? That means the executors followed the directions from my will! You see, I was quite worried some decrepit third cousin twice removed would fight it in court and seize all my worldly possessions. To hear the museum came into being after all is wonderful news." He wets his lips, hungry for information. "You say you work there? What is it like? Do you enjoy it?"

It suddenly occurs to me that Alistair might be my boss in a roundabout way. I choose my words carefully. "Well... it has its moments. Plus the schedule allows me to still attend my classes, so it's all right."

"You're in school?"

"Yes." I mention the university I attend.

His eyebrows jump. "A woman enrolled in a university? How peculiar."

I scoff. "It's been a hundred years since you disappeared, Mister Tuddleston. Times have changed. Where I come from, women go to universities and get degrees all the time. We also drive cars, vote in elections, and wear pants whenever we want."

"Oh my. Society changed quite a bit." His eyes fill with wonder. "A hundred years from 1922... That means you're from the twenty-first century!"

"That's right."

His gaze wanders off into space. "I can imagine it now. The twenty-first century! Thousands of Zeppelins in the skies, carrying passengers around the world in weeks instead of months. Pneumatic tubes delivering your purchases from the store straight to your front door. Vacations on the moon... It's a marvel of human engineering!"

Before I can correct any of those false assumptions, Ewar holds up his hand for attention and interrupts the discussion.

"Memāi-da Bella-si?" His voice is as confused as the expression on his face.

"Handān," answers Mister Tuddleston. He switches between languages flawlessly. It's no great shock. The man is supposed to be a genius.

Whatever Mister Tuddleston said sets Ewar off. Words pour out of his mouth like a faucet. At the end of Ewar's speech, I cut in.

"Mister Tuddleston?"

"No, no, no! That's much too formal. Please, call me Alistair."

"All right... Alistair. Would you mind telling me what Ewar just said?"

"I would be honored to act as translator! He asked if I understood you. When I answered that I do indeed, he proceeded to express his profound relief. From what he told me, I gather the two of you have had a bit of a communication problem."

"That's putting it mildly. Neither one of us knows the others language and it's caused nothing but trouble. I married him by accident for Christ's sake!"

"Oh dear. How is that possible?"

"It's because I don't know half of what's going on around me! The culture here is so different."

"Yes! Isn't it glorious?"

"If you like living without coffee and indoor plumbing, maybe."

Alistair chuckles. "A valid point. But, considering your exalted status as Damara, it couldn't be all that bad. I would think you would be treated quite well by today's standards."

I cock my eyebrow at Alistair's attempt at humor. "A mob just attacked me outside of your cave. Don't try acting like they treated me well."

He winces slightly. "My assistant informed me of the incident. I apologise on their behalf. However, you must understand that no ill intent was meant..."

"Really? They tore the clothes off my back. And they wouldn't stop touching me. What do you call that?!"

"The desperate acts of devotees of the Goddess of Fertility."

"Huh? I'm not following you."

"Think of it another way: how would people from the future behave if a famous entertainer appeared in their mist? Would they bid the entertainer a polite hello? Or, would they shout for attention and make a spectacle of themselves? Why, I remember reading an incident not long before I left. It involved Al Jolson, I believe. Or maybe it was one of those other jazz musicians... Whatever the case, his fans swarmed as he was leaving a nightclub. A few made it off with souvenirs, such as his coat buttons and handkerchief. They were quite rude. But did they intend to harm the man? No. They were merely blinded by their excitement at meeting one of their musical idols." He pauses to give a knowing look. "I'm sure that feeling is multiplied when it involves a revered goddess."

"So, you're saying they didn't want to hurt me. Tearing off my tunic and scaring me to death was their fucked up way of worshipping me?"

"I would describe it more as they were seeking your help."

"My help with what?"

Alistair narrows his eyes. "Do you know where you are? This cave is holy ground. People from miles around come to ask for divine assistance. Now, imagine you are a woman with fertility issues. You come here with the hope of curing your problem. Suddenly, you hear that Damara has appeared! What would you do? Touch her for good luck, perhaps? Steal a momento to take back home? Doing those things aren't much different from what the faithful do in the future. Think of all those relics the catholic churches possess! A scrap of fabric claiming to belong to Saint Peter. Or, a vial of blood from Jesus himself. Surely a momento belonging to the great Damara would receive similar reverence in this day and age."

