Date: ..01.0110...
To: Sari Tambouki, History Project
From: Foster DeWitt, Director Personnel Office
Subject: Engie McClellan/History of Time
Attached please find the essay written by Engie McClellan prior to her recruitment to the Department of Time Travel for inclusion in the Department's history. Though McClellan's contributions, most notably "Influences of Medieval Life", "Intercultural Aspects of Time Travel" and "Living a Life Between Time" are widely known within the Department, you may want to include an explanatory note about her work which, as you know, deserves wider recognition than can be afforded by the Department for obvious security reasons. The text would, of course, have to be approved by this office.
Although almost totally untrained, the Department recruited McClellan for her expertise in the Medieval Era. It was thought that her first-hand experience would be far more valuable than scholarly/academic training even if complemented by visits to that era. She met other important personnel criteria as well, such as lack of close family ties and experience with time travel. Her subsequent success and innovative thinking led to changes in our recruitment procedures, an unintended but potentially profound effect of her work.
On a more general note, let me take this opportunity to frankly express my reservations about the recording of the Department's history in such a manner. My reservations are rooted in the Department's tenuous existence owing to budgetary and public relations problems by those in real time aware of our existence. If such a history must be written then McClellan's story is appropriate if only for its lack of substance regarding our work. Of course, the drama of her story and her personal background naturally make an interesting reading. My current position on the matter, however, is that the history, once written, be "put aside" before release. And, that careful consideration regarding our intent, audience and time-period be given before any decision is made.
The attached essay is legally the property of the Department, but you may want to obtain McClellan's permission merely as a matter of courtesy.
Please feel free to contact our office if additional information or assistance is
needed.
ATTACHMENT:
Engie McClellan; Date: xxxxxx; File #: xxxxxx
My name is Engie. I came to this place when I was twelve years old, after fooling around with a crude time machine on a dare from my fifteen-year-old sister. The machine was in the attic -- an ancient relic from the olden days of the golden era of discovery. How many times had I heard about my grandfather's contributions to modern-day physics and the discovery of time travel? To tell the truth, I barely listened. I was more concerned with school, friends, music, clothes and just plain having fun.
On that day my sister, Aimee, and I were ordered up to the attic to clean the mess. It was raining out and a perfect day for Spring cleaning, according to my parents. They probably reasoned that a lot more would get done with Aimee and me safely away in the attic. Well, we got to fooling and fighting -- Aimee was always teasing me -- and finally, to the dare. The machine looked like an old-fashioned exercise bike but with lots of buttons and wires, hardly recognizable compared to the modern-day, hand-held machines we saw on TV. I think that Aimee was the one to set the time, for I never did find out the exact year in which I arrived.
The machine whirred and I was in something like a whirlwind. At the end, I fell and landed on the ground. The machine was just a hunk of junk after the fall.
I slept for some time and when I awoke I found myself in a field of wheat. The air was crisp and clean. The quiet was deafening. I picked myself up and walked aimlessly -- there were no proper roads, only a dirt path between fields -- and eventually stumbled upon some people.
I had come to a small village with some crude shelters. Later I learned about the manor house nearby, but that first encounter was a shock. Did people in the past -- for I always knew that I had traveled to the past -- really live like this, I wondered? They were also in shock as I had a modern-day look about me and my clothes were nothing like they had ever seen. They, in turn, appeared to me as coarse, crude, rather fat and dressed in what I considered to be rags. They stared at me until one of them ventured to speak.
Although I came to understand them very quickly, since they spoke a variation of our language, that first day I understood no speech. It was clear from the start, though, that they were speaking about me. Children ran to other huts and soon the entire village, such that it was, came to see me. After long discussions, during which I remained silent, and as the day drew to a close, I was beckoned to follow some of them. I was led to one of the huts and taken in by one of the families.
My loneliness during those first few months is indescribable. The first night was probably the easiest since I expected to be rescued at any minute. My parents, or whoever they would send for me, would find the hunk of junk left in the field and search for me nearby. But after many days, I longed for my mother, father and even for Aimee. Though I was provided for, I needed a kind word, a soft caress and my own life back. Only my utter exhaustion at the end of each day and the ensuing deep sleep rescued me from my misery and homesickness.
Life in the village was hard and, at first, I did all of the chores of the boys and men. Work in the fields was back-breaking. I was not used to such strenuous labor. Sometimes the women also helped us, but they had other chores which I discovered later. I merely did as I was told but, as I came to understand the language, I understood that I was thought to be a boy.
