The Camera

Monday Stiehl was standing in the Port of Southampton taking photos with the new super digital camera he had recently purchased from a pawnshop in London. He had left for London in a hurry and forgot to pack his own camera. The proprietor told him that the camera was a steal, literally, for a mere 200 pounds. He knew for a fact that it was worth at least 1,600 pounds and figured there was something wrong with it. He took a score of photos around the pawnshop and they all came out perfect, so he bought the wonderful
camera.

Monday was on his way to Rome by way of London and Paris and figured he’d stop in Southampton since he had never had the opportunity to explore this area of England before. He had just taken a photo of the docks from where the Titanic left on her maiden voyage. On April 10th 1912 the Titanic set sail from Southampton with 2,200 passengers and crew, four days later the Titanic collided with an iceberg and sank. 1500 people died and 700 survived.

The view from his camera when he took the photo was of an empty harbor, except for a few small fishing boats and pleasure craft. The one he had stored on his digital readout was...it had to be...the Titanic departing for her maiden voyage. He had seen enough photos of the Titanic to know that this ship was identical in design and size. Although the name on the bow of the beautiful vessel was too far away to read, it had to be the Titanic.

Monday asked several people standing on the dock to take a look at the image he had just taken. They all smiled and told him it was a beautiful ship then asked him where he had taken it? When he told them he had taken it a just few moments ago in this same harbor, they quickly walked away. The looks on their faces a mixture of anger and pity.

Just a quirk Monday told himself. Perhaps the owner of the pawnshop had taken a photo of a photo and somehow it got stored and just wasn¹t showing up on his camera listing.

He thought no more of it as he had to catch the train for Paris and he would be pushing for time as it was.

Stiehl loved Paris. He had spent four years as a student there and learned to speak passable French. He also received his doctorate in Archeology while in Paris. He loved the culture, the art and the very essence of the city. One of his favorite places was along the West Bank looking across the Seine at Notre Dame de Paris. He took this opportunity to revisit his old haunts and take some photos for keepsakes.

Monday took several photos in a row, flash, flash, flash! Then he checked to see how they looked on digital display. Once again, he was dumbfounded.

The first photo was of a Roman Temple with white marble columns. He knew that at one time there was a Roman temple to Jupiter or some Roman God on the spot. Had his camera captured the past, as it had somehow captured the sailing of the Titanic?

The second photo was of a small but well build basilica. Before Notre Dame and after the Roman temple was destroyed, Paris’ first Christian church, Saint Etienne basilica built by Childebert I, stood on this spot. His mind was racing!

The third photo was of Notre Dame but not the Notre Dame we know today. Construction on Notre Dame began in 1163 during the reign of Louis VII. It was completed in 1345. In this photo the towers were still being built. Did this camera record history in the past? Impossible! But, he had the photos stored in digital form to prove it.

Monday was a bit shaken at this point. Was the camera haunted or was he hallucinating? Maybe he had told too many stories about reincarnation and the fact that he firmly believed in it. Maybe an angry God was punishing him for some reason?

He left Paris that same night for Rome on the overnight express. He wanted to be at the Roman Forum by noon the next day to talk with a fellow archeologist who was uncovering a burial dig about twenty miles outside Rome. He told Stiehl he was very excited about the find and was certain it was an early Christian burial site from around the 4th Century CE.

Monday arrived in Rome early and had breakfast in the Roma Termini station, named after the ancient Baths of the Emperor Diocletian and then made his way on the Metropolitana subway to the Forum Romanum. His friend Dominic had called and said he was delayed and asked Stiehl to meet him at the dig site later in the day. When he entered the forum his breath was again taken away. He felt at home. Stiehl had spent hundreds of hours drawing and studying the layout of the forum for his thesis. He loved history and Roman history was at the heart of his love. His passion about all things Roman was well known in archeological circles.

While sitting on a ledge looking towards the senate building, a chilling thought came to his mind. Did he dare? If I take a photo of the entrance to the Senate building with my paranormal camera, what will I get? He thought. Only one way to find out.

