The Project Called Pangea

Isaac Wells was the CEO of Infinity Partners, a Venture Capital firm that distributed funds to inventors of extraordinary skill and sight. CEO was his proudest title as it was one that he took pains to achieve. Prior to this venture, Isaac's greatest criticism was his lack of achievement given from whom he was descended and the size of the golden spoon he had been born with in his mouth. He was only Isaac Wells, son of Robert Hudson Wells, founder and owner of Glob-Oil Inc, an oil company with successful operations on every continent. And while oil had fallen out of favor amongst the general public at the turn of the 21st Century and onwards, Glob-Oil was still a juggernaut on a global scale. It was the kind of company that had sway beyond economics. It  was a political force too. For decades, Robert regularly fraternized with sitting presidents and lawmakers, often securing beneficial arrangements for himself and his company over caviar, fine wine and every other decadence that four billion dollars could buy.   

Isaac Wells was no juggernaut nor game changer, at least not in his own right. Isaac had spent the majority of his days indulging in the unfettered luxury his last name afforded him. In high school, a drunken night out with friends turned deadly after he rammed his truck into a bus shelter, killing Max Helmsly, a transient hitchhiker. Isaac’s father hired a brigade of lawyers who easily made the matter go away. 

Months later, Isaac was away to college to continue this uproarious life filled with alcohol and affluence. He did the barest minimum as far as his studies were concerned and marginally graduated. Much to his father’s displeasure, Isaac did not get “on the straight and narrow” post college. In fact it seemed his lack of direction and penchant for trouble only intensified. Isaac had a laundry list of fuck ups that spanned space and time.

On an excursion across Europe, Isaac found himself embroiled in a near deadly love triangle. He would not divulge all the details to his father and legal team, he would only say that a crazy Italian doctor had threatened his life after accusing him of trying to sleep with his wife. This had in fact happened and it was not a matter of “trying”. While galavanting across Rome, the beautiful Rosa Berato had caught Isaac’s eye. Isaac, a tall, handsome man with a chiseled jaw and a full head of blonde hair was a sight to behold himself. The two struck up a conversation at the scene of their first encounter; a cafe; then started seeing each other everyday for hours. Isaac regaled her with tales from his imagination but passed the stories off as true. Rosa couldn’t have known that this man wasn’t a former secret spy now retired and living off his vast fortune! He looked every bit the part with his athletic physique, nice clothes and deep pockets. 

These cafe encounters took a salacious turn when Rosa started inviting Isaac to her home. Here the two would indulge in their lust and passion for one another unabashedly. The illicit affair went on for two weeks before Rosa’s husband, Dr. Eduardo Berato, walked in on them mid-embrace. Eduardo was an older man of sixty two and had always harbored the insecurity and fear that his younger wife would seek her carnal pleasure elsewhere. A flood of adrenaline and scorn coursed through the doctor’s blood and he chased Isaac around his home and out the front door with a big knife. The ensuing row startled the usually quiet, little neighborhood and before long, the police were summoned. They apprehended the “maniac with the knife” and the next day the local paper carried the story as its headline item. The doctor was hauled off to some dank jail cell in the bowels of Rome and Isaac was hustled out of the country and ultimately Europe, at the behest of the mighty Robert Wells.         

It was then that Robert, the patriarch and tycoon, put his foot down. He made it explicitly clear that Isaac was to live in the family mansion with the rest of the family and all access to funds was conditional. If Isaac wanted for so much as a candy bar he had to ask his father and the whole arrangement made Isaac feel very low. 

Several uneventful years went by and Isaac worked at his father’s company as a consultant. In this capacity Isaac did a whole lot of nothing. It seemed he was merely a figurehead for Glob-Oil. Robert was now an old man and much of the operations and say was left to the board. Isaac was in the building as the sole Wells’ male. His sisters worked in other key departments of the company doing real work, not busy projects. Isaac felt useless. 

It happened that one day while at his desk and scrolling on his computer screen he saw a news article of interest. Clicking on it, he learned that companies in Silicon Valley were forking out millions of dollars to fund technology based projects and ideas they believed in. Some of these fledgling ideas went on to become major, successful operations and it was all made possible from the initial and sustained investment of these companies. Inspired, Isaac told his secretary to hold his calls and he holed himself up in his big office to dive into the topic. For hours he sat at his computer and read articles of success stories and by the time the cleaning lady knocked on his door in the evening, Isaac knew what he wanted to do. 

