Chapter 1: Journal

This is my journal. I have decided to write down what has happened, starting when The Gift came to me. I am going to write this as honestly as I can. Let’s see, the beginning was in the eighth grade, if I remember correctly...

I was an only child. My mother and father were resigned to being childless when I came along. They always told me I was their miracle baby. Dad was fifty when I was born, and mom was forty-two.

We lived on a farm out in the rural countryside. I loved it! I could not understand people who wanted to be jammed into cities. Dad was still farming the land while I was growing up, until I hit the eighth grade.

It was a five hundred and ten acre farm that we lived on, and it provided a good life for us. We had a milk cow, chickens, and a big vegetable garden. There was a root cellar that had been built by great grandpa, as well as a big basement with the new house. Well, ‘new’ to the farm. It was twenty-two years old, the previous one having been destroyed by fire.

When I was in the eighth grade, Dad decided to retire from farming. He was sixty-four and mom was fifty-six. I was fourteen. We had made a pretty good profit that last year, and Dad said we had enough put by to live on. He was also going to rent out all the grounds except the house, buildings, and our garden, to a local farmer.

It was late in the school year that it first happened. I was serving a detention, and detentions were different in our school than what I’d come to understand was common in other schools. I had to stay after school, and sweep and mop the restrooms and locker rooms. That was a total of two boy’s restrooms, two girl’s restrooms, and two locker rooms (one each of boy’s and girl’s).

I had just finished all the restrooms, and was getting ready to do the girl’s locker room. I got fresh mop water ready, and started the pre-mop sweeping. I looked up and there was Cindy Beecher’s locker in front of me. I sighed. I’d had a huge crush on her.

Since it was now warm most days, everyone was required to dress out for gym, and all ‘gym’ classes were conducted outdoors. She looked so cute in her gym shorts and t-shirt. I looked at her locker, and started fantasizing. How I would love to be a fly on the wall when the girls changed, especially Cindy!

That’s when it happened. I was trying to imagine what this room was like just a couple hours ago, when my vision suddenly blurred! I blinked several times, and gasped! I was seeing the same room, but I was seeing it as though looking through a gauze of some sort. I could see girls moving around, and changing clothes. I heard muffled talk and laughter.

I panicked and everything changed back! I was again alone, with a broom in my hand! I blinked several times, the memory of the vision still in my mind. I was scared! What had just happened? Should I tell someone? I also had a mild headache.

“Tom? You okay? You look like you seen a ghost,” the janitor, Mr. Field, asked me.

“I think so. Just had a weird, uh, feeling go through me is all. Got a headache,” I answered.

“Well, I think you have done enough on your detention. Good job. You better head home if you’re sure you’re all right?” he asked with concern.

I nodded and got out of there! I was thinking furiously. I had plenty of time to think. Dad said I would have to walk the two and a half miles home, since I was stupid enough to get a detention for a stupid act.

I had never heard of anything like this happening to anyone else. None of my friends ever mentioned it. Did that mean it happened but they said nothing? Was this something everyone went through, but for some reason didn’t talk about? No, if everyone went through it, there would be all sorts of information about it, I was sure.

So that brought me to the supposition that this was something unusual. Should I ask Dad or Mom about it? I just didn’t know. Who should I tell about this? Maybe I just imagined it? By the time I got home, I had decided I had imagined it. I had nearly forgotten about it, when it happened again!

It was a couple weeks later. School was winding down. There was still a couple weeks left, but it was now warm-to-hot, all the time. I decided to head down to the swimming hole. I hopped on my bike, and rode for a good twenty minutes, working up a good sweat.

As I finally got close to the swimming hole at the creek, I could see several girls coming out of the trees. They saw me, and started giggling and laughing. I wondered what was up.

“Hey, Tom? Going swimming?” Tracy Collins asked me.

“Yup. Good day for it. You guys finished swimming?” I asked, watching Cindy out of the corner of my eyes.

“Yes. You should have swum with us. You would have had fun!” Lisa Abrams said, then started laughing.

Giggling followed from the rest, with a few muted ‘Hush-ups’ thrown in. I heard the words skinny-dipping, and started to get uncomfortable in my crotch area!

I looked at Cindy, and she blushed a little. The group of girls waved and said bye, and started walking down the road. One of their dads was going to give them a ride home. I walked my bike through the trees, to the best swimming spot for miles around. It was empty of people.

I leaned my bike against a tree. I stripped off my clothes, except for my shorts. I was going to swim in them. I looked around, and saw a flattened area in the grass. This must be where the girls had laid down when not swimming.

I started to fantasize what they looked like naked, and then it happened! That gauziness settled over my vision, and I could see the girls! They were naked except for Cindy, who was wearing little panties with flowers on them!

I gaped and looked. Again I heard muffled talking. I concentrated, and I could see and hear better! My head also started hurting a bit. I ignored it, and looked at naked girls! Lisa had only a little hair on her pussy, but had nice breasts.

Cindy had bigger breasts, but tiny pink nipples. Lisa’s were red and her nipples were long. I glanced over at Rachael, and saw she was almost flat. She just had little bumps, but she had the most hair between her legs!

I was now very uncomfortable as my shorts were trying to contain my raging hard-on. I looked around and didn’t see anyone else. I somehow knew the girls couldn’t see me, even though I could see them.

It was strange to see the world like this; sort of like one view overlaid by the other. I couldn’t help myself. I pulled my shorts down, and did what kids everywhere do ... I jacked off. It didn’t take long either, with all the visual stimulation.

When I came, I lost my vision of the girls. I fell to my knees, gasping.

Man! That was the best orgasm ever! I got to my feet and walked into the water to clean myself off. I also had a headache again, only this time it was a little worse than before.

I was finally clean, and cooled off, I got out of the water. I grabbed my towel and laid it where the girls had had theirs. My head still ached, but the pain was receding. I thought about what had just happened.

So, the first time had not been my imagination! I had almost convinced myself it had been just that. Imagination. But now, with that which had happened, I knew it was real! The question was; why did it happen, how did it happen, and why me?

It wasn’t until I was in high school, that I started to get some answers.

Several things happened my first year in high school. First, I discovered computers and the internet. Second, I discovered that bullies existed in quantities that were astonishing. Third, Mom and Dad started to let me date on weekends! Fourth, I discovered martial arts.

My high school was a forty-minute bus ride from my bus stop. The first year of high school, you were assigned all but one of your classes. You only got one elective. I took computer lab for that elective. I rolled up my sleeves, (metaphorically) and waded into the other courses I was given.

I managed a 3.0 average the first year. I would never be a 4.0 student, but I got pretty good grades. The second year, I was able to double up on my English, which would give me all the requirements I needed in that course, and would free up more electives for me.

I did not forget my newfound gift. I used it, and got better at it. The view was now just as clear as current life, but I still could tell which was which. It also saved me from a beating once. I got suspicious about two of the regular bullies, and went back in time to see what they were up too.

Even with taking martial arts for a year, I was not up to taking on three of the school bullies at once. It seemed I had stepped on one of their toes by showing him up in class, and making the class laugh at him. Such is life.

I left a note, anonymously, on my second to the last class of the day on a teacher’s desk. It outlined what was going to take place at a certain time and place. Since I could not see into the future, I crossed my fingers that all would be well, and walked into the supposed trap.

Trap sprung. I was set upon by three of the worst bullies in school. They had just started in on me, when a whistle blew. Two male teachers were standing in the door of the Media lab.

The three bullies looked like ‘deer caught in the headlights’. I was lying on the floor. I was not really hurt, as I had rolled with the punches. Everyone was directed to go to the principal’s office. The three started to say I had started it, and it was their word against mine.

As I was leaving, I said, “Oh, look! Someone left the school’s video camera over there, and it seems to be running,” I said as if I had just seen it.

Everyone looked. The science teacher went and over and examined it. He agreed it was running, and said this would make good evidence.

The tape damned the three. The video showed me flying through the door, followed by the three. They were very verbal in what they were going to do to me, and why. It was no contest. The three were immediately suspended. One was also expelled, as this was his second offense of this nature. The schools were adopting a ‘zero tolerance’ no violence policy at this time, and were quick to suspend or expel.

The video camera was something I’d worked out with a student. I told her that I’d heard someone was going to try to make trouble in the lab. She agreed that getting it on tape was better than nothing, so she set the camera running as she left. Good thing, too.

My second year came and went. I completed it with a 3.0 grade point average, also. For some reason I could not seem to get above a 3.0. Perhaps the third year. I was seventeen during my third year in high school.

I still practiced with my gift. I stopped spying on girls with it, as it didn’t seem right. Still, I’d had plenty of masturbatory episodes with my ability before I came to that decision. Instead, I concentrated on trying to define my gift’s limits.

First, I looked all over the internet for any mention of my gift. Nothing. I found sites that mentioned psychic powers. It was fascinating, but still was nothing like what I had. The nearest I came up with, was something called psychometry.

If I read it correctly, it was the supposed ability of a person to hold an object, and be able to read its history. That is, to be able to tell what the object had been through. Well, I didn’t hold objects. I could sort of read the immediate past of a given area, though.

Also, my ability to read the past was getting better. In my third year of high school, I was able to see farther back in time. I could go back as far as the 1930’s during my junior year ... the 1992/93 school year.

