The Unexpected Travels of Mikey Whipple

Mikey Whipple was a ten on the easy-to-scare chart. He called the things that spooked him “jitter bombs”: Charging dogs on long leashes. Crazy drivers ignoring bikes. Honking horns. Other kids. And a bully named Sparky Greggs, who made him faint by doing nothing more than giving him the stink eye. Anxiety gnawed at Mikey’s insides as he pedaled his bike like crazy, trying to outpace his fears.

His destination, his refuge, was Nebulous Tarr’s Fine and Perspicuous Second-Hand Merchandise.  Gliding his bike to a stop, he sprinted through the front door, but an unbelievable shocker stopped him smack dab in the middle of his high spirits. Frozen mid-stride, he stared into the eyes of his double standing at the back of the shop, identical to the last thread of clothing and curl of red hair. He moved his arms to make sure he wasn’t seeing himself in a trick mirror, but his double remained stationary. Mikey’s eyes widened, and his heart rate shot off like a rocket. But before he could get a clearer view, the apparition jumped into a blinding flash of light. Now his heart stomped like horse hooves on a racetrack. Safe to say, a jitter bomb went kablooey in the one place he least expected.

“You okay, kid?” said the man behind the counter.

“Did you see that other me, Nebulous? And that blast of light?”

“That other me? I don’t even know what that means.” Nebulous Tarr was a short, roundish man with dark, deep-set eyes who looked like a panda. Curled up on a stool, he puzzled over a 1913 brass-plated National Cash Register.

Mikey rubbed the center of his brow.

“Look, kid. You’re twelve years old now.” Nebulous took his wire rims off and peered over the top of the cash register. “Gotta get a grip.”

“Don’t I know it? If you have any pointers, let me know.”

“First of all, get out of your head and into the world if you catch my drift.” He disappeared behind the National Cash Register again and continued talking. “Second, be happy. Today’s going to be a splendid day for you.”

Whatever that means. Mikey’s heart still raced. He’d go off the rails and faint if he didn’t settle down. So he took a deep “pause breath,” something he had learned from his seventh-grade teacher, Mrs. Gott, to deal with anxiety attacks. Walking over to the counter, he leaned on it for stability, still heaving breath.

Nebulous looked up at him and said, “The book table. You’ll like the stuff I just added. And it’ll take your mind off things.”

“Sure, yeah.”

What he said made sense. Mikey loved “rooting through other people’s rubbish,” as his mom put it. So he took another deep breath and embraced the familiar scent of junk. In fact, he took four more deep breaths, holding each one for four seconds and exhaling. Another suggestion from Mrs. Gott.

Strolling down the center aisle, a few piles of old comic books on the book table caught his attention. He slid his fingers over the stacks, his hand stopping on an old issue of “Superman.” He loved the feel of the old paper’s tacky graininess. It calmed him. Sorting through the pile, he found a thicker comic. “Tales by H. G. Wells.” He opened it to a random page and brought it close to his nose to get the full scent of paper chemically altered by age. “25 Cents” appeared in the upper right-hand corner.

Soon after, a sudden movement in the corner of his eye alarmed him. The other me? But Nebulous Tarr was peeking at him from behind a display case, flashing a Cheshire cat smile. Mikey waved, and the junk store owner responded by wiggling his fingers like ‘toodle-loo.’

Kind of creepy-funny, but that’s Nebulous. Mikey regarded him as a friend. He felt at ease around adults while shy and nervous among kids his age.

“How much for this?” Mikey said, holding the comic high.

“That’ll set you back one nickel-plated nickel!” Nebulous seemed excited about something.

Mikey tucked the comic under his arm and noticed a stack of hardback books with a title by Nikola Tesla on top. But a thick, tattered green book at the bottom looked more attractive. So he fished it out and examined the cover: “A Necessarian Guide to Navigation in the AlterVerse.”

Nebulous Tarr pantomimed applause from behind the display case like an ecstatic five year old.

The book had a strap, like diaries, and a ruby bead embedded under the title. Mikey pressed a button on the buckle top, and the strap popped loose.

“That’s a special book, my boy!” said a soft voice close to Mikey’s right ear. The sudden swoosh of Nebulous’s breath startled him and tickled his ear. How he appeared from twenty-five feet away in the span of a heartbeat was anybody’s guess. But there he stood, all five feet of his rotund little body with his fingers clasped, looking up at Mikey with a half-crazed smile.

“Follow me. Close the latch on the book and bring it with you.” Nebulous hurried to the front of the store, turned, and wagged his finger in a come-hither way. Mikey hesitated but followed, and Nebulous locked the front door and pulled the window shade.

“Sit,” he said, pointing at an old army-issue chair near the front window. Whisking out a rolling version of the chair, he sat on its cracked vinyl seat and scooted himself over.

“What I’m about to tell you will set forth a sequence of events that will change your life forever and, at the same time, preserve it as it is.”

“Is that why everything’s so weird today? First, I see a kid in the store who looks exactly like me. Then he disappears, and you say he was never here. Then, I find this book, and you go ballistic.”

“Open it up and flip the pages to the back cover.”

Mikey lobbed the clump of pages over to reveal a nickel-plated box with moving parts.

Nebulous leaned in. “Now I need to confirm what I already know.”

A beautiful array of working, meshing gears moved together in harmonious collaboration, and they glowed, projecting a luminescence Mikey could feel and see. At that moment, a rush of wisdom and a sense of contentment beyond his years overcame him. It meant something new. But what?

Nebulous let out a small gasp and babbled like crazy. “I was ninety-nine percent sure; now hundred percent! You are a Necessarian. Look at me, Mikey. You… are… special.”

