The Trailing Edge

     Previous chapter I was so happy to have our appliances back. It was almost nothing to pull out some chicken parts, defrost them in the microwave (I invited Ben to observe) and prepare something simple yet sumptuous -- in the wood stove, where it would bake slowly. By midday, I suspect we'd all be hungry enough to accept any menu offerings. Warren had led Ben through electricity basics, resulting in a few school-level projects that delighted Ben. Warren began putting most of the tools away and replaced them with what I recognized, among other things, as a crystal radio set. “Yeah,” said Trevor, sotto voce , “Wrapping copper wire carefully around the core is, oh, three hours of my life I’ll never get back.” I gave him a gentle elbow in the ribs to let him know his effort was appreciated and necessary to the cause. Warren wasn’t sure if a “wireless” would even work out here in the pine boonies, and it didn’t, much. We did hear static and very faint sounds, which Ben mar

Previous chapter I dropped like a stone into sleep. It was such a good sleep, I didn’t need to lie a-bed long after the sun was up. I decided I would wear a dress today, but refused to do the corset or pettiskirts. Due to the chill, I accepted the stockings, but after some consideration, opted for my 21st-century bunny slippers instead of those ponderous boots. If Franklin was offended, well, he could go and do something about it. Very doubtful he would. Besides, he’d been married, and quite a bit more if the history books didn’t lie. He knew what a woman actually looked like under her clothes. I wasn’t about to meet royalty -- or anyone, probably. I was going to be comfortable and that was that. Before getting dressed, I hit the shower for the first time since the day of Ben’s arrival. I could not believe how good that felt. At the very last minute, I put on a shower cap, not being 100% sure if today would be the big unveiling of all things electrical in the house. So being

Previous chapter Ben came out of his room late that night. The guys had gone to their rooms relatively early, promising to get up with the sun the next morning and let me sleep in if I kept watch. I knew they would, and that they wouldn’t sleep well. This whole thing with Ben was weighing on us. I kept busy by doing my favorite thing: Organizing. As inefficient and downright boring as the kitchen was, I could still think of ways to improve it. I made sure all the plates were in a good place (good meaning low enough so I wouldn’t have to stand on something to reach them); found non-perishable foods and laid them out on tabletops so they wouldn’t be forgotten, and dusted with a rag. If all went well tomorrow, we were going to broach the subject of electricity with Ben. Everyone associates him with that, but of course, he hadn’t really done much with it. Given a few more decades, he undoubtedly would have given Edison a run for his money, but most of what he did was to lay the grou

                          Previous chapter Whoever he might really be, Ben had me worried. He sat umoving in his seat, staring absently ahead. No tears fell, but he was no less upset as the house came back into view, than he had been half an hour before. Trevor and I seemed to be communicating telepathically because neither of us spoke a word; nonetheless, we felt each other’s concern. Both of us were wondering What next? Warren seemed to catch the mood, too. Once we reached the drive, he slowed the horses, trying not to jostle the carriage. He hopped down promptly and put up the steps next to the carriage door. I saw his face as he peered in and offered Ben a hand out. We all watched Franklin navigate the steps slowly, haltingly, nearly stumbling as he reached the ground. Warren hurried, fumbling for his keys, and opened the front door of the house for Ben as quickly as possible. Ben proceeded through at a march, not stopping until he was down the hall and into his room, decisiv

Previous chapter So, the next day after the midday meal, we granted Ben’s request to go out and see the countryside, but during breakfast we reminded him that he was bound to be in for some surprises. “The world has gotten much louder,” I began. I remembered a Twilight Zone episode from the 1960s, in which a scientist had manipulated time (with a machine, inevitably) to cause a Western outlaw to appear in midtown Manhattan, just ahead of the hangman. All I really remembered about that was how the visitor instantly pressed his hands to his head in agony and begged the scientist to do something about all that noise. We were lucky, as I’ve said, to be in a tiny, sheltered enclave, mostly surrounded by farms and the New Jersey Pine Barrens, but it really was tiny and one step in the wrong direction, at the wrong time, would destroy the most carefully constructed illusion that we were still at the dawn of the Industrial Revolution. And so we sensibly decided to prepare Dr. Fran

                        Previous Chapter “Well,” said Gerard Greenfield IV, “You know I can’t do much more than I’ve already done. I’m actually surprised he hasn’t heard planes overhead yet.” He paused, thinking. “It’s not like he doesn’t know it’s the 21st century. If he wants to go out, he’s gonna have to understand that he’ll see weird things. The coach, you can do. The roads, we can keep blocked off. But once you get to the boundary, he’ll see pavement, he’ll probably see cars, or at least hear them. Trains too, depending on the time of day. Maybe people. Those are the easiest to deal with. Just prepare him the best you can. How’s everything else coming along?” I had, of course, been sending him summary emails the whole time Ben had been with us. Gerry was a great guy. He was 40, the younger brother of a close friend. And he was rich as all hell. He’d inherited quite a bit, as had his sister, but as intellectually gifted as he was, he had made some highly unfortunate decision

