The-Man-Who-Folded-Himself-David-Gerrold

[clr] Wednesday
AD 1975 Ma[ya c t2]1 13:06.43.09
J 00 0000 000 00 00:00.00.00 F
0000000000000000000000000
T AD 1975 May 21 13:06.43.09
AD 1975 May 16 17:30.00.00
[hol] TIMEBELT [ret]
Odd. What were all those numbers for? The date on the bottom, for instance: March 16, 1975—what
was so special about that? What had happened at 5:30 on March 16?
I frowned. There was something—
I went looking for my calendar. Yes, there it was.
March 16: Uncle Jim coming at 5:30.
The date on the bottom was the last time I had seen Uncle Jim. March 16. He had knocked on the door
at precisely 5:30.
Uncle Jim was always punctual when he made appointments. On the phone he had said he would be at
my place at 5:30—sure enough, he was. But why, two months later, was that date so important as to
still be on his calendar belt? It didn’t make sense. And there was something else I hadn’t noticed. The
other part of the buckle—the side facing the clock—was divided into buttons. There were four rows of
them, all square and flush with each other. The top row was cut into two; the second row, six; the third
row, three; and the bottom row, six again.
My curiosity was piqued. Now, what were all these for?
I touched one of the top two. The letter B on the lower right side of the panel began to glow. I touched
it again and the letter F above it winked on instead. All right—but what did they mean?
I put the belt around my waist and fastened it. Actually, it fastened itself; the back of the clasp leaped
against the leather part and held. I mean, held. I tugged at it, but it didn’t slip. Yet I could pop it off as
easily as separating two magnets. Quite a gimmick that.
The buckle was still open; I could read the numbers on it easily. Almost automatically my hand moved
to the buttons. Yes, that was right—the buttons were a keyboard against my waist, the panel was the
readout; the whole thing was a little computer.
But what in hell was I computing?
Idly I touched some of the buttons. The panel blinked. One of the dates changed. I pressed another
button and the center row of lights flickered. When I pressed the first button again, a different part of
the date changed. I didn’t understand it, and there was nothing in the box except some tissue paper.
Maybe there was something on the belt itself I took it off.
On the back of the clasp, it said:
TIMEBELT
TEMPORAL TRANSPORT
DEVICE
Temporal Transport Device—? Hah! They had to be kidding.