Written by Doug – the northlondonhippy

What would YOU do if you figured out how to travel through time?

The Discovery

If you’ve come here looking for me to reveal the secrets of time travel, you might as well stop reading. The key to unlocking it is surprisingly simple, and it still shocks me that I am the first, and as far as I know, only person to have made this discovery. Twice. 

As you will soon learn, I used my knowledge unwisely, and paid quite a high price for it. And now, I will take that knowledge of how I did it with me to the grave.

I was 25 years old when I made this discovery, but it would take me a decade and a half, before I’d be able to apply it in the real world. Turning the theoretical into the practical became my life’s work. 

This sort of research didn’t come cheap, so I had a cover story involving quantum theory that was very well funded. I set up my lab in a large research facility complex. Most people didn’t even know I was there. I mostly kept to myself. 

I actually published a couple of papers on the quantum theory. My cover work didn’t go to waste, but no one had a clue what I was really up to in my lab. Well, almost no one. 

Jennifer knew. She was a lab assistant at the facility, and we had become friendly. In time I grew to trust Jennifer, and I finally showed her around my lab, and explained my true research to her. 

Jennifer was initially dismissive, but I revealed just enough to get her to believe, and I convinced her to help me with my first real-world experiment. 

The first time I travelled back in time, I went to 1958, which is 5 years before my real time target, early summer 1962. I spent nearly a year in 1958, before returning back to 2003, and my lab. I spent that year putting a plan into action, that I aimed to execute in 1962. It started with robbing a bank. 

No, seriously! I needed cash, and obviously couldn’t bring any from the future, so I did a bank job. I couldn’t think of any other way to raise an initial stake in the past. 

Just because I couldn’t bring cash, didn’t mean I couldn’t bring back a weapon. It was my father’s .38 pearl-handled revolver, that he gave me on my 18th birthday. He had won it in a shooting contest in the 1940s, so it wouldn’t have been out of place, had it been discovered. In the end, I didn’t need to fire a shot. 

The bank I robbed was in the mid west, I’m not going to say where. I needed to be in New Jersey, which is where I’m from originally. So after my big score, I hopped on a train, and took my satchel of cash to a big bank on the Jersey Shore, where I opened an account. 

I also made some clever, high yield investments. They didn’t even ask for any ID, which was annoying, because I did the old Frederick Forsyth trick of getting a birth certificate for a baby that had died close to birth, who if still alive would have been around my age. Real Day of the Jackal shit! It was so easy too.

Let’s just say if I told you what price I paid for Polaroid, and Kodak stock, and what I would sell it for 5 years later, it would make your eyes water! I made a killing.

My first time travel trip was a success. Not only did I prove that my theory worked, but I was able to lay the groundwork for my real mission, and why I wanted to invent time travel in the first place.

And even though I was away for a year, from Jennifer’s perspective, I was only gone for a few minutes. The remote return module I designed worked perfectly as well. 

The Mission

Jennifer told me I was crazy, when I finally explained to her why I invented time travel. I understood her reaction, even if I vehemently disagreed with it. 

My plan was simple. I wanted to go back, and convince my mother not to give birth to me. I had it all worked out, preventing my birth would spare me the pain of life. 

I was born 6 weeks prematurely in January 1963, and have been paying the price ever since. I was a sickly child, or so I was repeatedly told. As an adult, it has been even worse, and I have suffered from a myriad of unpleasant physical, and mental health issues for my entire life. It was bad, and it was only going to continue to get worse, the older I got.   

I never understood why my parents had me. They had been married for nearly a decade before I came along. They couldn’t afford a kid either, yet they had me anyway. I’ve spent my entire life wishing they didn’t. Until I realised, through my breakthrough, that I might be able to do something about it. 

I knew abortion back then wasn’t common, but I also knew it wasn’t completely impossible, if one had funds. That’s why I needed the money. It’s also why I invented time travel. I was hoping I could erase myself from existence, along with my discovery. 

