An Unusual Time Traveler by Gregory Sage

I was just given a time travel ticket by my cousin, Gina, for my birthday. It was at a local museum, and something I had not heard of before. Time travel wasn’t supposed to be possible. I was not sure how I felt about the idea, but eventually I decided to call in and make my reservation. I drove to my destination in Detroit alone on a day when I had nothing to do, and took my time walking in. Once inside the vintage-looking building, I strolled past a smiling attendant and gave her the white ticket. She pointed me in the right direction, and I began walking to room 17.

Upon entering the grand exhibit, I was amazed and taken back by all the scenery. To my left were displays of realistic-looking dinosaur models and forests of the greenest and richest variety. Straight ahead were former presidents and past events, kingdoms and wars, from China to Europe to the United States. To my right was the unknown future. Glittering and enchanting as it was, it was vague. It looked almost like the culture of the 1800s, with people dressed in old-fashioned hats and scarves and long-sleeved coats, but the architecture and technology were much more advanced.

The tour guide, dressed in Italian-looking black suit and tie, took me to the little square booth and opened the door for me. I stepped inside, a little wary at first.

“It’s going to be just as if you were really there. You will interact both verbally and physically with the people you meet, and feel the same as if you had experienced the event firsthand,” he instructed. “Now, where would you like to go?”

“To the moon,” I replied, half-jokingly. I paused. “How about to see the Gettysburg Address?”

“Have fun!” he said, “I’ll see you in about 15 minutes.”

He shut the door, and I stared at what looked like a blank screen in front of me. The room was so dark I could feel it. I heard the man push a few buttons, which sounded really more like short beeps to me. Then the machine I was in roared loudly and jolted me, which scared me to death, to say the least. It felt like I was traveling at the speed of light, and the brilliance not only blinded me, but the speed gave me a headache, too. After what seemed like an eternity, the machine stopped in the middle of a field of grass. I felt the wind blowing and thought aloud, “I’m not supposed to be feeling wind! It’s a video. I didn’t bring my jacket.”

A man bumped me. He was walking briskly as if he was running late to catch something. I looked to the right of the field and saw a significant gathering of people. They looked a bit somber and focused, and I ran towards them. A bearded man with wavy black hair with a hint of grey was walking to the podium. He lowered his head for a moment, and it looked like he whispered a prayer to himself. He reached the oak platform and held the sides of it while gazing down at something. Then he uttered one of the most famous declarations in American history, starting with, “Fourscore and seven years ago.” The people held their breath. In his humble speech, he referred to the creation of a nation in which we live, where all men had liberty and justice given to them by their Creator. He added that it was not the words that were spoken today, but those who had just lost their lives who would be remembered – words that I knew not to be true. He noted the consecration of the ground on which we stood by the men who gave their lives to further the cause of freedom. It was by their great sacrifice that a nation so great would not perish from the earth.

The people clapped to show their agreement and support. Little did they know the extent of the words their president had just spoken. I ran up to the podium in haste, grinning from ear to ear. “Mr. President, Mr. President! I’m a fan of yours!”

He turned and looked at me and smiled, a little perplexed. He spoke with his deep, rugged, southern accent. “A fan?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“I’m a…supporter of yours,” I said, stumbling for words. “You’re a great man!”

“Well, thank you, my boy,” he responded. “But it is the duty of every citizen to do what God has entrusted them with humility and gratitude, praying much for providential help. No one person is above another. We all must face our responsibilities bravely and not shirk from them. Where might you be from? I do not recognize your attire.”

“Oh, I’m from Michigan!”

“Michigan?!” he said. “That is quite a young state in our great Union.”

“Yes! I’ve lived here for quite some time.”

“Really? That is news to me! I have only traveled there but once for a meeting with the heads of the state.”

“Come visit us sometime!” I suggested.

“I will! I best be going now. Godspeed to you and thank you for your support in our endeavors!”

“Bye Mr. President!”

I waved as he went to his carriage and put his hat on, the very same tall, black hat that I had seen him depicted in so many times before. I stared as he got further and further away, wondering what he would do next, but realizing I’d have to read my history books to know that.

The machine jolted me back through time and came to a screeching halt. “Ohhhh,” I said, a little queasy. The man opened the door and smiled.

“How was it?”

“Unusual,” I responded, a little out of it. “Try making the equipment not jerk you so hard. I feel a bit sick.”

“We’ll take that into consideration,” he said.

I walked to my car, unsure what to think. I had just talked with one of the most influential people in history. Was my reaction normal? Would I ever come back and do something like this again? To this day I haven’t gone back, but I might. Losing that fear and facing an unknown reality is all it takes.