All eyes turned, followed by gasps, as the lithe blonde woman in the figure-hugging leather body suit passed through the revolving door of the Western Union office. She zeroed in on the man behind the counter; her gait had a matchless step like a ninja riding the wind—true and smooth. Her French braid she wore to the middle of her back never moved.

The gasps came from the two-seated women attired in shirtwaist, loosened corsets, and floor length pleated skirts. The men accompanying them were wearing fashionable suits with matching waistcoats.

The man behind the counter adjusted his arm garters and removed his hat. “May I help you, madam?”

The address caused a trace of a smile to spread across Jules’ face as she handed an envelope and sheet of paper to the man. “I would like this letter delivered… exactly at this date and time,” she said and pointed at the paper.

The man looked at the paper and envelope. The envelope was addressed to one Nikola Tesla, at the Waldorf-Astoria, New York, N.Y., and to be delivered at exactly eight p.m. January 5, 1943. “But madam—that’s almost fifty years from now!”
“Can you do it or not?” asked Jules, as she pushed a five-hundred-dollar gold coin toward the man who looked at the revolving cubes that stated: Today is March 12th, 1895. “Or do I have to come back in say… forty-seven years, nine months, and twenty-three days?”

“I can do it, madam,” said the man.

“Thank you,” Jules said, and left the building to more stares and gasps. Her next stop was the Waldorf-Astoria.


The knock at the front door startled Nikola who seconds before was dozing after an eighty-four-hour marathon in his laboratory.
“Shall I see who’s there sir?” said his closest associate, George H. Scherff. “By the way sir… were you napping?”

“I’ll get it, George,” he said. “And you know I don’t sleep…I was just dozing off.” Nikola stood and shook out his legs before peering through the spy hole in the door. At a wiry six-two and one-hundred forty pounds, Nikola had to stoop to peek through the spy hole. The young woman standing on the other side of the door appeared to be wearing some form of a shiny leather spacesuit but had no helmet. He opened the door to the full extent that the chain would allow and asked. “May I help you?”

“Are you Dr. Nikola Tesla?”

“Depends on who’s asking.”

“Jules Spenser,” she said, and then added. “From the future.”

“Future what young lady?” he said, as he opened the door.

“How about 2022,” she said, as she walked in past him. “I like to discuss your dynamic theory of gravity in regards to spacetime.” She turned towards Nikola’s assistant and nodded. “Congratulation George, on your son’s accomplishments.”

“But I don’t have a son,” he said.

“Oh, you will,” said Jules. “And he will become head of the CIA… not to mention the forty-first president of the United States.

George shook his head and turned toward Nikola. “If there is nothing else sir?” he said. “I would like to call it a night.” Nikola nodded and George left headed for his room.

“Ms. Spenser, please have a seat,” Nikola said. “Your knowledge of my unpublished theory interests me greatly. Who sent you?” He paused briefly. “Was it that thief Edison?”

“Mr. Tesla, please sit,” said Jules. “I’m here to help you.” With that, Jules pushed across the journal on her new Infinity Cyclotron, revealed for the first time at the Advanced Nanoscience Research Center on September 11th, 2021.

“That’s an interesting outfit you are wearing Dr. Spenser,” Nikola said, noting her title on the cover of the journal.

Jules smiled at the address. “Call me Jules… and by the way, nice digs you have here Doctor. I thought you were broke?”

“I have friends in high places,” he said. “Let’s chat.” And that they did for the next several hours. Jules and Nikola had a lot in common, including eidetic minds, but Jules had a hundred plus more years of research in her mind. She enlightened him on the advances of quantum physics and Nanoscience.

Jules stood and handed Nikola an envelope. Inside was a piece of material from the outfit she was wearing. The special metallic fibers allowed her to teleport without damaging her internal organs. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Tesla,” she said and headed toward the door. “Look me up if you get a chance.” And with that, she was gone.

The following night was Nikola Tesla’s first attempt at time travel, and if not for his assistant George cutting the current—it would have been his last. He spent the next forty-seven years attempting to time travel. On January 5th, 1943, he received an envelope. In it was a letter from Dr. Jules Spenser, whom he never had the fortune to meet again. The letter warned him of his demise; a warning he did not heed. The following day, Otto Skorzeny, who would later be identified as Adolph Hitler’s bodyguard—snuffed the life out of Nikola Tesla. He stole all the contents of Nikola’s safe and returned to Germany. The safe held all of Nikola’s scientific papers, and documents on the true identity of his assistant’s son, George H. Scherff, Jr.

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