Time travel is too dangerous, and open to abuse to be allowed to exist. Much like me. I’m dangerous too, and I shouldn’t exist either. 

So that was my plan, I was going to travel back in time again, and convince my mother to have an abortion before she told my father she was even expecting. And I had the funds waiting for me in 1962 to pay for it, too. 

Jennifer said wishing to erase myself from existence was insane.  

I told her I wanted to set time aside, so it would be as if I never existed. 

She said what I wanted to do is commit timicide. 

Both are pretty clever, setting “time aside”, and committing “timicide”, but maybe Jennifer’s made-up word has the edge. 

I told Jennifer if it worked, if I was able to commit timicide, I wouldn’t be returning. I told her there was even a chance I could reset the whole universe, and she might not even remember I existed. 

The truth is I wasn’t entirely sure what would happen if it worked, but it was a risk I was willing to take. I told you I was dangerous too. 

Whatever the outcome, I told Jennifer that if I wasn’t back 10 minutes after my departure, then my mission was a success, and to be happy for me. 

Away We Go

I had everything I needed packed, and ready to go. I was dressed in a retro suit and tie that would blend right into the era. 

Jennifer hugged me goodbye, just a little longer than I was comfortable with, and her eyes welled with tears. Does she have a little crush on me? Why am I only realising this now?

I time travelled. I’m not going to describe the tech, or the process, but I can tell you that for me, it was instantaneous. 

I arrived in a small park after dark, in the the seaside city of Asbury Park. That could be a song lyric!

I carefully hid my remote return module in the park. No one could find it, unless they knew exactly where, and how to look. It was safe. I checked into the Berkeley Carteret Hotel on the sea front, and got a room with an ocean view. 

My family moved to Asbury when I was about 1 year old, so being back there in 1962, about 2 years before I would actually live there, didn’t feel unfamiliar at all. In many ways, it felt like coming home. 

We moved out of Asbury in 1967, before the riots, and trouble, and I only lived there for three years. That said, it was the first place I lived on the Jersey Shore. That’s why I chose it. Nostalgia. 

The next day, I sold all my stocks, filled my bank account, and bought a late model used car. It was clunky to drive, and lacked the amenities of the future, like power steering, and power brakes, but it was basic transport, and that’s all I needed. 

I gave myself a couple of days to enjoy Asbury. It was mid-June, the schools hadn’t broken up yet, and the summer season hadn’t properly kicked off, but the weather was glorious.

I strolled along the boardwalk, ventured into the Casino, and the Palace too. I had hot dogs, I ate burgers, I even had a Kohr’s Frozen Custard. I forgot how much I loved those! 

I walked through Convention Hall as well, but nothing was going on there at the time, not even the annual boat show. I walked the length of the entire boardwalk. And I filled my lungs with the fresh sea air. There is no other scent quite like it.

I walked all the way to Ocean Grove, my dad spent his summers there as a kid. We would have still had family there, somewhere in ‘62. It’s a weird Methodist summer camp slash town. It was even weirder back then. You couldn’t drive a car there on a Sunday, it was even illegal to ride a bicycle on the lord’s day within the city limits. I don’t think that changed till the 1970s.

I think I revisited my early childhood because it was the last time I was truly happy, and healthy. Once I hit age 5 or 6, the slide downhill began. 

After I had my fill of the Jersey Shore, and my weirdly nostalgic visit across time, I headed for north Jersey, where I would hopefully find my mother.

Hi Mom

I had heard enough stories about my parents’ lives that I had a pretty good idea of where to find them in 1962. Well, not “them”, as I didn’t need to speak to my father. I was hoping to avoid him, and just speak to my mother. 

My confidence paid off, as I knew both of my parents worked for the same company back then, Bendix. My mother only gave up her job when I came along, something she occasionally bemoaned during my childhood. 

