“What do you do for a living?”

I’ve got possibly the coolest answer to that question ever. I was in a Manhattan club, looking good, better after some drinks, and thinking this chick had been eyeing me for a few minutes now. When she and her friends went out to the dance floor I downed my rum and Coke and headed over. She was on me in no time, but she wasn’t a freak about it. A little bumping and grinding, then she asked me to come have a drink with her.

“I’m Samantha. I teach. What do you do for a living?”

I guess that’s some cliché fetish, the school teacher thing. So judge me, you’re not taking her home tonight so what do I care? “I’m Rob,” and I get to tell her, “I transport stuff through time.” Sounds kinda nerdy typed up, but once I tell them that you’d think I was the last man on Earth. Or maybe it sounds like a lie. I know what you’re thinking. But it’s true. You probably saw it in the news a few years back. It was a pretty big deal. Then it just fell by the wayside. The team who engineered the thing was awarded a Nobel Prize.

If you tell someone you transport things through time, unless they’re totally shit faced and just wanna screw, they inevitably follow up with something about how interesting that sounds, assume I’m richer than Steve Jobs and smarter than Albert Einstein. Turns out Samantha (call her Sam, her friends call her Sam, she told me) is a science teacher. She’s eating out of my hand, but it means I have to spoon feed her. I’ve gotta sell it. Yeah, it was revolutionary a few years ago—now lab rats could take care of the machine. The actual quantum mechanics or whatever the hell they want to call themselves are busy in the labs and can only be interrupted if something starts to beep at me. But of course I’m not telling that to this sweet thing.

 “Temporal Displacement Engineer is the technical term. I get to play with the time machine all day.” I smiled and took a sip of my drink. In reality I get paid slightly better than minimum wage to watch the damn thing work all day. I just sit there, pushing a button every few minutes and making sure none of the meters go crazy.

 “That’s incredible!” Her smile threatened to split her head in half. “That must be fascinating work.”

The damn machine is five years old. Sometimes the little black button sticks. “It seems like I learn something new every day.” Like who the fuck’s been stealing my yogurt. It’s Bob, I know it’s Bob. Takes his break every day about an hour before I do. I can’t say for sure, but I know it’s Bob. The fat ass has been losing weight.

“So could you explain the science behind it? I read some articles, but I’d love to hear from someone with firsthand experience.” She wanted the technical stuff. Oh great.

“Well the magazines covered it pretty well.” What the hell did they tell me at orientation? That was two years ago. “You know, they just send a single electron back.”

“You send it back,” she interrupted, brushed her fingers against mine and glanced away.

“Yeah, yeah I do. I send it back. Actually, we send it back about a million times a day.” Open your mouth, here comes the spoon. Too easy, but too boring. “The machine uses about as much power as a small town every time it fires. Two hundred and fifty billion kilowatts a day.” Bob was always caught up on that. How could we come up with all the power to transport a universe worth of electrons back in time? Supposedly they calculated it and it was impossible, even if we did it until the sun super novas. Of course, if we didn’t do it then we couldn’t even be here, so I guess we got past that somehow.

“That’s so much power.” Was it just me or did she mean sexy when she said power? “It’s the same electron, right?”

I had a shot of Jack waiting for me. I tilted it back then returned to the rum and Coke. “Ahh. Yeah, the same one. We send it back, it’s still there. We send it again, it’s still there. A million times a day, and that thing just won’t go away.” She giggled, I laughed. “Like there’s really just one electron that makes up the entire universe. Kind of like clones but not exactly. More like avatars of some god, I guess. All technically different but all the same God. Something to do with how space-time isn’t linear or even causal like we think it is.”

 “Oh yeah, like all those lunatics keep on about on the news.”

 “Huh?” I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t care, but I hadn’t watched the news in weeks.

 “They say since it’s been proven that things aren’t causal then our actions don’t matter. It drives some people to suicide. Some lawyer in Nebraska quit his job, supposedly because all those criminals he put away might not have committed those crimes even if the evidence said so. Married for thirty years, he just ups and leaves his wife and three kids.” Samantha started adjusting her bra strap under her dress before she realized what she was doing. “Sorry,” she blushed.

 “No problem.” Dirty joke or deflect it? “What happened to that lawyer,” I deflect it. Damn I shoulda been flirtier.

 “Well supposedly he went to Vegas. Got high on cocaine, banged a hooker and had a heart attack. She was straddling him when he croaked.” She stared at her beer.

