Virtual History
After more than fifty years of working as a telephone lineman, Dermot Feeney retired from Verizon with a fairly substantial pension. Because few people stay in a job that long anymore, his boss at the phone company rewarded the retiree for his loyalty and longevity with a formal farewell party and a gift certificate from Best Buy.
Since Dermot was a widower, his sister Delia volunteered to go shopping with him.
"Men are out of their element in stores," she theorized. "If I let you go there by yourself, the salesman will no doubt talk you into buying something you don't need. Hell, some sales associates try to sell you a service contract on a stapler."
As they walked up and down the aisles at Best Buy, the elderly brother and sister argued over how Dermot should spend his money.
"One of these GPS systems is a good idea," Delia suggested.
Her brother immediately vetoed the idea.
"I'm quite capable of finding my own way around, thank you."
Delia rolled her eyes.
"Men are all alike. You'll drive in circles for hours before you'll ask for directions."
"This looks interesting," Dermot declared when he spotted a Wii game console. "I could buy the system and a selection of games and accessories."
It was his sister's turn to protest.
"Video games! You're sixty-five, not sixteen. You're not going to sit around your house playing Space Invaders or whatever they're playing these days, are you?"
The good-natured bickering went on for another twenty minutes. Then Delia suggested her brother buy a personal computer.
"What would I do with one?"
"All sorts of things. You can keep in touch with your friends by email, for one. You can also get up-to-the-minute news coverage, sports scores and weather forecasts. And if you want to, you can shop and pay your bills online."
"But I don't know how to use a computer."
"I'm sure one of your kids or your grandkids will be willing to teach you."
Although he had never wanted one before, the thought of having a personal computer suddenly appealed to him.
"Here we go," Dermot said when he opened the Internet Explorer and went online for the first time on his own.
His son-in-law, a software developer, had given him a crash course on sending email and navigating websites, so he had no difficulty going to The Boston Globe online to read the latest news and check the American League East standings to see where the Red Sox ranked.
"Now, what should I do?" he asked himself once he completed his task.
His hands hovered over the keyboard, uncertain what keys to press. He had no interest in downloading music, viewing adults-only sites or browsing through items for sale on eBay. Other than baseball, the only other interest he had was a life-long fascination with the Civil War.
"Well, this is supposed to be the information superhighway. I guess I'll go for a drive."
Dermot googled AMERICAN CIVIL WAR and was amazed to see that there were more than a billion results. Everything he could want to know about the War Between the States was literally at his fingertips. He was enthralled by some of the websites he visited, and for the next few months, he studied the Civil War online, including events leading up to succession, establishment of the Confederacy, major battles of the war, Lee's Surrender and the assassination of Abraham Lincoln.
"I've learned so much about that time period that I could be a contestant on Jeopardy," he told his sister when he was invited to her house for dinner one evening.
"You don't want to sit at a desk all day though," Delia cautioned. "It's not good for your health. You need regular exercise."
"Stop worrying. I'm sure I'll get bored with this Internet business soon enough, but for now, let me enjoy it in peace."
Delia was about to argue the point further, but her husband raised his eyebrows in warning, and she offered no further objections.
* * *
Just when Dermot was beginning to tire of surfing the web and was about to take his sister's advice to heart and spend less time at his computer, he stumbled upon a website entitled virtualhistory.com. Unlike the other history sites he had visited, virtualhistory.com was a subscription service that charged viewers a monthly membership fee.
"Subscription? No thanks."
He was about to click on the browser's BACK button to return to the Google results page when a new window popped up, offering a free tour of one of the virtual history programs.
"What have I got to lose?" Dermot asked himself and clicked on the START FREE TOUR link.
He was momentarily plunged into blackness, as though the power had gone out in his house—only it was mid-morning and the sun was, up until that point, shining brightly. Not even a total eclipse would cause such sudden and complete darkness in the daytime. When the light returned, the retired lineman found himself in the Tower of London, where he watched in fascination as Anne Boleyn was led to Tower Green and beheaded by a French swordsman.
Moments after the doomed queen's head parted company with her body, Dermot found himself back in his own living room in Carver, Massachusetts.
It was like I was really there! he thought.
When he looked at his computer screen again, he saw a dialogue box that read, "Thank you for visiting virtualhistory.com. For a low monthly fee, you can enjoy unlimited virtual trips to the past."