Infinity Partners had more than a few naysayers, mainly Isaac’s widowed mother, his sisters and every advisor on payroll at Glob-Oil. Their biggest concern was well, Isaac himself. At 38, Isaac had achieved nothing other than not dying so setting out to be a venture capitalist in a hyper competitive world seemed a tall order for someone of his abilities. Yet the doubt seemed to galvanize him. Isaac got together with a few wealthy friends and acquaintances and laid out his vision as clearly as he’d ever delivered anything. He used some of his own money that he earned at his father’s company and some that he inherited to hire smart people to advise him and efficiently, Infinity Partners was established and ready to fund some world changing projects with Isaac Hudson Wells at the helm. 

The company’s portfolio boasted some fairly pedestrian projects. This wasn’t good enough for Isaac. It didn’t move the needle. He didn’t risk everything from family ties to financial security to flood the world with yet another way to get greasy pizza delivered to your door. He demanded his team seek outside the box thinkers, people who circumvented conventional wisdom to bring something completely original and life shifting. As such, the team which had employed a degree of elitist selectiveness in the past, began seeking out inventors and entrepreneurs with more imagination than rational sense. One such weirdo answered the call and was invited to Infinity Partners. 

Markel Goode was 29 years old and had a patchy beard and hair that was combed just enough to not look unkempt. He wore thick rimmed glasses because of his short sightedness. The lenses often sported visible smudges and those that met him were often tempted to remove the glasses from his face and wipe off the offending smudge but he didn’t seem particularly bothered. On the day he arrived at Infinity Partners Markel had on a gray suit and brown penny loafers. There amongst the tailored suits and exquisite cotton shirts from Milan, Markel looked quite ordinary. He announced himself and his reason for being there to the pretty and overly polite lady at the front desk. After looking at her computer screen for a moment, the receptionist looked up at Markel and asked him to have a seat in the waiting area as it would be a few more minutes before the partners were ready for him. 

The orange, leather seats in the lobby were extremely comfortable, Markel thought to himself as he sat down. The lobby looked like it had been ripped from the pages of the most exclusive interior design magazine. Along the stretch of one wall was a large fish tank filled with exotic looking fish. Up above his head was a light fixture so elaborate it seemed almost cartoonish. 

“What kind of light bulbs do you use for that?” he wondered to himself out. Markel took in his surroundings. He didn’t notice the receptionist walking towards him until she was a few feet away. He was startled and she stood there with her big, customer service smile and energy. 

“Can I get you something to drink? We have coffee, tea, sparkling water, regular water…” The receptionist wore her name on a badge. It was Erica. 

Markel hated coffee and didn’t really drink tea. Regular water he had everyday so he went with option C.

“Sparkling water, please.” he said in his most formal tone. Erica breezed off to fetch the sparkling water and Markel pinched his thigh. No white woman had ever raised a pinky to bring him anything and here he sat accepting a glass of sparkling water from the outstretched arm of this beautiful brunette. 

“They’ll be a few more minutes.” she sang before going back to her desk. Markel wondered in his mind if he’d end up with a white woman. The thought had never crossed his mind in any serious capacity until then. As a 29 year old graduate that worked at Chipotle possessing neither athletic prowess nor the pulsating virile energy all black men purportedly have, Markel oft found himself at the bottom of the pecking order as far as female suitors. Perhaps he’d never allowed himself to envision a life with the Erica’s of the world because he knew he was unqualified to win a prize so tender and fair. Perhaps this was the day his fortunes changed. 

Markel had been a brilliant child and fortunately for him he had a neighbor who gave him stability and study materials when he was a very young boy. The neighbor named Harold Washington lived across from the Goode’s apartment in a government subsidized ghetto high rise in New York. When Markel’s mother was passed out from drugs or out retrieving drugs, Markel would wander out to Mr. Harold’s door and knock. The old man would let him in and the pair would read books for an hour or so. After reading, Mr. Harold would ask the boy to set the table for dinner and they’d sit down and share whatever meal he’d cobbled together. They always watched NOVA on PBS as they ate and it was here Markel’s enthusiasm for science began. For many tough years the only thing that kept Markel going was his passion for learning and discovery. He was an exceptional student and he won an academic scholarship to The Stevens Institute of Technology for undergrad then Stanford for post graduate studies. As for Markel’s father, he was never around. In fact, the boy didn’t know if he was alive or dead.      

Thus it was no small thing for a person of Markel’s background to be seated in the lobby of a venture capital office on the cusp of an interview with people who had the means to make his vision a reality. His vision was so grand it defied what many thought possible. He’d been called a lunatic in his time. He’d been laughed out of rooms that claimed to support divergent thought and innovation. The backlash and ridicule he got for his work pushed him to shove his life changing invention to the back of his mind and get any old job just to avoid starvation. 

“The partners will see you now.” Erica said. Markel nodded, took a gulp of his sparkling water and nearly gagged at the awfulness of it. Coughing and sputtering, he got up and followed Erica down the hall. 