She used to tell me that on warm, sunny days, she would take her lunch break at a park right across the street from her office building. That’s where I found her.

She was sitting on a bench, on her own, at the side of the park. She was eating a sandwich, a small red tartan thermos was next to her on the bench. 

As I passed by, I pretended to notice her. I said: “Ann?”

She looked up, and made eye contact. She studied my face. I could sense her feeling that there was something familiar about me, but she couldn’t quite place what it was. She must have thought I was a co-worker. It was a big company, and she was the executive assistant to the president, so most people probably knew who she was. 

I asked if she minded if I sat down. She said it’s a free country, and went back to her sandwich. That was my Mom for sure. 

I told her I knew her. I told her that her parents’ names were Fiorovante and Anna, and that she grew up in Paterson, and that her husband’s name was Henry, but most people called him Mac. And his family called him Bud, or Buddy…

She stopped me there, and appeared somewhat confused. “How do you know that? Nobody I know, knows his family calls him Buddy.”

“I know everything, Ann. You’re not going to believe me, but I am your guardian angel.”

She scoffed. “What’s your game, buster?”

“No game, I promise you, just some friendly advice. You’re expecting, and I reckon you’ve only just worked that out, and you haven’t told Mac yet, have you?”

She reflexively responded with “I’m just late… And how could you know that? Who are you?” She spat that last part out at me, angrily. 

“I told you, I’m your guardian angel. The baby you’re carrying shouldn’t be born. You will have a difficult childbirth, he will have many health problems, and a miserable life. You can prevent all that, and I’m here to help you.”

She teared up, I didn’t expect that.

”So it’s a boy? How do you know all this? How can you be so sure? What if he grows up, and cures cancer? Or goes to the moon?”

“He won’t. And he doesn’t. He will just have a very unhappy life. I don’t believe in curses, but that’s the best way to describe his potential existence. He will be cursed to suffer for his entire life. You don’t want to be responsible for the pain of another, do you? You can prevent all of that if you just listen. You must believe me!”

Ann stood up defiantly, and shouted “Get away from me, you creep. What’s wrong with you? Just leave me alone. Go! Now!”

“No”, I replied as I too stood up. “You don’t understand, you have no idea how terrible his life will be. You can prevent it. And I can help, whatever the cost.”

“You sick man. You weirdo. You want a complete stranger to have an abortion? And you want to pay for it? What’s wrong with you? You sicko!”

“You’re not a stranger, I told you, I am your guardian angel. How else could I know so much about you? I only want to help, and spare that poor born unborn child a horrific life.”

“That’s it mister, I’m done. I’ve had enough of this. I have to get back to work. Don’t ever speak to me again”.

I was flummoxed, and off balance. I didn’t expect this reaction. I don’t know what I expected, but it definitely wasn’t this. 

I instinctively grabbed her arm, and said “wait”, and then I don’t know what came over me, but I punched her in the stomach. Repeatedly. She screamed. I screamed. And then I felt a strong hand on my shoulder, as I was spun around.

Now, standing in front of me was my father. We would have been about the same age, give or take. And he hit me with a roundhouse right, that knocked me unconscious. 

Doe

I woke up in a cell, in the local police station. My jaw was broken, and I was pretty bruised up. Even though his first punch knocked me out, my father kept the blows coming, until a couple of cops pulled him off me. Everything hurt. 

They searched me while I was still down for the count, and they found my driver’s license, in the name of a child that died 40 years earlier. The cops were laughing about my name, “John Doe”. It’s not my fault that was the name of the dead kid I found. 

“Doe, you’re awake?”, said one of the cops. “We’ve got a duty lawyer coming in to speak with you. You’re in a world of trouble, son.”

Of course I am. 

The duty lawyer was young, maybe late 20’s, and didn’t seem experienced, but it didn’t matter to me. He explained the charges, and said based on the woman’s statement, I was more likely to be sent to a mental institution, rather than prison, if I put in an insanity plea. If I didn’t, they were going to throw the book at me, and I was going to do hard time in a state prison. 