Dermot clicked on a tab that gave him a menu of the various periods in history that membership in virtualhistory.com offered, ranging from ancient civilizations right up through the early twenty-first century. Naturally, given his personal interest, he chose Nineteenth Century American History from the menu and then selected United States Civil War from the submenu. A page popped up with links covering major battles, minor skirmishes, both successful and unsuccessful conspiracies, behind-the-scenes political maneuverings, espionage activities and so on. For the Battle of Gettysburg alone, there were more than a hundred links beginning with the arrival of Buford's Federal cavalry at Willoughby Run on the morning of July 1 and ending with the Confederates' retreat after the disastrous Pickett's Charge on the afternoon of July 3.
"This service must cost a fortune," Dermot surmised, given all that the website had to offer.
Still, he decided to click the JOIN button to see just how expensive it was. The low price surprised him; it was less than what he was paying for HBO every month. Having decided to join, he was directed to a secure website where he typed in his name, address and credit card information. He was then asked to select a username and password. He chose R.E.Lee and Appomattox_65, respectively.
Now a member, he made his way back to the Civil War menu. He clicked on Lincoln's Gettysburg Address and was prompted to select a time limit in quarter-hour intervals from fifteen minutes to two hours.
"I think I'll start with fifteen minutes. I'd rather not spend too much time in the virtual world until I get the hang of it."
When he clicked the START button, Dermot experienced the same sudden darkness as he had before his virtual trip to Tudor England. This time when the light returned, he found himself in the newly dedicated Soldiers' National Cemetery in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, amidst a crowd of about fifteen thousand spectators. He watched Abraham Lincoln step up to the podium and present his masterful address, concluding with the immortal lines "... this government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth."
Greatly moved by the experience, the virtual traveler wiped a tear from his eye. His fingers were still on his cheek when he found himself returned to his own time.
* * *
Dermot took one more virtual trip later that day, a forty-five-minute junket to witness the accidental shooting of General Thomas J. "Stonewall" Jackson by one of his own men. Afterward, he returned to his living room, physically and emotionally drained.
The next morning, he woke rested and ready to return to the 1860s. He journeyed into the past three times that day, for a total time of three and a half hours. The following day, he again took three trips, but the time increased to the two-hour maximum for each trip.
"I'm certainly getting my money's worth," he told himself when he returned from the Fredericksburg battlefield shortly before dinnertime.
It never occurred to Dermot to question just how the whole virtual reality process worked, for even if virtualhistory.com did provide an explanation, he doubted he would be able to understand it. He was no scientist or computer geek, after all. He could not understand how half the modern technology worked, but he accepted its existence as one more marvel of the twenty-first century.
Three weeks after signing up with the online service, R.E.Lee was ready to expand his horizons beyond the Civil War era. In a single day, he watched William the Conqueror defeat Harold Godwinson at the Battle of Hastings, experienced the liberation of Paris by the Allied Forces, saw the explosion of the Hindenburg over Lakehurst, New Jersey, and had a front-row seat when the Beatles played at Shea Stadium.
There was no doubt that Dermot Feeney was hooked. However, as usually happens with junkies, his habit became more demanding. In an attempt to satisfy his craving, he soon increased the number of virtual trips to five a day.
* * *
Moments after he returned from witnessing the attack on Pearl Harbor, Dermot heard his telephone ringing.
"Hello," he mumbled, still somewhat disoriented from his virtual voyage.
"Where have you been?" Delia demanded to know. "I've been trying to reach you for two days now."
"I've been busy. What did you want?"
"I made a big batch of lasagna, and I want to bring some over for you. You can keep it in the freezer until you want to eat it. I'll bring it over now."
Dermot looked longingly at the link for the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral, wishing he could make one last trip before his sister descended upon him, but Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday would have to wait.
"Okay. I'll see you in a bit."
Less than an hour later, Delia showed up on her brother's doorstep, holding a freezer container full of her homemade lasagna.
"You look terrible!" she exclaimed when her brother opened the door. "Have you been sick?"
"No."
"You've lost weight. Haven't you been eating properly?"
Dermot brushed her questions aside.
"Stop playing mother hen. I'm fine."
"You're my only brother. I care about what happens to you."
"I'm all right—honestly. I've just been busy."
"Doing what?"
She was not about to let the matter drop.
"I found this incredible website," he replied, suddenly exploding with childlike enthusiasm. "It's called virtualhistory.com, and you can view practically any event in history as though you were actually there."
A worried look clouded Delia's face.
"How much time do you spend on your computer now?"
"That's not important. I haven't been this excited about anything since the Red Sox won the World Series in 2004."
"This isn't the same thing as watching a few ballgames. You obviously haven't been eating right or getting enough sleep."
"Delia!" he shouted. "Don't worry about that. Look, why don't you try it? Then you'll understand."
He sat down at his computer and went to virtualhistory.com.