 “Beats dying in Nebraska,” I laugh. Fucking hilarious. She didn’t think so, dammit.

She sat back and crossed her arms, not angrily, but she was . . . defensive. “It sounds sad to me. His poor family.” Yeah right, he probably worked all the time and had boockoo life insurance. They couldn’t be happier.

I had to go back to work Monday. I didn’t want to talk about that crap. Needed to get back on track. “Let me get us some more drinks. Another Guinness?” She nodded. I needed a new game plan and that’s what I focused on while I walked to the bar and got our drinks. Need to lighten it up, get her laughing, comfortable again. The worst part was I wasn’t sure if that time travel shit was turning her on or if she was just genuinely interested in it. Figures I’d pick the one woman there who had any idea what I was talking about. Probably more than I do.

 “Here’s your beer.” She thanked me and I was about to hop in with a joke when she said,

 “It doesn’t make sense.” She took a pretty good sized drink. Is she still hung up on that damn Nebraskan lawyer?

I got a Guinness too and took a sip. Come on, I’ve gotta get her away from that. “Some folks just can’t handle that stuff. You mess up their world view and they go nuts.” Great, she looked at me like I just jumped on the table and pulled out my penis. Maybe…

 “I mean, the electron thing. You’re sending them back in time to create the Big Bang, right?”

 “If that’s what you want to call tonight, but I just work so I can afford to buy a drink or two.” She smiles.

 “You’re horrible. But I’m serious,” so am I, babe, can’t we get off this topic and just get off. “All those electrons, the ones making up the atoms in us right now, they’re all the same electron that you have back in the lab. It kinda makes everything seem, I don’t know.” She took another sip.

 “You’re not feeling like those people from the news, are you?” I put a hand on her shoulder, she scooted a little closer. That’s good, as long as she doesn’t start the goddamn waterworks.

 “No, not like that. It’s not the lack of causation. It’s almost the opposite. It seems horribly fated. Like we couldn’t change the course of all those electrons if we wanted to. They went back, they exploded, and then they all moved around until you trapped the exact one that got sent back. Everything else was just the inconsequential result of that.” She circled an arm around my waist and took a few more drinks while I digested that.

 “Tail wagging the dog or somethin’.” At this point I could feel the drinks, which isn’t good if things went to plan, but I’m also getting the idea around now that that isn’t going to happen. “So it’s an electron, so what?” The alcohol was starting to talk too. “Before it was a bunch of inconsequential ancestors, bumpin’ up on each other until you and I end up here, doin’ whatever it is we’re doin’. Now it’s a bunch of electrons doing the same thing with the same result. What’s changed?” I downed the drink in a few big gulps and hugged Sam a little with the arm I had on her shoulder. She squeezed me closer and took another gulp.

 “And just what is, whatever it is we’re doin’?” Looking back, she was saying take me home and screw me. What else could it have been? But I had veered down an existential off ramp and the beer was driving.

 “To hell if I know, Sam. I push a goddamn button all day long and supposedly that’s the only reason the universe exists in the first place.” I think she was more amused at this rambling than put off by it. “A fuckin’ button. And then the Big Bang happens.” She kissed me. Just out of the blue like that. I kissed back.

 “You’ll have to tell me more some time.” She got up and threw a couple bills on the table.

 “Hell, I could show you—“ But she cut me off.

 “Hang in there, tiger. It’s been fun, but I’ve got papers to grade.” Teachers. Go figure.

I was turning back to my beer when Sam grabbed me by the collar and pulled me close; I barely caught myself from falling out of my chair. She pressed her lips to mine again and I could feel the warmth. There was a charge, like, well I don’t know. My stomach got light, jumped. I pulled her close, ran my fingers through her hair. People probably stared but what the hell did we care? We were drunk. And I coulda been sober, I wouldn’t have cared. A woman like that needs to be kissed. Then she just lets go and walks away.

God does a woman like that need to be kissed. I was thinking I’d never see Sam again when I noticed there’s a napkin in my hand. I wasn’t holding it before but I don’t remember her putting it in my hand. She just grabbed me, kissed me, and walked away. I could feel myself swaying so I sat back down and unfolded the napkin. Let’s blame it on the alcohol.

The napkin had her number on it as well as “We can’t simply be electrons bumping together mindlessly because I’m positive I want to see you again.” I can deal with pushing that damn button a little while longer. I need the money to buy her another drink.