u/MASempine

Need suggestions on whether opening chapter should be in 2121, 1988, or at reading of will in 2018

Here is the timeline I have in mind

Millionaires wife has rare incurable disease in 1988

He wonders if at some future time (1) cure will be discovered and (2) technology will exist to transmit inanimate objects back in time to a specific place and time

He determines to make that happen

Within a month from that determination, he finds a prescription bottle with his wife’s name on it and directions for use. The cure is in his hands

He takes the following steps (as a minimum)

Gets his wife to take the medicine - she and he have a good life together

Establishes a well-funded company called Time Corp that promotes time travel technology and monitors future medical research developments

Writes his will so that the company will continue to function for as long as it takes knowing that all will work out if nobody messes things up

He dies and his will makes almost all of his heirs happy. His executor is appointed and accepts the challenge to move his agenda along

One very intelligent family member sees an opportunity to get a bigger share of the fortune left by the millionaire

Thanks largely to a savvy ex-military daughter-in-law, the family lawyers, some awesome PIs, and a couple of really capable grandsons, the plot fails and the grandfathers dream materializes

In 2121AD Time Corp puts the prescription bottle in a container, throws the switch, and MISSION ACCOMPLISHED

Most people know people that have an aunt like Ernestine Harris and an uncle who cannot quite remember proposing to his future wife. Hubert Murphy was the high school football team captain and thought that Ernestine was as sexy as all get out. At least, that is how Ernestine heard Hubert describing her to his younger brother Justin.
At eighteen, Ernestine knew she was quite attractive although a little on the thin side and more than a little pushy. She was initially taken aback when she first proposed to Hubert and heard his practiced response.

“I’d really like to marry you, Ernestine, but your family does not have the connections that I need to become a powerful man in Alabama politics.”
Her first thought was that some well-connected Alabama family would be wasting time, money, and influence in some misguided attempt to make Hubert into anything but a puppy dog. Despite the slight, she simply smiled and said, “You just think about that for a little while, baby because I have a few things to do before you give me your final answer.” Then she got out of his car, left his passenger car door wide open, and jogged the two miles to her ‘less than influential’ family’s residence.
Ernestine joined the army to give Hubert time to reconsider his rash decision. Her father, Ernest, could not argue. After all, he had served in the military and had wanted a son so badly that mother had named their after him to pacify him as much as possible.

“Oh, baby,” mother said . “You were too good for that boy. “

“I hope Hubert and whatever skank he marries have the ugliest children that Fort Payne, Alabama, has ever seen.”

“But what about me, Mama?” asked Ernestine.

She hugged her daughter tightly and said these oh-so-prophetic words.

“He’ll be ripe for the picking when you get back from your tour of duty. Mark my words. This ain’t your Mama’s first rodeo.”

Ernestine was confused, and her mother could tell it.

“Your daddy was married to somebody else before me, darling. It did not take me long to show him how much better life could be with me rather than Margie Lee Simmons. It did not take long at all.”
Before boot camp ended, her mother had sent her pictures of Molly Jane Crabtree and Hubert Murphy at several community events. Hubert’s expression was always sad, and Molly Jane never looked that happy herself.

To Mama’s dismay, Ernestine lost interest in Hubert and became more interested in her military career. As a member of the U.S. Army’s Special Forces, she spent 18 months in Central America and became the youngest female Master Sergeant in Special Forces’ history. She helped two different political leaders rise to power in two different countries and had no doubt that she could pull a rich naïve young man like Hubert Murphy up the political ladder in Alabama.

The question for her now was, “Do I really want to marry Hubert Murphy?”

After six years in the military, Ernestine had seen quite a bit more of the world than Hubert Murphy’s little part of it. There were better looking men than Hubert available. So, when she confided to her mother about her revised career plans—ones that did not include an already-married Hubert Murphy.

“You don’t have to marry him, Honey Bun,” she said. “

“You just have to make him propose to you. You can tell him ‘No thanks’ if you want to, but we can’t let him get away with rejecting you like he did.”

Ernestine pointed out that he was already married and that he and Molly Jane had no children. Perhaps he was incapable of having children of his own. Mama smiled and shook her head.

“I’m the nurse at the clinic where Molly Jane and Hubert had their fertility tests done. The problem is Molly Jane’s not Hubert’s. Me and Doc Evans verified that.”

