I trace the turn signal problem to the black box under the rear bumper. Five wires go in including the wire from the brake lights. Four wires come out, so inside the box the brake signal is wired in parallel to the left and right turn signal. The right turn signal and right brake light don’t work. Something is fried inside the box. I run a wire in parallel around the box to get a good voltage reading on the right turn signal. Both brake lights in the Toyota come on anyway when the Brake Buddy senses enough G-force and goes to work so I'm legal if not elegant.
Since the tools are already out, I tinker with the RV generator and add a tachyon time displacement field. Tachyons travel faster than light so, according to Einstein, I can move the whole vehicle and its contents to the time and place I choose, although the whole rig is slightly underpowered (I think the valves are out of adjustment again).
I’ve rigged the computer in the new Mr. Coffee to control the time of arrival and the handheld GPS wired in parallel should put me down within fifteen feet of any spot on Earth. If things go wrong, the reset button on the Mr. Coffee will bring me back quickly. It's all kind of what we used to call a "jerry-rigged" arrangement, but it works.
The controls are set for Friday, November 22, 1963, in Dallas, Texas, USA at 12:15 p.m. CST, 15 minutes before the assassination. I was nineteen year-old airman in San Antonio policing cigarette butts then, so there is no chance of encountering myself. As everyone knows from watching "Back to the Future" I only have one chance at this time and place. If I ever met myself, it would rip a catastrophic wormhole in time and space and destroy the part of the universe that I attempt to double-occupy.
I leave the RV idling at the curb of the book depository and walk into the lobby. As I start up the stairs I see Oswald in the 2nd floor cafeteria sipping coffee. I decide to shadow him and order a coffee for ten cents, paying with a 1962 half-dollar. I’m determined not to introduce any time paradoxes like paying with a 2005 Kennedy half-dollar. The Franklin coin has a melt value of $4.25 and cost me $18.00 in Great Falls, so the coffee is not that cheap.
At 12:29 it becomes clear that the only thing Oswald has in mind is avoiding work and tapping his feet to the Beatles song on the cafeteria jukebox. The radio is playing "Do You Want to Know a Secret"{...I sprint up the stairs, jacking a live round into my nineteen-shot 9 mm Glock. On the windowsill, in the empty room, on the sixth floor is a scoped cheap mail order Italian Mannlicher-Carcano M91/38 bolt-action rifle. I hear three or more gunshots though the open window and look out the window see a rifle barrel disappear into a sewer opening on the curb below and two men with long guns running from the area of the grassy knoll.
Think about the spent slugs they "found" from the Mannlicher-Carcano and ask yourself who has been in Oswald's garage today to steal his gun and who has sufficient access to plant the spent bullets on the stretcher and in the limo. It's a short list of suspects. Then there's that funky photo with the noon nose-shadow and the late afternoon body shadow. I send Mrs. Phred down to examine the "grassy knoll", however the assassins have policed up the shell casings.....
I run back downstairs and warn Oswald that the President has been killed and that he’s been set up for all time as the patsy. I tell him his rifle is up on the 6th floor and watch the realization spread on his face. I follow him out the door and hit the reset button on Mr. Coffee.
You might have noticed a new small anomaly in the Zapruder film, if you’ve watched it in the last four hours. As Zapruder pans the camera around there are a few frames where you can clearly read the Florida licence plate on the big 2008 Bounder RV at the curb of the Texas Book Depository.
So anyway, the world is just as it was, except for the change in the film. I'm expecting a visit from the government any time now. I take Mrs. Phred to see the Cloud Atlas and eat some oysters and wait them to find me and drop the black hood over my head. I figure I have a few hours before Homeland Security wants the time travel secret...
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