“I’m not insane”, I told him, but he didn’t believe me. And I didn’t blame him for that, since my mother’s statement said I kept claiming to be her ‘guardian angel”, and I urged her to terminate her pregnancy. That does sound kind of crazy when you think about it.

I told the lawyer I could prove I wasn’t insane. I asked him for a piece of paper, an envelope, and a pen, which he pulled from his briefcase. 

I scrawled one word, plus two numbers on the paper, folded it, and put it in the envelope. And then I sealed the envelope, and I wrote “Do not open until 16th January 1963” on the front of it. 

I told him as well, don’t not open the envelope before that date, I made him promise, that under no circumstances would he open it before the 16th. If he does, it could render this entire exercise pointless. He didn’t understand, but swore to me he would follow my instructions, just the same. 

I also told him to watch for a birth announcement from Ann, and Mac in the local newspaper. Their baby was due at the end of February, or very early in March, but I said that he would see the announcement sooner than that. I told him when he saw it, he would understand. That left him even more perplexed, but he noted it on his legal pad.

I could tell he didn’t know what to make of any of this. It probably made him think I was even crazier.  

Obviously, I couldn’t explain anything truthfully. I would only sound even more insane than I already do, if I did. I did agree to put in an insanity plea though. There’s a certain insane symmetry to all this. 

Guilty by reason of insanity was accepted by the judge and I was sentenced to life at Marlboro Psychiatric Hospital.

I was a model in-patient, quiet, reserved, and well behaved. Docile. The staff all called me “Doe”. The other in-patients didn’t call me anything, as most of them were properly howl at the moon, barking mad. They didn’t sleep under bridges back then, you didn’t find them in train stations, or on the street. In the 60s, the severely mentally ill were institutionalised, and I was surrounded by them. 

“Doe, you have a visitor”.

Those were words I never expected to hear. It was the very end of January 1963, and the young duty lawyer who helped me with my plea, had come to see me. I immediately figured I knew why. 

He opened the envelope as instructed on the 16th of January, and read what I had written. That one word, plus two numbers.

Yes, that one word, which was my first name. My real first name. I knew it would be the name of Ann and Mac’s baby, who was born on the 15th of January, 6 weeks too early. And the numbers? Four and ten, because that was the baby’s weight, 4 pounds, 10 ounces. 

The lawyer was holding the local newspaper, he showed me the birth announcement. “Born to Ann and Mac (redacted) on January 15th 1963, a baby boy, weighing 4lbs, 10oz, named Douglas.”

“How did you know?”, he asked me. “How could you possibly know the date the boy would be born? And his weight? And he was 6 weeks premature. And how did you know they would name him Douglas?”

“This doesn’t prove you’re not insane. I don’t know what it proves, but how the bejesus did you know all this ahead of time? It’s impossible!”

It didn’t make a difference to anything. I was just showing off. 

12 Years Later

I’d been in Marlboro for 12 years. It was 1975 now, I’m 52 years old. Nothing had changed, just me. I was older, greyer, sadder, and on even more medication.  

My life was pretty miserable before I travelled back to 1963, now it was positively pitiful. I guess I was getting what I deserved. I was a terrible person.

“Doe, you have a visitor”. 

It had been 12 years since anyone had come to see me. I wondered who it could possibly be this time, as I made my way to the visitors lounge.

It was my father. He was greyer, and older too. I flinched when I saw him. He held up his hands in a surrender gesture, and said “I just want to talk”. We sat down.

“You’ve been in here for 12 years, keeping her secret. Keeping your secret. Why? You must have worried I might work it out. But why destroy your own life to protect her? What is she to you?”

I had no idea what he was talking about. I know my dad, he was sharp, but not so sharp that he worked out my real secret… That I was a tragic time traveller from the future, who fucked up badly. 