Although Ernestine was not convinced that Hubert was worth the effort, she did not argue with Mama.
“It will all work out Ernestine. Mark my words.”
She was as right as rain.

Chapter 2: A Courting (Ernestine)

Most people consider Ernestine an awful person. Good people just don’t plan to break up someone’s marriage and steal their husband. People are naïve. It happens all the time. Just ask your Mama.
Her mama had already done most of the strategizing—what they call ‘pre-planning’ nowadays.
“Molly Jane and her parents will be begging Hubert to quietly divorce their daughter when the time comes, Ernestine. And Hubert will be begging you to keep the whole scandal a secret. When you agree to marry him, he will be the most relieved man in North Alabama.”
Ernestine had to laugh.
“We’ve got this. Don’t we, Mama?” she said.
“Just don’t say a word about it to your daddy,” she warned me. He might start putting some of the puzzle pieces together and figure out what happened to him and Margie Lee Simmons.”
“You have to tell me about that,” Ernestine demanded.
“In due time, my dear. Now look at these pictures that I’ve taken of our target during the last six years.”
Ernestine laughed out loud.
“Mama, you should have been in the special forces instead of me.”
Mama laughed then.
“Maybe I was, Honey Bun, but don’t ever say anything again about the Special Forces. We want Hubert to think that you only performed strictly administrative duties while you were in the army.
“And what about you, Mama.”
“Same as you, Ernestine: administrative duties only.”

Most people know people that have an aunt like Ernestine Harris and an uncle who cannot quite remember proposing to his future wife. Hubert Murphy was the high school football team captain and thought that Ernestine was as sexy as all get out. At least, that is how Ernestine heard Hubert describing her to his younger brother Justin.
At eighteen, Ernestine knew she was quite attractive although a little on the thin side and more than a little pushy. She was initially taken aback when she first proposed to Hubert and heard his practiced response.

“I’d really like to marry you, Ernestine, but your family does not have the connections that I need to become a powerful man in Alabama politics.”
Her first thought was that some well-connected Alabama family would be wasting time, money, and influence in some misguided attempt to make Hubert into anything but a puppy dog. Despite the slight, she simply smiled and said, “You just think about that for a little while, baby because I have a few things to do before you give me your final answer.” Then she got out of his car, left his passenger car door wide open, and jogged the two miles to her ‘less than influential’ family’s residence.
Ernestine joined the army to give Hubert time to reconsider his rash decision. Her father, Ernest, could not argue. After all, he had served in the military and had wanted a son so badly that mother had named their after him to pacify him as much as possible.

“Oh, baby,” mother said . “You were too good for that boy. “

“I hope Hubert and whatever skank he marries have the ugliest children that Fort Payne, Alabama, has ever seen.”

“But what about me, Mama?” asked Ernestine.

She hugged her daughter tightly and said these oh-so-prophetic words.

“He’ll be ripe for the picking when you get back from your tour of duty. Mark my words. This ain’t your Mama’s first rodeo.”

Ernestine was confused, and her mother could tell it.

“Your daddy was married to somebody else before me, darling. It did not take me long to show him how much better life could be with me rather than Margie Lee Simmons. It did not take long at all.”
Before boot camp ended, her mother had sent her pictures of Molly Jane Crabtree and Hubert Murphy at several community events. Hubert’s expression was always sad, and Molly Jane never looked that happy herself.

To Mama’s dismay, Ernestine lost interest in Hubert and became more interested in her military career. As a member of the U.S. Army’s Special Forces, she spent 18 months in Central America and became the youngest female Master Sergeant in Special Forces’ history. She helped two different political leaders rise to power in two different countries and had no doubt that she could pull a rich naïve young man like Hubert Murphy up the political ladder in Alabama.

The question for her now was, “Do I really want to marry Hubert Murphy?”

After six years in the military, Ernestine had seen quite a bit more of the world than Hubert Murphy’s little part of it. There were better looking men than Hubert available. So, when she confided to her mother about her revised career plans—ones that did not include an already-married Hubert Murphy.

“You don’t have to marry him, Honey Bun,” she said. “

“You just have to make him propose to you. You can tell him ‘No thanks’ if you want to, but we can’t let him get away with rejecting you like he did.”

Ernestine pointed out that he was already married and that he and Molly Jane had no children. Perhaps he was incapable of having children of his own. Mama smiled and shook her head.