I nod along. "I see your point. But here's the thing... I'm not really Damara!"

He chuckles. "I know."

"And no one else does," I mumble dejectedly.

"Um... I wouldn't say that, my dear."

"What do you mean?"

He tips his head at Ewar, who has remained patiently silent these last few minutes. "It appears your dear husband knows it too."

"That's impossible! Ewar told everyone that I was Damara. If he knew I wasn't a goddess, why would he act like I was?"

"Let's ask him, shall we?"

Alistair speaks exclusively to Ewar and kindly translates the response for my benefit.

"Ewar says he found you in the forest where it is believed Damara dwells when visiting earth. After seeing you perform a feat of magic, he assumed you were the goddess herself. It wasn't until much later did he realize his mistake. At that point, the entire village believed you were Damara. He was concerned how they would treat you if they knew you were a mere mortal. To ensure your safety, he chose to keep the information to himself."

I stare at Ewar with new respect... and more than just a little awe. "Please, Alistair. Ask him how he figured it out."

Alistair translates my question. Ewar seems unsure how to respond. After a moment, he acts out a scene. He walks several steps and feigns tripping over his own feet. At the end of his performance, he resumes his normal stance.

"Ah!" Alistair glances at me, his mouth threatening to twitch into a smile. "It appears you - ahem! - sometimes have trouble walking, my dear. That's what tipped him off. He assumed goddesses wouldn't have that type of difficulty."

I sigh. "Just say it. I'm clumsy."

He releases the laugh he had been holding in. "Did you know there's no equivalent to the word clumsy in his entire language? I applaud Ewar for his ability to express the term nonverbally!"

"Yes. And after seeing me tripping all the time, Ewar will probably be the one to finally add it to the caveman vocabulary," I reply with downcast eyes.

Alistair manages to control his amusement. "I assure you he finds it quite charming."

"You've got to be kidding."

"I'm not. He said so himself... in his own way. There's no word for charming in his language either." Alistair beckons us closer to the fire. "Come! Sit, both of you! I'm sure you are tired after your journey. We can discuss things just as well while resting."

The three of us sit on cushions made of animal skins and dried grass. He cups a hand around his mouth. "Onya!" Within moments, the woman who escorted Ewar and me into the cave enters the room. Her bow is still slung over a shoulder. She must have been waiting right outside in case Alistair needed help. He whispers into her ear. Seconds later, she nods and leaves the area.

Alistair smiles fondly at her retreating figure. "Onya kindly agreed to bring refreshments. I hope you're hungry. I'm famished! It's been quite a long day. But enough about me. Let's talk about you. I don't even know your name."

"Bella Swan."

"Bella... It has an interesting ring to it. Very nice, indeed. So, Bella, what led you to want to become a time traveler? And to venture to the ice age no less! You said you're in university, did you not? Are you studying history and wanted an in depth look into the past? And what type of time machine did you build? Is it mobile or stationary?"

"You've got me all wrong, Alistair. I'm studying English literature. I didn't invent anything. And I definitely didn't want to end up here of all places."

Alistair gives a bewildered look. "Yet here you are."

"Yes, here I am... And it's all because of you!"

"Me? Whatever can you mean?"

I take a calming breath before explaining myself. "Remember when I said I work in your museum?" He nods, so I continue. "One night, just when it was time to clock out, the museum caretaker called in sick. My boss said I had to stay late to clean up the place."

"Clean the entire house all by yourself? It's four floors! And after you had already served out your previous shift?"

"Yes."

Alistair gives a look of distaste. "That hardly sounds fair. What type of employer would be so unkind to their staff?"

"A jackass, that's who," I grumble.

"Right-o! Please, do go on."

"I was going around sweeping and dusting. Everything went fine until I reached the library."

"Ah, the library! My favorite room."

"Yeah, it was my favorite too up until that night."

"What happened?"

"I was cleaning your chair, and then... poof! Bye, bye Bella."

"I'm afraid you lost me, my dear. Which chair are you referring to?"

I have to restrain myself from doing an eye roll. "Oh, I don't know, Alistair. Maybe it's the chair that just so happens to be a time machine in disguise? We all thought it was some unfinished massage chair. And seeing as how it's been sitting in what used to be your house, everyone assumed you were the person who built the damn thing!"