I didn’t say much of anything. I had no idea what secret of my mother’s he thought I might be hiding by staying in a mental hospital. And I wouldn’t exactly call it “staying’, as leaving really isn’t an option in a secure facility. 

That said, the truth is that I probably could have escaped. The security wasn’t that good. And I could have stolen some clothing, hitchhiked back to Asbury Park, located my remote return module in that small park, and travelled back to 2003. But I didn’t. I deserved to be right where I was, and I knew I should live out my days here. 

My father spoke over my silence with even more words, that became increasingly angry. He was losing his cool.

“You’ll be pleased to know that I left her, not that it will do you any good in here.”

“Huh? You left her? Why?” I said, somewhat astonished by this unexpected revelation. 

He pulled a wallet sized photo out of his pocket, and slammed it on the table in front of me, and said, “Look at it. Look at it!”

I recognised the photo immediately. It was my 6th grade school photo from when I was 12 years old. It looked like a younger version of me, because it was a younger version of me. But I couldn’t explain that to my father, could I?

He drew a reasonable conclusion based on the evidence. The kid looked exactly like the guy they locked up for assaulting his wife, after trying to convince her to have an abortion. He put two, and two together and it added up to infinity. 

Clearly, in his mind, I had had an affair with his wife, and I impregnated her. That’s why it took 9 years for her to conceive. He thought he was shooting blanks, and I was the daddy.

He already beat the shit out of me once, but I could tell, if given the chance, he would do it again, and then some. By this point he was seething with rage. 

“Nothing to say for yourself? Thought so.” He stood up.

“You’re wrong”, I said. “She would never cheat on you. I can’t explain why your son looks like me, but I promise you, you are his real father.”

“Bullshit. You lie. You liar. I don’t know why I came here. This was a waste of time.” And with that, he turned around, and left without looking back. I never saw him again. 

My father was a gentle, happy-go-lucky guy, always smiling, always laughing. He was a great father, he taught me well, took care of me, and treated me with kindness. The man that just visited me was nothing like that. 

He wasn’t the man I grew up with, he was bitter, and he was grieving. He was broken, and me breaking his trust with my mother, is what broke him. I could only imagine what growing up fatherless was doing to me. 

Meet yourself

I wouldn’t have another visitor for 13 more years, when I turned up to visit myself. It was 1988, I was 65 now. Doug Mark II was 25 years old.

My health continued to decline over the years, I was wheelchair bound, and taking more tablets per day than I could count. I aged badly, and looked older than my years. Haggard is the word that comes to mind when I catch my reflection in a mirror. The ward was even more dilapidated than I was. 

“Doe, you have a visitor”. 

It was only the third time I’d heard those words since being committed. 

The nurse added, “I think it’s your son. He looks so much like you! I didn’t even know you had a son.”

“I don’t”, I said, as she wheeled me into the visitors lounge. 

And there he was, it was like looking into a mirror into the past. My past. His clothing was a bit shabby, and his demeanour seemed somewhat rougher than me at that age. His father left the family home when he was 12 years old, that’s bound to have had an effect on him. How could it not?

“You’re not my father”, were the first words out of his mouth.

I said, “That’s right, I’m not. Your real father, is your real father. He got it totally wrong.”

“Yeah, and I paid the price, so did my mother. She doesn’t know, does she? She has no idea who you really are. And he told me he came to see you, so you didn’t tell my father either, did you?”

“No, neither one of them has any idea who I really am. I’m guessing you might by now, though. Am I right?”

Yep, you got it in one, old man. I worked out how to time travel, and you did too. Only you really fucking did it, didn’t you? You fucking fuckwit.”

Well, that’s me told. 

“Yes, I’m you, and you’re me.”

“No, I’m not you. Not exactly. Nature, yes, but nurture, no. You grew up with our father, didn’t you? He didn’t leave your family?”