“I’m the nurse at the clinic where Molly Jane and Hubert had their fertility tests done. The problem is Molly Jane’s not Hubert’s. Me and Doc Evans verified that.”

Although Ernestine was not convinced that Hubert was worth the effort, she did not argue with Mama.
“It will all work out Ernestine. Mark my words.”
She was as right as rain.

Chapter 2: A Courting (Ernestine)

Most people consider Ernestine an awful person. Good people just don’t plan to break up someone’s marriage and steal their husband. People are naïve. It happens all the time. Just ask your Mama.
Her mama had already done most of the strategizing—what they call ‘pre-planning’ nowadays.
“Molly Jane and her parents will be begging Hubert to quietly divorce their daughter when the time comes, Ernestine. And Hubert will be begging you to keep the whole scandal a secret. When you agree to marry him, he will be the most relieved man in North Alabama.”
Ernestine had to laugh.
“We’ve got this. Don’t we, Mama?” she said.
“Just don’t say a word about it to your daddy,” she warned me. He might start putting some of the puzzle pieces together and figure out what happened to him and Margie Lee Simmons.”
“You have to tell me about that,” Ernestine demanded.
“In due time, my dear. Now look at these pictures that I’ve taken of our target during the last six years.”
Ernestine laughed out loud.
“Mama, you should have been in the special forces instead of me.”
Mama laughed then.
“Maybe I was, Honey Bun, but don’t ever say anything again about the Special Forces. We want Hubert to think that you only performed strictly administrative duties while you were in the army.
“And what about you, Mama.”
“Same as you, Ernestine: administrative duties only.”

“She’s eaten a mole”
Randy looked at his sister. This little game that he had started was getting on his nerves. Never telling the truth had seemed like more fun than watching a movie about three-legged monkeys in a theater full of clowns in every other seat.

Molly had adapted too quickly, leaving Randy in a constant state of confusion over what she didn’t mean. The only thing that he knew for certain was that a boy or man might have eaten a mole or that a girl or woman had not eaten a mole.

Being two years younger, Molly should not have the upper hand at HIS game. He needed a comeback, and it needed to make Molly think awhile why he formulated a response that would shut his sister up until bedtime.

Typically, he would respond with a question because questions were exempt from the Opposite game. But, they didn’t have to be!

“Was the mole on his face or in a hole in our beautiful garden?” he asked while displaying the mischievous smile that tended to frustrate his sister.

They didn’t have a garden of any kind
She might not have considered that “mole” could be a skin anomaly as well as a dirt digging mammal.

To his dismay she simply said, “Yes.”

He wanted to call a foul and give himself only his second win in the Opposite game. However, he had been out-argued by his sister when he had last “made that move.”

Only four people knew where the prescription bottle that had been inside theTime Corp container had been sent: Mark, Maggie, Aisha, and a millionaire industrialist in Murphy’s Mill, Ga. The Time Corp CEO, his Executive Assistant, and the Lead Engineer for Retroactive Time Deportations knew that the prescription bottle has been sent to the GPS coordinates for the Murphy Enterprises Post Office located at 1000 Murphy’s Mill Drive (GPS: 34.98430002° N, -84.3974001° WE).

The millionaire industrialist and founder of Time Corp (Angus Murphy) retrieved the bottle from his company post office box on October 31, 1988, at
The millionaire industrialist and founder of Time Corp (Angus Murphy) retrieved the bottle from his personal post office box on October 31, 1988, at 7:30 a.m. CST.

An extremely intelligent man, Angus looked at the Directions for Use on the label and realized that God and Science had given him the miracle that he had only begun to pray for a few months earlier. His wife of only 12 years had contracted a rare disease for which there was no cure in 1988.

Now, all he had to do was convince his wife, Eleanor, to take a pill each morning and evening for 30 days. That tricky conversation would be facilitated by the wording of the label.

Angus could only guess that he or some trusted family member had known exactly how the label should read. Exactly when the label specification would be finalized was unknown to Angus.
On the way home in his retooled Ford Model T, Angus had no trouble driving below the city speed limit of 35 mph.

Of course there were some hypothetical time travel issues that were talked about in 1988 but would not be resolved until sometime in the future. However, what he and his wife were about to do could cause a chain reaction that could possibly upset the actions a future Angus Murphy would apparently initiate to manipulate the future (and thus the present). On the way home in his retooled Ford Model T, Angus had no trouble driving below the city speed limit of 35 mph.

