Curioddity by Paul Jenkins Page B

here.”
    â€œLucky her,” replied Wil, trying and failing to contain his indifference. He studied the nearby exhibits in the hopes this might change the subject.
    â€œThis is my favorite part of the museum,” explained Mr. Dinsdale, who seemed happy enough to change the subject. “Everything here is a direct challenge to the laws of physics. Much of what you see in this room is counterpart to either time or space, and sometimes both.” Mr. Dinsdale motioned toward a nearby exhibit: a telephone answering machine that rivaled Wil’s own for its primitive design. “This one’s a particularly impressive piece.”
    Wil nodded, hoping to give the impression that he was indeed awed by the fact that the demonic answering machine in his office might have an equally dysfunctional twin.
    â€œIt used to belong to Albert Einstein,” continued Dinsdale. “It’s actually a remarkable piece. Einstein was experimenting with the anomalous properties of sound delivered across large distances. He felt there must be an explanation as to why, for example, answering machines so often malfunction when relaying important messages. In terms of quantum reality, answering machines tend to function with a kind of hyperawareness.”
    â€œI have one just like it,” replied Wil, eyeing the answering machine carefully. “I think mine is possessed. It’s going to strangle me the moment I turn my back on it.”
    â€œThat’s quite possible,” replied Dinsdale, turning his attention to his own machine. “Our exhibit works counter to the flow of space and time. It records and plays back the next message in the time stream. So when you press it, it plays the next message you’re going to receive in your future.”
    Wil’s cerebral cortex, which had previously been attempting to ignore most of what it had experienced on this particular Monday, now made it clear to him that it was indeed going on strike, and it promptly shut down into a kind of holding pattern until such time as things made sense again. Wil was forced to nod his head and look interested, unable to process the ridiculous nature of what he was being told.
    â€œIf it plays the next message, what about the previous one, the one you actually need?” asked Wil, trying to bring his occipital lobe into the fray in the hopes it might act as a temporary backup.
    â€œOh, it’s not much of an answering machine,” replied Dinsdale. “But it comes in handy if you want to tell yourself yesterday what the horse racing results will be. Want to see it work?”
    Wil nodded. He wanted to see it work not for its potential application but to determine if the really useful messages from the future would sound like they were being delivered in the same unintelligible fashion as that provided by his own fiendish machine.
    Mr. Dinsdale pressed the Play button, and from the speakers came a distant yet familiar voice: Wil’s own. “Mr. Dinsdale! Mr. Dinsdale, are you there? I need you to stay right there! I’m coming over! I’ll be there in ten minutes!” called Future Wil from within a space that sounded suspiciously like a submarine.
    Wil looked at the little curator, shocked. However the old man had created such a trick, he had to admit it was rather impressive. Proudly, Dinsdale motioned toward some of the other exhibits.
    â€œAs I said, most of the items here are of the temporal or spatial anomaly variety,” said Dinsdale. “Over at the back, we’re displaying a periscope from a Civil War–era battleship. It possesses some curious properties that we don’t fully understand. The higher you elevate the lens, the farther it sees below the floor. It must have come in handy against Civil War–era submarines.”
    Wil looked toward the far wall, where what appeared to be a long copper tube was propped up against a hole in the plaster. Nearby, a second display