I was actually excited with my abilities. I was using them to find out information. One thing that happened during my third year, was that I upped my 3.0 grade point average! I was really interested in why my mind let me do what I could do, so I studied chemistry hard.

I also studied higher mathematics. One thing I found out, was I could see what happened during a particular period. It played out seemingly in full, but I found out otherwise.

During one of my experiments, I had a stopwatch with me. I started it just before I sunk myself into a vision of the past, and stopped it right after I finished the vision. While in the vision, an hour had seemed to go by. When I checked my stopwatch, only about 5 minutes had elapsed!

I did the experiment over and over, and the results were as follows. If I stayed in vision-mode for more than an hour, no more than five minutes would elapse in my real time; even though I could swear I had seen and watched easily over an hour’s worth of someone’s life, or an event!

If I stayed for less than an hour, only a couple of real time minutes would tick off. I was trying to come to grips with the time difference. Apparently, I was not living as fast when I went into my visions, or my visions were at ‘fast-forward’!

The events I was watching seemed to be getting more clear and sharp. No one saw me, but I was getting an almost crystal clear look when I went on my vision ‘quests’, as I referred to them.

One of the side effects of my trips back in time, was that I was developing a strong interest in history. In the last quarter of my third year in high school, I submitted a paper on the rise and fall of the Clayton family.

The Clayton’s had figured prominently in our area from 1883 to 1971. The last of the Claytons who had been living in our area had died then, and their house was left as it was. While I could not go back as far as 1883 to watch the Claytons arrive, I did manage to watch them from 1933 up to the time the last Clayton living in the Clayton manor died.

It took me longer to write up the history I had found, than the real time I spent in the ‘vision time zone’. I spent hours and hours following a Clayton, and making notes. It took me two weeks of writing and rewriting, to get it done. I received an A on my paper.

I ended my junior year with a 3.5 grade point average. I was also doing well with my martial arts studies. While I was not a Bruce Lee, I was capable of handling myself in a lot of situations.

I was just short of six feet tall. I had brown hair, green eyes, and while my build was not muscular, I was very strong and wiry. I also had developed an active work ethic, which pleased my mom and dad very much.

During my senior year, I got a part time job with a cleaning company. They emptied trashcans, vacuumed, cleaned toilettes, etc. It was while I was cleaning trashcans at a brokerage company, that I did a little vision quest. I watched and listened as the head of the company was told of a merger that was in the works.

I knew that these two could not take part in anything resulting from this information. It was ‘insider’ information, and was illegal for them to use. But I realized I had a means to an income, in the future! I could invest! I was stunned with this sudden realization! It had never occurred to me to use my gift to make money, before.

I had turned 18 already, which meant I could get an investment account. I thought about how much money I had saved. In the last two years I had saved a total of 3,756.00. I was putting it away for college. No, I didn’t have to pay for my tuition. Mom and Dad had bought an education policy when they found out mom was pregnant. So college tuition, room, and board was paid for. Books, labs, and other fees would come out of my parent’s pockets, or mine.

I got a paper, and looked up the price of the stocks of the two companies that were going to merge.

‘Let’s see,’ I thought as I quickly did the math.

I settled on buying stocks in just one company. I remembered that the brokerage owner here had said he wished he owned more of a certain company’s stock, so I decided I would buy that stock.

Two days later, I was the proud owner of 130 shares of the stock, and my savings was down to 87.33. I almost screamed at the cut the brokerage house took for itself. It was almost a full month later that the newspapers announced that my company and another had merged, with FTC approval, and now my stocks had split! I had just made a lot of money, and my stocks were returning almost 100 percent more than before!

I finished out my senior year at a 3.5 grade point average still, but feeling I had accomplished a lot. Mom and Dad were proud of me, and I was glad to make them proud. Dad was sixty-eight now, and mom was sixty. I had already been accepted to college. I had a couple of weeks free, until I was supposed to go register.

I wanted to spend time with my parents, as Dad was beginning to sicken frequently. I could tell Mom was worried. They tried to keep me from worrying about them. I was feeling frustrated with how they were still treating me. They were older than any of the parents of my friends, having had me late in life; and I was worried about their health.

Chapter 2

College was a total shock. First, I was away from my home for the first time in my life. Second, I was immersed in a campus culture that was ever evolving. It took me a few weeks to get used to college life. I was on my own, and was supposedly responsible for myself and my own actions. But there were lots of little rules and regulations involved with going to college, and living in dorms.

It was during a heavy snowstorm around December, that I heard a couple students discussing ‘possibility versus probability’. It was fascinating. I couldn’t help myself. I went over and asked if I could listen and join in. They said sure, the more the merrier.

That was how I met Levy Goldman and John Gilchrist. Both were heavily into the sciences, and both were immediately on a ‘convert the new guy’ roll ... me being ‘the new guy’.

I knew from the first time in high school when I ran across computers, that this is what I wanted to major in when I got to college. While John and Levy didn’t downplay the importance of computers, they were ‘gee whiz’ kind of smart.

I was drawn to these two, and soon we were friends. I would sit and listen to them postulating ideas, from the serious to the ridiculous. I even tossed in a few things, from time to time, to let them know I was alive. When they got into these discussions, they tended to forget things around them.

It was in early February when I tossed out my own improbable idea to these two science students. What if someone had the ability to, say, look at an area and ‘see’ what had gone on there; anywhere from hours to days, weeks, months, or even years ago.

Levy asked me what I meant by ‘see’.

So I told him what I meant, outlining my abilities, just not saying I could do it. That started the two on the possibilities of such an ability. They quickly covered what I already knew, and started in on things I had never even considered! I loved it!

John was all for using such an ability in crime fighting, discovering secrets of the past, and looking for missing persons (particularly children). Levy was more interested in the mechanism of ‘how’.

“How could such a gift work?” he pondered.

I sat back and soaked up all the good ideas. I desperately promised myself to write some of this stuff down. For three days we talked of nothing but my ability, with them not knowing it was a real situation for me.

As was usual with these two, on day four something else came along. The topic was switched again. I mentally sighed at this. There was no way I could nudge them back onto my abilities unless I came up with a good reason. There was no reason I could think of except the obvious one, which was that I could do it.

Was I ready to let this out? I had decided long ago to keep this ability of mine secret. I was still nervous about what could happen if it became common knowledge that I could do something like this.

John had had a good idea with his ‘finding’ missing persons idea. I just needed to figure out how to give the proper authorities the information they needed, without becoming suspect number one, or involve my parents.

First, I looked into unsolved crimes of the past. I needed something that I could point the authorities at, from a ‘safe distance’. I needed to be able to supply a prime suspect for them. I had seen enough science fiction on TV to know that ‘the psychic’ was always a prime suspect at first.

If I worked this right, I could create credibility without becoming a suspect at all. This meant I would have to find some older crimes, which ruled me out automatically as a suspect. I then had to keep suspicion from falling on my family. Police, being what they are; would immediately jump to the conclusion that I must have heard something from my parents, or someone close to me, who had admitted to the crime.

So I decided on a slow introduction. I became busy with following three cases from the past. The first was a college student who disappeared a little over twenty years ago. Angela Wheeler had been a junior who went missing in ‘75. There was an investigation that went nowhere, and the case remained open as a missing persons case.

It was actually a murder. I watched the entire thing, and was disgusted. The police had even questioned the killer. The killer had an alibi, and the police didn’t know she was dead, so the police were stymied. As was normal with cases with no body, it went to a back burner. The police went on to other crimes.

I wrote, in exact detail, what had happened. I described the murder in detail, even to where the body was buried. To top it off, I named the killer, and said that there was DNA evidence on the body, as she had struggled. There were hairs, and other evidence, buried with her.

I also sent a copy to the local paper, just to nudge the police if they needed it. They didn’t. I had been sure to include information the police knew, but which had not been made public. I quoted two of the officers who were investigating the disappearance of her, word for word, on something they had said. The quote was overheard by enough fellow officers still working on the force, to make it seem that it might be a fellow officer giving out this information.

I signed it: ‘The Psychic’. What the hell? Who would believe the truth at this point in time? Also, who said my talent was not derived from the psychic?

Two days later there was a big article in the paper as the police, acting on an anonymous tip, discovered the body of missing college student Angela Wheeler. A week after that, armed with results from DNA and other items found at the gravesite, an arrest had been made. When confronted with that evidence, and a portion of the anonymous letter that described in detail what he had done, the man confessed. Hell, he thought he had been seen and now someone had finally come forward about the murder. In a way, he was right.

I had already solved the next case. It was a missing child. This one was not a murder. It was a kidnapping of recent vintage. I followed all the players, and soon had everything I needed. I typed it up, and signed it ‘The Psychic’. I sent it, sat back, and let the police work. The same day the police announced a break in the Milton kidnapping case, the child was returned to his mother. Two suspects were placed into custody, one being the father.

I settled down and got heavily into my studies. Spring break was approaching, and I wanted nothing to interfere with my visit home. I did have one other solution for the police, though. It was also an older case. I dropped it off in a mailbox, just before I caught my ride home. One of the guys was headed my way, and would take me to just fifty miles short of home. I would take the bus the rest of the way.