"Here, try this one: the signing of the Declaration of Independence."
He vacated his chair and insisted his sister sit down in his place.
"Now click on the START button," he instructed.
"This is silly."
"Just do it!"
Delia gingerly moved the mouse and clicked on START. A moment later she disappeared.
Dermot paced the floor for fifteen minutes, terrified that something had happened to his sister. When she eventually reappeared, he embraced her.
"Thank God you're all right! What happened?"
"I was in Philadelphia in 1776. I saw Thomas Jefferson, John Adams and Benjamin Franklin. How does it do it? How does the computer make me think I've gone back in time?"
"I honestly don't know," he confessed.
"You don't know? And yet you spend your time in front of this computer day in and day out?"
No, he realized, shaken by the truth. I haven't been in front of the computer after all.
* * *
Delia would not leave until her brother swore a solemn oath that he would not take any more trips to the past.
"You're not to go near this thing!" she ordered, pulling the computer's power cord out of the wall. "Not until we learn exactly how this works."
"I won't even check my email. I promise."
"And be sure to eat something."
Ten minutes after the door closed behind his sister, Dermot Feeney sat on his couch in front of his television, eating a plate of lasagna, but his eyes kept straying to the computer on his desk.
"My sister is right. I mustn't take any more chances," he said, trying to convince himself. "If I go back to a battle, how can I be sure I won't be killed? How do I know if I go to the deck of the Titanic I won't sink into the Atlantic with the other victims? It's just too dangerous."
Dermot forced himself to turn away. He picked up the TV remote and went through the channels. The Red Sox were losing to the Yankees—he certainly did not want to see that! There were the usual reality shows, game shows and entertainment competitions. For lack of any interesting programming, he stopped on the Weather Channel.
"A severe storm watch is in effect for eastern Massachusetts. Expect heavy rains and high winds, tapering off around midnight."
"There must be something worth watching."
He searched through the channels and settled for viewing a rerun of JAG. Seeing Harm and Mac go head to head in an Article 32 hearing kept his mind off the computer that was silently beckoning to him.
At the conclusion of the show, Dermot turned the TV off. It was ten o'clock, so he decided to go upstairs to bed. He tossed and turned for more than an hour, unable to sleep, listening to the rain pound against his windowpane and the distant rumble of thunder. He finally got out of bed and headed downstairs to the kitchen, hoping a glass of warm milk would settle his nerves. But on the way, he had to pass by his desk.
Temptation became too great for him to resist. He plugged in the power cord, booted up the computer and opened his Internet Explorer. He then went to his FAVORITES and selected virtualhistory.com. As he typed his username and password, the exhilarating feeling of anticipation overwhelmed him.
"I think I'll stay close to home this time," he said, going to the list of links for Colonial America where he selected one to the Mayflower landing at Plymouth Rock.
A flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed by the familiar period of blackness that preceded a journey to the past. A moment later, Dermot found himself on the deck of the Mayflower, staring at the coast of Massachusetts centuries before it became prime real estate.
* * *
When her brother did not respond to her repeated ringing of his doorbell, Delia convinced her husband to force open the sliding glass door at the back of the house. Once inside, she went from room to room, searching for her sibling.
"He's not here," she announced nervously.
"Maybe he went shopping or is visiting a friend," her husband suggested.
"His car is in the garage."
"So? Someone picked him up, or he could have called a taxi."
"He usually doesn't go shopping without me. And I've never known him to take a taxi," Delia argued.
"Well, there's no sign of him here."
"At least the computer is turned off," she said with relief. "Maybe he's ...."
She stopped midsentence and her hand went to her throat when she saw the DVD player on the cabinet above the television.
"What is it?" her husband asked.
"The clock on the DVD player is blinking 12:00."
"That's nothing. That always happens when the power goes out. Must have been that storm we had two days ago."
Delia turned, stared at the computer as though it were the gates to hell and fell to her knees, sobbing.
"Honey, what's wrong?"
"My brother is gone, and I'll never see him again."
"Don't talk like that. We'll find him. He has to be somewhere."
It's not where, she thought, but when!
He could be anywhere, in any time period: exploring China with Marco Polo, witnessing the murder of Czar Nicholas II and his family at Yekaterinburg or landing on the moon with Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin.
Little did Delia know Dermot was only six miles away in Plymouth, Massachusetts—so close yet so far! For, unfortunately, when the power went out during the storm, his computer and Internet connection went down, and he was left stranded in 1620 with no way to return home to the present time.
No, Salem did not go to Philadelphia to sign the Declaration of Independence. He went to get a Philly cheesesteak.
