OMG, A CUL8R Time Travel Mystery (4 page)

“Save
‘em.  My parents have an old record player.  They keep saying there’s no sound like old vinyl, so we can check it out and see if they’re right.”

“I’ll take these to my room later.  Aunt Jane might want them, but if not, I’ll keep them.  They look like they were played a lot
; some of the grooves are pretty worn.  My grandma Mary must have really loved these for her to have kept them from when she was a teenager.”

“My parents listen to music from the Sixties, Seventies and Eighties
,” Scott agreed.  “I like some of it a lot.”

Kelly closed the box and placed it on the floor by the kitchen door.  It would be fun to listen to the old songs and try to imagine how Grandma Mary had felt when she was Kelly’s age, hanging out in her room, playing her stereo.  She returned to the workbench just as Scott was dragging
out an old wooden crate that had been tucked in the far corner in the back.  It wasn’t big, but it was pretty heavy, and it took both of them to pull it to the middle of the floor where they could open it.  On the side in neatly printed but badly faded letters was the word “Darby”.

“Darby!  My
great-great-grandfather’s last name was Darby.  Do you see a claw hammer?”

They rummaged through the pile of tools and Scott held one up.
  “Got it.”  He held it out to her.

“Go ahead . . .
you can have the honor.”

Scott smiled, “Thanks.”
He kneeled down and worked the lid off the box, being careful not to damage the wood and then set it to the side, nails pointing down.  “Safety first.”

He
removed a layer of dried straw from the top, revealing a large yellowed envelope.  He opened it and slid the paper out.  “Holy crap!” he exclaimed as he quickly scanned it.

“What is it?”

“A letter from Thomas Edison.” Scott stood, barely able to contain his excitement as he walked toward the front of the garage where the light was better.  The ink had faded and was almost impossible to read in spots.

“
Really?”  Kelly followed and peered down at the letter in amazement.

“
I wrote three different term papers on Edison.  I love this guy.  He was America’s greatest inventor.  His house and museum aren’t very far from here.  I’ll take you there when you’re settled.  We can spend an entire day there easy.”

“J
eez, Scott . . . what does the letter say, anyway?”

Scott began to read
the letter out loud.  “
From the Laboratory of Thomas A. Edison, Fort Myers, Florida.  April 14th, 1929
.”  He held the letter out for Kelly to see. “I love how they used to write letters back in the day.”

“Really, that’s what it says?”

“No . . . no . . . that was me. Okay, it says,

”
Mr. R. J. Darby, As you and many of my people already know, I am reducing my workload on several of my inventions.  This decision has been a long time coming.  Deciding what to work on and what to not work on has been very difficult. One of the items I have decided to stop development on is the Telephone to the Dead as you and I have called it.  It has been two years of collaboration which I have greatly valued, but I fear it will not be widely accepted.  In appreciation for your many years of dedicated work for me, I am officially giving to you this device and all rights forever.  You are free to continue its development on your own time and with your own resources as you see fit.  I wish you the best of success as you fine-tune it for commercial or personal use.  Signed, Thomas A. Edison.
”

Scott sat in silence staring at the letter almost in disbelief.

“My great-great-grandfather worked for Edison?”  Kelly was equally shocked and impressed.  She had no idea that someone in her family had had such a close brush with greatness.

“
He was a mucker,” Scott said with authority.

“
A what?”

“
A mucker.”

“
Did you make that up?” she asked skeptically, not really knowing if he was insulting or complimenting her distance relative.

“
Nope.  That’s the name that Edison gave to his helpers who actually did the metal work, carpentry, you know, the manual labor on his inventions.  He had so many inventions going at the same time, he couldn’t do all the work on them, so he hired young men right out of college or technical school to help out.  I’ve talked with a lot of people around here and no one knows where that name came from, but it’s real.”

“Go on.”

“This means that in that box is something Thomas Edison, himself, invented.  He actually worked on it.  He touched it.”  Scott was clearly overwhelmed.

“What did he mean by a
Telephone to the Dead
?  That sounds pretty wild.”

“I don’t know much about it
.  There were always rumors that Edison had invented something that allowed him to talk to the dead, but no one ever saw it work or even saw any plans.  Everyone thought it was just an urban myth.”  Scott returned to the box and very gently brushed aside wood shavings and more straw until he uncovered what looked like an old short wave radio and a microphone.  “This must be it.”

“Doesn’t look like a telephone
to me.  It looks more like a radio . . . sort of a Spirit Radio,” Kelly suggested.

“Oh I like that,
Spirit Radio.  That’s a cool name.  Can we try it out now?”

“I don’t see why not.  Let’s get an extension
cord and plug it in.”  Kelly looked along the wall and found an extension cord.  She plugged one end in the socket and unrolled it to reach Scott.  Together they lifted the radio out and placed it on the workbench.  The radio unit was mounted on a metal stand and had no top or walls, just a face with some dials and knobs.  Inside was an intricate collection of wire and glass components, none of which Kelly recognized.

“These glass bulb-
like things are vacuum tubes.  They light up when the radio is warmed up enough,” Scott said with authority as he pointed them out.  He carefully dusted around the components and blew on it several times to make it as clean as possible before he plugged it in.

It took several seconds but t
he vacuum tubes began to heat up and glow as he had predicted.  Scott wiped off the microphone, then searched through the box to see if there was anything else.

“
It needs an antenna, but there isn’t one in the box.”