That last hundred feet up the drive to my house, seemed to last forever. I had been back for Christmas break, but still, it had seemed I had been gone forever. Mom met me at the door, hugging me tightly. I smiled, but that smile faded as I saw the look on her face.

“What’s wrong, Mom?” I asked, suddenly concerned.

“Your father took a turn for the worse, last night. He is in the hospital, and is not expected to survive the night. I am so glad you got back when you did. You can say goodbye to him,” she said, with a catch in her throat.

And so it was. We buried Dad in the spring of ‘95. He died a day after I got home. I told Mom I was going to take time off from school to stay with her, but she would not hear of it. I finished out my break, and tried to stay with her. Despite my protests, she drove me to the airport. I caught a commuter plane back to the airport closest to my college.

It was hard concentrating on studies and school, at first. Levy and John were a big help. I still did not have a girlfriend, being so busy with my studies, and my new occupation of crime buster. I still wanted to find out how I did what I did.

Maybe it was my dad’s death that was the catalyst. I got John and Levy together, and told them of my abilities. They just stared at me. It took some time, but I convinced them. Then I explained what I wanted, and why I had told them. I had also sworn them to secrecy.

Once I had proved my abilities to both their satisfaction, they became excited! I listened and their excitement got me excited, too! Levy was already cataloging tests he wanted to run on me, and John was asking questions about how far into the past I could see.

It was three weeks later, and I was being confronted by John about helping victims ... again! I was frustrated.

“Ok, John. Suppose I do it your way. I solve this or that missing person case. There is always another one. How do I prioritize which case is more important? When do I get time for myself? According to the schedule you have here, I go from case to case to case. No time for myself, nor even my studies. Did you plan on letting me finish school? Am I not allowed to get an education, just because I can do something no one else can?” I asked angrily.

John had the grace to look embarrassed.

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. But surely we can work something out! You have a gift, a strong gift that can help law enforcement, and victims. You can help solve cases and problems,” John said excitedly.

“John. You’re totally forgetting something. It is HIS gift. Not yours, not mine. He asked our help to find out how he does this, and how best to utilize it,” Levy said in his reasonable tone.

While he nodded agreement, I could tell John was frustrated with the answer both Levy and I gave him. John was very pro-active in several things. He was a believer in the rights of individuals, an advocate for victim’s rights. He believed it was everyone’s duty to help law enforcement, in any possible way, when it involved children. This went up to and including giving up personal rights, in order to facilitate help for children.

In other words, he was your basic brainwashed liberal. Still, he was a very smart person in all other respects, and I liked and respected him. His view was abhorrent to me, though. It was an erosion of personal rights, and he did not see that. All he saw was children needing to be protected.

Levy filled me in a little on John’s past. Apparently he had been abused by someone when he was a child, and it still angered him greatly. I understood where John was coming from, but I did not want to see my rights shot away in favor of other people’s rights. The national news was already full of groups that were trying to get laws passed for extra protection for specific groups. They were calling them ‘hate crime’ laws.

Chapter 3

Finally, my first year in college was done, and I headed home. Mom was looking worn, so I changed my plans from working, to staying home with her. My stocks were doing well enough that I was reinvesting in other stocks.

Yes, I got another job with a cleaning company. I also got access to several places which I found were good for tips. So far, my investments were doing well. Dad’s will had been a surprise. He left most everything to Mom. She had been co-owner of the farm for years, so she didn’t have to pay any taxes on it when he died.

Still, Dad had left me some savings bonds, and access to an account he had set up when I had been born. He had been putting money in it all these years, and it was to have been mine when I went to school. With his illnesses and all, I guess he had forgotten it. It was a little over 18,000 dollars. Mom never knew about it at all.

The big surprise, was that Dad had had an affair, years before I was born. The result of that affair had been a child. I had a half-sister, and she was named in the will. The mother of my half-sister had never wanted any support from Dad, which was why Mom had never found out. Dad wanted his daughter to have something, and had taken out a separate life insurance policy, listing her as beneficiary. She inherited 15,000 dollars upon his death. Both Mom and I were stunned with this development. Dad had had an affair!

That summer Mom seemed to regain her color, and looked better. We went into the city a few times to see movies, and made one extended trip to see a play, in Chicago. One of the things Mom did while I was home, was to make me co-owner of the farm. We owned it free and clear. She said she would be damned if she would let the state steal money from me, by giving me what I should own anyway.

The way things were set up, an account paid the taxes automatically, every year. Previously, Dad had put enough in the account to make sure that the interest earned was more than enough to pay the taxes. I was surprised at how much was in there. Mom said that if I left it alone, the taxes would always be paid.

I looked in the machine shed, and looked over the tractor and harvester. They were still in good working order. The farmer we rented our land to, used them every year. He kept them in good shape. Mom also rented them out during harvest. The tractor was used several times a year by various farmers, to augment their own needs.

Mom asked me if I intended to farm the place when I graduated. To tell the truth, I had not given it much thought. The farm had been in our family for almost a hundred years, and there was no way I was going to let it go. It was a real piece of family history. The rental arrangement we had was working well enough for now, though.

The annual town picnic was held in July. We had gone every year since I could remember, and I had fond memories of those picnics. It was at these picnics that local politicians would meet and greet people. It was this picnic, that got me interested in my state representative. I caught him in an outright conspiracy!

I had accidentally overheard a bit of conversation between him and our mayor. What I heard shocked me and angered me. Apparently the state representative’s brother had acted as attorney for a man accused of murder.

The mayor had arranged for a crucial piece of evidence to disappear! I was stunned. I waited until they had left. Then I went to the area where they had been, which was filling with people.

It was in a tent. I had been outside. They had not seen or heard me, which was why they felt free to talk. The mayor was asking where his ‘quid pro quo’ was. I went inside the tent and did my thing, going back in time.

The mayor, our police chief, and at least one other officer were all involved in this. I heard enough to get me into my ‘investigative mode’. I asked Mom about local politics, and how it interconnected. She lectured me for a good while.

Since Mom was feeling better, I decided to gain access to city hall after hours. This meant getting a job as janitor. Well, I was very qualified in that type of job. I applied, and got a part time job, leaving one of the regular men free to take his vacation.

In that two weeks I learned a lot about politics and politicians. They said one thing, and practiced another. Don’t get me wrong. I actually did discover several councilman who were as honest as the day is long. I did discover a whole list of illegal activities practiced by the mayor and two council members, though.

After my two weeks were up, I was released with a promise that I would be back if they needed me. Not everyone in city hall was corrupt. There were a lot of good people working for the benefit of all. I had made several good contacts. I wasn’t there long enough to make friends, but there were several there that I thought were good people.

After that, I got out Dad’s old typewriter. I wrote up what I had found out, along with where proof could be found for almost everything I was stating in my accusation. I listed everything, and then told the paper they could check my credentials with the police department at my college’s city. I signed it, The Psychic.

I mailed it off to a big paper in the next big town. I made sure I didn’t mail it from here. I know I left no finger prints on the paper or the envelope, and I moistened a sponge to wet the sticky flap, sealing everything inside.

Just before I left for my second year of college, the story broke. I had given up on them by this time. Apparently they had done a bit of investigation on my alias, first. Having discovered that the person known as The Psychic was for real, they started digging. After confirming a lot of what I had put into my letter, they had turned it over to state and federal investigators.

The first few weeks of the new college year were hectic, as usual. Levy and John looked me up almost as soon as I received my new dorm assignment. I had been moved to Rollings Hall. I was now in the same wing with John and Levy. Levy had been busy during the summer break with formulas, and he thought he had something.

John was also there, and not only helping with the formulas. He had come up with ideas for further testing. All in all they had plotted a lot of work for me, but I didn’t mind. John pushed me and pushed me.

By late October, I could go back as far as 1899! He had an idea that the more I practiced and pushed, the further back I should be able to see! He was right. I delighted in my newfound range. I itched to get back home and watch history happen.

In November, I was able to push back to 1895. I still got headaches each time I went back further. Levy and John thought it was connected with some mechanism in my mind. Each time I stretched it, it gave me a headache.

Levy came up with an interesting hypothesis concerning my ability. He was of the opinion that since every living thing gave off energy, I was able to tap into that energy and read it. What I was reading, was the energy left in places by the people causing the events I saw and witnessed. It translated into me seeing and hearing what had happened in a given area at a given time. This resulted in headaches, since I was using a part of my brain in a way it was not normally used.

It sounded plausible to me. I asked why it didn’t give me headaches to go back a week or year. He answered that I had already gathered the strength to go that far. He asked if I noticed any pain when I went back as far as a year or five or even fifty. I answered no, which excited him and me!

This seemed to prove what he was postulating. It worked for me, anyway. John was all for pushing me harder and harder, to give me greater range. Levy persuaded him to let me progress at a slower rate. I was thankful for that. John had me living with headaches almost constantly, for two weeks!

He was also excited, and a bit mysterious, about the time differential I seemed to experience when I did my ‘quests’. Both John and Levy got very hush-hush when discussing that, and it tended to frustrate me just a bit.

All was not roses though. John came to me several times with what he thought were important cases involving missing or battered children. He kept pushing me to solve every new case that popped up in the news.

