A story exploring time travel and societal issues in the wake of 9/11. This is chapter 11. See previous posts for chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10.
Under a desert sky filled with an impossible number of stars, firelight playing across his features, T2 answered. "The story begins in the year 2023, with something called programmable matter," he said. "An accidental byproduct of programmable matter research made it possible to transport things across space and time."
"So you discovered time travel?" asked Craig.
"I didn't discover time travel," said T2. "But I did discover how to aim when time traveling, by steering the arrival aperture using brain activity directly."
"That's like how the Grays pilot their ships," said Craig.
"Could be," said T2. "Only my trip wasn't in a ship, and it had to be one way. There was never any coming back for me."
"You mind?" asked Jennings, pointing to Craig's bottle.
"Be my guest," said Craig, passing the bottle. "Mead from my bees. Mostly from yucca."
"Delicious," said Jennings, drinking deeply. "But I'm not buying it. No way you're from the future."
"So what happens?" asked Craig. "In the future?"
"All I know is that you have a good next few years," said T2. "The price of gold and silver keeps going up and up. And the US government finally admits to studying UFOs."
"I knew it!" said Craig. "Is there first contact with ETs? I mean, officially."
"Not by the time I left," said T2. "To be honest, things were kind of coming apart at the seams and everyone seemed preoccupied with that."
"How bad?" asked Craig. "Was it a civil war like Titor said?"
"It wasn't civil war," said T2. "But it was bad and getting worse. The whole system was going haywire."
"Ahh, so why come back here?" asked Craig. "Why not go back even further and take out Sullivan and Cromwell or stop the bison from being hunted to the brink of extinction by white people? Wait, let me guess, you need my help."
"As a matter of fact, I do need your help," said T2. "We're going to look at a piece of land south of town. It might eventually be a small ecovillage, but not for years. What I need you for is to go and look in on the land from time to time. Call me if there's anything fishy going on. If you're interested, I'll give you three hundred a month, payable in gold at the start of every year."
"You know they got that property all cut into two and five acre parcels, don't you?" said Craig.
"I'm buying a few of 'em," said T2. "I just need someone trustworthy to keep an eye out."
"Sullivan and Cromwell?" asked Jennings.
"They were a company that helped the Nazis," said T2. "Then they helped start the CIA."
"Then the CIA brought hundreds of Nazis over to work with the US government after the war," said Craig. "The stuff about Paperclip is well known. But the stuff about mind control is still a big secret."
Jennings took another big swig of mead. "It's stronger than I thought it would be," she said. "Hey, what the hell? Are there drugs in this?"
"Not drugs, magic mushrooms, for the special occasion," said Craig. "Two swigs is about two doses, so you're in for a wild ride."
Feeling panic well up, Jennings looked to T2 for help. "Sorry, I didn't know," he said.
"You dosed me," said Jennings, a few times, turning the idea over in her mind. "That's assault."
"You can thank me later," said Craig, who stood up and began doing some kind of improvised bird dance on the edge of the firelight.
"I'm gonna be sick," said Jennings, who was then sick all over a nearby spiny yucca.
T2 rubbed her back and gave her a bottle of water. "You'll be fine," he said. "Nothing out here can hurt you. It's just us and the stars out here. Craig didn't mean anything by it. Probably thought we wanted to get dosed."
"But you didn't have any," said Jennings, recovering. "You're fine. You're fine and I'm suddenly very afraid that I'll turn into a cartoon character."
"He dosed the booze, which I don't consume," said T2. "I totally would have warned you if I knew."
"God, I have so much energy," said Jennings, returning to her spot by the fire. "And the stars. The stars!"
"Pretty amazing, huh Jennings," said T2.
"Call me Ana," said Ana. "From now on, just call me Ana."
"So, we're finally on a first name basis, then?" asked T2.
"And I finally know your secret," said Ana, laying back onto the sand. "You're from the future. Tell me things from the future. But only good things."
"In 2008, we get our first Black president," said T2. "I was in New York at the time, and when the election results came in, it was like all of Brooklyn was suddenly united. The streets were filled with people celebrating. For a moment there, we had hope."
"Tell me another one," said Ana.
"Same-sex marriage was legalized," said T2. "So was marijuana in about half the states."
"Crazy," said Ana. "But I want to hear more. I want to hear everything. I'm finally ready to know. Were you a scientist?"
Chuckling, T2 added wood to the fire. "Not exactly," he said. "I was in crypto, which won't even be a thing for several years. I'll tell you about that if you want, but I warn you it's complicated and probably boring."
"Tell me everything," said Ana.
They slept sprawled out on the sand next to the fire, listening to coyotes. The next morning, Craig made coffee and killed a chicken for breakfast. While they ate, Craig told them in uncomfortable detail about a sexual healing session he had planned for the day. Driving away toward the next land purchase, T2 made an executive decision. "So," he said. "Instead of camping out there again, why don't we never go back there and just get a hotel room tonight."
Ana laughed. "It was fun!" she said. "I love that the old prospector turned out to be a drug addled sex maniac."
"I'm glad you were amused," said T2.
"I haven't been that high, maybe ever," said Ana. "And the whole time, you convincing me that you're a time traveler from the future. Hilarious!"
"Hilarious, right," said T2.
"You spent hours explaining something you called cryptocurrency," said Ana. "Tell me that's not a real thing."
"It's not," said T2. "Not yet."
(Feature image from Pixabay.)
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