The Present
by Simon Rich
"I don't understand," Professor Xander Kaplan said while his girlfriend sobbed into a pillow. "I thought you liked tulips."
"I do," she said. "It's just...you get them for me every year. It's starting to get a little impersonal. I mean, this time you didn't even include a card." Xander winced. Her reasoning was sound.
"I apologize," he said. "I obviously made an error in judgment." He tried to take her hand, but she pulled it out of reach.
"Do you remember what I did for your birthday?" she said.
"I got you that new Bunsen burner you wanted. I knit you a pair of wool socks so your feet wouldn't get cold in the lab." She covered her face with her hands.
"You never make that kind of effort for me!" she cried. "All you do is think about yourself."
"That's incorrect," Xander said defensively. "What about emiladium? It took me nine months to synthesize that element, and I named it after you."
"You were going to synthesize that element anyway," Emily said. "You needed it for your 'secret project'-that silver orb thing in your lab. Emiladium wasn't about me. It was about you. I mean, for God's sake, you won't even tell me what it does." Xander sighed. She'd made an excellent argument.
"Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" he asked. Emily blinked back some tears.
"I don't know," she said. "I mean...it's not like you can just go back in time and get me a different present." Xander's expression brightened.
"Wait there," he said, leaping to his feet. "I'll be right back!"
Xander hurried down the hall, crept into his laboratory, and locked the door behind him. His time machine was right where he had left it.
He climbed inside the silver orb and flicked on the power switch. His plan was simple: travel back in time to this morning, find a new gift for Emily, and bring it to the present. But there were a couple of risks. There was a chance, for example, that using the machine would cause the universe to explode. (He'd never tested the thing out before.) There was also no guarantee that he would be able to find a good present. He only had enough emiladium to fuel five minutes of time travel. That didn't give him a lot of "wiggle room." Wherever he went, he'd have to shop efficiently.
Xander was usually a pretty good problem solver. (He had, for example, invented a time machine.) But quantum physics and nuclear hydraulics were trivial compared to the rigors of gift shopping. He massaged his temples, trying to remember if Emily had dropped any hints lately. He vaguely recalled her staring at a vase in Crate & Barrel. But that place was full of vases. There was no way he'd be able to pick out the right one.
He was trying to remember the name of her favorite perfume when a thought entered his head: maybe he was thinking too small? His machine could transport him to any time and place in human history. Why go back a few hours when he could go back a few centuries?
He knew Emily loved Shakespeare. She'd written her senior thesis on one of his tragedies. Why not travel back to the Globe Theatre and swipe her an original script? It wouldn't be too difficult, he reasoned. All he'd have to do was dash backstage and grab one. It would be the most impressive gift she'd ever received in her life!
But which tragedy had Emily written her thesis about? He knew it was one of the king ones. Richard the something or Charles the something. But there were a bunch of those. What if he got it wrong? It was too risky.
There was always jewelry. He knew the general construction dates for Tut's tomb. He could park in front of the pyramids, run inside, and snatch a jadestone. Some Hebrew slaves would probably chase after him, but as soon as he made it back into his orb, he'd be home free. He entered the coordinates and was about to push the lever when he started to second-guess himself again. Buying women jewelry was always chancy. Emily had very specific tastes. What if she didn't like jade? it wasn't like he'd be able to go back and return it.
He thought back to the night they met. He was finishing his PhD at the time and his lab had closed early because of Easter. He'd stuffed his papers into his briefcase and shuffled through the rain to the 116th Street station. It was 4:05 a.m. and the platform was deserted, except for Emily. It had been several days since Xander's last conversation with a human. And when she started to speak to him, he felt the stirrings of a panic attack. But Emily's friendly smile managed somehow to put him as ease. She was awfully cheerful, given her circumstances. Her MetroCard had expired, she said, and the machines were broken. She'd been stranded for over twenty minutes. Would be be willing to sell her a ride? Xander nodded and watched as she rooted around in her purse for some cash to pay him back. It was a minute or two before it occurred to him that she had given him a chance to be gallant.
"You don't have to reimburse me," he said. "I'll swipe you in for free."
She thanked him enthusiastically and then-shockingly-wrapped her arms around his torso. Xander wasn't used to physical contact, and although the hug was brief, it caused his entire body to tingle, from head to toe. It was a startling sensation, like walking through an electrically charged field. He sill felt that way whenever she touched him.Xander was an atheist and believed fiercely in random causality. But by the end of their shared subway ride, he was sure he'd experienced a miracle. This wonderful person had shown up out of nowhere and given him a chance as love. And in return, he'd given her three years of misery. He thought about all of his Saturday nights at the lab, ignoring her calls, making excuses. He thought about the way she'd cried when he handed her the tulips.How could he make up for three years of romantic ineptitude with a single birthday present?