The language was not hard since it was simply an early form of our own. I guessed that I had traveled back over one thousand years to the Middle Ages. I tried to remember everything I had learned in school about the Middle Ages but, unfortunately, it was not much. In school I had been much more interested in my own social life than the lives of people one thousand years in the past. "Who cares?" I remember thinking of my history lesson on that era.
I learned very quickly that there were no schools for the children. It appeared that nobody could read, though the village priest did have some rudimentary skill in reading the Church books. Everybody worked extremely hard except for those living at the manor house, but I only had fleeting glimpses of them. Food was sometimes in short supply and during the winter months we often went hungry. Disease was rampant and deadly.
As I matured and came to know more about life, I realized that the villagers could have turned me away on that first day. They had no obligation to feed and clothe me. They took me in out of pity, since I was only a child, and because there had been many deaths in prior years and they needed extra workers. I appeared dumb at first. But that was not such a handicap and they thought I would grow into a strong man.
After many months working their work and eating their food, I became more like them. I could see my body thicken and a kind of coarseness develop. My own clothes were gradually replaced by the rags that had shocked me so that first day. The discovery of my true sex caused changes in my life.
The villagers again came to discuss my situation, only this time I could understand them. The priest, who was kindly, was very influential in the village. It would not be proper for me to stay with the original family, which had adult men and older boys in the household. I would be placed with an elderly woman living alone, and help her.
The woman was old and her family had died during past epidemics. Though she was not ill, her bones ached and she could not work hard. I did all of the women's work, which was much easier for me, even though I still worked in the fields during harvest times with the rest of the women. I tended her vegetable garden, dried vegetables, beans and herbs for the winter months ahead, and milked her cow, made butter, tended to the house and did all of the chores of women. She even taught me to spin yarn and sew clothes.
The woman was kind and I grew to care for her, though I still longed for my mother and family. In the back of my mind I still hoped for a rescue, but I had gradually become resigned to life at this time in this village and made the best of it. I was growing fast and was always hungry, and knew that I must work hard to earn my keep. The woman was a healer of sorts and taught me the ways of healing and all about herbs and plants. I learned quickly, amazed that what I had thought of as weeds or dreary old flowers had such value. I accompanied her on sick calls and, even when she could not cure, she could comfort with soothing drinks and kind words.
During my second harvest I worked in the fields with the villagers beside the women for the first time. As with so many of the chores, clearing the fields of the crops was monotonous, difficult and tiring. After many hours I noticed people straightening up and looking toward the road. A solitary figure walked quickly toward us. I, along with the villagers, wondered who could be coming -- there were so few travelers -- when, with a start, I recognized her.
"Momee-e-e-e-e-e-e!" I cried, running toward the familiar slender figure.
"Engie!" came the astonished reply after she realized who I was.
We clutched each other for many minutes. Her warm touch, her slender but firm body, her smell, her entire being enfolded me. Finally they had come for me!
"Oh Engie, we've missed you sooooo much. Thank God we found you." she murmured in my ear as she hugged me. She stepped back and continued, "We've searched and searched for you these past two years. We never stopped. But that machine of Granddaddy's had no tracers and we couldn't find you easily. But your father, Aimee and I did not give up, even after we were told it was hopeless. And Aimee, poor Aimee, feels simply awful."
"I forgive her!" I cried with glee, "I've never blamed her!" And, truthfully, I hadn't. I heard small noises behind me as the villagers approached us. I turned and in their crude way of speaking happily introduced my mother. They stared at her with wonder. It was the happiest moment of my life. I snuggled into my mother's arms. Just then, however, my mother gently detached herself and held me at arm's length After looking me up and down, my mother said,
"Engie! They've allowed you to develop biologically!" I stared at her as she continued,
"Oh dear, this will not do. I'll have to leave and return at an earlier date to fetch you."
"NO!" I gasped with horror, grasping her arm, "No, Momee..."
"Engie dear," she explained gently, "This physical development is not reversible. You cannot return like this, you'll be ostracized. A freak. You won't be able to live a normal life."
"No. No. No," I begged, "Don't leave me..."
"Don't worry, dear, I know where you are now. I'll be back before this time and none of this will have happened."
"Please, Momee, don't go," I sobbed as she gently but firmly pulled her arm away.
"MOMEE-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-" I screamed, but my voice died in the wind as she disappeared.
I never saw her again.
In my real life I am an environmental economist, happily married with three children, residing in New York City. In my virtual life I travel across galaxies, universes and time looking for interesting people/beings, universal truths and plain old fun. This is the second story I have published in Aphelion. I hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
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