The Package

All eyes turned, followed by gasps, as the lithe blonde woman in a figure-hugging leather jacket and pant suit passed through the revolving door of the Western Union office. She zeroed in on the man behind the counter, her gait had a matchless step like a nymph riding the wind—true and smooth. Her French braid she wore to the middle of her back never moved.

The animated exasperation came from the two-seated women attired in shirtwaist, loosened corsets, and floor length pleated skirts. The men accompanying them were wearing fashionable suits with matching waistcoats.

“May I help you madam?” The man behind the counter said, as he adjusted his arm garters and removed his hat. The address caused a trace of a smile to spread across Dr. Jules Spenser’s face as she handed an envelope and sheet of paper to the man. “I would like this letter delivered . . . exactly . . . at this date and time,” she said, and pointed at the paper.

The man looked at the paper and envelope. The envelope was addressed to one Dr. Nikola Tesla, at the New Yorker Hotel, New York, N.Y., and to be delivered at exactly eight a.m. January 5, 1943. “But madam—that’s almost fifty years from now.”

Well aware of the date, Jules tapped a hundred-dollar gold coin on the counter. “Can you do it or not?” she asked, and started to push the coin toward the man who was pointing at the revolving cubes that stated: Today’s is March 12th, 1895. “Or do I have to come back in say... forty-seven years, nine months, and twenty-four days?” Jules wasn’t sure she could do that either. She traveled back in time three times already, but never made it before her desired date.

“I can do it, madam,” said the man.

“Thank you,” Jules said, as she handed him the coin, and left the building to more stares and gasps.

Her next stop was the Waldorf Hotel, where Tesla lived, and enjoyed fame and fortune until 1929—when the hotel was razed for the construction of the Empire State Building.

***

The knock at the front door startled the thirty-eight year old Nikola, who seconds before was dozing after an eighty-four hour marathon in his laboratory.

“Shall I see who’s there sir?” said his closest associate, George H. Scherff.

“I’ll get it, George,” he said, and shook out his legs before peering through the spy hole in the door.

At a wiry six-two and one-hundred forty pounds—from his poor eating choices, Nikola had to stoop to peek through the spy hole. The young woman standing on the other side of the door appeared to be wearing some form of a shiny leather spacesuit, but had no helmet. He opened the door to the full extent that the chain would allow and asked. “May I help you?”

“Are you Dr. Nikola Tesla?”

“Depends who’s asking.”

“Jules Spenser,” she said, and then added. “From the future.”

“Future what young lady?” he said, as he opened the door.

“How about 2022,” she said, as she walked in past him. “I would like to discuss your Dynamic Theory of Gravity in regards to spacetime.” She turned towards Nikola’s assistant and nodded. “Congratulation George, on your son’s accomplishments.”

“But I don’t have a son,” he said.

“Oh, you will,” said Jules.

George shook his head and turned toward Nikola. “If there is nothing else sir?” he said. “I would like to call it a night.”

Nikola nodded and George left for his room.

“Ms Spenser, please have a seat,” Nikola said. “Your knowledge of my unpublished theory interests me greatly. Who sent you?” He paused briefly. “Was it that thief Edison?”

“Dr. Tesla, please sit,” said Jules. “I’m here to help you.” With that, Jules pushed across the journal on her Generativity Accelerator, revealed for the first time at the Advanced Nanoscience Research Center on September 11th, 2021.

“That’s an interesting word, not to mention the outfit you are wearing Dr. Spenser,” Nikola said, noting her title on the cover of the journal. “In all my years of study . . . I’ve never heard that term used.”

Jules smiled at the address, and for that matter the look on Nikola’s face. “Call me Jules. The term Generativity, was coined by Erik Erikson in 1950 to denote a concern for establishing and guiding the next generation. Its meaning has changed over the years, but something you once said about laying the foundation for those to come, made me think of it, and besides—I like the sound.”