His confusion slowly gives way to understanding. "How very singular," he says softly. "I never imagined..." He lets out a tiny laugh. "It really does work!"

I give him a scrutinizing glance, suddenly worried about his present state of mind. "Yeah... It works. How else could you have traveled through time?"

"With my other chair, of course."

My heart skips a beat. "There's another one?"

"Yes! It's in the cave. Been sitting there unused for years."

Thank God I'm sitting down. Suddenly, I feel faint. I can't believe it. All hope isn't lost. There's another time machine!

I try to regain focus so I can press for more information. "Why did you build two of them?"

He wags a finger. "Now, now! We were speaking of you, remember? I'll be happy to give you all the answers you want. But first, I want to hear how my old chair brought you here."

So, I tell him my story. I recall how I had to remove chewing gum residue off the back of the chair. One careless brush of my elbow against the arm activated a chain of events. His beloved library went black. Sparks of electricity zapped the air. It was utter chaos. I was forced to sit on the chair and hang on. After a terrifying ride through a dark void of nothing, I woke up in a forest clearing and discovered life as I knew it was over.

Alistair mulls over what I told him. "Hmm. How did the chewing gum come to be on the chair?"

I scowl in remembrance. "Some dumb kid put it there during the last tour of the day. He sat on the chair too. For a second, I was afraid he was going to break it."

"Why? What was he doing?"

"Flicking the switches on the arm rests. Shaking it... I think he was pretending it was an airplane or something. Oh! He also swung his legs and kicked it a few times before I could pull him off."

"Where did the boy kick it?" Alistair persists.

"On the underside mostly."

He nods. "Did you notice anything peculiar afterward?"

"No, I... Well, I did hear a buzzing sound while I was cleaning. I thought it was coming from the chair. I'd never heard it make any noise before."

He makes an amused snort. "This is simply amazing. It took a mere child to fix the problem!" Then he goes mute, still grinning away like a lunatic who just busted out of the funny farm.

I roll my hand impatiently. "And? Could you elaborate, please?"

"Certainly! But you are likely to find my story a bit dull. Are you sure you want to hear it?"

"I've been talking to myself for almost a month, Alistair. I'm starved for conversation. You could run your mouth for the rest of the day about anything and I would be thrilled," I deadpan.

He snickers. "Yes, I'd imagine so. Now... where to begin? I suppose the best place is at the very beginning. How familiar are you with my past life, my dear?"

My inner tour guide mode gets activated. "As the last in a long line of Tuddlestons, you inherited a considerable amount of wealth and property. You were also considered one of the brightest minds of the age. Several of your theories in astronomy and physics are still respected in the scientific community. Aside from your scholarly success, your interests included traveling, collecting oddities from around the globe, and creating new inventions. Your inventions, however, were considered largely... um, a failure." I frown guiltily. "Sorry."

"No, no. You are correct on all counts. If anything, you were too kind." He sighs. "I still don't see why the automatic light bulb changer didn't do well."

My eyebrows lift with disbelief. "The one that was known to occasionally catch on fire?"

"Oh yes. I suppose that might have turned some people away." He shakes off the thought. "You may see that while I enjoyed much success, my true ambition was to create an invention to benefit all of mankind. Yet nothing I made fit the bill. It was either deemed too strange, too useless, or too dangerous. And the few times I made something that had potential, I inevitably discovered it had already been patented by someone else!"

"That must have been disappointing," I say sympathetically.

"Yes, very much so. I contemplated quitting inventing altogether. But I happened to be in Berlin around the time and bumped into an old acquaintance of mine. Several years before, Albert came up with some newfangled concept of time and space. Very interesting read if you like that sort of thing. He and I got to talking about the subject and veered off into time travel. Albert's stance was that while travel to the future was theoretically possible, traveling into the past was not. I disagreed! I said it could be done if one could find a way to pierce through the fourth dimension and back out again. It would be a shortcut, you see."

Berlin.

Time and space.

Albert...

I blink at him in amazement. "You were friends with Albert Einstein?"

Alistair pouts a little. "Yes. I don't know why. The man was always laughing at my ideas. I wanted to prove him wrong for once! I went straight back to my library in London and began work on the project.

