Suddenly, Tabitha heard a crash below and looked down. Two vehicles on the street had collided. It was hard to tell which driver was at fault. She heard an automated voice. “Do not move from the vehicle. Help is on its way.” A small rolling robot about the size of a ten-year-old child emerged from an alleyway. One of its serpentine-like arms vacuumed up the glass from the street. Where did all that glass go? Maybe it was grinded to bits. Its body had the words “traffic bot” emblazoned across it. The bot reminded her of something she’d seen on a cartoon as a kid. A similar robot rolled up to the other side of the car, and seemed to speak to the driver. Tabitha was not sure what was said. Moments later, a police vehicle showed up.
“Minor injuries. No deaths,” the second bot announced. One of the women from the police vehicle loaded the bot into her trunk. Perhaps it needed emptying out like a Dust-buster. She then shut the other one off and placed it in the trunk too. This version of 2047 was already proving quite interesting. However, it was too soon to judge.
Upon opening the door to the Body Modification Center, Tabitha saw a nicely dressed young woman wearing a lab coat. “Hello! I’m Audry. Allow me to give you a tour.” She gestured with one arm that was colored in peacock feathers. Only, they truly seemed to be feathers. Some artistic trick that was.
“Okay. So, how much longer are you open tonight?” Tabitha asked, surprised. This was quite different from the tattoo shops she’d been in back home. There were bright lights, white walls; it all looked a bit institutional or more like a makeup counter than a tattoo parlor. No, this was not a tattoo parlor. It was a body modification center.
“We’re open until midnight.”
Tabitha must have looked surprised.
“Where are you from?” the woman asked.
“Georgia. I’m just looking around,” Tabitha answered. “Are there surgeons on site?” She remembered a few things from the first time in 2047, and asking the right questions would help her not to stick out too much.
“Yes. You’ve heard about us before, then? Maybe you have a friend who has used our services?”
“Kind of. So, what’s upstairs?”
“That is where doctors will consult with you about what type of look you want to obtain. Whether you are deciding to add skin color, change your smile, or add animal effects.”
“What if I want to get wings?”
“Yes, we’ve had some clients do that.”
“Angel wings?”
“Yes, little angel wings.”
“No, I want them to be the length of my arms.”
“Well, physically, that is not advisable. Doctors will consult with you on the side effects of such an under-taking. We are very thorough, making sure each patient knows what he or she is getting into.”
“Well, that’s good. How about a pig snout?”
The woman giggled. “I’m sorry. That’s cute though, but it’s never been done. Are you interested?” She was visibly having trouble keeping a straight face.
Tabitha liked this girl; she was a true kindred spirit. She answered, “I don’t know. I knew this guy who used to talk about it, that’s all. He was from the farmland.”
“Tennessee?”
“No, South Dakota.”
“Oh, there’s not much farmland there anymore.”
Tabitha’s heart fell. She had hoped that prophesy wasn’t going to be true in this 2047. It must have shown on her face.
“Well, what I mean is, they have a huge industry there for Christmas trees, paper mills, wood, national forests, and historical preserves. But yeah, no farmland, not anymore. When did you know this guy?”
“A long time ago. The pig snout’s kind of strange to me, too. Can I just look around?”
“Certainly.” She accepted Tabitha’s abrupt brush-off and handed her a round pager. “Just push the middle if you want me to come and explain anything. If you plan to leave, I’ll meet you and give you my contact information.”
“Thanks, Audry.”
“My pleasure.”
“One last thing, I’m just wondering. Can you tell me who Pring’s Avenue is named after?”
“Pring? Steven Pring. He was a general during the Second Civil War. The man singlehandedly brought about a peace treaty and reunited the states in 2021.”
“No bombs?”
“No. No bombs. He was a peaceful man. Almost lost his life in a battle but was rescued by two mysterious people that dropped him off at the base. He called them ‘Good Shepherds’. Pring was a good man; he is highly revered for his ability to heal the country.”