Mikey had no idea what he was talking about, but Nebulous calmed himself and continued. “We’ll cover every point and discuss every nuance, but we mustn’t get ahead of ourselves and rush through this. One morsel of information at a time. Do you understand, Mikey?”

He didn’t, but he nodded ‘yes.’

“Okay, first things first… Open the book again to the gearbox. Look at the numbers at the top and the dials and buttons next to them: Home, Depart, and Execute. And notice the digital clock showing the month, day, year, and time. With this clock… you can leave the here-and-now and travel back to the there-and-then. To another time in the past.”

Mikey’s jaw dropped. “That’s crazy, Nebulous.”

“You’re about to find out how NOT crazy this is. It’s now Saturday, October 5th, at 10:45 in the morning. I’ll set the time of your arrival in the past to 10:00 a.m. this morning, twenty minutes before you arrived in the shop today. I don’t want you to go too far on this first trip through time. Capiche?”

Mikey tilted his head, trying to process the gibberish.

“When I’m finished, you’ll press the Execute button.” He turned several dials on the glowing machine until he seemed satisfied.

“Go on. Press it.”

Mikey pressed Execute. A ripping sound filled the room, like a bedsheet torn from one end to the other. A vertical gap appeared mid-air. The area inside the opening emanated a milky white light rimmed in luminescent gold. Everything in the junk shop undulated around it, as if reality danced on a one-dimensional cloth movie screen.

Mikey reeled back in the chair, grabbing the chair arms. “OMG! What’s happening?”

“Now, Mikey, listen to me. Forget about how unusual this is. Instead, embrace the beauty of a universe you never imagined. After you walk through that portal, it will close behind you. When it’s time to return, press the Home button, and the portal will open again. I’ve already set the proper coordinates for your destination. Do you understand everything? Please repeat it.”

Mikey did as Nebulous asked, watching the light show as if he expected it to eat him.

“I’ll see you soon, Mikey Whipple. Now go,” Nebulous said, motioning with his hand. “Oh, and another thing. Don’t stay too long, or you will return visibly older in just one minute.”

Mikey stood and inched his way toward the curling portal. Hesitating, he took a deep breath and looked back at Nebulous with a panic-stricken face. After another deep breath, he stepped through the bright light to the other side.

After he passed through, he stood in a haze of confusion because he was still in the junk shop. However, there were no chairs where he and Nebulous had sat just seconds ago. Instead, Nebulous was behind the checkout counter, transfixed by the vintage National Cash Register like when Mikey first arrived at the shop.

Nebulous looked up and said, “How you doin’, kid?

“So I walked through, but I didn’t go anywhere.”

“What?”

Behind Mikey in the window, another Mikey Whipple slowed down on his bike.

“Mikey! Get out of here! Now!”

Mikey started toward the front door, and Nebulous shouted, “No, no, no! The other way! Back to the stockroom!”

Changing direction mid-stride, he ran as fast as he could toward the back of the store, wondering what made Nebulous panic. When he neared the stockroom, he heard the clatter of the old soup ladles fashioned into door chimes. Out of breath, he turned around to see what had alarmed Nebulous.

And there was the magic. Looking into the eyes of the person who set off the chimes, he saw himself, Mikey Whipple. And Mikey Whipple stared right back at him. Behind the Mikey at the front door, Mikey’s bully, Sparky Greggs, was outside the window, staring darts into his back. Alarmed, the Mikey by the stockroom dove behind a shelving end cap and pressed the Home button in the book. Once again, a loud ripping sound accompanied a bright flash of light, and the portal opened. He stepped through without hesitation and stood at the front of the store by the same army-issue chairs, one occupied by Nebulous.

“All is well now,” Nebulous said. “Phew, there’s an old expression. ‘When chickens run in circles, the greengrocer pots the dam.’”

“Huh?”

“When I set the destination time, I dialed 10:25 a.m. instead of 10:00 a.m. You overlapped yourself. The Mikey standing here, which is you, encountered the Mikey who entered the store fifteen minutes ago, which is also you. Sorry for all the screaming. Sometimes the teacher demonstrates what not to do.”

“I don’t get it, Nebulous.”

“Here’s the lesson: When you set your coordinates, don’t hurry, as I did. Always double-check the destination date and time. Only then press Execute. Home will always bring you back to the time you departed, plus a couple of seconds.”

“Nebulous, you said it would be beautiful, but when I passed through the portal and came out on the other side, I was still in the junk shop. And I saw the other me and worse, I saw Sparky Greggs.”

“I wanted to keep you close to home for this first foray into time travel. Yes, the book can take you to worlds unimagined, to beautiful times and places, and to horrible times and places. The book can take you anywhere and anytime in the past. Today, I want you to time travel within the confines of the shop.”

“So the kid I saw when I first got here today was me.”

“And vice versa. Take the book with you. Experiment with it, but wherever you time travel, promise me you won’t stay for more than a couple of hours.”

“I promise. I hope I don’t chicken out the minute I get there.”

“Time travel is risky. But you’ll be okay, Mikey. It’ll make you stronger.”

“So I can go anywhere?”

“Only after you read the book’s introduction. Once you’re finished, you must take a solo trip—a dry run, as they say. For now, choose someplace calm and peaceful. I need to trust you on that. When you get there, hold on to the book no matter what.”

“Alright. Wow, we’re actually standing here talking about time travel.”

“You saw it for yourself. And I’ll see you tomorrow for another Necessarian lesson. In the afternoon?”

“Sure, I’ll come over after lunch.” Mikey slid the book and comics into his backpack, paused as if he had something else to say, but decided to go.

Chosen by the muses, Nebulous thought as he watched Mikey mount his bike. The boy possesses kindness, thoughtfulness, and the tendency to do the right thing. But he’s positively pusillanimous. I’ll have to work on thatCharging