“I’ve heard of him, but don’t believe I’ve ever met him,” Nikola said, as a smile spread across his face. “I may start using it before him.”

“By the way Dr. Tesla, nice digs you have here. I thought you were broke?”

“I have friends in high places,” he said. “Let’s chat.”

And that they did for the next several hours. Jules and Nikola had a lot in common, including eidetic minds, but Jules had a hundred plus more years of research in her mind. Nikola ventured into the engineering of the underlying forces behind electricity, gravity, and all non-physical phenomena. Jules had already read it all, and pushed for his theories of controlling Aether—a space filling field, required for the propagation of electromagnetic or gravitational forces, and what she believed was necessary for controlling time travel.

He avoided her tactics, so she enlightened him on available meta-materials, and the advances of quantum physics and Nanoscience.

Jules finally stood—she was getting nowhere. “Time . . . is the only true unit of measure, and it is something I don’t have enough of,” And with that said, she handed Nikola an envelope. Inside was a piece of material from the outfit she was wearing. The special metallic fibers were among the items that allowed her to teleport without damaging her internal organs. “Thank you for your time Dr. Tesla,” she said, and headed toward the door.

“Wait a second Dr. Spenser,” Tesla said while fingering the exotic material in the envelope. “While it is mathematically feasible . . . it is not yet possible to build a machine to bend spacetime . . . without exotic matter.”

Jules stopped and turned toward Tesla. She saw the piece of material from her suit in his hand and pulled a business card from her back pocket. As she handed it to him, she said. “In your time . . . maybe not, but in mine . . . it's a reality.” She smiled. “Look me up if you get a chance.”

And with that she was gone.

***

The following night was Nikola Tesla’s first attempt at time travel, and if not for his assistant George cutting the current—it would have been his last. He spent the next forty-seven years attempting to time travel.

In 1937, he gave a lecture at Columbia University on controlling Aether—which would remain forever classified, by the US Government.

On January 5th, 1943, he received an envelope. In it was a letter from Dr. Jules Spenser, and a bank check for twenty-thousand dollars. The letter, dated September 11th, 2021, warned him of his demise—a warning he heeded completely.

Nikola, smiled as he read the warning from Dr. Spenser, and wondered why she never mentioned it at their chance meeting. Weak, tired, and broke—his affinity with spacetime and time travel would probably not happen in his lifetime. The check would handle his debt, and take care of his future. But—Dr. Spenser was proof that the advanced ferromagnetic meta-materials required for altering time and space—were available in the future, and felt guilt-ridden for not telling her more.

He emptied his safe of pertinent documents, and prepared a package for Dr. Jules Spenser—with the hope it would make a difference.

His next stop was New York Central Railroad Station, where he purchased a ticket to Philadelphia.

During his ride he composed a letter in a little black notebook, and sealed it in the package for Dr. Jules Spenser. Before switching to another train—he found a Western Union office to mail the package. The clerk scoffed at first, but said the package would be delivered at six p.m. on April 6th 2021 to the given address.

He would switch trains several more times to thwart his enemies—until he reached his final destination of Colorado Springs, Colorado—where he hoped to meet Dr. Spenser again.

On January 6th, 1943, Otto Skorzeny, who would later be identified as Adolph Hitler’s bodyguard—entered Tesla’s hotel room through the unlocked front door. His orders—snuff the life from Dr. Nikola Tesla, and return to Germany with the contents of Tesla’s safe, which were believed to hold all of Nikola’s scientific papers, and documents on the true identity of his assistant’s son, George H. Scherff, Jr.

But when Scherff and Skorzeny cracked the safe—it was empty.

Later the same day, the US Government scrambled to seize all of Tesla’s belongings, and the Office of Alien Properties arrived at the New Yorker Hotel to find that someone had beaten them—an unknown amount of personal notes and papers were missing. It was believed by the FBI, that German Intelligence was responsible.