It was my wife who pointed out the obvious – every couple with whom we had any contact seemed to be skilled at understanding technology, but had very little idea how to work any of it. My most recent conversation with Ulysses went like this:
“Can you buy one of those ovens at the store in town?” Ulysses asked.
“A microwave?”
“Yes, yes, that’s what you call it – the microwave.”
“Well, best to drive to one of the big retailers over near Tucson, like a Costco or Best Buy.”
“Ok.”
“Didn’t you ever buy a microwave before?”
“No, not really.”
“Damn. It’s easy to buy one of those things. I wish I knew how they worked. I’m sometimes afraid to get too close to them for fear they’ll cook my insides.”
“No need to be afraid. Microwaves are very short, perhaps only 12 centimeters, er, five inches long. They have an up-and-down pattern of electricity and magnetism that races through the air at the speed of light. They carry much energy and that’s why they cook food so quickly. They could be dangerous to your flesh if they weren’t enclosed in a metal box. That protects you. So no worries, you’re safe.”
See what I mean? He didn’t know where to buy a microwave, but he could tell me how it worked. Kind of like an absent-minded scientist, except he was a consultant. Like everyone else.
They say curiosity killed the cat. I’m not sure who “they” are, but “they” may be onto something. All these new residents were making me nervous. Joan told me to forget about it, but when I read an article about a town in Nebraska that had experienced an unprecedented influx of new residents in the past few months, my curiosity got the better of me. Bison Plains, Nebraska had a population of 2,200 and had recently seen fifty new couples move to the small prairie town. All couples, all childless, and all consultants who could work from home. The author of the article wrote about how new technology allowed people to live far from their offices and still get work done. I smelled something more sinister, but for the life of me, I had no idea what it was.
It was about a sixteen-hour drive to Bison Plains, and I made it in two days with a stopover in a cheap hotel just off the interstate outside Santa Fe. I pulled up to a greasy spoon on the edge of downtown Bison Plains to get a feel for the place. While I sat at the counter eating a surprisingly tasty burger and fries, two of the locals approached me.
“You new in town?” asked the one whose belly hung over his belt.
“We haven’t seen you around here before.” the skinny one added. I felt like I was in the middle of a black-and-white western.
“Just passing through. You the welcoming committee?” Ok, I guess I should have controlled my sarcasm a bit.
The one with the belly replied, “I’m the sheriff.” His steely stare never wavered.
The other one added, “I’m the mayor. So, I guess you could call us a welcoming committee. Depends if we wanna welcome you.”
“You have a problem with visitors?”
“We have a problem with new residents.” said the sheriff.
“New residents?”
“Yeah. We have a few too many of them.”
“No shit.” I stuck out my hand. “I’m Lester. I saw a story about your town. I’m from Flower Fields, Arizona and we have the same problem.”
It took them a few minutes to warm up to me and realize we were on the same side.
Three crusty old-timers worrying about changes in their parochial towns is probably not something that will ever turn out well, whether it’s in some B-grade horror flick or real life.
Little did I know that I had been followed from Flower Fields. My follower had stayed in the same Motel 6 outside Santa Fe, and I was blissfully unaware of the danger lurking in my rear view mirror. Four men in a blue sedan and I hadn’t even noticed. Four men I knew – Ulysses Jones, Ned Starks, Bill Stevens, and Cal Billingsley.
The fields were a little less arid in Nebraska, but there was plenty of empty space outside of town for a large group of new residents to assemble. There was also room for a barn, one that the sheriff and mayor swore hadn’t been used since they were little boys prowling the prairies.
As we exited the diner and walked around the corner to our cars, we were approached by my fellow residents from Flower Fields. I was shocked to see them, and my danger antennae was immediately engaged, but thought a welcome greeting would be the best path.to trod.
I thought wrong. The sting on my neck was unexpected and painful. Without a word, all three of us had been shot.
It was a non-lethal shot.
We woke up in the barn, dropped into sitting positions on hard wooden chairs, our hands and legs bound by rope. Ulysses, Ned, Bill, and Cal, along with four other men, stood before us, staring without saying a word. I’m usually the pugnacious one, so I supposed it was up to me to say something to our captors.
