I wrote this story with a certain prompt in mind, but I will not reveal it until the end of the story because it would completely spoil everything. Feel free to leave feedback and constructive criticism in the comments below, as long with any edits I could include. It is about 1000 words long, about a 5 minute read. Enjoy!
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Herbert hated when they called him up to the stage, not due to a fear of public speaking, but rather because he hated when people addressed him by his first name. He bound up the steps, a tired and irritated expression apparent on his face. Before starting, he looked out into the audience. It was a good turnout, slightly less than 500 people this year. He began speaking. He started very well, everyone was interested, but after several minutes he wanted to display an image on the screen. The intern working the convention placed the image upside down, generating a few chuckles from the audience, as well as an awkward silence accompanied by a muted shuffle as a small group left the screening room. Nevertheless, he continued on.
“While it is not yet working, I believe that my time machine will far surpass any other in production-in matters of speed, reliability, and efficiency. Based on my calculations,” he continued on, “it should be finished within this time next year, ready for a live test.”
The projector flickered off, followed by a round of applause as he walked down the steps. Hubert was obviously exhausted and decided to leave early. Upon arriving, he prepared a coffee. His pocket watch indicated a quarter past four. His head was so filled with ideas, he was going to need a lot of energy to put them all into use before he forgot them. Almost immediately after emptying his mug, he got to work. Tinkering, writing, equating, thinking, building, adjusting all throughout the night. He had made a large amount of progress, but he would need to go to bed now.
Hubert, or H.G. as he preferred, spent the next 362 days working on his time machine. He had completed it three days before the convention, yet he resisted the urge to test it-he wanted the first demonstration to be live. His car was parked neatly in the street right in front of the convention center. He was the first to get there, arriving several hours before anyone else. He needed the time, for he wished his invention to be a secret until all eyes were on him. H.G. wanted to be known as the inventor of the time machine. Fellow time travel enthusiasts, experts, and hobbyists began pouring in through the tall, glass doors. H.G. spent the entirety of the morning session continuing preparations for his time machine. After the lunch break, it was his turn to present.
“Herbert George Wells to the stage, please.” Announced the intercom. He began up the aisle. He hated when they called him up to the stage, not due to a fear of public speaking, but rather because he hated when people addresses him by his first name. Even with this thought in mind, he smiled with excitement for what was about to happen. He ran up the steps, took a deep breath, and turned to the audience, grinning. It was a better turnout this year. He had counted how many people had walked into the screening room, six hundred twenty-one.
“I, H.G. Wells have made the most important discovery to the field of chronokinetics.” H.G. continued, “David Lewis said it best-‘An object time travels if and only if the difference between its departure and arrival times as measured in the surrounding world does not equal the duration of the journey undergone by the object.’
“I have created a machine capable of meeting such criteria!” H.G.’s eyes twinkled-yet there were no stage lights. Pure excitement flooded his body as he pulled back the tarp to reveal his time machine. “And now-I will provide a live demonstration. I will go back 1 year in time and place an ad in the Science Magazine edition for this year. If everything worked well, on your way home tonight all of you will pick up a copy of the Science Magazine, and-on the very last page-will be the following words:
“‘We all have our time machines, don’t we. Those that take us back are memories… And those that carry us forward, are dreams.’” With that thought lingering in the attendees minds, he ran into his machine, which had been pretuned, and pulled down the main switch. He heard a gasp from the audience, most likely caused by the flashing lights on the outside. He heard the hum of electricity around him, he was bracing for the shock-flashing lights, cheering audiences, and-he blacked out.
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His car was parked neatly in the street right in front of the convention center. He was the first to get there, arriving several hours before anyone else. He made final adjustments to his machine until he could see fellow time travel enthusiasts, experts, and hobbyists pour in through the tall, glass, doors. He noticed that many of them wore weird clothes-it was a lot less formal than last year’s convention. Hubert seemed slightly out of place in his dark brown suit, surrounded by people in jeans and t-shirts. He walked around a bit, seeing what everyone else had been up to during the year. Nothing at all even compared to what he had done. He continued preparations until the lunch break, which was quite quick. He walked over to the screening room, preparing for his speech. His speech was short and to the point, then he ran into his machine and turned it on. He heard the buzz of the machine around him, bracing himself for the shock-and then he blacked out.
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He neatly parked his car in the street in front of the convention center. There was no one else there, so he decided to get back into his car and drive to the cafe. He grabbed a coffee and a copy of the Science Magazine. This year’s copy was interesting, there were lots of new names in it. He decided to read through the entire magazine, and on the last page, he found some words that stuck with him.
“We all have our time machines, don’t we. Those that take us back are memories… And those that carry us forward, are dreams.”
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