“This is so—awesome possum!”
“I need…,” Bethany started to say.
“Oh we know what you need!” they said, and: “Your hubby is a hunk!”
She sat in the back of the small car and they drove. The young women were excited, talking about how famous they were going to be: they found the time traveler the whole world was talking about.
“Your husband is going to have the best day!” said the young woman who was driving.
“Do you know Gabriel?” Bethany asked.
“Everyone knows who Gabriel Morton is!”
What an odd world, Bethany thought, wondering if these people truly deserved what was in store for them.
XI.
Their reunion was broadcast for the whole world to see—Gabriel and Bethany running to one another and embracing. There were cheers from the crowd watching. There wasn’t a dry eye in any household in America, or Europe, or Japan.
“Cha-ching,” said Harold Morris, as he watched, and calculated all the story rights deals to be made.
XII.
Three weeks later.
Gabriel and Beth settled into their new home in Walnut Creek, a suburb outside San Francisco. Their home had been purchased with the money from the various book, film, audio, and digital rights their agent, Mr. Morris, had made.
Their story was now old news, as other time travelers were showing up, and those whisked away by police or government agents were now the focus of the “time traveler rights” awareness groups.
One morning, Gabriel and Beth were paid a visit by a woman. The woman was familiar: known as Beryl Grace, but also known by another name they would not speak.
They invited Grace inside. Bethany made some tea. They sat and talked.
“You did good,” Grace told Bethany. “You kept to the script.”
“Thank you.”
“All is going well.”
“And these people believe it,” Gabriel said, smiling. “They think we’re travelers from the future.”
“They believe because they want to believe,” Grace said. “They think the future is horrible; they think they can change that.”
“They have no idea,” Gabriel said, shaking his head, “where we’re really from.”
“They’re naïve,” Bethany said. “I almost have second thoughts.”
Grace shot a look, became stern. “You have a mission, soldier; do not forget your pledge.”
“Of course. I am…sorry.”
Silence followed.
“I miss the home world already,” Gabriel said, easing the tension. “When do we begin the invasion?”
“In three months, when the final teams have arrived,” Grace said. “More soldiers are being sent every day, now that we have spent years infiltrating all the correct government infrastructures.”
“They think their future is set,” Gabriel said, and laughed; “they haven’t a clue what is coming!”
The three stood and saluted in the fashion of their world, their culture, their military.
“Victory,” Grace said.
“Conquest,” Gabriel said.
“Enslavement,” Bethany muttered.
—July-August, 2010
San Diego
TRAILER PARK TRASH
I.
Lenore knocked on the door. Robert let her inside the trailer. He thought, at first, it was Maryann, even though they had agreed not to see each other until receiving an answer from the Keepers regarding their request.
Lenore was dressed in tight black jeans and a blue halter that revealed her midriff and ample bosom. No bra, she never wore a bra, her nipples visibly erect under the fabric of the blue halter. High-heel pumps, too, the cheap kind you used to get for $10 at a Wal-Mart or Rite Aid.
She waltzed in and kissed him and grabbed his crotch and said, “Let’s feel that thing get nice and hard, baby.”
Gently, he pushed her away. “What are you doing here, Lenore?”
“Why, Robert, would you ask just a silly question?” She kissed him again.
“Lenore.”
“Yes, darlin’?”
“I can’t. We can’t.”
“They ain’t watchin’,” she whispered. “You can usually feel ’em watchin’, their bug-eyes and eye stalks and whatever else; like the ones with just one giant eye—eww.” She shuddered.
“It’s not that.”
“What’s your trip, baby?”
“I requested marriage, you know,” he said, “with Maryann Combs.”
“Hockey puck,” said Lenore. “Do you really think the Keepers will grant such a request? The Watchers like to see us promiscuous and wild, not married and borin’; that’s what they think a trailer park is: one big fricken orgy. And that’s what we give them. You may wanna marry that trollop, but it ain’t gonna happen.”
“It’s happened before.”
“Yeah, and where are they? They ain’t here.”
“Relocated.”
“You think? Truly?” She sighed, shook her head. “Your innocence is what makes you so damn sexy.” She was two years younger than Robert: twenty-five. He didn’t remind her. He also didn’t tell her that Maryann was pregnant, a factor that the Keepers would have to consider, an element that was necessary for marriage.
Her kisses and touching and the smell of her cheap perfume, and her smeared lipstick after kissing, was hard to resist…always was.…
“That’s my Robby-boo,” she said with a smile.
“I don’t wanna feel guilty,” he said.
“You think Maryann is bein’ chaste in the wait? I happen to know she’s been over to see Bill Morgan and—”
“Stop,” he said. The only way to stop her talking, to tell him things that would drive him mad with jealousy, was to kiss her. So he kissed her. And he removed her halter and kissed her breasts, the pink nipples, kissed down to her flat white belly.…
And so on…so sex happened…he had no idea if there was an audience, if the Watchers were there for today’s entertainment, and he didn’t care. He’d long since cared about strange and odd aliens observing human being mating habits.