While I did solve a few, I was getting tired of John’s moral accusations. I decided to do something about it. I spent a couple weeks getting my material together, then invited him to my room to watch a tape of an investigation. I got it for the criminal justice department at a different school. It took some fast talking and a favor, but I got it.

I let John into my room. I was lucky in that I did not have a room-mate to worry about.

“Ok, John. In the past few weeks, you have asked me to get involved in several cases involving kids. I am not faulting your dedication to the protection of children. It is a fine and noble calling. What I object too, is your manipulating me into resolving these cases. Do you have any idea of what I see, sometimes? Well, I want you to witness some of what I wind up getting sometimes,” I said, and turned on the tape.

We watched the tape. It was a complete from the first-on-scene officers, to good clear views of the bodies, complete with autopsy footage. I watched John more than I did the movie. I wanted to see his expression. I think I was successful.

I tuned the tape off, at the conclusion. The investigating team had found the culprit, and he had been found guilty.

“Did you enjoy seeing those bodies, John?” I asked him.

“NO! Are you out of your mind? This is what I want you to help me prevent! This was a horror!” John exclaimed to me.

“So, you are saying it is ok for me to see this, time and time again, but you don’t like looking at it yourself? Why do you get the choice of condemning me to see this? Also, I can’t prevent something from happening. Just see who did it, remember?” I asked him gently.

He opened his mouth, and then shut it. I could see the realization dawning on his face.

“John, I have nothing but respect for the majority of our law enforcement people. I could not stand to be exposed to this for years on end as they are. How about you? Yet you want me to possibly see this, every time you get excited about a case. You would condemn me to living this,” I said quietly, pointing at the tape. “One of the problems with being in law enforcement, is you become inured to seeing this. Did you see the casual way the officers took in the bodies? They are used to it, and that scares me. That people can become so used to this type of horror, scares the hell out of me. They went into this profession with their eyes open, knowing the risks of the job. While I respect them, I do not want to be like them. I don’t want to see a body, and just shrug. How about you, John? Want to become callus to the dead children you want to protect?” I asked.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize what you were going through,” John finally said.

I had more to say, more frustration to vent. But I knew that would probably do more harm than good. Beating a point to death was not what I was here to do. If John actually understood my point, then I was happy.

Christmas break was looming, and I wanted to make sure all my work was finished before I flew home. I finished up most of it, anyway. Levy wished me a merry Christmas, which I thought was nice, coming from a man of a totally different religion that did not celebrate Christmas as we did. I wished him happy Hanukkah back. John was already gone by this time.

Christmas at home that year was strange, without Dad. Still, Mom and I enjoyed each other’s company. I asked Mom if she would be upset if I sent a Christmas card to my half sister. I admit I was curious about her.

While she was still upset with Dad and his affair, she told me that she was my sister and that I should get to know her if I could, and if I wanted. She even gave me the address that was listed in the will!

Debra Willows. She had even sent a card back to me with a brief note. She, too, had not known who her father was. Nor had she known that she had a sibling. Her mother had told her that her biological father had died before they could get married.

We lived within a couple hours drive from each other. All that time I had a sister so close by, and never knew it! What had Dad been thinking? Still, he had been a good father to me, and a good husband to Mom in all other respects.

Christmas vacation passed all to soon. I was back at college, trying to get back into the swing of things. This happened to me after every break since I had started school. I needed a week, sometimes two to get back into studying and school habits.

In late January, Levy approached me with a totally new and exciting idea. He got started thinking about it when I had told him about my stop watch experiment. He re-did the experiment with himself controlling everything.

What he told me was he thought I might be able to employ the energy I was using, to see the past in a new way. Effectively, what he wanted me to do was try to gather and store it, then release it in a burst, willing myself psychically into the past. He wanted me to try to time travel in body!

It was an exciting thing to think about, but a fearful thing at the same time. I said that suppose it worked, how was I supposed to get back? He theorized that if I managed to use the energy to go backwards in time with my body, I should be able to use the same energy that was back there, to catapult myself back to my own time.

He thought that while it was impossible to go forward in time, it should be possible to RETURN to the time I had started from. While it was enticing to think of, I was still hesitant. Both Levy and John worked on the math, and finally showed me their conclusions. While I had taken math, the math they were doing was totally beyond me.

Chapter 4

I got into an argument with John, just before the end of the second year. The guy just would not take ‘no’ for an answer! While I admired his determination, it meant he had little or no thoughts for my feelings on the subject. I told him exactly how I felt, and told him if he continued to harass me with “missions”, then our friendship was done.

That was the way the year ended. Levy told me to not worry about John, that he would come around. I just nodded. He wished me a good summer, and reminded me to practice.

This is not to say I had not helped the authorities on a couple cases. I had. I just did not want John dictating to me. I had a life, and wanted things for myself. Not only was I taking computer classes, but I was studying Wall Street and high finance, too.

I also found and bought an older model car. It was in bad shape when I got it. It was a 1966 Volkswagen Fastback. It needed a lot of work, which took time away from other projects, but I felt it was worth it. By the time I was done overhauling it, I had a good running car that took me wherever I wanted to go.

I packed my stuff, and made the trip home, taking it easy. It took me most of the day, but my car ran like a champ the whole way. Mom took one look at my car and laughed.

“Tom Wilshire! What on earth are you doing with that old rattletrap? Surely you could have gotten something better? Your dad left you enough for a new car if you wanted,” she said laughingly.

“Well, I wanted something that was cheap to run. Do you know what kind of gas mileage I get with this car? Besides, I wanted the money to invest in the stock market. Buying this car leaves me a lot of capital,” I told her loftily.

Mom just laughed. That was how my summer break started. I settled back into the routine of farm life. Not that we farmed, but there was the cow to milk every morning and every evening, the eggs to gather from the chickens, and the garden to tend.

I also found time to practice, practice, practice. I started getting flashes at first. Soon that changed, though. I could SEE what I had been doing! Time was like the skin of an onion. You peeled one layer back, only to reveal another!

That was the way I saw time. If I concentrated, I was able to look past the immediate past, and into a deeper layer of what had happened. When I focused on a specific layer or time, it fixed there. Don’t ask me how I did it, but that’s what happened. I was very excited!

The most recent events were bright and shining, with the next layer a little less shining, and so on. As I looked at the energy of the past, I found that the further back I went, the darker the time layer. The end of where I could see was 1800! I could tell something was there, further back, but I just couldn’t penetrate that far ... yet!

Now that I had that part of the problem solved, I set about trying to gather the energy into useful form. This was easier to think of, than to do. I knew if I could see and use my gift in a new way, then gathering the energy should be possible.

In the meantime, I practiced with my newfound ability. I am afraid that a lot of people thought I was probably a little crazy. I would latch onto a particular time line, and start following the events and people in it.

Thus it was that I could be seen walking around town with a sort of vacant expression on my face. I can’t tell you how often I was stopped from walking into the street, or just narrowly avoided an accident of some kind.

All in all, I got a reputation that summer as being a little addlepated. Of course, Mom heard about it, and asked me what was wrong. I thought long and hard about telling her what I could do, but I still decided it was wise not to let her in on my talent. I just told her I was a bit distracted.

As the summer wore on, my ability to look into the past got even better. I could go as far back as 1789 by the end of July. My ability to go farther and farther back seemed to be getting easier. I wondered if that was because of the training Levy had me doing.

August saw me approaching as far back as 1772. Ok, I admit it. I looked in on some of the more famous battles of the American Revolution! I couldn’t help it. I took a few days here, a few there, and went to known battle sites, and watched what happened. I also “found” a few items of interest from that era.

It was not as easy as it sounds. Most of the battle areas had been picked over thoroughly. Still, I spent several days actual time watching certain people, and managed to watch a soldier go off by himself to die.

The poor guy was so confused that he stumbled down an embankment, crawled into a small opening that you could call a cave, only if you were charitable. There he died, alone. He was a British officer. He was well equipped, since he was an officer. After the battle, the winners sent out parties to search for wounded and dead, but missed this one.

I then started to go faster and faster forward in time from that point. I watched closely. I found I could sort of fast forward, like watching a videotape! I watched as the dead soldier was partially eaten by animals.

I watched the seasons come and go. I watched until I caught up to my own time. I looked around. It was getting late and I was in a small gully. The opening the soldier had crawled into was gone. It had been sealed by a slide years ago, and I had to get a shovel and dig.

That was how I found myself on public land, carrying out a veritable treasure of historical items, as well as other items I was able to convert into considerable wealth. The officer had had a nice leather pouch, which held quite a few gold and silver pieces. I also had his weapons which were not in bad shape, considering. He also had been carrying a leather bag of some sort, with maps and a diary! Most everything had been protected from the elements by being in the hole, which had been sealed shut by a mudslide.

I did not spend all my summer touring battle sites, though. I invested in a couple more stocks, and put even more money into one I already owned. I was getting a very good return on my investments.

It was one week before I returned to college, that it happened. I had gone to the church I went to as a child and settled in for a sermon. I looked around with my gift’s eye, and was stunned at the power that seemed to be here.

Power? How did I know there was a lot of power here? All that straining, and going to church opened the way. I gave it some thought as I sat there. Perhaps I needed a sort of specific power source? After all, people, came to church for one purpose, and they were all there for the same reason.

