Split Second Solution

by Denny Taylor

  “Just thought,” Cat said, trying not to lose her fur, “if a bullet hits Et –”

  “Cat,” Et said. “It won’t. Concentrate.” Et continued telepathically. “If we succeed it will be because of you.”

  X-it reached out and clasped Word’s hand, carefully taking the box she was holding from her and bending down to tie his shoe lace. He stuck the box, which the Four Corners and the Walls had made very tiny, into his sock. Slowly he stood up as the spotlight shone on him, and he opened his hands to show the Sick-Reapers he was holding nothing.

  “Here we go,” X-it said, grasping Word’s hand again and slowly taking a step forward. “No sudden moves.”

  “We want the Truth Keeper,” one of the Sick-Reapers called. “The one they call Word.”

  “I’m here,” Word said, letting go X-it’s hand. “Don’t hurt my friends and I’ll come with you.”

  “Let’s see who your friends are,” a Sick-Reaper shouted. “All of you – out!”

  “Hands where we can see them,” another commanded.

  “Put ’em up,” Jamaal whispered mocking the Sick-Reapers.

  “Do you know Montaigne?” Cat whispered to Aisha.

  “Word read to us from his essays,” Aisha whispered as they slowly moved towards the Sick-Reapers. “He believed the mind’s eye is able to visualize what it has read and transform it –”

  “Impressive,” Cat said. “I’m anticipating but don’t know for sure that Et is going to tell us to visualize Montaigne playing with his cat – that’s me.” Cat paused listening to Et. “Yes, that’s exactly what she’s going to do,” Cat whispered. “She told me telepathically,” Cat confided. And then, telepathically Cat said, “Jamaal, have you got that?”

  “Got it,” Jamaal whispered with a grin. “I can contemplate that – if the Sick-Reapers don’t kill me.”

  “Aisha,” Cat said, inside her head. “Got that?”

  “Sure thing,” Aisha said, without speaking.

  “Wait!” X-it whispered in a panic. “Et! What year?”

  “The combination,” Et whispered, disappearing.

  “What were the numbers of that lock?” Aisha whispered. “One, five, eight, seven?”

  “No! One, five, eight, five,” X-it whispered. “Think of Montaigne playing with his cat in 1585!” He looked at Word, eyebrows raised, and she nodded.

  “Got-it!” Aisha whispered. “Here they come!”

  “Let’s see those tattoos!” a Sick-Reaper shouted, walking the last ten feet into the tunnel and grabbing Word. Another Sick-Reaper grabbed X-it and Jamaal put his hands up knowing that when the killing started he was likely to be first. Another Sick-Reaper took Aisha by the arm and dragged her out of the tunnel towards the river. One of the Sick-Reapers tried to kick Cat and seemed to miss, although what actually happened is that the Sick-Reaper’s boot went right through her.

  But Et, where was Et? X-it looked around trying to find her in the chaos but he could not. She had disappeared. Suddenly he felt a gun against his temple.

  “Stay calm,” Cat said, inside his head.

  “Where’s Et?” X-it asked Cat without speaking.

  “She’s here,” Cat said. “Or will be.”

  “Now’s not the time for her to leave!” X-it said.

  “Concentrate,” Cat said.

  “So you’re the Truth Keeper,” the Sick-Reaper who was holding Word said, as he grabbed her t-shirt.

  X-it lunged at the Sick-Reaper, but Jamaal and Aisha caught hold of him and held him back as the militia standing against the railing along the Hudson trained their guns on him.

  “You’re friends just saved your life,” one of the Sick-Reapers snarled at X-it.

  “Stupid!” Cat said in X-it’s head. “That Sick-Reaper is right.”

  Word closed her eyes as the Sick-Reaper pulled her t-shirt over her head.

  “You are very brave,” Et said telepathically to Word. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

  Word tried to cover her breasts but the Sick-Reaper grabbed her arms, and she could smell his fetid breath as he bent forward so his face was inches from her body.

  “What language is this?” the Sick-Reaper asked. “The writing’s too small for me to read.” Still holding one of her arms he undid his belt. “Don’t be shy,” he said, turning around and looking at the Sick-Reapers who had formed a circle around Word, X-it, Aisha, and Jamaal. “We’re not are we?”

