Saving An Important Life

"As the clock approached the appointed hour, my attention became more and more focused on Carrell, and not on the subject at hand. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Finally, at the exact time of the “previous” assassination … nothing happened."

[Believe it or not, this story is a dream I had last night. I thought I should write it down. Don’t ask me where the Secret Service was or why I dreamed a twist on the “save Lincoln” theme!.

The year is 2011 and we are being given a second chance. We know that Professor Carrell had shot and killed President Abraham Lincoln at our University seminar this afternoon. This time we will have a chance to stop him.

About six of the twenty attendees, including me, have been made aware that we are reliving this day a second time for the sole purpose of saving Lincoln.

None of us understands the science by which we will have the chance to live this day again, but we have been given some guidelines: we can’t stop either Lincoln or Carrell from attending the meeting, nor can we cancel it. We cannot line the room with police. In fact, we can’t do anything to anyone physically like tying down Carrell or giving Lincoln a bullet-proof suit of armor. I guess something about altering the timeline or whatever - did not make sense to me, since just saving Lincoln should be a major alteration of the timeline anyway. Ours was not to reason why, ours was but to do or die.

But with even those restrictions, that left plenty of leeway to prevent the assassination from happening a second time. We knew the exact time of the gunshot. We knew where Carrell had found the gun and could make sure it was not there.

The attendees had been researching a matter of great national interest and were scheduled to discuss it seminar-fashion with the President this afternoon. The conference was to take place in our University library, a large room that takes up much of the fifth floor. Although there were many bookshelves lining the walls, we had rearranged the area so that about 20 classroom-type desks fit into an irregular pattern facing each other in the middle. On one side were the elevators and on the far side, about 20 feet behind the furthest desks, was a large glass window that overlooked the university square. Outside it was a warm day and the grass on the square shone a bright green. The peace and quiet surrounding the statue in the middle of the square belied my anxiety.

From the perspective of the elevator, I was to sit on the left side of the arrangement, and Carrell would be across the way to my upper right. Lincoln would sit all the way to my left, among the seats nearest the window and facing the far elevators. Carrell did not have a great shot at Lincoln from where he sat – the President was about twenty-five feet to Carrell’s right, and one of the bookshelves would partially block his line of sight.

All morning we had intense, impromptu discussions considering our options. The decision was made that talking to Lincoln would be counterproductive, but a probing chat with Carrell – without giving away too much - might serve to dissuade any hidden motives and ensure that he was in a good mood before the meeting. I would remain seated across from Carrell, but Professor Martin and one of the others would be seated on either side of the would-be killer, ready to act if anything dangerous should occur.