"But why us? And why tonight? You couldn't have known that the seven of us would be here together like this. Heck, Gretta and Shauna ran out of gas. If they hadn't got stuck, we would never even have met them," Susie asked, skeptical. "And anyway, you said you go where people are making insane decisions. How does that apply to us, we're not insane."
Speak for yourself, Jody thought.
The stranger took a deep breath, giving his answer considerable reflection. "It's really something that isn't logical to your way of thinking, nothing that you might have learned in school. It's something that few people throughout history are confronted with. And it's something quite simple, really."
The traveler paused, making sure he had the attention of all seven kids. "You see, there are a multitude of different and diverse holes in our universe, sort of like switching channels on a TV, or jumping from program to program on your computer. The universe is full of a legion of dimensions, many things going on at the same time, in different...how do I explain this, different time warps. That sounds pretty dramatic, like something from a Star Trek episode, but it's the easiest way for you to understand. I travel between these warps, like a problem solver. Or better yet, a trouble shooter. Susie, your father has a whole staff of trouble shooters at the mill, doesn't he?"
"Well, I suppose he does," the girl replied hesitantly, "but how do you know who my dad is? Or anything about the factory?"
"You're not paying attention, my dear. But you're pretty bright, I think you'll catch on...I'm certain of it. Anyway, when things get a little troubling, I travel wherever that is and pretty much lend a helping hand. Of course I knew you seven would be together, you had to be together for me to be here, for this night to be happening. And no, you're not insane, and I didn't mean for you to take my little explanation so literally. But before the evenings over, each one of you will understand the answer to that question. And there is an answer, an answer for each one of you. Otherwise, why would I be here? There has to be a good reason. I'm almost afraid to ask, but does that make any sense to any of you?"
Andy answered, speaking, he thought, for the group. "It sounds bogus. Just look around, do you see any problems here. We're all pretty damn normal, hell, above normal compared to a lot of kids. I think maybe you're lost, that you joined the wrong party tonight. And I find it real difficult to believe that story about time warps, Star Trek, and you being a...a traveler. I've had a few beers tonight, but not that many."
"So you would turn down a wish? That's a pretty harmless question. If I'm not what I claim to be, who gets hurt? Nobody. You have a laugh on me, the strange guy you met at the lake, the Wizard who helped you drink a case of Budweiser. The only thing you're out is a couple of beers, a small price for an evening of entertainment."
“Tell me more about it; I want to hear," Rod said softly, drawing a hard look from his best friend. "You're making more sense than anyone I've ever listened to; at least I think you are. It would sure answer a lot of questions; if that's the way it really works. What do you have for us?"
The traveler sipped his beer, not smiling, but not frowning, those golden eyes staring intently at each one of them. "You need to think about this before you give me an answer. Once you decide, you can't change your mind in the middle of it; there is no turning back once it starts. Now, here is what I have to offer each and every one of you...one wish, one wish to look into the future, spend a short time looking at yourself sometime down the road, your choice of time. But not long, only a brief peek. That is what I have to give."
"And, since we're playing along with this scam, what is it going to cost us, how much, these wishes of yours?" Andy asked, the belligerence toning down slightly, curiosity slowly starting to grab hold of him, taking over.
"That's the easy part. The only thing I ask is that when you walk away from here tonight, you keep the secret. Whether you take me up on it or not, the secret must be kept between us. No, let me put that a little differently. If you accept my offer, I demand that when you walk away from here, you keep what happens; a secret amongst yourselves. Now, what that means is that each of you will be bound to the other. Forever. So, really, that's not a bad thing at all, having a friendship like that, is it? Is it, Tammy?"
The brunette jerked her head up as though she had been slapped, wondering how the stranger knew her name, how he knew what she was thinking, how she wanted so desperately to be bound to Rod, praying for it. She tried to remember if someone had used her name sometime that evening in front of him, and thought not.
"I want a wish," Rod said quietly. "I have a wish, and if you can grant it, man, if you can do this for me, I don't know what I'll do, but anything, I'll do anything."
"Not your turn…not yet, Rodney, not yet," The stranger said quietly. The next words were said without lips moving, said directly to Rod's mind, none of the other kids hearing. "You think for awhile, think about what your wish is. Then we'll talk." The words were loud and clear inside Rod's head. "Think hard, Rodney, think hard about wishes."
There was silence as Rod sat back, a stricken look on his face. The stranger looked around, waiting patiently.
"Okay, I've always been gullible. I'll bite. I want a wish; I want to look into my future."
The voice was mocking, a dare. Gretta stood up, facing the man. "What do I call you anyway? I keep wanting to say, hey there, but without a name, I don't know."
The little smile again. “I have been called a lot of different things, some good, some not too flattering. You call me whatever you would like, whatever you're comfortable with. Yes, whatever you wish to call me, that will do. Traveler, Wizard, Joe, anything. Of course you want to look into the future. I think everyone wants an opportunity like that."
Looking around, he saw that he had all their attention now. "Exactly when would you like to visit, what date and time do you desire to see?"
