Upstairs Library — 1955
“Pardon me,” the ghost said, “Always I am mistaken for Professor Einstein.”
Electricity surges through the air and wraps me in a current of excitement. The papers on my desk flutter though the window to the library is closed. “But you are Professor Einstein, aren’t you?”
The old man shrugs. “Professor Einstein passed away.”
“Yes, I understand,” I say. I stand up. My fingertips hold the papers down, keep them from drifting to the floor. “But you’re him. You’re Albert Einstein.”
“Whatever makes you think that?” That white shock of hair is distinct. Who else could this be?
“Hold it.”
A woman wearing a black suit is pointing a ray gun at Professor Einstein. I wish I hadn’t seen all those science fiction B-movies now, they didn’t mix well with the whisky. She’s almost as tall as me and her suit was tailored, her shirt open to show some cleavage. She had bracelets on her left wrist that clattered against one another and she was wearing two-inch heels. “Who are you?” (more…)