"It was far from easy. First, I needed a vessel to act as the transporter. I figured a chair would suit the purpose well, and it did indeed! Plenty of room to attach all those switches and other doodads. But in order to enter the fourth dimension, atoms would need to be rearranged. This requires a tremendous amount of energy. And it would need to be available whenever and wherever the chair happened to be. This ruled out most power sources, such as your normal household electrical current. I really had only one choice. I'm sure you can guess what I went with."

"A rechargeable battery?"

"Heaven's no! No battery could supply the power I needed - at least none that I knew of. No, what I needed was a power source which could last for centuries instead of hours. Radium was, of course, the perfect solution. I bought a small pebble of it a few years previously just for fun but never got around to using it. Mrs. Curie had a surplus of it at the time and gave me a fabulous deal."

My eyes grow in alarm. "You bought radium from Marie Curie? And you stuck it on your chair? The same chair that's been sitting in your old library? The one I've worked around for the last two years?"

"Yes! Wasn't it fortunate I had some on hand?"

"Fuck no! That shit's radioactive."

"What could possibly be wrong with that? Radiation therapy is the miracle of the age! Radium is used in toothpaste to brighten your smile, and in medicinal drinks to put some pep in your step. What's the harm?"

I speak slowly, as though I'm talking to a child. "Your information is out of date, Alistair. Radium is extremely dangerous. Prolonged exposure to anything remotely radioactive can cause severe health problems: like anemia, bone loss, and cancer. Marie Curie died from side effects caused by years of doing experiments with radium. I heard the equipment in her laboratory is still radioactive... and in my time, she's been gone for several decades. Trust me, you don't want to mess with radium."

The revelation causes a puzzled frown to form on Alistair's face. However, that frown fades away surprisingly fast.

"Fascinating," he breathes out, eyes aglow. "You learn something new every day!"

The frown on my own face deepens. He treated my warning too casually.

"Now, where was I?" he hums while rubbing his chin introspectively.

"You made a radioactive death machine in your London home."

"Oh, yes. Thank you." He gazes off in remembrance. "It took years of planning and months more to construct. And once I had built it to my specifications, I sat down in the chair and flipped the switch. Guess what happened next."

"I don't know. What?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing. It wouldn't do a thing."

"Why not?"

"I hadn't the foggiest notion. I chalked it up to being a dud. But now I suspect the problem lay with the wiring. It's frightfully easy to have a short in it. The young lad you spoke of likely kicked it just right and made it work again! I wish I had thought of doing that myself. But rather than taking my frustrations out on the useless chair, I looked out the window. I was led to believe all that damnable London pollution probably was the culprit! The instruments in the chair are highly sensitive, you see. One speck of coal dust could render it inoperable. Right then and there, I decided to retreat to my ancestral home in the pristine splendor of the Lake District and begin the project again from scratch. My home was called Aldenwood, near the village of Warkstone. Ever heard of it?"

"Yes. It was where you went missing." A shiver of realization jolts through me. "Hey! They found your remains in a ravine near one of your favorite walking trails. You're supposed to be dead!"

He shrugs. "Wasn't me. What was done with the remains?"

I swallow. "T-they put the bones in your family's burial vault."

He slaps his knee. "Ha! A stranger buried in the Tuddleston vault - and most likely a commoner too. Mother would be furious if she knew she was resting in peace with a social nobody for all of eternity!"

As he goes on cackling in glee, my worried gaze crosses with Ewar's. He doesn't understand a word being said, yet I can tell by his wary expression that he is similarly concerned. There's two people besides myself inside of this room: Ewar and Alistair. And out of those two, only the caveman next to me seems mentally stable.

Can radium exposure cause insanity? Asking for a friend.

Alistair wipes the laughter from his eyes. "Pardon me. I haven't been that amused in quite some time."

"It's no problem," I say hesitantly. "So, you went from London to your house in the Lake District to work on your experiment. What happened after that?"

"I built another chair. Without all the distractions of town, it came together much quicker than the first one. My one hurdle was the estate's housekeeper. Nosy woman! Always trying to spy when I was conducting an experiment. Just because I nearly blew the roof off the house when my steam-powered unicycle overheated doesn't give her the right to snoop for the rest of my life. The nerve!" He exhales sharply. "I needed the utmost privacy, so I stole away in the dead of night and carried the chair to a hideaway from my youth. No one knew of its existence except myself. That is where I conducted the first test. I am proud to say it was a success!"