Monday rushed from his perch and down into the street heading for the senate building located between the Palatine hill and the Capitoline hill. As he entered the area of the Curia Julia, the site of the Roman Senate, his heart began to beat stronger and stronger. Do I dare, he asked himself again?

As he entered the site of the ancient Roman Senate, historical data flooded into his memory: As he took his seat, the conspirators gathered about him as if to pay their respects, and straightway Tillius Cimber, who had assumed the lead, came nearer as though to ask something. When Caesar with a gesture put him off to another time, Cimber caught his toga by both shoulders. As Caesar cried, 'Why, this is violence!' one of the Cascas stabbed him from one side just below the throat. Caesar caught Casca's arm and ran it through with his stylus, but as he tried to leap to his feet, he was stopped b another wound. When he saw that he was beset on every side by drawn daggers, he muffled his head in his robe, and at the same time drew down its lap to his feet with his left hand, in order to fall more decently, with the lower part of his body also covered. And in this wise he was stabbed with three and twenty wounds, uttering not a word, but merely a groan at the first stroke, though some have written that when Marcus Brutus rushed at him, he said in Greek, 'You too, my child?'

Stiehl pulled the camera out and took three photos in rapid succession. The flashes were like blinding explosions from enemy artillery. He was shaking and nervous as he turned the camera around and hit the review button.

The first photo was of a grassy swamp. That was good, the area was a swampland before the Romans drained it so the population could expand.

The second photo was of the Roman Senate in session. It appeared they were discussing a matter of some importance. He could see a Roman military officer standing to the left. Based on the design and composition of the uniform it could have been Gaius Claudius Glaber, a Roman Praetor in 73 BCE, who went after Spartacus, or any number of important figures at that particular time in history.

The third photo was also disappointing. All it depicted was a shot of the Senate house in a ruined state, perhaps several hundred years ago before it was cleaned up for modern tourists.

Monday thought about trying more exposures but figured he’d be wasting his time. He left the Senate building and headed in the direction of a car rental place near the Metropolitana. Dom would be waiting for him and he needed to be on his way.

He stopped suddenly! Another thought crossed his mind. What about video? Most digital cameras, expensive ones in particular, took video as well as single shots. What would happen if I filmed the Senate chamber?

He rushed madly back into the Senate building. His hands were shaking and his mind was racing. Stiehl set his watch on a marble slab so he could see the second hand for one minute of filming. He noticed that when he was taking photo shots the scene remained the same. That is, it did not change until he looked at the digital printout.

Monday took several deep breaths and then steadied the camera against a stone pillar. He turned it on and tried hard to control his breathing. Actually, he wasn’t sure if he even took a breath the entire time the camera was running. After one minute he stopped the camera.

The moment of truth was at hand! What had he captured on his magic camera? He turned the digital display on and the scene started to unravel.

Monday was shocked! For one full minute he watched the assassination of Gaius Julius Caesar as it had happened in real history. He was shaking so badly after viewing the incredible scene he had to sit down on a broken pillar of marble to steady himself. Sweat was pouring off his brow and down the crack of his back.

Somehow he had purchased a camera that took photos and videos of things and events that happened in the past. For a man of his background, it was an archeologist’s dream come true.

There was something about that second photo. He couldn’t get it out of his mind. Stiehl hit the readout and looked at the photo again, then again, and again. It suddenly hit him! He was shocked. He was shaking! The Roman military figure was him. It was his face.

The camera was not just taking photos of the past; it was taking scenes that he had witnessed before. Scenes he had witnessed in person in different lives. It was taking photos of his memories.

This is impossible! He said out loud, falling to his knees on the hard marble.

Monday was still in a state of shock as he approached the camp of his friend Dominic Prestano. The dig was located on a small hill that overlooked a farmer’s freshly plowed fields. The other side of the hill meandered down to a slow moving stream bordering a thick grove of olive trees.