“You’re right. He didn’t. He only left your family because I tried to prevent your birth.  And I tried to prevent your birth, because I’ve had a miserable life, and I wanted to spare you that…”

He interrupted, “You wanted to spare yourself that, you never, ever thought of me as a separate, living being. You never thought of me at all, and you created me! Your stupid actions had stupid consequences. Me! I am your consequences. You made my life worse than yours because you couldn’t even erase yourself properly! I can’t believe I’m such an idiot. Did you really think she’d have an abortion, just because you told her to have one? Seriously dude? That’s insane. She would never have done that in a million years. If anything, your little intervention made her more determined to have us!”

He continued, “And I’ll tell you something else. She told me that when we were born 6 weeks prematurely, they gave our mother a choice, to do extreme interventions to keep us alive, or to let nature do its thing. We weren’t meant to be born, and maybe, just maybe, our mother would have made a different choice, and let us go at birth, if you hadn’t messed things up so badly. Did you ever think of that?”

No, I hadn’t, and I admitted as much. Maybe this was the case when I was born too, only my mother never felt the need to tell me. Perhaps time is a coin toss, maybe a different version might have played out where I didn’t survive my birth? And my intervention made my survival more likely? Who’s to say? Time travel is a mind fuck, 100% would not recommend you try it, if you’re ever given the chance. 

What I now learned is that I ruined two lives, his and mine. Ours. I ruined our lives. I’ve spent the last 25 years in a stinking mental hospital, and Doug Mark II grew up fatherless from the age of 12. These are not ideal outcomes for either of us, and both were my fault. 

“Look, you know why I worked out time travel. I worked it out for the same reason you did, because I want to erase myself. Except now, I want to erase both of us.”

“How do you expect to do that?” I asked.

“How do you think? I’m going to travel further back in time, and kill my son of a bitch father, before he even meets our mother. Which is what you should have done in the first place, asshole. I’m a lot more determined than you were. That’s why you failed.”

He kept going, “You can sit in here till you die, and I can wait until however long it takes to turn the theoretical into the practical, and right your wrongs. Or, if you still have the means, you can send me to the future, and I can use of your perfected tech to travel back further in time, and make sure neither one of us is ever conceived. Let me fix this.”

Doug Mark II

Nine minutes had past since Doug Mark I had left 2003 for 1963, and Jennifer was starting to really panic. It was then that Doug Mark II materialised.

Jennifer was unsure why Doug looked so much younger. Had something gone wrong? 

It certainly had, but not with the tech in the way she was imagining. 

It took Doug Mark II a moment to get his bearings. “You must be Jennifer, he told me about you. I’m not him. I mean, I am him, but I’m a younger version. Nice to meet you.”

Doug Mark II held out his hand, and shook Jennifer’s. “I know this is weird, but he said I could trust you. He also said you know how to work his machine. I need to take one more trip to fix everything he broke.”

This was a lot for Jennifer to take in all at once, so she just sat down in silence. Time travel was weird enough, but now a different, younger version of Doug had returned. Doug Mark II?

“OK, sure. What do you need?”, was all she could finally muster.

Doug Mark II didn’t tell Jennifer everything, he left out a lot of details that she might find troubling. He didn’t tell her how his predecessor ended up, and he left out how much worse his life was as a result of Doug Mark I’s actions. 

He just stressed two things to her: That the new plan was worked out meticulously between both Dougs. And that this Doug had to make it all right, by going back to 1952. 

He explained, “Put it this way, right now there are two Dougs too many in the universe, and I’m in charge of Operation Doug-less.”

She didn’t get the joke. 

1952

Doug Mark II was legitimately impressed with Doug Mark I’s execution of the time travel discovery. He thought it was simple, and elegant, and he couldn’t have done it any better, or differently himself, given 15 years, and the same funding. 

The mission to kill his father was a simple one. Locate, and liquidate the target. Neither Doug was as certain as to where to find their father in 1952, before he met their mother to be. But they had a pretty reasonable guess. 