Tabitha found herself wondering if the information came from a textbook. Were she and Milt the mysterious visitors? Who knew? She decided to believe the answer was yes. It did not matter, now, to know for sure. But this made it apparent that the man who dropped bombs in the other 2047 did not do so directly as a result of their saving him. There was solace in that thought, at least.
“Where is Mr. Pring now?”
“General Pring. He became a general. He has taken early retirement. I don’t know what he does. Maybe he works a small job. The guy lives in Virginia again.”
Then maybe he was staying close to his mom. Tabitha smiled at the memory of Polly.
She walked further, looking around at the hall of fame which showcased pictures of clients, she felt in her pocket and pulled out the picture of Peter. She forgot all about the photographs of women with scaly arms like snakes and a man with the face of a dragon, for, as she reached into her pocket again, she realized, the Allen wrench was missing!
Chapter 8
Back tracking
Never would she have planned on going back there, but here she was, walking the steps to the station. Lieutenant Phil had never given the wrench key back. How did she miss that? Had he done this on purpose?
The night was in full swing, and the station popped with life and activity. When she got inside, she recognized Marasel and Pauline in the front office area. Her choice was Marasel. She was the one who had stood and laughed with Tabitha on her release. She might actually care enough to help out.
Tabitha checked in at the front desk. “Could I speak with Officer Marasel? I’m sorry, I don’t know her last name.”
The woman at the desk called Marasel over.
“Yes? Oh, you’re the girl I released earlier. Tabitha. Back so soon?”
“Marasel, I have a problem.” Tabitha lowered her voice.
“What is it?” Marasel gave a look of concern.
“When I got my belongings back, they left out one item that is very important to me.” She leaned in closer. “It’s a metal object, you know, sort of like an Allen wrench.”
The woman looked at her vacantly. It wasn’t registering.
Did they have a different name for it now?
“It’s metal, bent at the end, with some grooves in it. It’s about this thick. It means a lot to me, has sentimental value.”
“Okay. I’ll speak to Lieutenant Wilkes. We’ll go back and check holding. I’ll try, Tabitha.” The young woman walked back to some desks. Wilkes was sitting at one of them with a man sitting next to him talking. The man’s hands were very animated. He turned his face to the side, and a familiarity dawned over Tabitha. He was someone she knew. Not from 2047, but not really from her time either. He had to be George Mahoney!
Granted, Tabitha only knew him from a photograph, but that looked just like him! He was tall, thick-waisted, and had short, curly gray hair. Mind you, in the photograph she had seen, his hair was not as gray. The eyes were also a piercing blue. That is one thing that doesn’t change. This was a man whom Milt had not met yet, who would also have a time-traveling capability and would later make things very difficult for Milt, or vice versa. What was he doing here? Could she be wrong? Was it actually someone else? Wilkes looked up and must have seen the shock on her face. She turned on her heel and fled, hearing shouts of “Tabitha! Stop,” coming behind her. They didn’t stop h
er, though. She couldn’t let George Mahoney see her, at any cost. Does he already know my name? she wondered.
She ran through the doors, down the steps, and along the street to the Envo. Oh, they’ll really think I’m crazy now. Once there, she started it up and drove to the end of the street where the river was.
Tears flooded down her face and she was shaking. Short breaths. Just breathe. Stay calm. There were other possibilities. One, it was just someone who really looked like that man in the photograph: George Mahoney. Two, It was George Mahoney, but he had no idea Tabitha was here. How could he? Wouldn’t he be more interested in Milt’s goings-on? Three, she had imagined the resemblance and was just being paranoid. Lord knows, Phil had already set her off earlier and any thoughts that he kept the Allen wrench on purpose were the result of mere paranoia and her tendency to worry.
I can do this. Breathe. Breathe. I’ll wait. If I was wrong, then this is just some other man and he will be leaving at some point. She was a little bit calmer. Reaching for some freeze dried food in the glove compartment, she opened the pack and ate mindlessly, without enjoyment. This was for necessity. She needed her strength.