Was it worth the risk? For the short term, it definitely was. With a healthy Eleanor Cronkite Murphy by his side, he had little doubt that he would have the resources to keep future Murphy heirs in line. He and his wife would keep whatever machinations his future self might contrive to themselves.

Driving to the hospital in Murphy, NC, gave Angus time to mull over several issues that would likely bother his wife. He hated that no one but Eleanor would benefit from the medication, but he had to minimize the risk of some unknown action unraveling what future Murphy’s had worked so hard to bring about.

As his wife talked to a doctor and another nurse near a bus stop, Angus again thought of what the new medicine might do in the hands of such medical professionals. He had no real choice. He had to make sure that no key contributor to his current success could be inadvertently erased by any actions a healthy and active Eleanor or an incautious Angus might take in the future.

A scene very similar to this may occur in earth’s not too distant future. Although no one knows when some future company may perfect object transmission through time and space, for the purpose of this story, 2121AD will do just fine.

A tall, extremely confidant man enters a room filled with men and women whom he knows as well as any CEO knows a hundred of his closest subordinates. Most are looking expectantly at him.

At least twenty of them are frantically trying to “catch up,” surreptitiously using their devices and having their names checked off of an electronic spreadsheet that only CEO Mark Branson and his “right-hand girl,” Maggie McMillan have ever seen.

Maggie, a 70-year old single woman with dark red hair and thick glasses (with frames to match her hair color) nods to her boss who responds quickly.

Twenty something “twenty somethings” have been notified that their attendance is no longer desired. They leave the spacious conference room quickly and quietly. Their futures with Time Corp may survive (but they are determined never to have to catch up again).

“The votes have been tabulated,” intones Maggie. Mark barely winks. Every device in the room is instantly updated with the totals.

Aisha Cronkite, a thirty-two year old mother of four, stands up to speak. Her desk mate (facing the opposite direction) tugs at her stylish belt in a feeble attempt to counter her intentions.

The CEO stares squarely in her direction and simply says, “Speak.”

Aisha takes a notably deep breath, smiles at her desk-mate Abe, and sits back down before speaking.

“Ron, Maggie, the results are much closer than I would have expected. I think some of us were thinking that the nay-sayers were the ones who were asked to leave”

Maggie didn’t explain, but Ron sensed some concern amongst his audience. His gaze was steady as he waited for others to speak up.

No one else did.

Ron held up what looked like a large prescription bottle and let them all have time to see it on one of monitors. Seemingly satisfied with the lack of reaction, he placed the plastic bottle in a large cube labeled TIME CORP and then sealed the 1-meter cube by closing its lid and snapping the titanium clasps in place.

An audible gasp permeated the room. Ron smiled, waited only a few seconds, and then pulled the handle of a sturdy-looking disconnect switch mounted on the side of the cube.

Nothing seemed to happen. There was no second gasp from the audience.

Ron wasted no time opening the cube and displaying its lack of contents to all in attendance. They all were waiting. Nothing happened.

Ali Carpenter stood up. Some murmuring could be heard, but the murmurs were silenced when Ron said, “Speak.”

Ali took a little time, seemingly focussing on a few of his peers. Then, he smiled at Aisha who smiled back.

“I, for one, would like to change my vote.”

Laughter rippled through the room like a large wave washing the tension away. Even Maggie chuckled as she said, “Meeting adjourned!”

Only four people knew where the prescription bottle that had been inside theTime Corp container had been sent: Mark, Maggie, Aisha, and a millionaire industrialist in Murphy’s Mill, Ga. The Time Corp CEO, his Executive Assistant, and the Lead Engineer for Retroactive Time Deportations knew that the prescription bottle has been sent to the GPS coordinates for the Murphy Enterprises Post Office located at 1000 Murphy’s Mill Drive (GPS: 34.98430002° N, -84.3974001° WE).

The millionaire industrialist and founder of Time Corp (Angus Murphy) retrieved the bottle from his company post office box on October 31, 1988, at
The millionaire industrialist and founder of Time Corp (Angus Murphy) retrieved the bottle from his personal post office box on October 31, 1988, at 7:30 a.m. CST.