"How far back in time did you go?"

"Not far. I picked a nice, round number. Only five hundred years."

"That... sounds pretty far to me. Why didn't you just go back a few minutes or days since you were only testing?"

"Good question! And there's a simple answer, my dear. I was concerned traveling to a time when I already exist would create problems. What ramifications... what horrible paradoxes could result? For example, what if only one of me could exist at a time? Would it cause the untimely death of one or both of me? Or, could something much worse occur - such as the entire universe caving in? No, no. It's better to play safe when dealing with the complexities of time and space."

I manage a nod. This I can agree on.

"I only stayed in the year 1422 for a handful of minutes," he continues. "Dreadful era, if you ask me. The clothing, the food, the music... Yuck! Worse than the jazz age. I took myself back to 1922 and began preparations to journey to a much more interesting period in human history."

"Let me guess: the ice age."

"The late ice age to be precise." His eyes go dreamy. "I've always had a soft spot for the time. Giants walking the earth! Man battling the long, brutal winters just to survive! And all across the globe, new ideas are taking shape. A few hunter-gatherer tribes are giving up their nomadic lifestyle and built permanent housing. The domestication of animals has certainly already begun somewhere. And in a few more thousand years, the children of the wilderness will rise into masters of their domain. They'll have plowed the earth into fertile fields. Valuable crops will be harvested - far more food than what could be gathered in the woods. That extra food will cause communities to grow larger. Those growing communities will eventually become so prosperous, kingdoms will form. Kingdoms will eventually form into empires. And those same empires will inevitably fall, only to be conquered by someone stronger. History, they say, repeats itself... Yes, the ice age is a truly remarkable time in which to live. It's the prologue of civilization as we know it!

"So, I gathered supplies in secret and stored them in my childhood hiding place. Once my preparations were complete, I led my household staff to believe I would be going on a morning stroll. Little did they - or I for that matter - know that I would never return!"

My head tilts in question. "And why is that? Why didn't you go back?"

"Why would I want to?"

"To show the world your invention! You'd probably get the Nobel prize."

"Bah! Who needs that?"

"Most people would like to receive some recognition for their accomplishments," I point out.

"Yes... Yes, I suppose you're right. At one time I would have given anything for that. Yet, would a Nobel prize give me what I have now? I've put down roots. This is my home. I find the culture here most pleasing. We live as a community, always helping one another. Money and greed are unheard of. Best of all, I earned people's respect through my own merit - not through my family's name or wealth. I find it quite freeing to be my own man!"

"But instead of calling you Alistair, everyone calls you Mayant-hattatar. Why? Do they consider you a god too?"

He belly laughs. "I highly doubt anyone would confuse me with a god! No, Mayant-hattatar translates roughly to 'Wise Man'. People seek my advice on matters both big and small. To whom they should marry. Where to hunt. Conflict resolution... I find the role quite fulfilling. I'm a bit like King Solomon - but without the royal title!"

I scrunch my brow. "If you're just a person who hands out advice, how come you were wearing that freaky mask and dancing around like you had ants in your loin cloth?"

"It's all a part of the act! Do people want me to merely answer a question after having traveled such a great distance? No! They want to see a show. That is why I don the mask of the wise wooly rhinoceros. The dance is for the fire, from which I supposedly receive my wisdom."

I give a skeptical glance. "You made people think you talk to a fire pit?"

"Not quite. They believe the inhabitants of the spirit world communicate with me through the fire." He waves a hand at the flames in front of us. "Sprinkle a little saltpetre on it and it sparks up into a lovely yellow. To you and me, it's simple chemistry. Yet to the people living in this time, it's powerful magic."

Our discussion is put on hold when Onya returns with the refreshments. Alistair plays tea party by filling up the wooden drinking vessels with some sort of herbal brew. The meal accompanying the drink is meat wrapped in green stuff. I'm afraid to ask what it is. But no one barfs it back up, so I take a chance and eat it too. It tastes vaguely like mushrooms.

I keep taking glances at Onya. Even while she eats, she keeps her bow and sheath of arrows within arm's reach.

"Is she your bodyguard?" I ask curiously.

Alistair turns his smile on the woman sitting beside him. "Onya is my everything. Bodyguard, assistant, and wife."

"That's your wife?"