Driving back into the heart of the city, she searched again for a place to park. Too much driving would jeopardize her fuel situation. She had ascertained that there was enough, but it didn’t account for the useless wasting of fuel.
Finding a spot, she took a deep breath and got out. She walked past the food trucks and stayed on one side of Washington Street. Passing by the Body Modification Center, she noticed the 24 hour coffee shop. There, she sat down at the only open table, a café style with a marble top and artistic etchings.
People milled about, coming and going, conversing, sipping coffee. They all kind of blurred together. She had to admit to herself, she was still a little shaken.
“You can’t take up a table if you didn’t buy coffee,” a cranky voice bellowed behind her.
She felt like she could slap him. Then, she breathed deeply. Don’t act on impulse. “Oh, I was just getting my bearings. Deciding.” She got up slowly. The thin, tall suited man slid into her seat without pause.
“You can sit over here while you decide. I’ll be waiting here a while for my friend,” a young woman called from two tables over. There was only one spare chair; it seemed the other patrons had already taken the extra chairs. The young woman had very short, white-blond hair that must’ve been dyed, skin the color of lavender, elfin ears, and very delicate looking wings. They weren’t angel wings, but they reminded Tabitha of someone.
“Thanks. You look familiar. Nice wings.” Tabitha still felt jittery and thought about going in, then remembered the nano-bombs from the other 2047.
The young lady nodded. “Thank you. They fit in with my current job.”
Tabitha noticed her lovey hazel eyes, which were tending to look a little green at the moment. She asked, “What job?”
“I am performing as part of the cast in Shakepeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I’m one of the fairies of the forest. You should come and see it at the theater on JFK Memorial Lane. I have to sit out here; I’m really trying to stay away from smoking. This is the third time I’ve quit, but I’m trying to straighten my life up and keep it that way.”
Tabitha looked at her more closely. Could this be the young lady with angel wings? The one from the other 2047 with a saucy mouth and quick-temper for which she immediately had apologized? Trying to get her life together? Tabitha remembered well.
“Do your parents live in this area as well?”
“Well, I never knew my dad. At any rate, most men stay up in the mountains now; they think it’s healthier and believe it will help them produce baby boys. There aren’t many lately. The men you see around here are marked or considered somehow deficient. No problem, though. Oh, and my mom. She’s ill. Stays in a “farm” for others like her. It’s around here, but her state of mind is not always good. I go to see her now and then. Bless her heart. She doesn’t talk. Sends me letters, though; the last one said she was praying hard for me. It must be finally working.” She looked away and took a sip of warm liquid from the cup. Her eyelashes were unreasonably long, and her eyes had glittery eye shadow on them.
“Do I look familiar to you?” Tabitha asked.
“No, I can’t say that you do.”
“Maybe I don’t know you then. In the last thirty minutes, you are the second face that gave me a serious case of deja vu. I’m beginning to think it’s just me.”
“You seem just fine. Perfectly sound. By the way, I’m Salamanca. You can call me Sal.”
“I’m Tabitha. Do you take the pills for your skin?”
“Yes. When I stop them, it takes two days to fade. Just a minor, temporary commitment. I think I look more fairy-like this way.” She batted her eyelashes.
“You sure do. So, where do most people around here live? I mean, I know of a housing dwelling area, but what else is there?” She struggled to use words that didn’t sound outmoded.
“Oh, I live with my grandmother, Louise, on the edge of tenement row. We get by on very little right now. She’s a lovely woman. She’s taken care of me since my mother had to go away. Interesting gal, with that accent of hers.”
“Where’s she from?”
“New Orleans.”
Tabitha’s eyes widened. This sounded too familiar. It had to all be a coincidence. Still, she pressed on, wanting to know more. “What about your grandfather?”