II.
Robert Smyth had no idea how long he’d been a denizen of the trailer park. He stopped keeping track of time after the second year. He’d arrived when he was nineteen—that is, he’d been taken from earth, from the actual trailer park that was home, and found himself in this new park: same Airstream he’d been living in since he was seventeen, different world. He was twenty-seven now, so he supposed he had been here eight years.
Time was pointless. The sky was always gray, starless. Some speculated they were in a dome, and outside the dome were the Keepers, who kept them, and the Watchers, who observed their lives. Now and then you might get a glimpse of a Watcher: beings tall and short, multi-eyed, one-eyed, even a creature that seemed to nothing but a floating eye. As for the Keepers, they were green or brown and had scales and reminded Robert of alligators standing upright. They all looked the same to him; they all wore the same black tunics and smelled the same and were the same height.
There had been talk of other domes: the city, suburbia, the country, the mountains, the prison, the jungle—all the possible human habitations from earth. Robert had no reason to not believe this, and it made sense. Humans did the same at zoos with animals from all over, like the polar bear: re-created icy tundra for people to look at them in a simulacrum of their natural environment.
The food was decent, there was no rent to pay, no police officers to tell you what to do. And there was plenty of sex, as expected in a trailer park populated by white trash former Americans. The Keepers encouraged sexual activity, and the Watchers watched with curiosity, like watching those old reality game shows where people ate live exotic insects or drank horse urine to win points and obtain the prize.
III.
And then Maryann was in his life. She was a new arrival to the park and Robert was the first to greet her, to have sex with her. She was tall and thin and ha
d straight black hair that fell down to her shoulders. She eventually had sex with the other men here but she came to him often, and he came to her often, and soon enough they fell in love, and she said she was pregnant, and they agreed that marriage was the best idea, so they put in an application of matrimony through the proper Keeper channels.
The pregnancy was intentional, of course; they had discussed marriage before that happened.
“They won’t be happy if I ‘forget’ to take my birth control,” Maryann said.
“They can’t deny us marriage otherwise,” Robert said.
“What if they make me get rid of it?”
“That has never happened, unless there’s a defect in the fetus.”
“You’ve ‘heard’ of this?”
“Yeah.”
“No proof?”
“They welcome new humans,” Robert said, “just not a lot of them. They’re not interested in humans growing up here; they want a simulation of earth life. But they understand the value of procreation.”
“I want a baby,” Maryann, who was twenty-two, said.
“Then let’s make one,” he said, and they did.
IV.
He went to sleep with Lenore in his bed, after several exhausting hours of coitus, and woke up in a cold gray metallic room, naked on a bed. Standing around him were three Keepers, each holding a clipboard of some sort. He had only been taken in his sleep three times: once from earth, twice when he was sick with the flu.
He wasn’t sick, though. “Why am I here?”
“Your request has been denied,” one said in strained English, a language that was not easy for them to speak.
He sat up. “What? Why? She’s pregnant!”
“The fetus does not contain your genetic code,” the second Keeper said.
“Impossible,” Robert said. “I’m the father.”
“Conducted systematic tests,” said the third; “as suspected, you are sterile. You cannot sire infants.”
“No,” he said, “no, I don’t believe you. Then how did Maryann…?”
He knew the answer before they told him:
“The father is another man in the park. William Morgan. The tests are conclusive. If Maryann Butler wishes to marry, it would be with William Morgan.”
“Bullshit,” Robert said. “Bullshit.”
The Keepers left the room and Maryann, naked, walked in.
She was timid, embarrassed. She even tried to cover her breasts and loins. There were Watchers watching, of course—how could they miss the chance to observe human pain, betrayal, and shock? To see first-hand a man confront a woman about.…
“We had agreed only us, during the time,” Robert said.
“I know, I’m sorry,” Maryann said. “But one night Bill knocked on the door…and…and I couldn’t help myself…and it was takin’ so long for us…months…six months and nuttin…and now they tell me y’been shootin’ blanks. It all makes sense.”
She made her way toward him. He held up a hand, stopped her.
“Y’all hate me?” she asked.
“Will you marry Bill now?”
“No. I don’t love him. He was just a lay.”
“But the baby.…”
“He don’t need to know. I don’t have to tell him.”
“They will probably tell him.”
“The hell with the Keepers,” she said. “And the hell with gettin’ hitched. We can raise the baby as we are. And they can watch. The hell with them.” She looked around and held up her hands, each with the middle finger exposed. “You hear that, you creepy-crawlies? To hell with all y’all!”
“Go away,” Robert said.
“What?”
“Leave me alone.”
“You hate me?”
“No,” he said. “Just go away.”
“Bobby.…”
“Go away!”
“Where? There’s nowhere to go!”
V.
The first thing he did, when returned to the park, was pay a visit to Bill Morgan. Morgan was about his height and size, and thirty-three. He wore his hair in an awful mullet, and his moustache long.
“Hey, buddy,” Morgan said, “wanna beer?”