                     Previous chapter The story starts  here... What was I afraid of, exactly? A few scenarios were playing in my head. First, what if we got there and found a busload of tourists? I could picture kids crowding around and cell phones snapping pictures. “Selfies.” Poor Ben. We wouldn’t have time to prepare him for that. I guess we could see a bit up the road, and if we saw people, give some sort of alert. Or just turn around and go back toward the farm. Barring crowds, what if the inn looked perfectly normal, just the way he had last seen it, and he wanted to go in and talk to the manager about his room reservation? Sure, he knew that wouldn’t be possible, but if he tried to do that, would he be laughed at? What if the manager indulged him and let him tour the facility? What if he suddenly snapped and demanded we figure out how to get him back to the 1700s? Something we had zero idea of how to do, considering that we weren’t even sure how we’d managed to ge

Previous Chapter While Ben and Trevor resumed their discussion (with Ben drawn irresistibly to that big map), Warren and I moved ahead with changing a small piece of our 18th-century stage set. In the kitchen, we undid a few screws and removed a large wooden cabinet-sideboard type structure, which looked like a substantial piece of furniture, but was actually just a disguise for the large sink. My heart warmed to the sight of it. No, the cabin was not equipped with a dishwasher, electric or otherwise, but the simple presence of running hot water was certainly a start. I would continue to clean the cast iron and pewter utensils with salt, but the job would take so much less time now. More so, once I could get out the rubber gloves... But it was still a bonus to produce the folding wooden dish rack. I knew Ben had never seen anything quite like it, but it made more sense than using plastic and trying to explain that to him. We quietly went out with the bulky plywood prop and ma

                 Previous Chapter Again, that mixture of emotions crossed Franklin’s face: hope, eagerness, weariness and caution. What were we about to spring on him now, I could almost hear him thinking. “Follow me,” Trevor said gently, and retrieved a lamp from a side table. The four of us made a small parade down the short hallway to a closed door that one might have assumed was a closet. Trevor used a key to unlock it. The door pushed inward. Tevor entered, then beckoned to our guest. There wasn’t much space for more than two people, so Warren and I got as close as we could to observe. In the chancy light, we saw Ben survey the tiny room. We wondered what he was seeing. To us, it was a welcome sight after a week of roughing it: A modern toilet, a sink, and against the wall, a bathtub with a shower head and a curtain. Built into the wall over the sink was a mirrored medicine cabinet. “Can you guess?” Warren asked Ben. “No,” he replied, after a long pause. “All right,”

  Previous chapter  The story starts here... 5. Thanksgiving “Would you like to take a break?” I asked Dr. Franklin after allowing a short pause for him to digest this last bit of information. “Take a break?” he repeated. “Get up from the table and do something else? Rest?” He took a deep breath. “Perhaps that would be wise,” he said. “But I am yet eager to know more.” “You will,” the three of us said in comical unison. Our embarrassed smiles drew one from Franklin. Ben retired to his room. Warren and I checked in with Trevor, who looked very tired. “Are you okay?” He shook his head. “I just ... My brain ’s tired! I’m sitting across from Benjamin Franklin, talking about so many changes -- how is he going to handle all of this? Sometimes it’s hard for me to handle. Things seem to change by the day sometimes.” “He’ll deal with it, or he won’t,” said Warren in the quietest of tones. He sounded decisive, but his face told a different story. “I have faith in him.

                        Previous chapter November 10, 2030, 11:00 p.m. This appears to be my optimal writing time. I’m not “plumb tuckered out,” as my grandmother would have put it, and Dr. Franklin has retired to his room. Well, we’ve gotten through about 3 entire days with the good doctor. Shortly after we had first met and defined our mission, Warren, Trevor and I, as well as Gerry, had resolved to use the title that Franklin preferred. He was without a doubt one of the leading polymaths in history, putting most modern-day “geniuses” to shame, despite a formal education that only went through the second grade -- along with substantial honorary degrees. All three of us were Ph.Ds, and yet I think I can speak for everyone in saying we felt just a little awkward claiming the title for ourselves in light of Franklin’s accomplishments. But fortunately, we knew he was far too polite and well-bred ever to point that out. Anyway... here’s where we are. The convenient applianc

Previous chapter My hidden alarm was set for a half hour before sunrise, so I could get the cursed stove going for equally cursed hoecakes and blessed coffee. The guys got to sleep in awhile, so that I could soften Ben up over breakfast. I didn’t sleep much that night, I can tell you. I think T and W did because of the pure physical effort they expended, as well as the buildup to this night. The hard part was over. We all hoped. I awoke to my silent vibrating alarm, which was promptly stashed under a pile of linens in my wardrobe. Soon all our gadgets will be brought out into the open, and a happy day that will be. By now I almost feel comfortable with our restored Monarch wood-burning stove and oven -- a massive thing. But regardless of the century, it’s touch-and-go as to whether I’ll be able to break an egg without massacring the yolk or getting bits of shell in the food. There’s a trick to it, involving the wrist, but it’s one of those tricks you can’t really teach an o