At other places, people’s lives were all important to them, so church was a place of intense concentration on one subject. God. That had me wondering about other venues. Stadiums! There had been stadiums for hundreds, hell thousands of years!

I stood and went to the back of the church and waited for the service to end. I then idly searched through the bands of time till I found one that brought back memories! I watched a service from when I was a child.

I remembered this day! I had been twelve years old, and I was getting my new bike this very day! Dad had loaded all of us in the car, but told us to wait a minute, as he needed to do something. He went into the house. He came back out a few minutes later, and nodded to Mom. I had thought nothing about it at the time, but that was his way of saying the bike was there, waiting for us to get home.

I watched the people, and my younger self and Dad walk out. DAD! I felt my eyes tearing up at my loss. Yet here he was, as strong as I had ever known him, a tower of strength that was always there. They left, with me knowing I was going home to my new bike. It was waiting for me in the living room ... the young me.

After everyone left the pastor locked up, and he too left. I could still FEEL the power of this place. I was not sure what I did, but I reached out, and walked forward into the past! Well, I stumbled, really.

In that one step I felt like I was fighting a great weight. Yet still I pushed and strained. Then there was a lessoning of the tension that was restraining me, and I stumbled eight years into the past! I was there! I knew it as surely as I knew my own name, or that the sun shines in the day.

I made my way to the side door, and let my self out using the pushbar handle to open it. It would lock itself behind me. I stepped out into my past.

“May I help you?” the church pastor asked me.

“I’m sorry. I sort of fell asleep, and found myself locked in. I am very embarrassed about it,” I said, hanging my head a bit.

He chuckled. “Think nothing of it. I don’t think I have seen you in the church before. Are you new here?” he asked curiously.

Uh, oh. Careful now. “Actually, I am trying to track down certain historical families from this area,” I replied, thinking quickly. “I am doing a paper on the Clayton family,” I finished, congratulating myself on thinking fast.

“Oh, yes! A most famous local family. Well, you have come to the right area. Perhaps when I get back from seeing a parishioner we can talk. I used to know one of the Clayton’s,” he enthused.

I told him I would be glad to discuss them with him, and we separated. He to his car, and I to the street, and down to the local diner. I found I was starving! Wait! I didn’t have money for this time! At least my clothing didn’t stand out.

I watched cars go by that I knew no longer existed. There went the Gilmore’s Honda. I knew it was destined for the scrap heap, after it was totaled by Mrs. Gilmore, this very same year. It had been a local tragedy when she had died.

I was eight years in my past. I didn’t have any friends, and could not go home. I panicked for a moment! What if I was stuck here! What if I couldn’t get back? My stomach rumbled to let me know what my proper priorities should be.

I remembered that after church back then, there was usually a social! Great! Free food! I headed towards the VFW hall where it was usually held. Sure enough, it was already in full swing. I made my way in and joined the queue at the buffet line.

I felt a pang of regret at all the people I knew, who nodded politely to me, but didn’t know me. I ate, and ate. I’m afraid I made a pig of myself, and it was noticed. Old lady Jackson cornered me and started a third degree.

Every time I tried to answer one of her questions, she would interrupt me. I finally put my plate down, and looked her in the eye.

“You must be Mrs. Jackson. Your reputation precedes you, Ma’am,” I said, then walked away.

I heard gasps, and a few chuckles behind me. I made my way outside, and headed back to the church. Now that I had eaten, I was feeling much better. I was also worried about being stuck in the past.

Eight years in the past was not too bad of a place to be stuck in, really. But I wanted my own time! I started getting anxious again. I hoped like hell what Levy postulated was correct. To be sure, I wanted to get back into the church, and watch myself arrive. Then maybe, just maybe, I could latch onto the time I had left.

I waited for the pastor to come back. I stayed out of sight, and went in after he unlocked the main door. If I remembered correctly, and I did, he always opened the church for private prayer Sunday afternoons.

I was in luck. He was not in the church proper, but was in the back somewhere. Well, that was fine with me. I quickly touched on the power that was here. Yes, still a lot of juice! I sunk into the time, and watched.

I followed the most current line back to when I arrived, and I saw HOW to get back! As my other self stepped into ‘here’, from the future, I grabbed the time line I had just come from ... um, the other me ... I stepped forward into the future, or rather, into my own time! I knew I was back, for I could FEEL it! Everything felt ... right.

I quickly made my way out of the church, and sure enough, there was my car! I sighed. I was back! I got into my car, and started to think. I had seen myself arrive in the past, and I saw how I had left the present to go into the past. Now that I had seen it, I was sure I could go back to the future from any point in the past as long as I had the energy to effect the transfer.

I drove home thoughtfully. When I got there, I fixed myself a large sandwich, as I was hungry again. Apparently, time travel took a lot of your own energy as well. Mom wasn’t there so I lay down and napped a bit.

---

The beginning of my third year of college got off to a slow start. I had decided not to tell John or Levy that I had succeeded. I had already regretted telling John as much as I had, given the way we parted a few months ago. I definitely did not care to share this with either of them. I was reluctant to see how it would affect our relationship, and was worried about their reactions.

Chapter 5

I was jogging on the track. Boring, but something I did to create stamina. I had little weights on my ankles, and on my wrists. It is amazing how just a few ounces of weight can cause your muscles to ache faster, and your body to work harder!

The track was a quarter mile oval. Four times around was a mile, and I was on the third circuit of my second mile. Just one more mile to go, thank god! Five more trips around the oval and I could hit the showers. That’s when I noticed the older man on the side of the track waving at me.

I immediately thought something had happened to my mom! I slowed and came up to him at a brisk walk. He fell in with me, and asked if I were Tom Wilshire. I said yes, and asked how I might help him.

“I’m Robert Simpson, from the Bugler. I came across a very curious thing recently, and tracked it down to you,” he said with an intent look.

I felt like I had been kicked in my stomach. The Bugler was the paper I had sent the evidence I had collected about my town mayor and state representative’s illegal activities. I just didn’t see how he could connect that to me though. I had been very careful.

“I am sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, so please, feel free to fill me in,” I said.

I walked over to the bleachers, and grabbed my stuff there. While it was cold now, running tended to warm me up nicely. Now that I had stopped, I was going to become cold very quickly. I put my jacket on as I continued my ‘cool down’ walk.

“You’re ‘The Psychic’,” he made it a statement, not a question.

“I am?” I asked.

He chuckled, and said, “You do ‘innocence’, very well. Let me tell you why I think you’re the Psychic. I have checked with the local paper here, and you have written to them a couple times. Mostly, you help the police solve difficult cases. Now, you were home on vacation, and POW, ‘The Psychic’ shows up in our neck of the woods...” I interrupted him.

“There are probably hundreds of thousands, millions of school kids all over the country, and you pin this psychic thing on me? I don’t buy that because I show up at home, it has to be me,” I said, amused.

He was shaking his head and said, “I understand, and I would agree with you except for one thing. You TYPED your letter on a typewriter. It has a flaw in one of the keys. Your father used to write letters to the editor frequently, and the editor recognized where this letter had to have come from,” he said nailing me with proof I could not really fight.

He continued. “We have already been out to your mother’s house. We asked if we could see her typewriter. She was most accommodating. We typed up a few lines and they match, in every case. No, you’re ‘The Psychic’. By the way, we didn’t ‘out’ you to her. We told her we had gone over older letters to the editor and were verifying that this was indeed the address and typewriter that wrote such good opinions. We awarded her a free year’s subscription to the paper as a cover,” he said smiling.

“Well, that was kind of you. Dad loved your paper, and thought you did good pieces on government waste,” I said continuing my walk. He kept right up with me.

“Thanks. Would you care to make a comment for the paper?” he asked, holding out a tape recorder.

I thought furiously. I could deny this, but it would raise suspicions, and they would be on me like stink on shit. I opted for a second idea that I had thought out long ago.

“Yes, I am ‘The Psychic’. Look, let’s go back to my room, and we’ll talk,” I said leading the way. I assumed he would follow me, and he did.

Fifteen minutes later we were seated at my small table with coffee before us, in my dorm room. I had asked him to turn off the recorder, but said he could take notes if he wished.

I spun him the tale I had ready, and had actually practiced. I had put some truth into it, but had made up a lot, also. In truth, I had thought this out over the years, and had what I thought was a good story ready.

He was thoughtful as he left, and said he understood my position. I thanked him for listening, and said I hoped he would keep my name out of it. He said he would send me a copy of the story when it was published. I was on pins and needles for almost a week, when an envelope with my name and address on it, arrived from out of town.

Inside was a brief note, and a copy of the Bugler’s story on me! I read both with fear, which turned into relief! I read the note first. It said the following:

Dear Tom,

You were right. As soon as the story hit the street, the switchboard was hit with literally hundreds of calls from people wanting to be put in touch with you. I fully understand your point of view, and I will be keeping your identity a close secret.

Sincerely,

Robert.

I put the letter down. I picked up and unfolded the column he had sent me to read. As I read it, I relaxed. The reporter had been very kind, and I knew I had someone in my corner from the media! Here is what it said:

A Psychic’s Story
By Robert Simpson

The Bugler first became aware of this person, who signs all his correspondence simply ‘The Psychic’, months ago. I know, there are lots of psychics out there in this day and age. Ms. Cleo comes to mind. Unlike Ms. Cleo and her ilk, this young man has an impressive resume, and he does not charge three ninety nine a minute for his help.