  “They want her alive,” a Sick-Reaper who was watching said. “Don’t mess with her.” He looked at Aisha. “’Ave the other one. I like her tattoos better.”

  “This one first,” the Sick-Reaper said, unzipping Word’s jeans.

  “I’d like to be first,” a mesmerizing voice said from behind the Sick-Reaper who already had his belt undone. “If you think you’re up for it.”

  The Sick-Reaper turned to find Et – Eternity – in the middle of the circle of Sick-Reapers, who had moved away from her although they were not sure why.

  Et was towering above them, the color of the early morning sky. Naked except for her long coppery red hair, she’d arrived from nowhere as beautiful and ethereal as Botticelli’s Venus. The Sick-Reapers stood transfixed, staring at her, thinking she must be some genetic mutation, part human and part machine. Man’s gift to themselves, a beautiful bioengineered Barbie doll just made for them – but only if they were men enough to take her.

  The Sick-Reaper let go of Word’s arm and she quickly zipped up her jeans and picked her t-shirt up off the ground and put it back on. The Sick-Reapers had lost interest in her. Word smiled at X-it, who had tears streaming down his face, and she held out her hand as he walked over to where she was standing and put his arms around her. Then he took her hand and kissed it. Word nodded to Aisha and Jamaal who moved slowly between the Sick-Reapers until they were standing with Word and X-it.

  Holding hands they watched the Sick-Reapers, who were transfixed by the vision of Venus. Eternity was enticing them with Shakespeare. “All hail, great masters!” Et cried. “Grave sirs, hail! I come to answer thy best pleasures.”

  The Sick-Reapers started arguing about who was to be first. The Sick-Reaper who’d been about to rape Word said he was going to be first.

  “Where’s Cat?” Word whispered.

  “I’m here,” Cat said. “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Where?” Aisha whispered.

  “Montaigne’s garden of course,” Cat said.

  Instantly, Et’s eyes flashed and Cat’s fur suddenly looked as if she’d had an electric shock. “Library!” Cat said out loud, and then telepathically, her voice jittery, and her fur frizzy, “Library! Montaigne’s Library 1585!” Cat added, “Et says, ‘Get the year right or we’ll never meet again!’”

  “Alright,” the Sick-Reaper said taking a step closer to Et. “I don’t care what color you are, or what kind of genetic mutant you are, let’s get on with it.”

  “It all has to happen in a split second,” Cat whispered. “Hold hands. Don’t let go –”

  “Wait!” Aisha whispered. “What about you Cat?” Letting go of Word and Jamaal’s hands and bending down to pick Cat up.

  “No!” Word whispered, fiercely. “Don’t let go!” She grabbed Aisha’s hand and looked to make sure Jamaal had done the same.

  “Thank you for thinking of me,” Cat said. “Not easy this. Wait – Wait – Not yet –”

  “Here you are blue girl,” the Sick-Reaper said. His pants were undone and he was holding his erect penis in one hand while he stroked it with the other. “Here’s what I’ve got for you –”

  “Wait –” the Cat said. “Remember Montaigne’s Cat, 1585.”

  “Library!” Word said. “Montaigne’s Library, 1585!”

  “Yes – yes!” Cat stuttered. “Li -library!”

  “Look,” another Sick-Reaper shouted. “She’s floating. Her feet are off the ground.”

  Et lovingly looked at Cat, then Word, and smiled.

  “Wait – Wait –” Cat whispered
loudly.

  Et looked down at the Sick-Reaper. No longer soft and loving, her eyes were cold and menacing, but still she smiled. Her body became more iridescent, mesmerizing the Sick-Reapers, the militias, and the robot killing machines. She stood like Botticelli’s Venus as she moved her hand away, exposing that part of her body that admirers of the painting had so often imagined and the Sick-Reapers wanted to see.

  “Wait –” Cat whispered again, as Et reached out her hand and her long beautiful fingers –

  “Wait –” Cat whispered, in a small tight voice.