Maybe the solution was simpler than he thought. There were a pencil and pad on his desk. He could go back a few hours and spend the morning writing her a card. He would tell her in a plainly worded note how much he loved her-how much gratitude he felt whenever he saw her smiling face.
But Xander wasn't much of a writer. His sentences would come out poorly, he knew, like the wooden prose of his grant proposals. It was pointless to even try.
He closed his eyes and concentrated. There had to be a right answer.
Cleopatra's crown.
Joan of Arc's sword.
A baby dinosaur.
What was the greatest thing he could give her, the very best present in the world? It was the hardest problem he'd ever attempted to solve.
But then, as always, the solution came to him.
Xander parked his time machine on 116th Street and dashed into the subway. It was 3:45 a.m., a little over three years in the past.
Emily was standing by the turnstile, swiping and reswiping her expired MetroCard. It took Xander a moment to recognize her. In his memories, she'd worn a tight angora sweater and bright red lipstick. But in reality, she'd been dressed more causally. A T-shirt, a raincoat, and jeans.
He took a deep breath and approached her.
"Let me guess," he said. "Expired MetroCard." She chuckled.
"How'd you know?"
"I had a hunch," he said. "Come on, I'll swipe you through."
"That's okay," she said. "I'll just go to the machine upstairs or-"
"The machines are all broken," he said, cutting her off. He could hear a train approaching in the distance.
"You better catch this one," he said. "The next won't come for another twenty minutes."
Before she could protest, he took out his MetroCard and swiped her through the turnstile.
She smiled back at him with confusion.
"Aren't you coming?" she asked as the train pulled into the station.
Xander averted his eyes. He was worried that if he looked at her he would start to cry.
"I need to take a different train," he said.
"Well, at least let me pay you for the-"
"That's all right," he said, his voice breaking. "It's a present."
He was about to turn away when she leaned over the turnstile and hugged him. It was exactly as he remembered it, her long brown hair brushing softly against his neck, his entire body tingling with warmth.
"Thanks!" she said.
He tried to say "You're welcome," but the words got caught in his throat. He waved good-bye as she boarded the train. Then he marched out of the station alone.
by Simon Rich
"I don't understand," Professor Xander Kaplan said while his girlfriend sobbed into a pillow. "I thought you liked tulips."
"I do," she said. "It's just...you get them for me every year. It's starting to get a little impersonal. I mean, this time you didn't even include a card." Xander winced. Her reasoning was sound.
"I apologize," he said. "I obviously made an error in judgment." He tried to take her hand, but she pulled it out of reach.
"Do you remember what I did for your birthday?" she said.
"I got you that new Bunsen burner you wanted. I knit you a pair of wool socks so your feet wouldn't get cold in the lab." She covered her face with her hands.
"You never make that kind of effort for me!" she cried. "All you do is think about yourself."
"That's incorrect," Xander said defensively. "What about emiladium? It took me nine months to synthesize that element, and I named it after you."
"You were going to synthesize that element anyway," Emily said. "You needed it for your 'secret project'-that silver orb thing in your lab. Emiladium wasn't about me. It was about you. I mean, for God's sake, you won't even tell me what it does." Xander sighed. She'd made an excellent argument.
"Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" he asked. Emily blinked back some tears.
"I don't know," she said. "I mean...it's not like you can just go back in time and get me a different present." Xander's expression brightened.
"Wait there," he said, leaping to his feet. "I'll be right back!"
Xander hurried down the hall, crept into his laboratory, and locked the door behind him. His time machine was right where he had left it.
He climbed inside the silver orb and flicked on the power switch. His plan was simple: travel back in time to this morning, find a new gift for Emily, and bring it to the present. But there were a couple of risks. There was a chance, for example, that using the machine would cause the universe to explode. (He'd never tested the thing out before.) There was also no guarantee that he would be able to find a good present. He only had enough emiladium to fuel five minutes of time travel. That didn't give him a lot of "wiggle room." Wherever he went, he'd have to shop efficiently.
Xander was usually a pretty good problem solver. (He had, for example, invented a time machine.) But quantum physics and nuclear hydraulics were trivial compared to the rigors of gift shopping. He massaged his temples, trying to remember if Emily had dropped any hints lately. He vaguely recalled her staring at a vase in Crate & Barrel. But that place was full of vases. There was no way he'd be able to pick out the right one.
