By Austin Grisham
Ping, pang, ping, pung, pang…
He cringed as his eardrums buzzed from the musical assault. “Man, I don’t think anyone could have made a worse music box. This thing must be broken.” Bobby leaned forward and put the wind-up music box between him and Susie. He shook his brown shaggy hair across his face, hoping to distract from the acne outbreak on his forehead. But not the eyes. Susie had once said she liked his eyes. He kept them focused on her.
“Don’t talk down the merchandise. I have to make a couple of sales this week or Thompson won’t keep me on the payroll at his antique shop. I need money for a new computer.” Susie gave him a smile. The same smile that had fascinated him on their first day of history class. She was wearing her Levitown High t-shirt featuring the gold badger mascot with a red cross behind it.
“He really cleaned up at that estate sale.” Bobby turned around to take it all in. There was an assortment of books, furniture, an old clock… “Hey,” he said, pointing at a computer in the corner, “Thompson won’t give you a deal on that one?”
Susie shook her head. “No, it’s broken. When I turned it on, it just showed a white screen.”
A microphone was attached to the computer’s large black tower, and it had a keyboard, mouse, and something like a flashlight on top. “TMC” was printed on the casing in large gold letters.
“Weird, I’ve never heard of that company before. And I know all the big names. Did he get it from that eccentric inventor guy who disappeared?”
“Yeah, it was from the same estate sale the music box came from.”
Bobby winked. “Are you sure you don’t want to ditch this place and go out for a burger?”
Susie looked away and giggled. “No, silly. I can’t lose my job. Besides, let’s see what’s inside the box.”
The brown wood had cracks on the side, marking its age. On top, the words “The Music Company” were embossed in gold. Opening it, he heard the clanging tune again: ping, pang, ping, pung, pang… It was annoying, but now he paid attention to what was inside—a carved wooden miniature of an old man sitting in front of a loom, in the middle of which sat the cylinder of the music box. Small bumps on its outside struck metal bars hidden in the loom to make music. On either side of the cylinder, the man’s hands moved up and down like he was feeding something into the loom. Painted on the left side of the box were a door and a window displaying a large brick building.
Ping, pang, ping, pung, pang. As the music droned on, Bobby watched the little man tilt back and forth in front of the loom. Pang!
As the last note sounded, the little man raised his hands, and the figure ran to the left side of the box with the door.
“That’s so weird.” Susie followed Bobby’s blue eyes staring at the box intensely. “What are you looking at?”
“Is this for real?” Bobby showed the left side of the box to Susie. “Look at that.”
Susie’s mouth dropped. “It’s our town flag.” There was a flag with a gold badger with a red cross behind it on the brick building painted on the side.
Bobby’s eyes lit up, “Remember in history class last year what Mr. Mason said about the old looms?”
“There were punch cards people would use to weave patterns by feeding the cards into the loom. Almost like a—”
“Computer.”
Bobby and Susie locked eyes.
He studied the box again. The first letters of each word were all heavily embossed. On the computer on the far wall, the “TMC” logo was etched in gold. He turned back to Susie, “I know it’s crazy, but I don’t think this box is broken.”
He wound the box as he headed over to the computer on the far wall and plugged it into a socket. Pressing the “on” button made the screen light up. When he opened the music box, the tune played again and colors started to streak across it. Then the light at the top came on. Bobby and Susie shielded their eyes against the luminescence.
Bobby uncovered his eyes. A short man with a beard had appeared before him. He wore a frock coat that looked like something out of a Victorian painting. He looks just like the man in the music box!
The man gave a wide grin as he took in his surroundings. “So, you figured it out yet?” He winked at Bobby. “The details aren’t important, but yes, I am a time traveler. Being stuck in the late eighteenth century isn’t nearly as romantic as it sounds when you’re a prisoner of pirates. Seems a harsh consequence for foolishly indulging my curiosity. The only way I survived was by making rudimentary trinkets for them. There seemed to be no hope of escape, but I remembered that music box.” He looked at the box by the computer. “It had been in my family for generations. I was always fascinated by it, and I realized the notes of that song sounded so bad because they were dial-up tones for this computer.”
“Like one of those old screechy modems?” Bobby interjected.
“Exactly,” the old man said. “I realized I must have made it. That prompted me to make the box and send it to my distant relative, and so I completed the loop. Now, if you will excuse me”—the old man grabbed his computer—“I have other work to do. Oh, and one more thing.” He eyed the two of them with a wry grin. “Invite me to your wedding.”
“What?” Susie said, blushing.
Bobby looked over to her. “Hey, you can’t argue with destiny.”
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