  The Sick-Reaper with his penis in his hand took a step towards her –

  “For the ones who look in wonder at the stars!” Et said, looking up at the sky and then giving the Sick-Reaper an enticing smile.

  “NOW!” Cat shouted.

  “Montaigne’s Library! 1585!” Word, X-it, Aisha, and Jamaal shouted in unison.

  “Isti mirant stellae!” Et cried, as the tip of her forefinger touched the tip of the Sick-Reaper’s penis, and in that split second what people knew was going to happen did happen, but they would never know it.

  Except for the Truth Keepers – because in that very instant when the world ended, four humans survived. Word, X-it, Aisha, and Jamaal from 2022 were transported back to Michel Montaigne’s library in 1585. In the split second between being and not being, between something and nothing, they were the only ones to survive.

  Epilogue

  1585

  In 1585 when Word, X-it, Aisha, and Jamaal landed in a heap on the floor of the great library in the round tower of the castle – Château de Montaigne, Guyenne, France – Montaigne was not there. He was instead sitting in his garden. Eternity was standing next to him with her feet just a few inches off the ground looking like Botticelli’s Venus in a beautifully embroidered blue silk gown. At Montaigne’s feet was his Cat, looking a little worse for wear, but playing with the buckles on his shoes.

  Disentangling themselves from each other, the four time-travellers found sanctuary in Montaigne’s magnificent library. Each in their own way tried to block thoughts of the Sick-Reapers from their minds. For Word, just being surrounded by leather bound hand written books brought comfort. There was nowhere she would rather be than in Montaigne’s library of lost scribal manuscripts and ancient texts, knowing that most would be lost in a great fire in the eighteen century. For X-it, Aisha, and Jamaal – they were just thankful to be alive and in a place of such tranquility where no Sick-Reapers could hack their consciousness.

  The four time-travellers scrambled to their feet and looked around.

  “I read there are forty-eight oak joists and two supporting beams,” Word said, deliberately steering the conversation away from what had happened in Riverside Park by the Hudson River.

  X-it started counting the joists, in tacit agreement with Word not to talk about the last split second they’d spent in the 21st Century – not yet. He already knew that for the rest of their lives they would struggle to turn the world and set it on a new path to the future but they needed time – time to recover.

  “And forty-six of the joists are painted with Greek and Latin citations,” Word said, “that Montaigne likes to read and think about when he is working on his essays,”

  “Forty-eight,” X-it said. “There are forty eight joists.” He smiled, “and forty- six of them are tattooed like you.” He looked lovingly at Word. “Are you alright?” he asked gently. “I should have stopped him.”

  “They’d have killed you,” Word said. “Let’s not talk about it.”

  “Do you think Montaigne will let us read some of his books?” Jamaal asked Word, breaking the tension, and steering the conversation back to the library.

  “I expect so,” Word said, her eyes looking around at Montaigne’s vast literary collection.

  “Nietzsche wanted to hang out with Montaigne,” Jamaal said. “He wrote that he ‘truly augmented the joy of living on earth’ and that he could make himself ‘at home in the world with him’. We might have to – if he’ll let us.”

  “We are asylum seekers,” X-it said, looking pensive.

  Jamaal nodded as his eyes settled on the murals painted on the Walls of the little room off the library that was Montaigne’s study. “I wonder if he would let me copy some of his murals.”

  “We can ask him,” Word said, still reading the citations on the joists. “There are sixty-seven sayings taken from classic authors written on these joists. It’s a cosmic mind map,” Word said, refusing to allow the Sick-Reaper who had pulled her t-shirt off to enter her consciousness.

  “Look!” she said pointing. “Quotes from the writings of Horace, Menander, and Sophocles! I have some quotes from them on my body!”

  “Here’s a Lucretius quote from the poem he wrote more than two thousand years ago on The Nature of Universe!” Word said. “Montaigne’s Essays contain almost a hundred quotes from De Rerum Natura.”

  “You know too much!” X-it said, the relief in his voice audible as he suddenly realized that Word had not only survived, she was still a Truth Keeper.

  “And here is the very same quote on me!” Word said, and without hesitating she lifted her t-shirt and showed them the Lucretius quote tattooed on her left breast. Aisha looked at her questioningly and Word shrugged. “Just taking back my body,” she said.

