The Adventures of Calvin Michael Johnson
Chapter 3

Copyright© 2020 by Rycliff

Time Travel Sex Story: Chapter 3 - This is my first attempt at a serial, and at a Do Over. I hope to post weekly. our hero is an unlikely one, he doesn't deserve a second chance but he is the only one who can change the course of mankind but it will be a struggle of epic proportions. can he overcome the past and the obstacles set up against him and bring about the evolution of mankind.

Caution: This Time Travel Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft   Consensual   Romantic   Fiction   Science Fiction   Aliens   DoOver  

Friday, July 2, 1976

I woke up just in time to see Eve enter the room with my breakfast.

“Good morning Michael,” she said with a smile.

“Good morning, Eve. Is that my breakfast?” I asked as she placed it on the rollaway table.

It consists of unappealing plain yogurt and apple juice. I looked at it. I am not impressed by the doctor’s idea for my dietary needs. “This food will be the death of me,” I jokingly say.

Eve has a horrified look on her face. “Oh, please don’t say that. It’s bad luck to talk that way in a Hospital.”

I looked at her, and there was genuine concern in her eyes. I felt chagrined for my flippant remark; this is new. I use humor to defuse situations. “Eve, I am sorry if I offended or scared you. I was trying to be funny and joke about hospital food. I was not talking about actually dying.”

“I know. I’m sorry as well. I just see so many people not make it. I think a lot of the time it’s due to a bad attitude. They start to believe they are going to die, and then they do. So, let’s change the subject to something more appealing.”

“Okay, how about what is a pretty girl like you doing in a grungy place like this?”

“I am a Candy Striper. I work at the hospital during the summer to help pay for my school needs. My mom doesn’t make enough to pay for everything. I also work to get experience. I want to become a doctor. I know that college and medical school seems like an impossibility, but it’s my dream. Before my father was killed in action during the Vietnam War, I thought I had a chance. But with him dead, I will need to get a scholarship to go to college. I am working my butt off to make the grades I need to get into a good college. But even that won’t guarantee a place in med school.”

“Wow, you have a plan and everything. I’m going to start my freshman year in the spring, and I don’t have a clue as to what I’m going to do. I mean, I’m leaning toward attending college. I just need to get good grades. They started slipping last year. I’m going to have to work much harder to bring them back to where they should be. What grade will you be attending?”

“I will be a Junior. I can’t wait. Two more years, and then the worst of it will be over. I expect college will be a breeze. Everyone in my family calls me a dreamer, and I get called a nerd or worse by most kids at school. My teachers think I am overreaching; college is a great idea, but I should lower my expectations. I should plan on becoming a nurse or teacher. Becoming a doctor is a lot to expect for an African American, especially a female.” The last said with tears coming down her face.

My heart aches for her; I was at a loss for words. Who would tell someone not to dream, not to try so hard, just because of their skin color?

I have never equated a person’s skin color with a limitation on their ability to perform a job. In my eye, there was only one race, the human race. I got myself under control. I spoke aloud my thoughts. “Eve, I think you are an amazing young girl. I believe in you; I absolutely think you should pursue your dream. I’d be honored to have you be my doctor. I never want to see you give up just because others are naysayers. Don’t let them destroy you by caving into the expectations others limit you to.”

She reached over and gave me a big hug. She hugged me about my neck and right shoulder, avoiding any areas that she thought were painful. I could smell her perfume and the apple blossom shampoo. It was heavenly. I took my right arm and hugged her back. At that moment, I heard someone clear their throat.

She turned and looked towards the door and jumped up from my bedside. “Oh, Doctor Albright. I am sorry. I just got a little emotional. I’ll be on my way; I have other patients to attend. Please don’t tell Nurse Bertha, oh crap, I mean Nurse Dodson.”

The doctor walked up to my bed and picked up my chart, and looked at it for a minute. Then he looked at me and said, “I don’t know what you said to her, but if my guess is right, you just might have made a friend for life.”

“Hey Doc, can I ask a question?”

“Sure, what’s on your mind Michael?” He said, putting down my chart.

“Well, I was wondering, can you stop the morphine? I don’t think it’s necessary, or least at the dosage level you have it at currently. I’m not feeling any pain at all. I think it would be a good idea to step down now rather than later.”

“Mm, I see. You really think that’s a good idea? Well, I’ll tell you what, let me do my examination first, and I’ll see if that becomes a possibility, Ok? I just don’t see a reason to let you suffer needlessly, especially with the extent of your injuries.”

