Ted And The Time Capsule

Ted hadn't expected to be alive when the town's time capsule was opened. As a way of celebrating the town's 150th anniversary, the capsule got messages from dozens of town residents, as well as the State Governor. But Ted was 22 then, and with the announced plans to open the capsule in 75 years for the 225th anniversary, he figured there was no chance he would be alive to face embarrassment for what he wrote. He also figured Estelle wouldn't be around either, but there he was correct. She had died four years ago following a miserable couple of years confined to a wheelchair. She had never married, depending on female caretakers.

Tomorrow that damned capsule would be opened, and the Commemorative Committee was demanding he be present as the oldest surviving contributor to its messages. The Mayor and others would reach into the capsule, pull out a random message, and read it aloud. This was supposed to go on for an hour or so with other stuffed shirt readers, and all messages would be printed in the following day's newspaper. Ted was mildly amused at the likely reaction of some pompous fool reading his message aloud. He barely remembered whether he wrote on the forms the town had provided, or just scribbled on some note paper, but he remembered every embarrassing word.

Today he had children, grandchildren and great grandchildren, none of whom were likely to enjoy hearing what he had written so long ago. Not to mention Peter, Estelle's snotty, money-grubbing cousin once removed who might be there. That lowlife had ignored her in life, but inherited her house and a fat chunk of cash, sold the house for four times what she and her mother had paid for it, and had the nerve to have Estelle cremated without a funeral, not that Ted would have attended for fear of unanswerable questions.

Opening Day dawned with a clear sky and a pleasant temperature, killing Ted's hopes for rotten weather keeping people away from the event in the town's largest stadium. There was always the chance of a war starting or a dam breaking or some other natural disaster distracting attention. None of those offered their services. The Chair of the Commemorative Committee bored everyone for a few minutes, then got around to introducing the Mayor, Ted as oldest surviving author of a message in the capsule, and Bertha Mallory as having been the youngest contributor 75 years ago. Ted figured that meant a message about her favorite teddy bear.

The Mayor made a few flattering remarks about his predecessor of 75 years ago for creating the capsule, and then reached into the opened capsule. He waved the extracted message in the air, satisfying photographers, then unfolded it. "This message says 'I hope by the time this thing is opened my husband will have finally changed his underwear.'" The stadium roared with laughter. Ted muttered, "Damn, set up the entire town to laugh at me." The Mayor added, "This message is unsigned." More laughter and cheers.

Next the Chair of the Town Council came up to extract a message. "I hope George's Garage has finally learned how to do a good job changing tires." The Town Historian worked his computer and whispered to the Council Chair, who announced "George's Garage must have kept doing a bad job, 'cause it's been out of business for 68 years." Some laughs and some applause.

Various other elected officials drew notes. Their representative to the state Assembly was annoyed to read "I hope in 75 years to have left this place and live on the Moon." She used the opportunity to make a short speech about what a great place to live the town had been and still was.

Bertha Mallory was invited to read one. "I hope in 75 years to be a better person, healthy and educated." She smiled, and indicated Ted would be next.

He took a deep breath. The odds of picking out his own message were small. He reached in and read "Will our town even survive 75 years of global warming?" He looked around, smiled and said "I'm pleased to inform Matthew that we're still here." The audience had greeted the message with silence, but gave Ted enthusiastic applause.

Four more readers and Thomas began to hope his message would not be read aloud. Then the senior class President of Truman Memorial High School drew. "Estelle hasn't spoken to me since I refused her suggestion we marry now. I pointed out our mothers seem to be okay pretending ignorance of what we're doing, so we can wait until we're out of school." The girl reading this giggled, and added "It's just signed 'T'."

The audience roared with laughter, but Peter's voice came through clearly. "You son of a bitch!"

THE END

Bio: Thomas Wm. Hamilton, Retired Professor of Astronomy, author of six books on astronomical topics, three science fiction novels and three SF anthologies. Worked on the Apollo Project for three years.

E-mail: Thomas Wm. Hamilton

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