  “I second that,” Aisha said, and in solidarity she turned and undid her pants and bent over to show them the quotes on her rear and they all laughed.

  “Many of these quotes are in Montaigne’s Essays, either verbatim, in translation, or in paraphrase,” Word said, smiling at Aisha as the moment passed. “Montaigne reads them when he is writing in this library. I read that they influenced the structure of some of his essays,” she said.

  “They say that?” the sixteenth century Gascony nobleman asked, speaking in the Middle French of the Renaissance, gravely bowing to Word as he entered the library.

  “Seigneur de Montaigne,” Word said, bowing her head and speaking in Montaigne’s Middle French. “They do. And much more.”

  The man was dressed in opulently embroidered 16th century robes of red and blue silks and he had a fine linen ruff edged with lace around his neck. Bowing a second time he introduced himself as Michel de Montaigne.

  Word bowed, thinking she should have curtsied, introduced her friends and then herself, before translating the interchange for X-it, Aisha, and Jamaal, who had all made low bows to Montaigne. And so it went, a conversation between Word and Montaigne and Word translating for her young friends.

  “Eternity has told me about you,” Montaigne said. “She says you are called Word and that you are the last Truth Keeper.” He reached out and took her hand in his and turned it over so he could read the sign on her wrist. “In the beginning was the word –”

  He nodded and gave a little smile. “You are welcome to stay here in the Château,” he said to Word, and looking at X-it, Aisha, and Jamaal, “You are welcome too, for you are the only humans to survive the twenty first century.”

  Montaigne continued, speaking formally, “Eternite has also told me that you were exceedingly brave and that with the help of my Cat you saved the life of the last Truth Keeper – and for that Eternite has named you all Truth Keepers.”

  X-it, Aisha, and Jamaal bowed again as Word translated what he had said. They bowed again and thanked Montaigne, asking Word to tell him they were grateful for his hospitality.

  “Merci” Aisha said, this time curtsying in her men’s vest and jeans.

  Montaigne bowed to Aisha, and raising his eyebrows he looked at the letters on the tattooed typewriter keys that were like a necklace dipping low on her breasts.

  “I am myself the matter of my book,” Aisha said to Montaigne, and then they both looked at Word, anticipating her translation.

  “Je suis moy-mesmes la matiere de mon livre,” Word said, adding in Middle French to Montaigne, “I know you have much to say on reading and being.”

  Montaigne said someth
ing that Word did not translate. She just nodded and smiled, and then to Aisha she said, “We are to have clothes and we must make sure our tattoos are covered up. Some of the texts haven’t been written yet.”

  Turning towards the entrance of the library, Montaigne bowed again and with a flourish of his arm he said “Eternite,” as if introducing her to them for the first time. “Botticelli’s Venus,” he said. “She is and always will be –”

  “Michou,” Et said, smiling, “such an exaggeration.”

  “And I am just Montaigne’s Cat,” Cat said telepathically, “but for almost five hundred years people will read and wonder about me. After that? Well, who knows? We’ll see.”

  Et smiled at Montaigne, shook her head at Cat, and then looked at Word, X-it, Aisha, and Jamaal, nodding, not speaking, just taking them in, and it was as if the Universe sighed as she looked at them and saw for herself that they were still mortal and alive.

  “X-it,” Et asked, “do you still have my box?”

  “Hope so!” X-it said, not sure if it was still in his sock. He bent down quickly and felt around, first right and then left.

  “Left,” Word said, looking for even the smallest of lumps in X-it’s sock.

  “Here it is!” X-it said, holding the box – which was smaller than a bracelet charm – between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Thank you,” Et said. “Michou has kindly said we can put it near the lake so we can see the Château when Cat and I step outside.”

  “Even when the whole earth, rocked by the terrifying tumult of war, shudderingly quaked and came to an end,” Montaigne said solemnly, looking at Et and then Cat and the four time travellers, “nothing at all had the power to affect you.”

  “Lucretius,” Word said, translating for her friends, “an interpretation, perhaps not quite what he meant.”