This unassuming young man is probably in the same league as Nostradamus. Unlike Nostradamus who saw the future, this young man sees what has gone before. He sees the past as you or I view a film.

His first time seeing something that had happened was when he got off the bus from visiting relatives out of town. A friend’s dog had gone missing and he helped find it. As a matter of fact, he said he was accused of taking the dog to begin with! How else could he go directly to the dog?

After being accused, but then vindicated when his bus ticket showed his innocence, he made a decision never to go public with his ability. Still, he wanted to help. His major problem was and is, that he has no way to control this ability. It comes and goes as it wills. He says he has tried to get some sort of control of it, but that control is still beyond his abilities.

He helps out the police in the college town where he is a student. No, they do not know who he is, but they do take seriously any notes or letters he may send them. One officer (speaking only with a guarantee of anonymity) said it was positively eerie the way this guy got it, and got it right! He also got it right every time, as if he were watching the crime happen.

This young man just wants a college education. He does not want to be paid for his services. He says he is reluctant to go public since he has no control over this ability. I agree with him. How would you feel, if you had a loved one missing, and went to this young man only to be told: “I can’t help you?” How would you feel, if you were that young man?

He is more than happy to help out when and where he can. But his help is sporadic, at best. So I take my hat off to this ‘reluctant psychic’, and pray that he gets some sort of control over this ability at some point in the future. I will keep his identity a secret. I respect what he has done, and I respect him as a person. I wish him well in his chosen work, and hope he continues to help out when he can.

I sighed and put the article down. He told me he would see what he could do, and it was enough! There were good reporters in the world, after all. I carefully folded the clipping and the note, and put them in an envelope to save.

Levy was a little disappointed when I reported no luck with going back in time. I still had not told him of my trip into the past, and I was not going to. Especially, I would not tell John. I would never hear the end of the crimes against children that I should go back to stop.

I was making a little headway on trying to gather and store energy, or power. I am not sure how I did this, but I could feel myself absorbing and holding energy! I could also feel it slowly leaking away, too. This was another thing I was going to have to figure out.

By the end of the second year of college, I was able to view all the way back to 1700. I was hesitant about trying physically to go very far into the past, as where would I find the nearest energy source? There were no stadiums that I new of way back in 1700. Churches, yes, but I would have to go to the east coast states to find an old church, with years of accumulated power.

Failing that, I could always go to England for even older churches, but did I want to make a dangerous voyage on a sailing ship? NO! Nor did I want to get stuck in a foreign country when I arrived back in my present time. Somehow, I thought they might consider me an illegal, if I just showed up without a stamped passport and started looking for a flight home.

I used my summer vacation to explore the immediate past. I took trips to other states, and made sure that certain potential power sources were located in the times I intended to visit. I also made sure transportation was available via trains. I did not relish the thought of days on end of horseback or wagon riding.

I also did extensive research into the clothing of the specific times I intended to visit. I could stay as long as I wanted, as I always returned to my own time at almost the instant I left for the past. How did I know that? I knew because I made two more brief trips into the recent past. I had to be careful not to stay long, or get myself hurt or killed. It wouldn’t do to get myself killed over something stupid, back in the past.

One of the things that happened when I found that British officers body, was that I came to possess several rare old coins. I sold two of them through an auction house known to deal in antique collectibles. Even after taxes, I cleared over sixty thousand dollars!

So it was with only a little trepidation that I kissed Mom goodbye, and flew to Boston. I planned on going back to 1875, and I wanted a place where I knew there were churches that had survived through to the present.

From Boston I intended to take the train to Washington D.C. I took the diary of the British officer with me, since at that time, one of his descendants was assigned to the British Embassy to America.

I had converted some of my cash into period money from before 1875. I would need some money after all. Let me tell you, for the dollar value I paid for those coins, it was a damned expensive trip! I had to find a better way to get older style money. Armed with my money of the time, I set off to go into the past.

That is exactly what happened. As I rode the train, I thought about what I had with me. While I had in my possession this diary or journal of Captain Edward Avery-Smythe, it was simultaneously lying hidden in the small cave like hole I had discovered it in! My head hurt with this kind of thinking.

Two days later, I was in the lobby of the British embassy, waiting to see the naval attaché. The current lord Avery-Smythe was a serving officer in the royal navy. He also had a bit of political clout, which explained his current assignment.

I rose as a man entered, in the naval uniform of a British officer of the time. He held out his hand and we shook. He had a firm grip. He was perhaps forty-five or fifty, about five feet 8 inches tall. His eyes were brown, and his hair was white. His face was seamed and craggy, with a slight leathery look to it. Definitely a man who had lived his life in the elements, I thought.

“I understand you claim to have something belonging to my family?” he asked me in a clipped tone of voice.

“Yes, sir. It was sent to me by a friend, who knows of my interest in old things. Particularly things concerning our Revolutionary War,” I responded.

“Hmm, yes. Dreadful what happened back then. You colonists got off lightly if you ask me,” he said while staring at me.

I opened my valise, and pulled out the diary/journal of his ancestor. When he saw the crest on the cover, his eyes widened. He looked up at me, and then back at the book in his hands.

“How did you come to be in possession of this, if I may ask?” He asked me curiously.

“As I said, it was forwarded to me from a friend. He claims that some kids found the remains of a body in a hole that had been severely overgrown with brambles. He said that supposedly, there were several items found with the body. A flintlock rifle, and pistol, a sword, some coins, and this, as well as some maps of the time were found. Probably, for the campaign he was involved in. I have read it, and if he were my family member, I would have wanted to know. So I have brought it to you. I understand they gave the body a proper burial,” I embellished.

“I suppose you want a reward for returning this?” He asked sharply.

I frowned. “No. I just wanted to return what I assumed to be a valued piece of family history. Good day, sir!” I exclaimed, and turned to go.

“Wait! I apologize to you, sir. At least let me offer you a meal for your trouble?” he said a bit more warmly.

So it was that I found myself the guest of Lord and Lady Avery-Smythe. They were very gracious hosts and were thrilled to get the book back. I made all the appropriate comments and ate a meal that while I supposed was good for its time, seemed tasteless to me.

After I left, I headed back to the train station. Again, two days later, I was back in Boston. I was standing before a very historical church. With bag in hand, I entered the church and worked my magic.

I startled an elderly lady who just turned around to find me where I could not possibly be.

“Oh! You startled me. I didn’t see you! I must be getting old. Uh, why are you dressed like that?” she asked. She pointed at my clothing, and I smiled.

“Why ma’am, this is what all gentleman in the 1870’s wore, didn’t you know that?” I responded jovially.

“Oh! Are you in a play?” she asked me, giving me my reason for being dressed like this.

Chapter 6

My four days in the past had been exciting. I remembered the smells and the sky, particularly the view of the stars at night! I had never ever seen them so bright! Once you got away from cities and people, the air had a clean smell that was amazing! We have been putting so much crap and pollutants into the air for so long, that there’s just no comparison.

I kept practicing taking in energy. I took several trips into the past just to use the energy I had stored. I measured my progress. At the beginning, I could go ten years towards my own time with stored energy. In a short time, I was able to go twenty-five years!

Practice makes perfect, or so the old saying goes; but in this case, practice made for longer time trips towards my own home time. Practice also included going to crowded areas, and pulling in as much power from the people around me as possible.

All too soon, it was time to head back to college. I ran into Levy and John almost right away, and they were eager to hear if I had been able to do anything towards gathering energy, or seeing it. As usual, I told them no. I said I just couldn’t seem to get a grasp on it. I also told them I still had no idea how to even try to go back into the past.

While they were disappointed, Levy always had projects to do, and John was working on mathematical formulæ that left me behind quickly. I was doing involved computer programming this year, and I had discovered I liked to break codes.

Oh, I wasn’t a hacker or anything. I had seen a Sixty Minutes exposé on the NSA and their ability to monitor the airwaves and to crack codes. I wondered just how hard was it to crack codes?

Our class project for the year, was to come up with data retrieval methods for damaged computers, and computers who’s programming no longer worked. Each group received a hard drive. We were to install it, and get out everything we could find in it.

The more I worked with my five-man group, the more I learned. Different members of the group came up with very creative ideas indeed.

No, I didn’t ignore my other projects. I still practiced taking in energy. I did that almost all the time.

I discovered classes were a good place to gather energy. Everyone there was concentrating intently, and I reaped the benefits of their energy. Who would have thought I could get this much energy from students?

I regretted not being able to share each conquest I made in my abilities with John and Levy, but I had to distance myself from them. I remained friends, but I told them I just didn’t seem able to advance any further than just being able to look.

I also got interested in how money was minted in different periods. What was the metal content, and how it was mixed? I had decided that it was ridiculous to buy vintage coins, when I could either make my own coins, or find coins from the proper era, somehow.

The end of the school year arrived with my group taking an A for our project. It is always nice to get an A, since I still could not get above that damn 3.5 grade point average.

Despite prior warnings, John approached me twice during the year to do my thing for missing children. I did one, but said no on the second. I finally had to tell John if he said one more word about going after missing kids, finding missing kids, helping missing kids, then we were through as friends, and we should go our separate ways.

