Author's note: The tale, Close to Home/In a Nearby Universe originated when I found a fossil in a gravel pit at Sylvania, Ohio. The insect displayed wings with network venation, instead of the parallel lines expected from the pit's Cambrian Period shale.

I later showed the fossil to my University of Michigan geology professor. He said he wanted to check it out and took it with him. I never saw him or the insect again.

CLOSE TO HOME

What if String Theory is proven and an alternate universe is formed after each choice we make? How many minor decisions have to occur for two parallel histories to become widely different from each other?

"Darn it, I'm going to be late again. Why can't I get anywhere on time?" April stuffed the water bottle into her backpack.

She and volunteer parents were driving kids from her science club at Munger Jr. High in Detroit, to a fossil-hunting trip to a gravel pit near Sylvania, Ohio.

Cambrian-Period Brachiopods and Trilobites dripped from the shovel she used at the site on her solo exploration a few weeks ago.

April made a startling discovery there. She planned to show it to Joe, her former University of Michigan Geology instructor. She looked down at the finely webbed wings of the fossil.

Had she made a mistake in identification? But, if she were right - a shiver of excitement ran down her spine at the implications.

Joe agreed to meet her and the middle-school scientists at the pit - in two hours. She wanted to show him she could be on time, for once.

I'm going to see Joe again, she thought. Not classically handsome, his tamped-down maleness simmered below the surface of his tanned skin.

Breaking out of her reverie, April muttered, "I've got to get out of here." She put the strange fossil on the table and went to find her new hybrid car's door opener "thingie."

Finally locating the fob in the fanny pack she wore, she picked up the rest of her equipment and raced out of the condominium to her parking spot. The car still had that fresh-out-of-the-factory smell. As she adjusted the rear-view mirror, she checked her image. Brown eyes, brown hair in a ponytail, nothing special. She meant to add some highlights, but -

Oh, just get going.

She pulled into traffic and sped off to meet her students at the nearby middle school.

April went two blocks when she realized her mysterious discovery still sat on her kitchen table. Looking at the time display on the car's complex dashboard, she debated going back to her condo.

Her mother always said it was bad luck to return home without finishing a trip you started. Mom's superstitions proved true more times than scientific-minded April liked to admit.

Sighing, she hung a wide U-turn and crashed into a badly placed garbage bin at the curb. She wasn't hurt, and the car was barely scratched, but she had to deal with the irate owner of the crumpled container. Of course, he called the police.

When she finally contacted the parents waiting at the school parking lot, it was so late they postponed the trip. The group was not happy, but they understood, saying life happens, and they could be there next week.

Her call to Joe did not go as well. Already half-way to Sylvania, he informed her he couldn't make it next week.

April learned a month later he accepted a position at UCLA.

She never saw him again.

IN A NEARBY UNIVERSE

"Shoot, I'm going to be late again," April Ann said, stuffing some energy bars into her backpack.

She and some parents were driving kids from her Munger Jr. High science club on a fossil-hunting trip, traveling from Detroit to a gravel pit near Sylvania, Ohio.

Last week, on her solo exploration to the site, Cambrian Period Brachiopods and Trilobites detached easily from the shale, as she scraped them up.

April Ann made a scary discovery there. She hoped to amaze Joe, her former University of Michigan Geology instructor, with it.

She looked down at the finely webbed venation in the wings of the three-inch-long fossil insect. April Ann hoped Joe wouldn't laugh at her far-out conclusions.

He agreed to meet her and the crew at the pit - in two hours. Lord, why am I always running late?

After causing him to raise an eyebrow every time she rushed into her first-row seat in his lecture hall, she wanted to show him she could be on time, for once.

I'm going to see Joe again.

She hadn't thought him attractive, at first. His nose was too big, his hair cut in a shaggy mess. But there was a tamped down maleness simmering below the surface of his tanned skin that made her take a second look - and then a third.

"I've got to get out of here, right now!" She put the strange fossil on the kitchen table as she looked for her car keys, which were not in their usual place hanging on the wall plaque in the entry.

Finally finding them next to the coffee machine, she picked up all her fossil-hunting equipment and raced to her parking spot.

April Ann was two blocks away from the middle school when she realized her mysterious discovery still sat on her kitchen table.

Looking at the digital clock on the dashboard of her 15-year-old PT Cruiser, she debated going back home. And then she had a better idea.

I'll just ask Joe back to my place to see that crazy fossil. She smiled to herself and continued to the school.

Showing him the fossil that evening in her living room, Joe first was suspicious, then thoughtful, and then excited when he examined April Ann's find.

It was an insect with web-lined wings, instead of the expected parallel venation. The branching net of lines shouldn't have existed until the Triassic Period, at least 200 million years later than the Cambrian-era gravel pit where April Ann found it imbedded in the Ohio shale.

A hoax? Evidence of time travel? In the next few weeks, Joe submitted the specimen to every test available. However, even today, radioactive dating of the era was unreliable. One thing the tests proved - the matrix of shale surrounding the fossil was the same as the rest of the gravel pit.

The controversy erupting in geologic academia didn't stop April Ann and Joe from falling deeply in love and marrying six months later.

April Ann was on time for the wedding.


~

(Previously published in Dollar Store Magazine)