Before I could respond, the world around us fell apart. The gray sky vanished, replaced by some kind of white wall with florescent lines. Old Duncan’s Lake and all the trout disappeared, as did the boat and Elaine.
XIII.
Elaine was replaced by Dee sitting in a chair in what seemed to be a hospital room. She was holding a small baby in her arms.
A man in a white lab coat was removing something from my head and eyes, headgear with green-tinted glasses.
“You’re back,” Dee said. “You gave us a scare. Look,” she said, “Daddy is back.”
The baby, a girl, looked at me and smiled and went, “Daaaaaaaaa.”
“Elaine was worried about you too,” Dee said.
“Elaine?”
She rolled her eyes. “Our daughter, silly.”
“He’ll be disoriented for a while,” the man in the lab coat said. “It may take two or three days before all his memories will return.”
“Is there a chance he’s lost some memories?” Dee asked him.
“There has never been a case of complete damage,” the man said. I didn’t know what they were talking about but I could tell he was not being truthful.
“I think it was a bad idea for your dad to give you a VR session for your 18th birthday,” Dee said.
“If there are problems later this week, hallucinations or loss of memory, bring him back for a check-up,” said the man in the lab coat before he quickly left.
I touched the headgear and glasses. “What happened?”
“You got trapped inside that virtual world and they couldn’t bring you out. You were in la-la land for more than a day. They had to do some kind of special progress, inject you with a drug, for you to ‘let go.’ I hope you had fun in that fake world for all the trouble. Where did you go?”
“Home,” I said.
“What?”
“I don’t remember,” I said.
“A waste of money,” she said. “You dad could have given us something we could use for the baby.”
XIV.
Dee drove a beat-up little car and I sat beside her, holding Elaine, our seven-month-old child. Asking careful questions, I figured out that Dee had gotten pregnant at the beginning of senior year and we married after graduation. We lived in a small, one-bedroom apartment and I worked all day at the hardware store as an assistant manager; Dee stayed home taking care of little Elaine.
That night, in bed, Dee wanted to make love: she did all the right touching and kissed all the right places; I was ready, despite what sex had gotten us into. Dee mentioned wanting another baby, but not until we were twenty-three or so, when I started earning better money at the hardware store. “Someday you’ll inherit the business and we can have a big family,” she whispered.
Before the action of married life got under way, the baby woke up and cried in the crib next to the bed.
Elaine groaned and covered her face with a pillow. “Whose turn is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll take care of it,” she said, getting up, naked, and tending to the baby.
Dee changed a smelly diaper and I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to find my memories of how I wound up here. A teenage father, married, a full-time job, never enough money for luxuries, beat-up car. Everything I was afraid of and did not want to happen. I was stuck here in Mount Henderson and was wishing for that other realm, still stuck here but without responsibilities. Perhaps it would be best if I didn’t regain my memories, I thought.
I knew the memories would reveal I was far more miserable and empty than I was feeling right now.
XV.
The next day, my father called and told me not to come to work, since I had not recovered from my virtual reality accident. “No good if you don’t remember how to run the place or who your employees are,” he said. “We’ll come visit you for dinner tonight, okay?”
Sure, okay.
Dee was irritated about a couple of things: she felt my parents came around too much, my mother always informing her what she was doing wrong with the baby; that she had to show me how to clean the baby and put a fresh diaper on her.
I held little Elaine and felt nothing: no connection, no love.
I looked at Dee and felt nothing: no connection, no love.
I decided I was dead and this was hell and that empty town was purgatory, a place where I waited my ultimate fate: above or below.
I wanted to run.
Why didn’t I leave like I had planned? Was it knocking up Dee? I should have left anyway; let me say I was a bad father and a man without honor. One day I would return home and make up for it all, and they would forgive me because I was a success and had a lot of money. Hell, I would buy the whole town.
XVI.
I knew this was not right when my parents came by at seven o’clock for their visit, and with them was my grandfather.
“Let’s see that cute sweet little button of mine,” Grandpa said, picking Elaine up and kissing her. “Papa loves you so much.”
“You’re dead,” I said softly. I wanted to run to him and hug him but this wasn’t right. “You died nine years ago,” I said.
“What?” he said.
“Good grief,” my mother said with a long sigh, “what did that place do to you?” To my father: “I told you that VR stuff is nothing but dangerous.”
“I thought it would be harmless,” my father said.
“You’re dead!” I yelled at my Grandpa. “I’m not falling for this—I must still be in the virtual place—you’re not real! You died when I was ten.”
I had to get out of here so I ran out the door. I would keep running until I found my way out of here, until—
Elaine, the girl with long hair, stood outside the apartment complex; she stood street, waiting for me.
“Tommy,” she said, “I’m sorry.”
XVII.
The world of the gray sky, the Mount Henderson in a void, returned. People disappeared—no more Grandpa, no more Dee and the baby, just Elaine and me.
