The Trailing Edge

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  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...

                        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 ou...

The Later Journeys of Dr. Benjamin Franklin This is the first of what I hope will be a long series. At present, I don't know exactly where it will go, but we'll find our way somehow! Vol-E ---                     November 7, 2030, 10:30 pm I have nothing to do at the moment except stare out the window, which is silly because all I’m seeing is my reflection. That’s clear enough: an average-looking woman in a mobcap and an ornate dress with a horrible corset and pettiskirts underneath. Outside the window it's black as coal, more so because of the cloud cover. I will see light sooner or later, and can only hope it will be soft yellow light from an oil lamp like the one in here, and not 21st-century auto headlamps, or worst of all, the revolving red and blue beacons of a police car. Warren and Trevor are confident that they have spent enough time out at night, letting their eyes adjust to total or near-total darkness, and t...