Parking the rented Fiat in a lot with half a dozen other muddy vehicles, Stiehl picked up his camera bag and headed up a muddy path leading to the tents located about half way up the small hill. His friend Dom spotted him and waved a hand in greeting as Monday walked into the camp. He was breathing heavily from the short but steep climb.

"Yo Bro," Dom stated, as Stiehl stumbled into camp. Dominic Prestano was an Italian American by birth but a full-blown Roman by heart. He and Monday had studied together on their doctoral thesis in Rome and worked several sites together in different parts of the old Roman Empire. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost," Dom noticed the unusual look on Monday’s face as they shook hands.

Monday and Dom were about the same age, in their late 30’s. Neither had married, preferring to relegate their existence to the field of archeology. They both agreed that a family would severely curtail their ability to spend weeks, months and even years on an important dig. Their work kept them in prime physical condition and by choice they often accepted positions that would allow them work together when possible.

The dig Dom was working on was scheduled to be a short time affair. He’d been asked by a peer, whose specialty was paleontology, to assist him in dating several artifacts uncovered by the local farmer while plowing his field. He was certain they were 4th or 5th Century CE relics and knew that period was Dom¹s specialty. After Dom finished here they were scheduled to head for a very big job in Britain for the Smithsonian.

"I’ve got something to show you," Monday stated, glancing around. He and Dom were the only two at the camp. Several men were at the dig site about fifty yards up the side of the hill, and a few were bent over in the farmer’s field below. Monday pulled his camera from the bag slung over his shoulder and nervously held it out so Dom could see the facing.

"I bought this camera in a pawn shop in London. In route here I took photos at Southampton, in Paris and in the Forum Romanum. I also took one minute of video in the Roman Senate House. I want you to see the results." He nervously handed the camera to Dom.

With a curious expression on his weathered face, Dom quickly clicked through the photos on the digital readout. He looked up at Monday with an expression of wonder on his face. "Look at the video," Monday quickly blurted.

Dom started playing the video. As soon as it was finished he looked up at Monday with a broad smile on his face. "Great joke," he stated, "I owe you one for this." His smile faded when he looked into Monday¹s eyes. "It’s no joke.. "You’re serious about this aren’t you?"

"Dead serious," Monday replied, his face still held a haunting look. "Look closely at the faces in the photos." Once again Dom went through the photos one at a time then the video twice over. A look of alarm suddenly spread across his Roman features. "You’re in some of the photos and standing in the background in the video," he stated, looking closely at Monday again. "I don’t understand."

"Neither do I. Somehow this camera captures the past. Not only that, it captures my past, or at least part of it."

"Have you down loaded these photos onto a computer?" Dom asked. At the negative shake of Monday’s head, Dom walked over to his laptop computer and reached back to Monday for the cord to down load the camera. He didn’t know if the hook-up would work with his program, but it did. The photos and video came out sharp and clear on the computer screen. Dom zoomed in on the figure standing in one of the photos enlarging it so it would stand out.

"It’s you or someone who looks exactly like you," Dom pointed at the Roman Tribune standing in the senate forum. "The trappings of the uniform would date this to around the First Century BCE."

"Meaning I was either alive during that time or there’s someone in history that is my identical twin," Monday stated. "Look at the man standing in the background while Caesar was being assassinated and the man standing off to the side in one of those photos of Notre Dame?" Monday asked. Once again as each photo was brought up, Monday’s face appeared.

Dom looked at his friend in fear and awe then back at the computer screen. "There’s got to be an explanation. I don’t believe in reincarnation and I certainly don’t believe in magic. Are you sure this isn’t some elaborate hoax made by that pawn shop owner?"

"Never met the man before," Monday replied. "Never been in that paw shop before either. The only reason I was there was because I forgot my camera in my rush to catch the plane to London. There’s no way the man could have known that I would be in his shop or looking to buy a camera. Hell! I didn’t even know I was going to buy a camera. No way."