Doug Mark II time travelled to a secluded spot near the offices of the company where they thought their Dad worked at the time. 

Doug Mark II was armed with the same pearl-handled .38 revolver Doug Mark I used to stick up a bank in 1958. Doug Mark II wasn’t gifted the gun, and didn’t know it originally belonged to his father. Doug Mark II grabbed it in the lab, after being told where to find it by Doug Mark I when they planned this mission together. 

Doug Mark II kept an eye on the office’s large parking lot, from a nearby bus stop. He loitered there, waiting for people to start to leave the building at the end of the day. And when they did, he moved back over to the lot, keeping a keen eye out for a younger version of his father.

Doug Mark II hated his father for leaving his mother, and for leaving him. He always knew his father was wrong, but he didn’t know how he knew. Doug Mark II could sense something was off, but it wasn’t until he worked out time travel that he understood how complicated it all was. Doug Mark II could never forgive his father for doubting his mother’s loyalty, and fidelity. This was retribution, as much as it was an attempt at time correction. 

Neither Doug was sure if killing the old man would erase their existences. All they could do was hope if nothing else, it didn’t make things worse. 

Doug Mark II spotted Mac as he exited the building. He was heading for an old Chevy, when Doug said “Hey, is that you Mac?”

His father turned around, and said, “Yeah, who are you?”

Doug Mark II was less than 2 yards away from his father, when he drew the gun, and levelled it at him.

His father recognised the gun instantly, he had won it in a shooting contest in the 1940s. He blurted out “You’re going to shoot a man with his own gun?”

“What?” Doug Mark II said, and in that microsecond, Mac lunged forward, and grabbed at the gun. They struggled, and fell to the ground, wrestling for control of the weapon.

A shot rang out, and then a second. And then silence. 

Doug Mark II pushed Mac off of him, and up against the Chevy. He stood up, gun in hand. He then sat Mac upright and saw that both bullets had hit him in the chest, his head was drooping to one side, his eyes now open, and fixed.

A few seconds later, one of Mac’s colleagues found his body slumped against the car, and screamed for help. 

The gunman, and the weapon were nowhere to be seen, and never found. Mac was dead.

Jennifer

Ten minutes had passed since Doug Mark II had travelled from 2003, back to 1952. She knew if he wasn’t back in 10 minutes, he wasn’t coming back. Still, she waited 2 more hours, before going home. 

In that time, she had hoped, prayed, and dreamt that somehow Doug Mark I would return, and not Doug Mark II. But after the first 10 minutes had passed, she would have settled for Doug Mark II. Either was better than neither. 

She had a crush on Doug Mark I, but had never told him. She promised herself if he returned this time, she was going to confess to her true feelings. 

In her desperation, she even considered confessing her feelings to Doug Mark II, should he return. She was almost exactly between their ages. Doug Mark I was about 8 years older, while Doug Mark II was only 7 years younger. Maybe she could help shape him, make him less bitter than Doug Mark I?

When she returned to Doug’s lab at the research facility the next day, it was empty. All of Doug’s gear was gone. It was like it was never even there. 

When she asked other people at the facility about it, no one seemed to know what she was talking about. Jennifer quickly realised that she was the only person to remember Doug’s lab, or Doug.

Jennifer had learned many details about Doug’s life, and family, that she still recalled. She went online, and she searched. All she found was his mother’s obituary. It was in her maiden name. 

Ann’s obituary said she left behind many nieces, and nephews. 

There was no mention of a husband, or child. 

The End

If you enjoyed my short story, there’s plenty more of my work for you to read.

Why not check out my brand new, 4-part series – MTV Redux? It’s about how I started my career in the media with MTV back in the mid-1980s in NYC… But it’s also about a whole lot more.

(All words © Copyright 2023 – Doug – the northlondonhippy. All rights reserved)