An extremely intelligent man, Angus looked at the Directions for Use on the label and realized that God and Science had given him the miracle that he had only begun to pray for a few months earlier. His wife of only 12 years had contracted a rare disease for which there was no cure in 1988.

Now, all he had to do was convince his wife, Eleanor, to take a pill each morning and evening for 30 days. That tricky conversation would be facilitated by the wording of the label.

Angus could only guess that he or some trusted family member had known exactly how the label should read. Exactly when the label specification would be finalized was unknown to Angus.
On the way home in his retooled Ford Model T, Angus had no trouble driving below the city speed limit of 35 mph.

Of course there were some hypothetical time travel issues that were talked about in 1988 but would not be resolved until sometime in the future. However, what he and his wife were about to do could cause a chain reaction that could possibly upset the actions a future Angus Murphy would apparently initiate to manipulate the future (and thus the present). On the way home in his retooled Ford Model T, Angus had no trouble driving below the city speed limit of 35 mph.

Was it worth the risk? For the short term, it definitely was. With a healthy Eleanor Cronkite Murphy by his side, he had little doubt that he would have the resources to keep future Murphy heirs in line. He and his wife would keep whatever machinations his future self might contrive to themselves.

Driving to the hospital in Murphy, NC, gave Angus time to mull over several issues that would likely bother his wife. He hated that no one but Eleanor would benefit from the medication, but he had to minimize the risk of some unknown action unraveling what future Murphy’s had worked so hard to bring about.

As his wife talked to a doctor and another nurse near a bus stop, Angus again thought of what the new medicine might do in the hands of such medical professionals. He had no real choice. He had to make sure that no key contributor to his current success could be inadvertently erased by any actions a healthy and active Eleanor or an incautious Angus might take in the future.

Chapter 1 of 2

A scene very similar to this may occur in earth’s not too distant future. For planning purposes, 2121AD will do just fine.   
A tall, extremely confidant man enters a  room filled with men and women whom he knows as well as any CEO knows a hundred of his closest subordinates. Most are looking expectantly at him.   
At least twenty of them are frantically trying to “catch up,” surreptitiously using their devices and having their names checked off of an electronic spreadsheet that only CEO Mark Branson and his “right-hand girl,” Maggie McMillan have ever seen.   
Maggie, a 70-year old single woman with dark red hair and thick glasses (with frames to match her hair color) nods to her boss who responds quickly.   
Twenty something “twenty somethings” have been notified that their attendance is no longer desired. They leave the spacious conference room quickly and quietly.  Their futures with Time Corp may survive (but they are determined never to have to catch up again).  
“The votes have been tabulated,” intones Maggie. Mark barely winks.  Every device in the room is instantly updated with the totals.   
Aisha Cronkite, a thirty-two year old mother of four, stands up to speak. Her desk mate (facing the opposite direction) tugs at her stylish belt in a feeble attempt to counter her intentions.   
The CEO stares squarely in her direction and simply says, “Speak.”  
Aisha takes a notably deep breath, smiles at her desk-mate Abe, and sits back down before speaking.  
“Ron, Maggie, the results are much closer than I would have expected. I think some of us were thinking that the nay-sayers were the ones who were asked to leave”  
Maggie didn’t explain, but Ron sensed some concern amongst his audience. His gaze was steady as he waited for others to speak up.   
No one else did.   
Ron held up what looked like a large prescription bottle and let them all have time to see it on one of monitors. Seemingly satisfied with the lack of reaction, he placed the plastic bottle in a large cube labeled TIME CORP and then sealed the 1-meter cube by closing its lid and snapping the titanium clasps in place.   
An audible gasp permeated the room. Ron smiled, waited only a few seconds, and then pulled the handle of a sturdy-looking disconnect switch mounted on the side of the cube.   
Nothing seemed to happen. There was no second gasp from the audience.   
Ron wasted no time opening the cube and displaying its lack of contents to all in attendance. They all were waiting. Nothing happened.   
Ali Carpenter stood up. Some murmuring could be heard, but the murmurs were silenced when Ron said, “Speak.”  
Ali took a little time, seemingly focussing on a few of his peers. Then, he smiled at Aisha who smiled back.   
“I, for one, would like to change my vote.”  
Laughter rippled through the room like a large wave washing the tension away. Even Maggie chuckled as she said, “Meeting adjourned!”