"Gosh, I don't know. How about ten years. Yeah, ten years from today, let's see, that would be August 15, 2020. That's what I want to see, check myself out, see what I'm doing. Can you do that, Mr. Wizard?"
"Sit down, Gretta, sit down and relax. What are your dreams, child, think about your dreams, your hopes, your plans. Close your eyes, Gretta. There, now take three deep breaths, count backwards from ten to one. Yes, like that. Wonderful, child. Wonderful."
18
The street corner was strange to the Radford girl, disorienting her as she walked out of the fog. She found herself surrounded on all sides by tall buildings constructed of smoky glass, stone and steel. A peculiar smell invaded her olfactory sense, Gretta taking several moments to determine it was the odor of people, lots and lots of people crammed together into a constricted, crowded place. The busy intersection was jammed with midday workers and shoppers, scurrying this way and that on their way to lunch or late for some obviously important appointment.
Gretta had never been in a city larger than Atlanta, and that had been years before, when she was seven or eight. She stood perfectly still, afraid to move, getting bumped by a delivery boy running into the revolving doorway of the office building that the girl was standing in front of. She staggered backwards; saw that the crush of bodies wasn't thinning out. Deciding to advance down the street along with the crowd, the girl moved with the wave of humanity, hoping that the crowd would lead her to some type of clue to her location. She wasn't sure where she was or what she was doing here, but she was bright enough to know that standing still was going to get her trampled.
It was a hot day, not a scorcher, but Gretta found herself sweating from the walk. Humid, she thought. This is what people are always talking about, being a humid day. Radford gets hot but this type of heat is difficult to breathe. Looking up at the sky, she was amazed to see the tops of buildings on every side of her, buildings taller than anything she had ever imagined. The only sky that was visible was straight up, and then she could only spot a tiny patch of light blue in between the various buildings, a grayish haze filling the space between the architectural stru
ctures. Skyscrapers were aptly named, she thought with a chuckle. The sky seems to be lower than some of these buildings.
She finally noticed a newsstand at the end of the block, the girl changing directions, heading toward the little green, portable shelter. She was confused and lost, hoping that a newspaper might answer a few of her questions. She reached in her pocket, bringing out a five dollar bill, the only money she had with her, holding it in her hand while she scanned the periodicals, looking for a clue to where she might be.
The first thing that caught her attention on the front page of the New York Times was the date. Gretta caught her breath, looked around suddenly to see if anyone was watching, wondering if this was some elaborate practical joke. She detected nothing out of the ordinary, read the date again, and giggled. I'll be damn, she thought to herself, that Wizard guy really is legit. She picked up the Times, the August 15, 2020 date staring back at her. Now if I can figure out where I'm at, I'll be way ahead of the game.
"This ain't no library, girlie, that be on down the street. Pay for it or put it down." The old black man had a cold cigar stub stuck in the corner of his mouth. When he talked, it was obvious he was totally toothless. At first Gretta thought he was sitting in a chair, but looking closer, she saw he was short, very short, maybe a midget, although she had never met a midget before. He was looking up at her with a defiant frown, discouraging any type of friendly banter she might have attempted.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Gretta said, handing the man the bill. "Here. Listen, I think I took the wrong bus, I'm kinda lost. Can you tell me where I'm at? Exactly where I'm at?"
He handed her back the change, sat down in his dirty yellow lawn chair, and put his feet up on an orange plastic milk carton.
"Ain't no damn traffic cop either, sister. What the hell’s da matter with you, ya blind, anyone can see this is Times Square. Time Square, sister, where the hell you think you are, Disneyland? Ha-ha, Disneyland, I got a million of 'em."
Gretta turned away from the cantankerous old man. Times Square. That's in New York.
Now what, she thought, confused and totally lost. New York City had never entered her mind as a place she might desire to relocate to. About the only thing she knew about New York was watching the New Year Eve parties on TV when she was a little girl, this huge clock that counted down the minutes and seconds leading to each New Year and the crowds going crazy, hugging and kissing everyone around them. For as long as she could remember, she had planned on moving to California when she could afford to leave Radford. Maybe the Wizard guy had made a mistake, sent her to the wrong place, hell, the wrong coast. She walked down the block, amazed at the sheer crush of humanity. She had never dreamed that there could be this many people in one place at the same time, thinking that there were more people right here, right now on this street than in the entire town of Radford.
As she turned the corner, two thoughts hit her at exactly the same time. The first, and most pressing, was that she was starving to death. This time travel thing must take a lot of energy, she figured. She didn't remember being hungry while she was at Sunset Lake. They had stuffed themselves sick with candy and popcorn and soft drinks at the show. But she was ravenous now.
The second thing was something the old paper guy had said, that there was a library down the street. She knew libraries, having spent the better part of her last three years working in one. She could probably find just about anything she wanted at the public library. It would have telephone books, computers and many other sources of information, anything she would need to find some answers. And best of all, it was free. And that was a good thing, since she only had three-and-a-half dollars left after buying the newspaper.
