Elaine had arrived on a Friday night, which had given him the rest of the weekend to introduce her to things like the radio, television, computer and internet. She had learned quickly. Entering his house, David found her seated on the floor next to the mahogany coffee table . . . with his remote control and DVD player scattered in pieces across its surface, and her face pressed to the top of a binocular microscope she had dug out of the basement.
There went his plans to watch a movie. She didn’t even look up, just continued to look through the eyepieces. Covering his face with his hands, David groaned into his palms. He slid off his bowler hat and hung it up on the coat rack, removed his duster, and cleared his throat. She didn’t look up.
“Elaine?” he prodded.
One of her hands lifted and fluttered in a vague greeting. Atleast she wasn’t sitting in front of his computer, glassy-eyed from following too many Wiki-article links, or worse, stumbling across the shocking graphics of modern-day pornography. That had been an awkward experience, last night. All he had done was walk away for fifteen minutes, checked on their dinner, only to come back and find her as red as a tomato. No, this time she was calm, composed and the creator of this unexpected electronic clutter and chaos.
“Elaine, why did you dismantle my DVD player and the remote control?” he asked with as much patience as he could muster.
“Because I have an idea about these infra-red wave things, and the laser thing.”
“The ‘laser thing’,” David repeated.
“Yes, as a targeting mechanism. I told myself I would come up with a means of specifically targeting a particular lightning storm, and obviously I did, but I didn’t T-tell myself how. So I am investigating how.” She paused and lifted her head to look at him, her bun shifting a little on her head with the movement. “Um . . . were these expensive things?”
Biting back another groan, David nodded. “Yes, expensive. More to the point, I have had a difficult day at work, with meetings interrupting my attempts at coding, errors induced by my colleagues, a boss who insists I work overtime next week, and all I wanted to do was come home, drink a beer and watch a movie. Just so I could relax. Only now I can’t do that.”
“Oh, I can put it back together,” Elaine dismissed. Then paused and nibbled her lower lip, looking at the disarray of parts. “I think . . .”
Giving up, David closed his eyes. She wasn’t amessyhouse guest; she did make her bed, pick up after herself, and had even offered to wash the dishes – by hand, until he had shown her the dishwasher – but she did do things like this. He heard the floorboards creak and opened his eyes. She had risen and crossed to him, and now gently touched his arm.
“If we prepared for the future, in the past, and made sound investments in the past based on our future knowledge, why not just use that money to buy a new DVD thingy?”
“Because while I inherited the house straight off, ‘Uncle’ David’s bank accounts and stock shares were put into trust until my thirtieth birthday. Or until I married, whichever came first.” Hands on hiships, David met her startled gaze. “E-exactly,” he stated, using her trick of emphasizing the first letter. “For whatever reason our elder selves decided, the two of us are stuck on a budget until then. I have just had a stressful day from hell, and if I can’t watch a movie . . . well, at least I’m going to go have a cold one.”
“Erm . . .” Her hazel green gaze turned hesitant. “If you, erm, meant to have alcohol. . .”
Oh, no . . .Giving her a sour look, David asked, “What did you do?”
“Well, I’m a T-totaller, and I didn’t like the thought of alcoholin my house – it is still my house, you know!” she added quickly, defensively. “If we’re going to associate with each other in the past and the future, it’s M-mine, too! So I gave it to your neighbour down the hill. All of it.”
He stared at her, then buried his face in his palms again, muffling another, much more frustrated moan. Elaine patted him on the shoulder.
“There, there. You do sound rather stressed. Perhaps if you had a lie-down, and, erm, palpitated yourself? Well, I’m not sure if men actually can palpitate themselves, since it’s a female thing, but perhaps there’s a variation which can be applied to them?”
Sliding his hands down his face, David stared at her. “Palpitate?”
She blushed, then lifted her chin. “Yes. My mother’s doctor told me about it. It’s a medical technique used to relieve hysteria and stress in women. Surely you’ve heard of it in this day and age?”
Hysteria and stress . . .A snippet of learning from his wide-ranging study of the previous turn of the century resurfaced in his brain.Doctors used to relieve “hysteria” in women by . . . masturbating them.Flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal, David reminded himself firmly that he was supposed to take a couple weeks at least in courting her first.
“David?” she asked, guileless and clueless, for all of her intellect.
“Uh, yes, men have something similar,” he agreed.Such as what I did after I found the photographs my future self will have taken of you . . .“Um . . . don’t worry about the DVD player. It was a little old, and I suppose I can afford something new. I’m just going to go up to my room and lie down, as you suggested.”
With the photographs I took of you to study as I “palpitate” my stress away . ..
“All-right, then – I am S-sorry for dismantling your thingy without asking first. I won’t do it to anything else without double-checking,” she added, her hand stillon his arm. Pressing in sympathy, she hesitated, then leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for putting up with me, David. It’s V-very sweet of you.”
Yes . . . yes, I do believe I feel the need for an attack of “palpitations” coming on, he thought dazedly. He headed for the stairs with a smile, enjoying the lingering impression of her lips on his skin.
Day ten of his first seventeen days in the past, David was longing for air-conditioning. It was a hot, humid summer evening, filled with the drone of insects and only the slightest stirring of the air as a sort of breeze. Although a man of the year Ought-Nine never took off his shirt in front of a lady, Elaine had taken pity on her house guest, permitting him to strip off his upper clothes. The straps of his suspenders chafed a little, but the occasional, rare puff of air felt too good on his naked chest to care.
Plus, she did slant her gaze towards his torso every few paragraphs, immersed though she was in a borrowed future book extolling the virtues of superconductors. David himself was trying to read back issues of theChronicle, but the heat made it hard to concentrate on the articles in the “Local News” section. Part of his reason for reading the paper was his curiosity about how people lived and thought and, well, gossiped about each other. The other part was to make sure that Elaine’s name wasn’t besmirched by his presence.
So far no one had enquired as to where he was staying – a hazard since Elaine’s father was currently overseas lecturing on the newest learnings in electricity to his fellow scientists, leaving her essentially unchaperoned – but he didn’t want to take chances with her reputation. The hilltop house was fairly isolated in this age, with no neighbours at the bottom of the hill. They had, however, driven her father’s automobile into town a few times already, with David introduced as “a fellow scientist and colleague of Mr Cuttleridge’s” to explain his presence and peculiarities. That had come in handy when trying to explain away certain oddities in his speech and demeanour.
He tried to focus on a description of a soirée given by the mayorand his wife up at the county seat, but just couldn’t focus. Groaning, he dropped his head on his hands.