“Ok, you’re the Doc, Doc.”

He started the exam. First, the light in the eye bit, then followed the pen with just my eyes, asking if I had any neck pains, headaches, or vision problems, like blurriness, double vision, nausea, etc. Then he began poking and prodding my stomach and abdomen, asking about pain or vomiting.

Next, he probed my groin, looking for a hernia, I suppose. Moving on to my joints, not in a cast, he manipulated them, bending and flexing them, rotating my shoulder, arm, and leg on the right side. Ending with my right foot, he performed a reflex check on the sole of my foot. It tickled like always. I started to laugh, then asked him to please stop. I always hated that my feet were so ticklish.

He then went on to do the same thing to my left side, with remarkably similar results. Of course, he was unable to manipulate my cast limbs very much. I showed that I genuinely did not feel pain from them. He asked me to squeeze his left palm with my left hand, to which I did. He seemed surprised. He told me to make a fist, and I did. He hemmed again.

He picked up the phone by my bedside, pushed a button, and started speaking. I assumed he was calling to the nurse’s station down the hall.

“Could you call radiology up and schedule an appointment for young Mr. Johnson? I’d like another full set of x-rays for him. Thank you.”

“Michael, I’m going, to be honest with you. With the severity of your injuries, making a fist and squeezing my hand should be very painful. You don’t appear to be suffering any pain. Your leg should be throbbing and kept in place. Rotating your leg even a little should bring tears and cries of pain. I can’t explain why it is not affecting you. I am going to get another complete set of x-rays just to be sure of what is happening.”

I knew what was happening, and it was because of the Guardian. I’m sure he, it, they ... had something to do with this. I remember something about super healing. Well, it appears they are keeping their end of the deal. So, I guess I had better do something to keep my end of the bargain.

I suppose this puts a kibosh on the lawsuit. After all, it’s hard to claim pain and suffering when there isn’t any. I guess I’ll still collect from the trucking company for killing Calvin’s parents and leaving him/me an orphan. I might get something for emotional trauma, but this is the 70’s, not the out-of-control 2010s. Where everyone goes to court to get awards set by the Jury, amounts that make the lottery seem like peanuts. The judicial system still makes sense in this here and now, for the time being. Maybe I can help with that as well?

A few minutes later, Uncle Lucas came through the door. He came and sat down next to me. I asked him about the job offer and if he’d accepted it. He answered he was strongly considering it. He had sold his house in Houston and was looking into housing here in Detroit. Housing was slightly cheaper here, but the availability was more of an issue. Housing near Dearborn is higher-priced and more expensive. Also, many realtors wouldn’t show homes in that area to blacks. I am having real difficulty coming to grips with this development. I never worried about where I could live before, as long as I could afford the rent or mortgage payment. I see things in a much different light. I told him my parents’ house was paid off and that we could live there. I wouldn’t have to change schools or anything. I also said I could sell the house and buy a new one somewhere else. I was willing to do whichever would make it easier on him. He thought that this was the opportunity he needed to take his career to the next level. He wanted the title ‘Project Manager’ on his resume, as well as being associated with a successful product launch. He also wanted to become a consultant or own a design studio, working on prototypes or customized one-offs. So, we agreed to live in the house for the time being.

I asked what kind of experience he had. I used the excuse of a young age, and not being interested in the adult world the last time I saw him. Young Calvin’s memory of his uncle was spotty at best. It had been a few years since I had been to Houston to visit him. I learned that he has a master’s degree in mechanical engineering and a dual bachelor’s degree in mechanical and electrical engineering. We spoke the same language. I asked if he wanted to be the head of a design firm or to be a partner in a manufacturing company. I told him about my plans, such as they were, of taking the insurance money and the settlement money and starting a car company.

“That sounds ambitious, Michael. How do you propose to accomplish that?”

“Well, I plan on taking the money, whatever I recover from the lawsuit, and investing it. I plan on college and on obtaining a business and engineering double major. I have some ideas that I believe will put the car industry on its ear. I plan to design and build the safest car on the road. Along the way, I also plan on kickstarting a couple of other industries, such as electronics and computers and telephonic. I have hundreds of ideas, and I want to implement them. I have a straightforward concept that potentially would have saved my parents from dying in a car accident. Meanwhile, I aim to make some short-term investments in the commodities and the stock market.”

 
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