What was it that kept him harassing me? Yes, it was harassment. Despite all my previous talks with him, John was still narrowly focused on his crusade, with me figuring hugely in his plans. Well, more power to him and his crusade, just leave me out of it!

Summer break began as usual, with me going home. The place looked good, and Mom seemed fine, if a little tired.

“When is the last time you went on vacation, Mom?” I asked her.

“Well, it was that year we went to Yellowstone National park. Remember it?” she responded with a smile, her eyes taking on a faraway look.

“Mom! That was when I was 11 years old! You really need to take a vacation,” I said seriously.

“Well, I can’t just up and go. I have the cow and chickens to take care of,” she said hesitantly.

I laughed. “Mom, we can hire someone to watch the place, and care for the cow and chickens. I think we should go on a vacation. I have a summer vacation every year, yet every year you stay here,” I said

“Where would I go? I have everything here that I need,” Mom said quietly.

“We could go together. My treat,” I said, thinking of all the money I still had left over from the sale of those rare coins.

We talked well into the night. It was my first day back from school, and I really wanted to treat her to a nice vacation. She was stubborn, though. I finally got her to at least think about it. I asked if her passport was up to date, and she said yes.

I had gotten mine updated just the previous year. I was thinking of Europe. Maybe a nice month or so seeing the sites of England, Scotland, Ireland, France, and Germany. I had to do some fast talking, but I finally convinced Mom I had the money for such a trip. I had to show her my savings account.

“Where did you get that much money?” she gasped when she saw the amount I had.

“Well, I found some old, old coins, Mom. Before you ask, no, I am not into drugs or illegal activities! I just lucked into some very old rare coins, is all. You should see how much Uncle Sam took for itself!” I exclaimed, then groaned theatrically.

She laughed at me. “Well, you certainly have been a busy young man,” she said, then got a sad look on her face. “I wish your father could have lived to see how you are turning out,” she said with her lips quivering a bit.

“Me too, Mom, me too,” I replied, and went over and hugged her.

---

It was during the first week in July that Mom and I started our European vacation. England was first. We hit all the obvious tourist sites: Buckingham Palace, the Tower Of London, and Piccadilly Circus.

I also took time to watch the past. England was a country rich in history. I was discovering that people were people, no matter where you were. You might be angry with a government; but people, on the whole, were just like your average neighbor next door.

The middle of August saw us back home. After recovering for a couple days, I set out for Missouri. I had an idea, and I was going to need one or two specialty items that Missouri was known for. Missouri mules.

One of the first things I was going to do, was get money. I had read with interest several old newspaper accounts of robberies gone wrong, and robbers who got caught, but somehow lost some or all of the money they had stolen.

I stopped in an east coast state, and went back in time, or ‘Time Diving’ as I called it. I got myself set at a specific location, and scanned to the proper time. Sure enough, a robbery was taking place, as reported by the article I had read.

I watched, as a chest of gold coins was lost over a bridge. It broke open, when it hit the bottom of the dry creek bed the bridge crossed, scattering bags of coins everywhere! A couple of the bags broke, spilling the newly minted coins like miniature golden waterfalls.

It was a long drop from the bridge overhead. I stepped into that time, and grabbed a bag containing almost two thousand dollars worth of gold eagles. I placed it in my backpack, and then used my stored power to go back to my time.

I didn’t make it all the way back. I was about fifty years shy of my own time, but I was close to a town. I knew I would be able to get enough power there, to make it the rest of the way. It was a nice little hike, and I enjoyed it. Three hours later, I was back in my own time.

I flew to St. Louis, Missouri. I rented a truck, and horse trailer. I wanted two mules. I then drove to Platte City. Platte City was, or at least had been, known for its mules. Actually, a man named William Elgin took first place in several prize categories for his mules in the 1904 Worlds Fair. He lived and raised his mules around Platte City, Missouri.

If I could find what I wanted in my own time, I planned on buying them here. If not, I was going to ‘back time it’, as I was beginning to call it. I chuckled to myself. I was developing my own terminology for what I did!

While I had brought several items back and forth through time, this would be my first time bringing live animals through, if I could. In all honesty, it never occurred to me to test it by bringing a dog or cat or something, on a time trip. It either worked, or it didn’t.

Another ability that was making itself known and felt, was sort of two fold. One, I was able to detect the power I used; and two, I was able to draw on the energy I used, without actually being inside the building or place.

What did I mean by detect? I was already seeing it, right? Well, I could be blocks away, and KNOW in which direction a concentration of the energy I used was at. It came upon me in Europe, and has been growing fast ever since!

---

Who would have thought that two mules would cost seven thousand dollars? Thirty five hundred dollars apiece, and that did not include state and federal taxes! I asked him about packs, since these were pack mules. He showed me a standard set-up, but didn’t have any extras to sell, at the time. Also, there were various types of packs, depending on what you wanted to haul.

We talked. I wanted to know how to settle the packs onto the mules. While I had grown up on a farm and could saddle and ride a horse, putting a pack on a mule was a little beyond me. It didn’t take me to long to learn how to do it, though.

Why did I want these animals? Several reasons. If I was successful, I was planning on spending a lot of time in the past. I wanted to have food. I wanted to be able to travel, and set up a tent if I camped out. I did not want to have to rely on the trains for transportation, since a lot of places I wanted to go to, had no train service in those times.

I also wanted to try trading. Only they were called peddlers back then. If I worked it right, I could even make some money. This was going to be practice though, for another enterprise I had in mind. So living off the land and camping out were ‘must know’ items.

While I wanted this experience, I still had a year to go in school. I was twenty-one and Would graduate college at the age of twenty-two. After college was done, I was going to fly back to Europe. I wanted to see some history up close and personal, and what better way than as a wandering peddler?

I had five hundred dollars of newly minted 1821 gold eagles on me. The rest, believe it or not, was in my storage trunk in my room at Mom’s house. She wouldn’t bother it. I had the only key to the trunk, though I rarely locked it. This time I did lock it, just as a precaution. I was not expecting any trouble though.

Have you ever tried to outfit pack mules for an extended trip? The movies make it look easy, but it’s not. I had been camping when I was a kid. Some of my fondest memories are of me and Dad, camping by ourselves.

I drove to Kansas City, and found a place that sold complete outfits, believe it or not. This store had every conceivable variation of a mule’s, or horse’s pack. I explained what I wanted. I wanted as close to an 1800’s pack as possible. They could do it. Hollywood came calling to these people when they wanted authentic equipment.

I wound up with camping equipment and two packs for my mules. I was shown several tents I could choose from. Everything from modern to very old fashioned, but all were made with modern materials. I chose a sort of older looking square tent, that was easy for one man to put up. It was large and roomy, and was made of a lightweight material. I also purchased an old army cot. My one concession to the modern, was an air mattress. Everything else could definitely pass a cursory inspection of someone in the mid 1800’s.

After driving out of town, I pulled off the road, and decided to test my ability to transport my mules and equipment. It took me a while to load my mules, and get everything just right.

I had pulled off the road at an old historical site. A church was part of the locale. It had a lot of power. Crossing my fingers mentally, I reached for the power. I kept a firm grip on the mule’s leads, and found a spot fifty years in the past to go to.

It was the hardest step I ever took, bar none! I reached for the time with my mind. I saw it, I just needed to move into it. Yet, as I leaned forward to go, it felt like something was pushing me back. After I don’t know how long, I finally broke through, dragging my mules with me!

---

Chapter 7

After getting back to my own time from my test with the mules, I took their packs off. I loaded them onto the trailer, stowed their gear, and drove out of the parking lot. I headed west. I was going to do a little gold mining!

What better place than Coloma, California? It was the home of the famous gold strike that started the great gold rush of 1849. It was actually 1848 that the gold was discovered, but it took some time for the information to percolate back to “civilization”.

I took it easy, driving slowly, doing it in stages. I arrived at Placerville late in the morning of the third day out from K.C. I decided to get my supplies, there.

Armed with two weeks worth of food, I then drove to Coloma. It is located between Auburn and Placerville, and is the location of Sutter’s Mill. I went to the James Marshall State Historical Park. That was a good place, with a lot of energy. I could walk with my mules, from there.

I unloaded my mules and put the packs on them. The first mule had my tent and all the equipment I was going to use. The second mule carried my food, and the grain for the two animals. While they ate grass, I was going to keep them fed well on grain, too.

I thought about Sutter and the fact that he had built his sawmill in a gold rich area. He built the sawmill so he could cut boards for his four stone flour-mills. I shook my head. Seemed convoluted to me, but that was the way it was.

Marshall, who worked for Sutter, was all excited about finding gold. Sutter went up to the sawmill site to make sure. He then he asked his employees to keep quiet about this for six weeks. That was all he needed for his mill to be finished. Unfortunately, they kept quiet for only two weeks.

Ah well. Such was life. I was going back to about the same time as Sutter and Marshall. It would not surprise me to see those two gentlemen. I was just about ready. All I needed to do was change my clothes, and get into my authentic 1848 clothing. Then I had to get my weapons ready.