Robert was not here for beer. He was here to fight. He punched Morgan straight in the nose. Morgan stumbled back, leaning against his trailer. His nose was bleeding. He was shocked, and then he smiled.
“’Bout Maryann, ain’t it?” he said.
“You bastard.”
“Hey, man, you know how it is here, how they want it.”
“I’ll kill you.”
“You don’t want my baby to grow up without a father, now do ya?” He grinned and wiped away some blood. “Yep, they told me. That’s why I’m celebratin’.” He held up his beer can, then tossed it at Robert.
The fight was on. Members of the park came out of their trailers to watch. And the Watchers were watching. Robert had a feeling they hoped this would happen: to see some actual human violence. So be it. Robert would give it to them.
The fight lasted five minutes, but to Robert it felt like five hours. There was a lot of punching and biting and blood. Bones were broken, ribs were cracked. Robert got Morgan into a headlock and smashed the man’s skull into the trailer a dozen times until Morgan’s skull caved in and brains oozed out of his ears and his body went limp.
Robert stepped away from the lifeless body of Bill Morgan, breathing hard, bleeding badly, his entire body in terrible human pain.
The audience of park denizens cheered. The winner! The Watchers were also making strange chirping and whistling sounds of approval.
VI.
There were no earth laws here. He would not be tried and convicted for homicide. Morgan’s body was disposed of. Robert went to sleep that night, and when he woke up, all his wounds were healed. The Keepers always kept their humans in top condition.
Maryann was gone, though. Her trailer and her body were missing. He wondered if that was his punishment, or because she was pregnant without a biological father. A few days later, one of the park denizens told Robert he heard some Keepers—the ones that removed her—mention the city. Robert hoped she would have a better life in the tall buildings and the posh apartments; certainly better than this trailer park and all the trash that resided here.
Every woman in the park wanted to have sex with him now: he was the virile alpha male who had won rank by murder. Plus, he was sterile and no woman had to worry about birth control with him, so he was doubly desirable. But Robert just wasn’t interested. He considered celibacy.
I will be a monk, he thought.
VII.
Celibacy was impossible, especially on Orgy Day. It seemed to come around early this time. Perhaps there was a special delegation of Watchers. The Keepers pumped a powerful aphrodisiac into the air system, which caused a person to become delirious with desire. It was pure Bacchanalia: everyone stripped off their clothes and danced madly about the park. Couples began to fornicate, and others would join in until there were masses of ten, eleven, fourteen bodies daisy-chained in crazy fucking. There went Robert’s notion of monkdom. He could not help himself and joined in, taking every woman—and sometimes a man—that he could.
There was a new body among the masses of the lustfully insane. She reminded him of Maryann: same body, same hair, but her breasts were smaller and her eyes were more spaced apart. She seemed to enjoy the sexual antics more than other women, taking on half a dozen men at the same time, one being Robert.
VIII.
After Orgy Day, Robert paid her a visit. She said her name was Nancy and she was eighteen years old. She had been taken from earth a few days ago and was just starting to comprehend and accept this new life. She said she’d been living in trailer parks since she was six.
“Is it always crazy like that?” she asked. “All that sex?”
“Not out in the open, with everyone, that’s rare,” he said, “but it happens.”
“Wow. Well, it was fun.”
�
�Fun, yes,” he said.
“Does anyone ever fall in love here?” she asked.
“It’s not wise,” he told her, “but yes.”
“I’d like to fall in love someday,” she said. “I ain’t never have.…”
“It might happen.”
“Wanna beer?”
“Sure.”
She got two beer cans from her fridge. They opened the cans and toasted: “To trailer park life, may it always be a shocker!”
“I’m assuming you wanna spend the night,” she said.
“You assume correctly, m’lady,” he replied.
“That’s cool with me,” she said. “You’re hot,” she said, and then they did what the Watchers hoped they’d do.
—June, 2010
Borrego Springs, California
OF PROMS, TIME, AND ALIENS
I.
I thought I saw a glowing disk in the sky, driving home.
Actually I did, I saw it. I stopped the car and got out and looked at it. Other people also stopped their cars. Then it took off into the sky.
I drove home, a bit numb; not because of the sighting, but the memory it brought back.
My girlfriend, Anne, was home. She didn’t look happy. I told her about the disk.
“I met someone,” she said.
“I see,” I said.
“I could be in love,” she said.
“I understand,” I said.
“We discussed this before, right? Am I right?” she said. “We discussed this. If either of us ever had an affair with someone else, we’d talk about it. I should’ve mentioned it sooner, I know. I didn’t think it meant anything at first. Now…it’s becoming something.”
“What’s his name?” I asked.
“You don’t know him. His name is Bill.”
“Bill,” I said. “A solid name. I said I saw something.”
“You’re not bothered?”
“Only by my memories,” I said. “Sometimes I wonder how accurate they are.”
She had an incredulous look on her face. “I could be leaving you!”
The Chronotope and Other Speculative Fictions Page 5