"There has to be a logical explanation," Dom picked up the camera and turned it around to look at all sides. The camera looked like a typical digital camera, an expensive one at that. "Do you mind," Dom asked, pointing towards the dig site. "Let’s see what this thing does when we take a photo of the hill."

Dom walked a few feet to his left so that the corner of a tent did not interfere with his aim and clicked the camera. He also clicked again and captured one of the workers just bending up to stretch the soreness out of his back. Walking back over to Monday, he nervously hit the button to view the photo.

The photo displayed the same hill only hundreds of years ago. A short line of people dressed in ancient Roman garb were carrying a body wrapped in linen on a stretcher up the hill. Two Roman Legionnaires stood off to the right side watching the procession as it ascended the incline. One of the soldiers, an officer by his dress, was looking back at the camera. It was Dominic.

Dom turned a bright shade of white when he recognized his face on the Roman Centurion. He handed the camera to Monday and quickly picked up a bottle half full of wine. He drained the rest of the bottle in rapid gulps and threw the empty into the muddy grass.

"Impossible!" he blurted. Looking at the camera as if it was a poisonous snake or deadly insect. "Impossible!"

"The second photo looks normal," Monday stated, passing the camera back to Dom. The second photo showed the hillside as it was with the worker standing at the dig bending his back to get rid of the soreness. Dom quickly loaded the two shots into the computer and enlarged the face of the worker. "That’s Giovanni," Dom stated with a smile, pointing at the photo. "He’s a local worker who’s been helping around here with the dirt work." He sounded relieved.

"So the camera does take normal photos," Monday said, watching as Giovanni headed down the hill for a break. "What would happen if I deleted the photos? Do you think the camera would start acting normal then? No more historical magic?" Dom shrugged his shoulders indicating he wasn’t sure what would happen. Giovanni entered the campsite with a big grin on his broad face, his balding scalp shining with sweat beads.

Monday hit the delete button on the camera to erase the last photo taken. He didn’t want to mess with the other snap shots as they were far too valuable. As soon as the button was pushed, Giovanni disappeared.

"What the hell!" Dom yelled, jumping up from the cooler he had been sitting on. One second he was reaching out to hand a cool towel to Giovanni to wipe the sweat from his face, the next, Giovanni disappeared. Startled by the unexpected yell, Monday almost dropped the camera.

"Where did he go? What did you do?" yelled Dom, looking around wide-eyed. "Where’s Giovanni?

"I don’t know," Monday answered, suspiciously looking at the camera. "I deleted him from the camera and he simply disappeared." They both looked at the camera in revulsion and fear. After several moments of silence Dom got up the nerve to say, "you don’t think…? He left the question unfinished.

"Can your computer return the photo back to the camera?" Monday finally asked, nervously passing the camera to Dom. Dom took the camera, holding it carefully away from him as if it would attack him, and walked over to the computer. He plugged the camera in and hit a few of the program buttons. After a minute he checked to see if the photo of Giovanni was booted back into the camera.

Suddenly, Giovanni stood in the exact same spot from which he had disappeared earlier with a quizzical look on his face. "I think you were handing a towel to me," Giovanni slowly stated. "Then you no there and then you in a different place. I think maybe I stop for the day, the sun it get to me I think!" The man turned and headed down the hill towards his home, a puzzled expression still on his sweating face.

They looked at each other in silence for a long time. Finally, Monday got the nerve to speak. "If we erase the photos on the camera will it erase the history it captured?" he whispered.

"But, so long as we have a copy of the photo on backup, we can reinstate history," Dom answered. They both looked at the camera with a renewed sense of awe and fear.

Another thought occurred to Monday. "Supposing you took your own photo and using Photoshop or some similar program, incorporated it into a photo from the past and reinserted it into the camera. Would you be transported back to the past?"

"Using that camera a person could go back and change history," Dom stated.
"Or, an assassin could have a field day," Monday finished. "Next question is, what happens if the camera is destroyed? Does the history already captured on it disappear? Does Caesar live? Does Giovanni disappear forever?"
“Last question,” Dom smiled. “What do we do?”