Turning the corner the smell of pizza hit her nose, a hint of pepperoni at first, then the smell of freshly baked crust, onions, and sausage attacking her senses, pulling her toward the source, leading her straight toward the pizzeria. A tall, well-built black man wearing a full-length white apron was working in the front window, tossing pizza dough into the air over his head, catching it and tossing it again and again with seemingly minimal effort, all the time watching the people pass by on the street.
Gretta was fascinated, watching the motions, not missing the sinewy muscles that stood out on his arms as he whirled the dough, nor the beautiful white teeth in what seemed to be a perpetual smile on his handsome face.
Gretta opened the door, walking in to the store, being enveloped by the wonderful Italian smells. As she got closer to the counter, she noticed a deep scar running down the side of the man's face, the line starting on the left side of his forehead, pausing at the left eye, then continuing down the face, down through his lip, stopping below a strong, square chin. A diamond post earring in his left earlobe was the perfect finishing touch to his handsome, rugged face.
When he noticed the tall black girl standing at the counter, he made one final turn of the dough, throwing it almost to the ceiling and catching it easily, dropping it to the counter in one piece. Gretta involuntarily clapping her hands together totally impressed.
"Hey there pretty girl, did you come in to brighten my day, or did my tossing talents overwhelm you? Or, perchance, are you hungry, this being a restaurant and all?" He was looking appraisingly at the tall, gorgeous girl in tight blue-jeans, a half-shirt knotted at her midriff, her stomach bare, her skin beautiful.
I have got to meet this girl, he thought. No, he corrected himself, I have to marry this girl.
He has a beautiful smile, Gretta told herself, feeling her face blush. And a beautiful face. And body. And...
"I'm pretty hungry. And I've been around long enough to know a smooth line when I hear one," she shot back, the banter easy and light, both smiling at the other. "A large slice of pepperoni and cheese would probably cure all that ails me, though. And maybe even put me in a pretty friendly mood. And oh, a Coke...wait...wait, how much will that cost? I'm almost broke."
"You've got enough. I promise. Pepperoni and cheese, coming right up, pretty lady. Have a seat and enjoy the exquisite ambiance," he replied, turning away to prepare the girl's lunch.
When he had served the pizza and Coke and returned behind the counter, Gretta dug into the food like a starving person. The gigantic slice of pizza was the best she had ever tasted, her first experience with New York style pizza, and she wished she had more money for another piece. But she was broke, not even enough money to use the telephone, even if she had anyone to call.
"Hey, is there a library nearby?" she asked, standing and wiping her mouth with a napkin. She took the final sip of her Coke, dropped her last two quarters on the table for a tip, and walked to the counter.
"Sure, about three blocks, straight down that way," he motioned. "The Northwest Forty-fourth Branch. I study there all the time. It's a pretty good library, for a branch. Are you a student?" He was desperately trying to keep the conversation going.
"Nope, just need to check a few things out. Thanks." And she was heading down the street at a brisk walk, knowing she could have stayed and talked to the guy all day but probably would have wasted a lot of valuable time. And she didn't have a clue as to how much time she had.
The library was a branch of the New York City Public Library system, a large, older building with massive front doors and two bronze, sculptured lions guarding each side. Gretta walked through the entrance, eyeing the place with an expert's look, knowing immediately where things were, most libraries being laid out in basically the same manner. She walked confidently to the bank of computers set along one entire wall, each unit sitting in a tiny cubicle of its own, complete with a hard-back chair and a tiny reading lamp. Gretta was proficient with the computers in the Radford library, had taught herself most of the Windows applications. The computers didn't look much different than the Gateway sitting in her office in Radford. Then she turned it on. The entire system was advanced well past anything she had ever dreamed of, the graphics that appeared on the huge screen were three dimensional, the instruction boxes giving her
orders that she had no clue about, a disembodied eerie voice telling her to do things she had no idea how to do. She searched for the mouse, but it no longer existed. She tried to type in several commands, but the voice simulator chided her for her wrong directions. She finally gave up and clicked the machine off, discouraged but far from defeated. She knew that in a good library there are many ways to search for information.
She approached the desk where a gray hair, well dressed woman was working, concentrating on some type of paperwork. She wore horn-rim glasses and a pencil was stuck behind her right ear. Her name tag told Gretta that she was W. Winnamaker, assistant head librarian. She looked up as she heard Gretta's footsteps, paused from her work, and smiled. "Hello there, how might I help you, dear?"
The woman was so genuine that Gretta liked her immediately. "Do you have the past five years of New York City telephone directories?"
"Of course we do. I think back as far as ten years, if I'm not mistaken. They'll be on the third floor, all the way to the back of the room. There's an area marked New York City Information. The telephone books will be somewhere in that area. It's rather cluttered up there, but I'm sure you'll be able to find what you're looking for."
Gretta had a sudden thought. "How about cross directories? Would they be located in that section also?"
"Oh dear, I'm not real sure. Those are those books that cross-reference streets, phone numbers, and residents, is that right?"
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