One thing

Chet’s job as a NASA aerospace engineer was winding down after 35 years, and his personal mission to complete the time machine he built in his home workshop was imminent. He found himself becoming less passionate about his job and more excited about his hobby turned obsession.

Years ago, he realized the problem with previous time travel enthusiasts was the entire world order could be completely different should someone have the ability to go back in time anytime, anywhere. How chaotic would it be if one day a person could reach back two centuries and change the outcome of the Civil War and then the next day another person could turn Adolf Hitler into the victor of World War II?

Chet realized it was a losing proposition to go willy-nilly in and out of time with no limitations. His time machine was different. It would work with certain parameters. It was limited to one person going back to one specific previous time in history with the ability to change only one thing.

That was the mission, and Chet would be the one person.

But what one thing would he change? It’s what fueled Chet for decades on his mad adventure to solve the mystery of time travel.

Chet made final preparations before the big day. All of his financial information was left on the kitchen table in a sealed envelope for his older brother Curtis. He wrote a note explaining he had gone away and may never return. If his plan failed, he wanted his house to be in order.

Finally, on a Saturday morning, Chet sat down in his homemade time machine. He checked the multiple monitors he’d installed on the dashboard of the control center. He punched the pertinent information into the keyboard.

Location: In the living room of 206 Birdsong Avenue, Birmingham, Alabama

Date: June 20, 1975

Time: 0300 EST

He pressed the Enter key.

The sensation in Chet’s body was as if he was flying, yet he never left his seat. It lasted for maybe a second and then, like a dream, he found himself on the living room couch in his boyhood home. He shook the cobwebs out of his head. He wanted to shout and scream and celebrate the success of his machine that no one believed could be accomplished, but he mustn’t wake up his family. Plus, he wasn’t sure how long he could stay. He checked his right front pants pocket to be sure his kill switch made the trip. When activated, the kill switch would trigger the time machine back to the future. He hoped.

He immediately went to work. He crept quietly down the hall, amazed that he was actually in 1975 in Birmingham on Birdsong Avenue in the home where he was raised. Incredible!

He would have to focus on his success later. For now, his mission must be priority. He stepped with care into the family’s only bathroom at the end of the hall. Thank goodness, the room was slightly lit by the streetlight outside. He didn’t have a flashlight, and he certainly didn’t want to switch on the light.

Chet slowly opened the medicine cabinet and scanned the contents. Band-Aids, mercurochrome, merthiolate, and first aid cream - obviously for Chet and his brother. Then he found them. Sleeping pills. The bottle full of pills that his depressed mother would consume later that day. Now, what to do with them? Would they travel back in time with him like the kill switch in his pocket? He didn’t want to take that chance. There was only one thing he could think to do, but it might wake up a family member. He didn’t care. They had to disappear.

Chet poured the sleeping pills into the toilet. He pressed the handle, and the water swirled with force down the bowl, taking the pills with it. Chet heard Curtis stirring and getting up out of his bed. He reached in his pocket and pressed the kill switch.

A few seconds later, Curtis stumbled out of his bedroom and looked in the bathroom.

“Stupid toilet is acting up again,” he mumbled. “We gotta get that thing fixed.”