I felt better about that, but I wanted answers.
We returned to my parents’ empty house and sat on the stairs. She told me, “I created this reality. For us.”
“You? How?”
“It’s something women of every other generation in my family can do,” she said. “That’s why my grandmother always cut my hair. The magic is in the hair, like Samson from the Bible: the power is in the length and thickness of the hair. This power skips between generations, my mother didn’t have this power, and my grandmother knew I would learn about it sooner or later. She was afraid I would misuse it as a child. I’m still a child. Look what I have done.”
“Why did you do it?”
“I had to know, Tommy. I had to know if you still loved Dee, if marriage and family was what you really wanted. You said no, but your heart might tell another story. I see now that life is not what you wanted, or want now, and that’s a relief.”
“Not that,” I said, “why did you do it in the first place?”
“Oh. Well, because I have been in love with you since I was twelve,” she said. “You don’t remember me from middle school, but I could never forget you. My true love. A love you had no idea about. You were kind to me in seventh grade. When we had P.E. and forced to play basketball, no one wanted to pick me to be on his or her team. I was small and geeky and had messed up teeth and pimples. The ugly duckling, and shy, too shy. But that one day when you were team captain, you picked me and didn’t even wait until I was the last choice like everyone else did. I felt like a princess with a knight coming to her rescue. And then a week later in biology, I did not have a lab partner. I sat across from you and you asked me to be your partner. You thought I was smart and would help or do your work for you, but I didn’t care. I thought you picked me—both as a lab partner and to be on your team—because you secretly loved me. I knew better, but that’s what I chose to imagine.”
I remembered her now. “You.”
>
“Short hair, crooked teeth,” she said.
“How? How do you have this power?”
“I don’t know how, it’s been in my family for hundreds of years, I was told.”
“How do you do it? How do you change everything?”
“It’s like a wish. I wish for something and it happens. The energy comes out of my head, and my hair, and reality conforms to my wish. We moved back here and when I saw you in town holding hands with Dee, my heart was crushed. I thought, ‘I wish it was only me and Tommy in the world,’ and the world went away, and it came true. There was only you, and me right now. Forever.”
“Can you change it back? Can you bring the world back? My parents…?”
“I suppose I could, but they would not be real. They would be constructs of imagination. I already tried, when I put you in the reality where you were married and a father; I brought it all back, but the people were like robots. I don’t know how to use my power properly. My grandmother knew this. I should have kept my hair short.”
I stood up. “You did this without my consent.”
“I didn’t mean to, Tommy. I made a hasty wish and it happened.”
“This isn’t what I wanted or want,” I said. “I don’t want to be stuck here with you for—what? Forever?”
“We could be like Adam and Eve,” Elaine said. “We’ll have babies and they’ll have babies and we’ll repopulate this reality.”
“No,” I told her. “I won’t have that with you. I would rather be alone again. How could I ever trust you not to keep changing reality? I just want to go back home, the way it was.”
She began to cry. “I’m sorry, Tommy. I wanted this so much…I didn’t consider your feelings…I’m sorry…I wish, I wish I never had this power and none of this ever happened.” She looked up. “Oh crap,” she said, and vanished.
XVIII.
I spend most of the time trout fishing at Old Duncan’s Lake because there is nothing else to do. I am alone and have accepted that; there are worse lives to live than forever trout fishing at the outskirts of oblivion.
—July, 2012
San Diego
THE SMALL BRIGHT WHITE LIGHT AT THE CENTER OF THE EYE
I.
When we ephemerals found the wrecked vessel, we were excited about meeting a new race and disappointed when we discovered all but one of the crew of five had expired. The fifth, a male named Gregory Ellis, was nearly dead from many wounds. We slipped into the manufactured bodies we had been using to interact with other beings on this dimensional plane in order to engage in medical procedures to save the creature’s life.
We had not begun in a timely manner, and we were not familiar with the body, although it was based on general body formations found in this realm. The moment Gregory Ellis “died” and the conscious essence left the body and went back to where it came, one of us—you—departed from your manufactured body and gained easy entrance into the Ellis body; this act kept it breathing and the heart beating, allowing us to finish repairs.
The creature was no longer Gregory Ellis and you were now known as the Guest.
What is the body like? we asked.
Very strange, you responded, and: It has many aches and pains, despite the repairs—a curious sensation indeed. Not very well put together, not like the bodies we make.
II.
It was decided that you would remain in the Ellis body and return to the home world of these creatures. You would observe and report on the planet, how these beings formed society and culture, and whether or not they were worth further interaction. You would also experience and report on being human.
The vessel was not so damaged that it could not make it back to the home world. There was on onboard computer that had the coordinates programmed for a return trip. It was not difficult to handle the machines; you accessed the Ellis memories and knew what to do.
We hope this mission will not be too taxing, we said before you, the Guest, left for Ellis’ home world.