The tiny wires inside
the vacuum tubes turned a bright orangish-yellow color and then red, and static could be heard from the small speaker mounted on the side of the radio.  Scott picked up a smaller piece of paper that had been rolled up and tucked in between the layers of straw.  It, too, was handwritten.  He read it aloud, his voice distracted, almost as if he had forgotten she was there. “
The tuner is modified to the optimum unassigned 3 to 5 kilohertz frequency spectrum
. 
Thomas A. Edison
”  He held it toward her, and she could clearly see Edison’s distinctive signature.

“Wow, that is so cool,” she agreed, not understanding the meaning of the note, but
still very impressed by what she was seeing.

“
It’s an unassigned frequency,” Scott explained.  “The FCC thought it was too high.  Even now, they don’t use those frequencies for broadcasts of any kind.”  They stood and stared at the speaker as he rotated the tuner up and down the dial.  They strained and were able to hear very faint noises and static and what sounded like an occasional voice fading in and out. Scott sighed in frustration.  “I’m going to have to build a special antenna for this . . . I can do that tonight, I think.”

“Let me ask Aunt Jane if it’s okay for you to take it home with you
.  I’m sure she won’t mind, but I’d better ask since this might be valuable.”

“Okay . . .
when will that be?”

“I’m not sure. 
She’s in Tampa and won’t be home until late.”

“
What are you doing for food tonight?”

“I don’t know, maybe call out for pizza. 
My aunt eats like a rabbit . . . lots of lettuce and spinach.  There’s no real food in the whole house.”

“Why don’t you come over to my house
, and you can meet my parents.”

“
Shouldn’t you ask your mom first?”

“Yeah, but I’m sure she’ll be okay with it.
”

“
Let me clean up first and leave my aunt a note.  If your mom says ‘no’, then at least I can use your phone.”

“Sure.  See you in a few.”  With one last, lingering look at the
box with the radio repacked in it, Scott walked out of the garage.

“Hey, thanks,” Kelly called after him.  He answered with a jaunty wave.
  Kelly gently replaced the letter and the note in the old envelope and took it with her.  She was about to push the buttons to lower the garage doors and go inside to wash years of dust and grime off of her when Scott turned and looked back at her.

“My mom’s always after me to make more friends.”  Scott grinned.  “And here you are.”

CHAPTER THREE

As she walked across
the lawn to Scott’s house, Kelly had second thoughts.  She didn’t want to intrude, but she was pretty hungry.  The day had been so busy and had gone so well that she had been surprised it was already after 6 p.m. by the time she got cleaned up and had changed clothes.

Scott’s house was one of the newer ones on the block, even though it was probably around twenty years old.  Like most houses in the area, the outside was stucco and had a composition roof. 
Palm trees of all shapes and sizes were in the yard.  It all felt very tropical and very different from Texas.

Kelly paused and took a deep breath before knocking on the door.  This was her last chance to run back to Aunt Jane’s, have a salad
and Wheat Thins and watch TV all evening.  Her stomach growled at the thought, so she gave in and rapped her knuckles on the wood.  Inside, she heard the clatter of sandals on tile, and the door swung open.  Kelly’s gaze started at eye level and slowly lowered to a small girl who was looking back at her suspiciously.

“Are you a stranger?” the little girl asked.

“Sort of.  Is Scott home?”

The door opened wider, and Scott stood behind the girl.  “She’s my new friend.”

The little girl looked from Kelly to Scott, then back again.  “You have a girlfriend?”  The possibility seemed beyond her comprehension.

“No, I have a
friend
friend.  Now, get lost.”

The
girl left reluctantly and Scott grimaced.  “That was Lilly, the little sister I was talking about.  Ignore her.  She can be pretty annoying.”  He stepped back.  “Come on in.”

Kelly noticed his cheeks were flushed, and she wondered if that was because of the girlfriend comment. 
She hoped her own face wasn’t red.  He had changed into a clean pair of shorts and a fresh t-shirt, and his blond hair was still wet from his shower.  His grin was almost shy.

She followed him into the kitchen where his mom
stopped her dinner preparation and turned around.  She reached for a dish towel and wiped her hands before reaching out to shake Kelly’s hand. “Hi, I’m Sandy Talton, Scott’s mother.”

“Hello
Mrs. Talton . . . nice to meet you.  I hope it’s okay that Scott invited me to dinner.”

“
Of course it is.  We’re cooking hamburgers on the grill, so it’s no trouble.”

“
Is there anything I can do to help?” Kelly asked.

“
I’ve got everything ready.  I’m just waiting for Scott’s dad to get back from the store with some chips and mustard.”

“How long before we eat?”
Scott asked.  “Do I have time to show Kelly my lab?”

“Maybe
a half hour.  You two go on.  I’ll call you when he’s back.”

“Nice me
eting you, Mrs. Talton,” Kelly said over her shoulder as Scott practically pushed her out the patio door.

They walked
across the lawn to a large wooden shed behind the house.  “I think I surprised my mom.”

“How so?”

“I never bring anyone home . . .
ever
.”  Scott unlocked the door and reached inside to turn the lights on.  “Except for Austin, but he doesn’t really count.”

Kelly made a mental note to ask who Austin was, but then she stepped inside the lab and whistled. 
“This is amazing,” Kelly said as she looked around.  There were pieces of machine shop equipment, work tables, storage lockers, electronic equipment, a big screen TV and several half-built electrical looking boxes sitting around the room.  Everything was neat and orderly, but there was an extraordinary amount of gadgets, tools, rolls of wire and all sorts of other parts on shelves and on top of the workbench.  It wasn’t like a science lab with beakers and burners, but more of a workshop.