“What the hell is going on, you bastards?”
“Lester.” Ulysses stated my name like a judge handing out a verdict.. “You’ve been snooping around just a bit too much. We knew you were up to no good, so we followed you here.”
“And you two,” Another man, someone who I didn’t recognize and assumed was from this desolate town, spoke to the sheriff and the mayor. “You haven’t been too friendly to all the town’s newest residents. We think it’s time for a change of leadership. We were told that rural, country people were friendly. That’s why we ended up where we did. Flower Fields, Bison Plains, and a few other outposts far from the city. You men proved that theory wrong.”
Several of the men walked over to the sheriff and the mayor. They picked them up – one man taking the legs and one taking the arms. They placed them down on the ground in the far corner. Another man flipped a switch and they were bathed in crimson light, and then, right before my eyes, they disappeared. Like magic. Like a nightmare.
I yelled out in horror, “Jesus, what the hell!”
I tried to push myself out of the chair, but I didn’t get very far before I fell face first on the floor. I squirmed in a futile attempt to get away. One of the men kicked me in the ribs.
“Stop it.” I heard Ulysses speak. “Leave him.” Ulysses reached down and flipped me on my back. “Lester. You and your wife were good to me and my wife. Suspicious yes, but good neighbors. Those two were just downright mean according to our friends here in Bison Plains. They got what they deserved. I’ll give you an alternative to what they got.”
“W-where the hell did they go?”
“They’re gone. Don’t worry about them. You have a choice. I came to your town and now you can go to my town.”
“Your town? I-I don’t know where-”
“It’s not so much where. It’s more of a case of when.”
“When? Ulysses what on God’s green earth are you talking about?”
“You must decide.”
“What? Death or go to your town? Is that even a choice? What am I deciding on?”
“You have all the information you need to make a choice.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“You had every right to be suspicious. But, we mean no harm to you or the residents of
Flower Fields or Bison Plains or any of the other towns we came to.”
“Other towns?”
“It doesn’t matter now, Lester.”
“You gotta believe me. I won’t tell-”
“You, um, how does the expression go, you put your nose where it doesn’t belong?
“What about my wife?”
“Your wife?” He paused for a moment and looked at the other men. “Yes, I hadn’t considered that. That does complicate things. I can bring her here and send you with her.” He stopped and whispered into Ned’s ear. Ned said something back to him and then he turned and looked at me. “Or, I can keep quiet and you can go alone. I don’t think she’s as suspicious as you, though I will keep an eye on her for a bit. She’ll miss you and I don’t know what will come of that
. Three people missing in Bison Plains.”
“Why don’t we ask her? You can give her a choice.”
“Hardly. To ask her anything would expose us. She would then have the same choice you have now, but she couldn’t remain in her lovely home town. Lester, you put yourself in this position. I realize it’s not an easy choice. My wife and I had to make hard choices, too. We gave up our lives to come here.”
“S-she’s good at keeping secrets. She’s not a gossip. I swear my wife will keep quiet.”
“Too late for that. Your decision needs to be made. Now.”
“I don’t even know where I’m going. I-I can’t decide for her.”
“Do you want your wife with you or not?”
“And come back here? What do you mean. Where’d you come from?”
“Lester, it doesn’t matter. You have caused a situation. Three people will be gone – completely missing. One wife will be heartbroken and will never have any answers to what happened to her husband. I don’t know if the other two had wives or families, but someone will probably miss them. Lester, we have no more time to talk. You need to decide.”
What would you do? I mean, how do you make the right decision when hardly any information is revealed to you? Death or move to a different place? Well, that one’s easy. But my wife? Do I decide for her? Would she miss her life in Flower Fields and visits from the kids and grandkids once a month, or would she miss me more? To ask her to choose between her husband, as grumpy as he is, and her beloved children and grandchildren is cruel and heartless. After thirty-five years of marriage I still love my wife, but would it be selfish to take her with me to, well, wherever it is I’m going? Or would it be better to let her stay in the town she loves and enjoy her grandkids?