“Oh, we’re sure he’s gone. We last saw him when I was ten, and I’m eighteen now. Grandpa Jared. He’d come and go. Grandma said sometimes he was just not right. I remember times she’d stop him at the door, device in hand, ready to call the authorities. He wouldn’t fight it. It’s not that he was mental though; it was drugs. I never figured it out until just recently.”
The Jared and Louise she spoke of had to be Tabitha’s brother and his common law wife, Louise. Their baby was Calais, Salamanca’s mother. At least Jared didn’t die too young. Tabitha wasn’t sure what else to ask. What more did she need to know? Why did it matter, if it could all change again? Certainly, this world seemed much kinder to Salamanca, the girl she had once met with angel wings.
“Why do most people take the color pills?” Tabitha asked.
“My, you ask a lot of questions. Let’s see. They feel like they are on the outside of society; it’s mostly younger people, by the way. Or they’re treated like they are outside of society, as in, they are from elsewhere and come here. So they embrace their inability to fit in. Some of them do seem to be a little non-conformist. And it’s of no consequence; the Body Mod Center is making a load of money off of this little method of self-expression. I was just experimenting, but it goes well with the fairy get-up. These ears are real, by the way. That is, I had them modified to stay this way. I suppose I could reverse them, but that would cost more money, when I could just grow out my hair. I’m set for now.”
“Do some of them have to take the color pills?”
“No. There is talk that one day they may have to. Some of us are trying to make sure that doesn’t happen. So, what brought you here to visit?”
Tabitha pondered. “I’m not sure how to answer that. It was a combination of things, but most of all, it was sort of spur of the moment. I’m not running away from anything, but I did need to get away a while. I’m sure, in some way, I really should not have done this. It’s almost like I was pulled here, though.”
“Where are you from, by the way? Oh, here’s Rochelle!” She stood to greet the approaching girl, grabbing her by one hand and placing a light peck on her cheek. A man stood behind her, wearing what appeared to be a mask. The skin looked reptilian and greenish, and he had big whiskers and nostrils. It appeared he might shoot flames out of them any minute.
Tabitha was glad to avoid that last question.
“Rochelle is my soul sister, best friend, whatever they call it where you’re from. Rochelle, meet Tabitha. She’s bee
n keeping me company while I waited for you.”
“Sorry,” the young woman said. “We were really busy this evening.” She wore a ball cap type of hat and coveralls. “This is Russ.” She gestured toward the man in the mask, which, Tabitha realized, extended all the way down his neck underneath his shirt and gave off a very realistic effect.
“Rochelle and Russ work at the factory where they maintain robots. Like the traffic bots, nanny bots, beverage bots, and the like. Shoot, I heard that noise from the accident all the way down here. Didn’t see it though. Did you?”
“I did. Nice to meet you, Rochelle. Russ.” Tabitha held out a hand and just got a blank stare from Rochelle. Either she doesn’t like me or my gesture is way out of line. Russ did the same. One couldn’t tell which customs might have changed and which might still remain the same.
Russ gave a wave and a goodbye, then ducked into the coffee shop.
“Does he perform in the theatre, too?”
“Oh, did his face give it away?” Sal asked.
“Why is he wearing a mask now, though?”
“That’s not a mask,” Rochelle commented with a chuckle. “He’s had modification. The factory doesn’t care what his face looks like as long as his work performance is up to par. So, he goes about his entire life in ‘dragon face’ right now.”
Tabitha had to stifle a laugh. She imagined trying to kiss that face. No, it wasn’t fathomable. She moved her chair closer to Sal, feeling safer in a small crowd than she had moments ago, when she was alone.
“Russ is working part-time at the experimental theatre at the other end of town. His modification should be reversible.”
“You mean, his face is actually like that?”
“Yes! You should talk to them in the body modification center. You’d be amazed at what they can do these days!”
“I’ll do that,” Tabitha replied, just to be polite.
“At any rate, we’ve got to get going,” Sal said. “There’s a party for some of the theater crew and we’re running late. Hint, hint, Rochelle.”
Undercurrents in Time Page 7