He was trying to remember the name of her favorite perfume when a thought entered his head: maybe he was thinking too small? His machine could transport him to any time and place in human history. Why go back a few hours when he could go back a few centuries?
He knew Emily loved Shakespeare. She'd written her senior thesis on one of his tragedies. Why not travel back to the Globe Theatre and swipe her an original script? It wouldn't be too difficult, he reasoned. All he'd have to do was dash backstage and grab one. It would be the most impressive gift she'd ever received in her life!
But which tragedy had Emily written her thesis about? He knew it was one of the king ones. Richard the something or Charles the something. But there were a bunch of those. What if he got it wrong? It was too risky.
There was always jewelry. He knew the general construction dates for Tut's tomb. He could park in front of the pyramids, run inside, and snatch a jadestone. Some Hebrew slaves would probably chase after him, but as soon as he made it back into his orb, he'd be home free. He entered the coordinates and was about to push the lever when he started to second-guess himself again. Buying women jewelry was always chancy. Emily had very specific tastes. What if she didn't like jade? it wasn't like he'd be able to go back and return it.
He thought back to the night they met. He was finishing his PhD at the time and his lab had closed early because of Easter. He'd stuffed his papers into his briefcase and shuffled through the rain to the 116th Street station. It was 4:05 a.m. and the platform was deserted, except for Emily. It had been several days since Xander's last conversation with a human. And when she started to speak to him, he felt the stirrings of a panic attack. But Emily's friendly smile managed somehow to put him as ease. She was awfully cheerful, given her circumstances. Her MetroCard had expired, she said, and the machines were broken. She'd been stranded for over twenty minutes. Would be be willing to sell her a ride? Xander nodded and watched as she rooted around in her purse for some cash to pay him back. It was a minute or two before it occurred to him that she had given him a chance to be gallant.
"You don't have to reimburse me," he said. "I'll swipe you in for free."
She thanked him enthusiastically and then-shockingly-wrapped her arms around his torso. Xander wasn't used to physical contact, and although the hug was brief, it caused his entire body to tingle, from head to toe. It was a startling sensation, like walking through an electrically charged field. He sill felt that way whenever she touched him.Xander was an atheist and believed fiercely in random causality. But by the end of their shared subway ride, he was sure he'd experienced a miracle. This wonderful person had shown up out of nowhere and given him a chance as love. And in return, he'd given her three years of misery. He thought about all of his Saturday nights at the lab, ignoring her calls, making excuses. He thought about the way she'd cried when he handed her the tulips.How could he make up for three years of romantic ineptitude with a single birthday present?
Maybe the solution was simpler than he thought. There were a pencil and pad on his desk. He could go back a few hours and spend the morning writing her a card. He would tell her in a plainly worded note how much he loved her-how much gratitude he felt whenever he saw her smiling face.
But Xander wasn't much of a writer. His sentences would come out poorly, he knew, like the wooden prose of his grant proposals. It was pointless to even try.
He closed his eyes and concentrated. There had to be a right answer.
Cleopatra's crown.
Joan of Arc's sword.
A baby dinosaur.
What was the greatest thing he could give her, the very best present in the world? It was the hardest problem he'd ever attempted to solve.
But then, as always, the solution came to him.
Xander parked his time machine on 116th Street and dashed into the subway. It was 3:45 a.m., a little over three years in the past.
Emily was standing by the turnstile, swiping and reswiping her expired MetroCard. It took Xander a moment to recognize her. In his memories, she'd worn a tight angora sweater and bright red lipstick. But in reality, she'd been dressed more causally. A T-shirt, a raincoat, and jeans.
He took a deep breath and approached her.
"Let me guess," he said. "Expired MetroCard." She chuckled.
"How'd you know?"
"I had a hunch," he said. "Come on, I'll swipe you through."
"That's okay," she said. "I'll just go to the machine upstairs or-"
"The machines are all broken," he said, cutting her off. He could hear a train approaching in the distance.
"You better catch this one," he said. "The next won't come for another twenty minutes."
Before she could protest, he took out his MetroCard and swiped her through the turnstile.
She smiled back at him with confusion.
"Aren't you coming?" she asked as the train pulled into the station.
Xander averted his eyes. He was worried that if he looked at her he would start to cry.
"I need to take a different train," he said.
"Well, at least let me pay you for the-"
"That's all right," he said, his voice breaking. "It's a present."
He was about to turn away when she leaned over the turnstile and hugged him. It was exactly as he remembered it, her long brown hair brushing softly against his neck, his entire body tingling with warmth.
"Thanks!" she said.
He tried to say "You're welcome," but the words got caught in his throat. He waved good-bye as she boarded the train. Then he marched out of the station alone.