He chuckles to himself. "Hard to believe, isn't it? She's quite a beauty. Fortunately for me, she prefers brain over brawn, eh?"

I smile at his unpretentiousness. He may be nuttier than a candy bar, but at least he seems like a genuinely nice person.

"You really have made a life for yourself here," I remark in wonder.

"Yes, I have. I admit sometimes I long for my nightly pipe of tobacco, or a nice slab of mince pie. But those are merely creature comforts. The little things don't matter when you compare them to what I have gained. If I were to go back to the year 1922, would my time machine help anyone? Certainly not! I would venture to guess it would only cause problems - especially if it were to fall into the wrong hands. No, I don't regret my decision for a moment. I can actually help people here! Even my inventions are appreciated more than they ever were back home."

Suspicious, I pause mid bite. "What inventions?"

"Well, I suppose I shouldn't call them 'inventions' seeing as how I didn't invent them myself. I used my knowledge and taught my friends how to make items which could benefit the people living here today."

"Like what?"

"Oh... so many things! Hair combs, buttons, travois-"

I stop him there. "What's a travois?"

"It's a sledge built from tree branches, used primarily for transporting heavy items or injured people. Doesn't use wheels at all! It's powered through muscle strength alone. The travois was originally invented by the North American Indians of the Great Plains, but their invention was unknown during the ice age. Every person who saw the first one I made wanted one too! The travois took off in popularity like nothing I had ever seen." He frowns. "The same can't be said of the bow and arrow. It hasn't been nearly as successful. Only Onya has been brave enough to touch them. I was hoping once others saw how easy it is to use, they would want one too. Unfortunately, that never occurred. The bow is regarded with great fear. Maybe if I can convince just one more individual to try it out, the weapon won't seem so frightening..."

"Urg!" I slap a hand over my face. "You shouldn't have done that."

"Done what?"

"You shouldn't have made them things that haven't been invented yet."

"Why ever not? What could possibly be wrong about helping those in need?"

My hand lands on my lap. I gape at the man. "Are you not concerned at all about the Butterfly effect?"

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the term. What do butterflies have to do with me?"

"It's a theory, Alistair. Changing the smallest thing in the past could be disastrous. It goes something like: a butterfly flaps its wings, which triggers a series of events until it ends with a typhoon... Understand now?"

His eyes narrow in deep thought. Gradually, he nods. "Ah. I see. You're saying by giving these people items which aren't supposed to be here, it could potentially result in unforseen consequences."

"Exactly."

He grins. "Simply fascinating. The Butterfly effect! Who taught you this theory?"

Trying to form an answer, I think back to that depressing movie I once saw. "I guess you could say Ashton Kutcher showed me all about it."

"Mister Kutcher must be a brilliant fellow to think of such a thing!"

"Eh. Maybe. He did marry Demi and Mila." I swallow down the food in my mouth. "So, when will you take back the things you made?"

"Why would I do that, my dear?"

"You know, to fix everything back to the way it should be."

He huffs a laugh. "I have no intention of ever doing that."

"Why not? Were you not listening? The Butterfly effect could doom us all!"

"Calm down. It was only a theory. There's no proof it has any truth to it. Why should I take away the inventions people find useful just because they exist a few hundred - or thousand - years earlier than expected? Here's an alternate theory! Perhaps they needed someone like me to give them tools from the future to better their lives. Maybe... just maybe... I was meant to come here and guide these good people. Ever think of that?"

I shake my head in frustration. "I'm not a scientist or a philosopher. If you think you're doing the right thing, fine. I'm not going to stop you." Eager to change topics, I ask another question. "How did you end up here in this cave?"

"Onya's father was the one who found me all those years ago," he explains. "Saved my life. I was half starved, wandering the plains with no inkling of where to go. He brought me here, to the Cave of Life. It's been my home ever since."

"Why is it called that?"

"Because the Cave of Life is their Holy of Holies. They believe the Mother Goddess gave birth here to the first people to walk the earth."

I look around at the cavernous space. "Oh. I get it. The cave must have reminded somebody long ago of a woman's body. Then, the 'Mother Goddess' creation story was thought up."

"Quite right, I would say! I've mapped out all the rooms of the cave and found that each section represents a different part of the Mother Goddess's anatomy. This room is the heart. You already walked through the birth canal and womb." I take a long sip of herbal tea while he puckers his mouth in self-reflection. "It's a pity I never found the clitoris."