I never thought I’d be faced with a Sophie’s Choice, but you never known where life’s journey is going to take you, so I hit that fork in the road – and I took it.
I don’t know if I made the right decision. I miss her like hell. I know no one here and I doubt I’ll ever get to know anyone. All these strange new residents were from the future – a dystopian future that offered little hope. There’s all sorts of technology here that I have no idea what it does and frankly, I don’t want to know. I live in an apartment that’s more like a prison. There’s cameras and monitors and robotic guards everywhere.
I’ve learned most of the story -the residents are being sent back to the past so they can change the future. I guess things got pretty mucked many years ago – and it’s all because of who was elected president. Though it was a hundred years ago, that election started an unstoppable trend in world politics that culminated in wars and division and destruction. The consensus from those few individuals I have spoken with is that things are only going to get worse unless Ulysses and the rest of them can alter the future by changing the past.
I was never much into politics and our elections seemed mostly inconsequential during most of my lifetime, but I’ve found out that they have severe consequences, and this dystopian nightmare I’m living in is the result. War, famine, nuclear bombs, divisive politics, countries splitting apart, dictators running amok- there was a significant increase in loathing and fear on our small blue sphere.
Though I had begged Ulysses to let me stay, he seemed sorry, but he never wavered in his conviction that I was a loose end..
So, I was blasted forward by some unknown technology to the future and here I sit in a sterile room, surrounded by cameras and monitors and robots. Ulysses didn’t kill me, but by sending me to his time, it’s almost the same as death.
The television shows old movies form the twentieth century, so that’s not too bad. I sure miss Joan, though. I don’t know if I made the right decision. I bet she’s happy to see the grandkids, but I bet, even though I could be an old curmudgeon at times, she misses me.
These future doctors here tell me I can probably expect a life span of 120 years – they have drugs that cure almost all disease, and most humans who aren’t killed in wars, live to the maximum lifespan. They tell me that I’m reasonably safe where I am. It’s the middle of the United States and wars, radiation, and roving masses of genocidal warriors don’t mess with Middle America, though it’s not called America any more.
They also tell me that it’s mostly understood now that your soul never dies. Not exactly like all our religions told us, but our souls stay alive. They travel somewhere and create a new world. It’s not heaven and hell – in fact, it’s the opposite. Our soul creates the next world instead of God creating it. We create our universe instead of us being a creation of the universe. They tell me this finding eliminated all religion, but it sounds like just another whacky religion to me. I don’t believe much of that religious nonsense, but good old Christianity and church on Sundays has served me well, and I think I’ll stick to their kooky stories instead of some other more far-fetched ones.
Guess I can tell all those atheist bastards if I get back that eliminating religion didn’t solve all our problems after all. Don’t think I’m getting back, though.
I can’t travel outside the city walls even though it’s only sporadically violent in this area. But, I have no desire to go anywhere, even within this city. I don’t want to learn a new religion. I don’t understand philosophy and I don’t care about the dystopian world around me. I’m not that curious any more.
I guess Ulysses and his pals meant well, after all, they were trying to change the future for the better, but I wish I hadn’t let my damn curiosity get the best of me. I would still be in Flower Fields, I’d still be with Joan, and I’d still be playing Santa at the mall during the Christmas season.
Enjoying the present is so much better than knowing the future.
Hopefully Ulysses and his pals fix the things they need to. Maybe they’ll come back and let me know. I just wish I had paid more attention to the elections and the idiots who ran for office. Oh well, probably wouldn’t have made much of a difference, anyway.
It’s odd living in the future – everything is so unique and peculiar. I don’t think I want to live to 120 – not much of a life here if you ask me, and even with all the medicine they have, I’m afraid my knees will be wicked painful by that age.
One thing is the same here as in Flower Fields – there aren’t any flowers to be found anywhere. Doesn’t make it feel like home, though.
Altering the Apocalypse: and Other Short Stories About Humans and Time Travel Page 17