The six people that sat around the massive glass table contemplated  what they’d just been presented. A few shook their heads. Finally, a partner spoke;

“So, in plain English, you are telling us you have a way to time travel?” Gary cocked his head to the side skeptically. Markel had finished grad school which to Gary was a blemish on his ability, not a benefit. Why all the mavericks in the bustling world of tech had eschewed all or part of college to chase their glorious visions!  

“Yes, sir.” responded Markel. A partner whistled. Chatter rose. They lobbed questions at the scientist and inventor and he responded. 

“What are the real world applications for this?” Debbie Porter asked.

“Infinite. World governments, bereaved families, thrill seekers - anyone can use this for any number of reasons.” Markel gained confidence with each minute.

“If you’re so sure about this, why hasn’t it been picked up by anyone yet?” Gary raised yet another question.

“Frankly sir, most times I wasn’t taken seriously enough to be allowed in the building.” Markel grinned as he said this. Isaac sat quietly and observed. He rubbed his chin and crunched some preliminary numbers in his head. If Infinity Partners could fund and develop this technology it would be the single greatest achievement in human history! Abruptly, Isaac Wells, CEO and head honcho raised his hand to signal he wanted quiet. Once the chatter died down, Isaac simply said, “Markel, let’s do this.” and that was that.

The project was kept under wraps and a codename was issued. Project Pangea became the single greatest focus for the firm and its associates. Gary grated and gnashed his teeth as he saw the vast sums of money, effort and time being pumped into Pangea and Markel. He threatened to leave in an attempt to scare Isaac and perhaps reign him in but Isaac said he was sick of Gary’s negative attitude and fired him on the spot. They were getting closer each day. They’d successfully ushered a mouse through time and space to an outlet mall in Scottsdale, Arizona in the year 2002! Markel and his team of scientists and engineers worked around the clock and by the summer of 2025, they believed they held the key to time travel. 

Announcement was made to the press and the world was set alight at the news. Isaac Wells did the rounds on every news outlet, radio show and podcast, proclaiming that his company had indeed achieved that which was only thought possible in movies. The attention was fantastic for business and behind the scenes, the top brass at the firm discussed going public. At a press conference, Isaac stated boldly that he’d be taking the very first voyage into the past. 

One reporter asked, “Where will you go?” 

Isaac flashed his trademark grin and announced, “San Francisco, December 1st, 1999.” A thousand cameras flashed and a thousand reporters cried out for more as Isaac took his leave. God, it felt good to be someone again! 

December first came by and there was a strong sense of anticipation across the country. Isaac stood in San Francisco ready to make history by successfully returning to it. The bracelets on his forearms weren’t bracelets at all but highly sophisticated devices that would teleport him, body and soul to a very different San Francisco from over thirty years ago. Markel was invited up and introduced as the brains behind the whole operation. He bowed to rapturous applause and took the moment in. Isaac shook his hand and Markel got off the stage. 

It was time. With cameras rolling for every second of it, coordinates were punched in and the high tech bracelets whirred and shone. They shone brighter and brighter until the intensity of the glare was blinding and in a blink, Isaac was gone, presumably to 1999. 

The Bay Area was home to hundreds of Radio Shacks in 1999. Isaac crashed into one in a strip mall that he didn’t recognize. He figured the site of his landing had long since been torn down to erect something else, a highway perhaps. It took him a minute to get his bearings and he eventually did. Looking around, he saw VCR’s were on sale for $44.99. He didn’t know if this was a good deal or not. The TV in the store was playing some grainy looking film on its built-in VCR on low volume. A wiry, young man approached the strangely dressed man who had seemingly come from out of nowhere.

“Sir, are you alright? Can I help you?” he said with much concern.

“Yes, can you tell me where I can find an internet cafe?” Isaac said. He was pointed to one nearby and he hurried over. He had to email his colleagues in the 2025! A lowrider with the top down drove by. The driver was blasting Steal My Sunshine by Len and Isaac couldn’t help but bop his head as he walked. 

In 2025, Gary Joseph Reid had conspired to steal Infinity Partners and ultimately Isaac Wells’ sunshine. He’d kept up with the news, it was hard not to and on December first, Gary drove to the scene of Isaac’s departure into the past. He calmly got out of his car, took his high caliber assault rifle out the trunk and proceeded to unleash a torrent of bullets on the unsuspecting crowd. As he mowed people down, he scanned the crowd for Isaac and Markel but couldn’t locate either. His trigger finger became tired, just as his soul had grown tired. He supposed he’d done enough to rain on Isaac’s parade. He turned the gun on himself and shot himself dead. 

In 1999, Isaac sat excitedly at a giant computer and hit send. The dial up internet beeped and buzzed as it prepared to send this momentous email. In 2025 the mass shooting greatly dampened the public’s mood.