I choke on my drink.

Ewar slaps my back to try to get the liquid to go down my throat. When I finally stop coughing, I give him a quick glance. "Thank you. I'm all right now."

He bows his head but continues staring like a hawk, as if he thinks I might keel over and die at any moment. I then turn disbelieving eyes onto Alistair. This guy is one of the most respected scientists of all time. I cannot believe what just came out of his mouth!

"Are you for real?" I croak.

Visibly flabbergasted, Alistair frowns slightly. "Yes... Yes, I do believe I am real. I thought we established this already. Is there reason to believe I'm not?"

I let out the longest of sighs. "You know what? Never mind. Let's pretend these last five minutes didn't happen." Underneath my breath, I add, "Maybe you should get your wife to show you where the clitoris is."

As soon as the four of us finish the meal, he claps his hands together. "Well! Now that our minds and bodies have been refreshed, I'm eager to hear more about you, Bella. What must you have done to convince everyone that you were Damara! It must have blown what I did right out of the water. I was given merely a high position in society, yet you were given divine status!"

My lips perk up into a smirk. "Tell me first. What did you do?"

He scrambles up and rushes over to a basket. Underneath his threadbare clothes dating from the 1920s is a few personal belongings. He holds up a tiny piece of metal triumphantly and flicks it until a flame erupts. "They were intrigued by my lighter! It's almost out of fluid now. What about you?"

I reach over and grab my phone. He gasps when I boot up the screen. His wife stealthily grabs her weapon, eyeing me warily.

"What is this?" Alistair wonders aloud.

"It's a smart phone."

"Is that some sort of telephone?"

I make a face. "Um... It's more like a computer."

"And what exactly is a computer?"

Realizing that he is originally from a couple of decades before the advent of the information age, I try to dumb it down. "A computer is a machine that can do all kinds of things." Now that the phone is on, I begin swiping through the different apps. "You can use this to talk to people - just like you would a phone. But you can also do math using the calculator, find where you are by using the map app, order fast food, play a game... It can even be used to take photos."

He points at what's in my hand. "May I..."

"You want to hold it? Sure."

Alistair gets the hang of browsing through the phone quickly. His smile grows wider by the minute. "I never dreamed something like this could be created by human beings alone. No wonder your young man thought you were Damara!"

I fidget in place. "Ewar isn't my young man. He's more like..."

"Your husband," finishes Alistair without looking away from the phone's screen. "Where are those photographs you spoke of?"

I guide him to the gallery. He marvels at the many unremarkable pictures I've taken over the years. But I guess they're something special to him. Eventually, curiosity gets the best of Ewar. He moves closer so he can look too. His eyes soak in everything. Otherwise, he doesn't make a sound.

"This is nothing like I imagined the future would be!" cries Alistair. "Where are the steam-powered automobiles? The Zeppelins?! And where are the tandem bicycles that were supposed to be the answer to reducing traffic congestion? This is an outrage. Traffic looks worse here in this photograph than it did when I left bloody 1922!" His eyebrows lift. "I see the women of your era dress quite differently. More legs and cleavage on display."

"And does that offend your idea of feminine modesty?"

He chuckles. "If I let something like that bother me, I wouldn't have lasted five seconds in the ice age."

Several more photos go by. The newest one is shown last. His amused expression vanishes. The goofy, nerdy man I have come to know is altered beyond recognition.

"What's the meaning of this?" he says.

I glance at the screen. Two individuals I hope to never see again stare back. "I had to take that picture to prove I was Damara. Some tribe visited Ewar's people and made a big fuss over me." I frown as that day comes to the forefront of my mind. "I didn't trust them."

"Is that all you can tell me?"

"Yeah. What's the problem?"

Alistair looks on with an unblinking stare. "This is serious, Bella. Very serious, indeed." Slowly, he meets Ewar's steady gaze. "Let's hope your husband can help fill in the blanks."

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A/N-

Many of you guessed correctly the mystery man was going to be Alistair. I hope you like him as much as I do. He's going to be popping up throughout the story! Next chapter will reveal Ewar's perspective of things from past to present. A few surprises may await.

People who review can help Alistair by telling him where to find the "secret spot" of the cave. The poor man has been looking for years.

Thanks for reading. :-)