I had an authentic 1844 US Musket. It was fired with a percussion cap, and shot a 69-caliber ball. I had 100 balls, and wads, with two hundred caps. I had powder for it, and intended to shoot it while in the past.

Just for safety’s sake, I had a much more modern set of weapons which would be out of sight. I had a semi-automatic carbine, and a 9mm Glock. They would be my back up, in case I needed some real firepower.

For my clothing, I chose to get a few different sets from a company called the Gentleman’s Emporium. They had a range of authentic mid-1800’s style clothing for those that were into that sort of thing; which I apparently was, come to think of it. They were able to dress me from the skin out. As for boots? I found another store that specialized in those as well. I had two sets of boots. I got plenty of socks and also a pocket watch from the Emporium. Altogether, I spent close to three hundred dollars outfitting myself.

I also had a hat. I got what was termed a ‘coachman’s hat’. Ok, it was definitely a better hat than most wore back then, but I had to have it to complete the effect. Everyone wore a hat back then, if they could afford it, and I could. It completed my look, and I felt quite dapper with it.

I had parked out of the way, mostly as far from everyone as I could. The place was fairly glowing with energy! Well, it had been visited for years by visitors, and the park let you pan for gold. I had all that hopeful energy to draw on. I drew and drew on that energy, storing it for future need. I was getting better with storing power, now.

It was a little more difficult going back in time, here, as it was hard to zero in on exactly ‘when’ I wanted to be. I finally got it, and with my mules’ leads firmly in my hand, we stepped forward into the past.

---

It was my sixth day in the past, and I was having a blast. I had the advantage of knowing where the strikes were, and where the best panning and placer mining was going to be. While it took me a while to get there, I recognized the landmarks I was looking for, and set up my camp.

I had already panned several ounces of gold, found several largish nuggets, and was well pleased. I was surprised at how much I had gotten, already. I had just put up my panning equipment and was getting ready to chop some more wood for my fire, when I noticed both of the mules were staring off to the south.

I went over to where I had my musket, and eased back into the brush. While it did not provide much cover in the event of a firefight, it was damned good concealment. The mules looking to the south was a sure sign something was coming. They had very good hearing.

I wished I had my carbine handy, but it was packed away. I cursed myself silently for not having it ready for use. Sure enough, I soon saw a group of five horsemen riding at a walk towards my camp.

They noticed my tent, almost as soon as I saw the first rider rounding the hill to the south. They pulled up about thirty feet away.

“Hello the camp!” yelled one of the riders, hands cupped around his mouth.

No one had a rifle at the ready, so I stood up slowly, with my rifle cradled in my arms. It was their Indian guide who saw me first.

“Hello,” I yelled back. “What can I do for you?” I asked curiously.

“We were headed for this place to spend the night. I see you found it already,” the man who seemed to be their spokesman said.

“The more the merrier I always say. I have no objections to sharing my fire or camp,” I replied politely.

They all pulled up and introductions were made. My new companions were Bill Mosby, Arthur Wright, Jesse Goodman, Tim Hutchins, and the Indian guide was Sunhawk. I introduced myself. They were on their way to Yerba Buena, which was San Francisco’s name before the gold rush.

“Those are some mighty fine mules you got there, Tom,” Bill told me after they unsaddled and started getting camp ready for supper. We all contributed to the meal, and I was glad not to cook. Oh, I can cook; it was just nice to have someone else doing it. I had trapped a rabbit earlier, and that went into the meal.

After supper, we talked a bit. Smoking cigarettes had not caught on yet. It had been made popular and had spread upward from Mexico. A couple pipes were brought out, and soon the smell of pipe tobacco was filling the air.

I made up a story of exploring the country, having a bit of wanderlust. These men had used up most of their supplies, which was why they were headed to the village. To think of San Francisco as a village, was an amazing thing! My salt and pepper were a big hit. Just a little thing, but to these men it was the spice of life!

I pondered it for a couple minutes, then thought, what the hell. I got up, went into my tent and returned with six of my remaining twelve oranges. I handed out five, and peeled mine. To say they were astonished was an understatement. Apparently oranges were out of season. I had brought oranges, apples, and bananas with me from my own time. Damn! I had not considered this.

By this time it was almost totally dark. I lit my kerosene lamp. It was definitely period, and I was not worried about them seeing it. I had a flashlight too, but that was put away. We talked some more, and then a yawning contest got started.

If I were home, I would either be watching TV, or talking with Mom. In 1847, which is when I was; there was no radio, TV, computers, or any modern items of amusement. So it was get up with the sun, and go to bed at sundown, or shortly after. Personally, I was glad I had been born when I was.

The next morning I awoke to hear my guests already up and moving around, outside. I threw back my covers and looked at the ground in my tent carefully. A snake had come into my tent my second day here, and I am not sure who was more startled when my foot hit the ground, it or me. As a result, I was cautious every morning. I checked the ground and my boots, carefully.

I got dressed and exited my tent, greeting the men. They all ‘helloed’ me, and I saw they had fixed breakfast. They had left a little bacon in the pan for me. I wolfed it down, and watched as they saddled their horses.

“Well, it was good to meet you, Tom,” Bill told me, shaking my hand.

“You too, Bill. If I am still here when you get back, stop on by. You and the rest are always welcome,” I said to them all.

After they left, I got back to panning. The water was cold, and I had removed my boots and socks. While the mornings were generally cold, it warmed up by mid-morning. The air was fresh, and seemed to offer something that the air in my own time didn’t. It was hard to put my finger on it, but it was as though the air had a newness or freshness that was not around in my own time.

The days blended one into another, and the two weeks I gave myself, was soon up. I’d had had no further company, although I had gotten the feeling I was being watched a time or two. If so, I never saw anyone.

I packed up my camp and my mules, and started back towards the future. Now while I had been in the past, I had exercised my talent of storing power, everyday. I would pull in as much energy as the place had, which was not really all that much. While there were growing things and animals around, people were the ones who contributed the most power.

I made the trip back to my time in two parts. First I used all the power I had stored, to move about seventy-five years into the future from 1847. After that, it was easy to grab all the power I needed for the rest of the trip.

---

I had decided to go to an assay office away from the park, and out of state. It would not do to turn any large amounts of gold over to the park’s assay office. They would get excited, and there would be publicity. I didn’t want any type of notoriety.

I stopped a day into my drive back towards home, and turned over two nice nuggets, and a little over three troy ounces of gold to the assay clerk. His eyes widened, but he did his calculations and I found myself with a little over one thousand dollars richer. The nuggets were particularly rich in gold.

When asked where I had gotten this from, I told him I had spent some time in California and was going to take it home, but needed gas money. He nodded, and I left. I had not turned over much of my dust or flakes. I still had a very heavy bag full. I had weights and measure along with the items I had taken back with me, and I was bringing back 18 troy ounces of gold dust. With the bit I had just sold, I had a little over 14 troy ounces of gold and still had seven of the nine nuggets I had found.

While that may seem like a lot for two weeks work, I had gone back knowing where the best place was to get the gold. The first couple miners into my area had reported arriving and just walking along the waters edge and seeing the gold for the taking! They were right, too. In the past, those two gentleman had sold out their claims, and had become two of the very few who actually made any real money in that time.

---

Mom had laughed when I arrived home with the two mules. She shook her head and asked what I planned to do with them. I told her not to worry, as I had made arrangements for their care with the same farmer who rented our land from us. They were going to let me board them with him.

I unloaded my packs, putting the mule packs in the barn, and my own bags in my room. I grabbed a nugget, and took it down to Mom, and showed it to her. She was impressed with it, and tried to hand it back. I told her to keep it, as I had more.

I told her a tale of going west and taking the mules up into the mountains, and panning for gold, and had run across an old hole in the side of a mountain. I told her how I had gone in, and saw someone had worked it at one time, but it had been a long time ago.

She instantly saw that I could have gotten killed, and asked me not to do that again. I kicked myself mentally for giving her worries. I should have come up with a better story. I hung my head, and told her I wouldn’t go into anymore abandoned mines or caves, unless I knew they were safe.

---

Chapter 8

My third year of college started off fairly well. I was amused at all the ‘political activists’ who were trying to get students organized for rallies, and registered to vote. Ok, I admit it. I didn’t really follow politics too seriously. While I did know who the president was, his particular politics were a mystery to me.

This is not to say I was apathetic! Far from it. I was into my own local politics, intensely. But national politics were an animal of a different sort. It was during this period that I met my girlfriend.

The only reason I started getting interested in politics, was because of her. She was with a group trying to get out the student vote for the current sitting president. He had always struck me as a weenie, to tell you the truth. He did everything he could to dodge the draft when he was younger, but expected people to obey his orders.

I was registered, as the law required. But I had no plans to join the military, unless they called me up. The law did NOT require active military service at this time. If the draft was activated, I planned on joining right away. A draft meant the nation might be in serious trouble, and I loved the United States.

Local politics were pretty much a simple thing. But the higher you went in the political world, the more complicated and convoluted it became. Eventually, you reached the international political level, which was where the executive branch of governments plays their deadly little games.

While the House and the Senate might rear their ugly heads occasionally, it was really the president who set policy for the country. I was looking at a flyer that had been posted on the bulletin board outside the library. It was extolling the virtues of a particular candidate.

That was a preview of The Gift. To read the rest purchase the book.

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