I look forward to the experience, you said.
III
While you were able to access Gregory Ellis’ memories, you could only experience it piecemeal; along with the human memories on the home planet were the emotions. Human emotions were difficult to grasp and comprehend. You had plenty of time to do this—six months was the estimated trip back to the home planet. It took seven. You did not use the sleep chambers that slowed the Ellis body’s metabolism; this is how the other four had died: asleep. By the time the vessel reached the home planet, you had accessed 75% of the Ellis memories and knowledge of human life. You felt prepared to take on the role of Gregory Ellis, to resume the man’s life—at least, enough to obtain the information you required for the mission.
IV.
The vessel had been missing for ten years, you soon found out. When the vessel entered the home world’s orbit, three armed warships that demanded to know why you were invading sovereign territory immediately met it. When it was deduced that the vessel was a missing scout ship from ten years back, the human beings became excited with wonder and awe, not unlike how we were when first finding the wrecked ship.
V.
What happened? the human authorities asked.
We collided with an unexpected asteroid, you said, and: It wasn’t on the charts.
So the flight recorder indicates, they said.
The others were killed in the power surge, you said.
But you were not?
I was lucky, I suppose.
And now you’re going to be famous, they said.
Famous? you said, not understanding the concept.
Your face is all over the medias, they said, and: Everyone wants to interview you. You’re the hero of space adventure, the prodigal son returned to earth, Lazarus risen from the dead!
Oh, you replied.
There’s just one complication, they said.
Yes?
Your…wife, they said.
Fiona, you said, seeing the image of the woman inside Ellis’ imagination. You had experienced all memories of this wife, and felt the emotions: love, loneliness, loss, longing, fear. None of these emotions made you feel comfortable.
What about Fiona? you asked.
Well, they said, and they explained the facts.…
You showed no emotions, which the other humans seemed perplexed by. You knew that a human man would register shock and dismay about losing one’s mate, one’s “wife,” but you did not know how to properly convey that with Ellis’ face or body language.
VI.
You talked to men and woman who were called “reporters” and took down every word you said, either by recorders or writing on notepads.
Next, you appeared as a guest on a “news talk show.” You engaged in a conversation with a human man with silver hair and deeply tanned skin.
So, this man said, ten years.…
It did not seem like ten, you said.
Not when you’re in cyro-sleep most of the time.
No.
Never done it. Do you dream when frozen?
You didn’t know the answer. You simply said: No.
You’re the only fellow to have been in space that long, you’ve made the history books. How does it feel?
I’m not sure, you said, and asked: How is it supposed to feel?
It should feel fricken awesome, the man said, and: I mean, I’m famous and I love it. Now you’re famous.
It is awesome then, you said.
I knew it! And the babes?
The what?
The women, the groupies, the spaceman strumpets, the man said.
Oh.
Awesome, right?
Yes.
I bet your wife is regretting it.
I don’t know.
Who needs wives, right?
Right.
We have to cut to a commercial, the man said.
VII.
Several days later, you were escorted to a place called San Francisco where, you were told, Fion
a Aaronson lived with her husband and two children. She was no longer Fiona Ellis.
She lived in a big house on a hill. It was a rainy day. You sat with her on the porch and drank a liquid called coffee. You enjoyed the drink.
Fiona had short blonde hair and green eyes. She was thirty-five years old. In Ellis’ memory, she was younger and had longer hair and less body fat. You experienced Ellis’ emotions: love, loss, a certain pain.
I waited three years, Greg, she said, and: Three years was long enough, Your tour was only supposed to be a year. They said it was hopeless. They said all contact was lost. They said there was not enough food on your ship to last three years, not for five men. They said you were as good as dead.
I almost was, you said.
I had to get on with my life, I had to let you go, she said.
I understand, you said.
Do you? Do you really?
Yes, you said, feeling Ellis’ sadness.
She cocked her head to the side, looking at you, and said: You’re different, Greg.
I am?
Yes.
How am I different?
I’m not sure how to express it in words, she said, and: It’s more like a feeling.
Been away for a decade, you said.
She was looking at you in the eyes, and you felt she was seeing you, the Guest, and not her former husband.
It’s your eyes, she said.
My eyes?
They’re different, they’re not like I remember, but it has been ten years and that’s a long time.
I believe there is a problem, you said.
What is it?
Our marriage, you said, accessing memories to determine what Ellis would say in this situation.
Our marriage, Fiona said with a heavy sigh.
Since I’m not dead, we’re still technically married, you said.
I know, I’ve talked to the lawyers about it.
That makes your current marriage invalid, you said.
I’m not sure about that, she said.
Where is your husband, by the way?
He didn’t think it would be a good idea if he was here for your visit, Fiona said, and: And he’s talking to the lawyers right now. You were declared dead and I was…do we need to really talk about this, Greg?
The Chronotope and Other Speculative Fictions Page 15
