Killing Me Softly

A couple of weeks later, I still didn't know what to do about Tesla.  I decided to write Rose to tell her about our meeting and ask for her advice.  I began the letter by recounting my impressions of Tesla and his offer, but I knew she was really waiting to hear about what happened with The Professor. 

As usual, I found it easy to confess my feelings to Rose.  I told her of The Professor's engagement to Esme and the profound grief I have carried since hearing the news.  I told her I feared I had created my own unhappiness by not realizing my true feelings for The Professor until it was too late, or that I had been a complete fool in believing he ever had feelings for me. 

What I feared most though, was that I was a fickle woman, only capable of caring for someone once they are lost to me.  If this was the case, than I was the villain in my own story and my stay here would only cause trouble for The Professor and Esme. Not only was I completely heartsick,  I did not want to ruin the happiness of my dear friend and his intended.  In short, I had to leave.

Time It Was

The Professor told me that he had consulted with the best medical doctors and surgeons in the States and Europe and they all concluded that nothing more could be done for me now.  A few of them indicated that at some time in the future a better treatment might be available, and that's what gave The Professor the idea to meet with doctor Tesla.

Doctor Tesla, it turns out, was attempting to create the world's first working time machine.  He explained to me that if the machine worked as planned I would have two options: travel to the future in the hopes that technology would be sufficiently advanced for my leg to be repaired, or travel to the past in an effort to prevent the tiger attack altogether.

I thanked the doctor as kindly as possible (I could hardly take the man seriously), but I as I turned to leave he revealed the reason for his generosity in allowing me to use his machine; I would be the first.  Suddenly I felt very sober indeed.

Doctor's Appointment

I was scheduled to see the doctor the next day.  Being near The Professor was excruciating but he insisted on accompanying me to my appointment, never guessing that it was his presence and not my leg that caused my pain.

I was surprised when the carriage stopped outside a brick building in the warehouse district, and even more surprised when the clinic I thought we were visiting instead turned out to be a lab.  I tried not to be distracted by flashing lights and the buzzing of electricity while The Professor introduced me to the doctor.  I could immediately tell by his glasses and excited speech that the man was a genius.  His name, The Professor told me, was Tesla.

Rose

After I received the letter from The Professor, the first person I contacted was Rose.  Rose was my angel and best friend.  She was a confidant and a comfort, always knowing the perfect thing to say to put me at ease.

In my letter I told Rose about The Professor's doctor and my need to get to the States to meet with this man.  I also told Rose of my suspicions about The Professor's deepening feelings for me. Now the only thing left to do was wait for her reply, and since this was Rose, I knew I would not have to wait long.

The Professor

In the midst of all my scurrying around for Management, I received a letter from The Professor.  I had of course informed him of my injury, and he was enormously concerned for me.  At least he expressed regret over the mauling and a surprising amount of anger at Management's treatment of me.  He also said he had found a doctor in the States who could be trusted to operate on my leg.  I felt grateful for the help and more than a little touched by his concern.

 I was also beginning to sense that his interest in me might be more than purely academic.  He signed his letter, "Yours always, William."

Management

For the next few weeks I worked under the watchful eye of Management.  This hateful entity sent me on ridiculous errands throughout the wilds of Peru, and I have never felt so useless nor so scrutinized in my entire life.  At first Management doubted my claim that I had been mauled at all.  Though I walked with a limp and was in constant pain, the fact that I lived was to them proof of my lie.  When I pulled up my skirts to show them the teeth marks, they insinuated the whole thing was somehow MY fault, as if I'd asked the tiger to attack me.

Worst of all, the surgeons in our group were unable to heal my leg.  I was stuck working for people who did not trust or appreciate me, and my body, the traitor, was failing me.  Plus, the tiger was still out there somewhere, and though I felt he had not really wanted to hurt me I was afraid he was still watching me, ready to pounce should I ever again venture back into the jungle.

In the Jungle

For years I worked as a nurse in the jungles of Peru.  My patients were mostly children.  Some eventually recovered from their illness or injury.  Others did not.

One particular day, the day my journey really started though I didn't know it then, I was attacked by a tiger.  The tiger leaped out at me as I was walking along a well-worn path toward the home of one of my patients.  I was taken completely unawares, and before I even knew what had happened, the beast was upon me.

 I felt a sharp pain and looked down to see my leg clamped in the tiger's mouth.  He bit down hard once, then just as suddenly as he'd attacked me, he let go.  I followed him with my eyes as he stood and began to walk away.  Through the haze of shock I watched him turn back to me once, and I swear the look on his face was one of regret.  I closed my eyes and when I opened them again he had disappeared into the gloom.