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Almost Angels – Chapter 7

Brigham Young

I stood back from the group of men as they looked down on
the Mississippi River. The 13 men had stood in a circle, joined in prayer, for sometime now.

I had arrived sometime mid-morning, June 27, 1844, to the small city of Nauvoo, Illinois. Last evening a mob of 200 men with blackened faces had stormed the jail at nearby Carthage, Illinois. They were there to kill the leaders of the controversial ‘Mormon’ Church. They succeeded. The prophet of the church, one Joseph Smith, and his brother, Hyrum, fell in the early evening, having been struck by bullets from the assailant’s guns.

It was a sad morning there at the thriving little city perched on the banks of the mother of rivers in America. The populace was in morning, and in shock. Confusion reigned. Their leader was dead.
My assignment was to watch the next few days and see how a new leader would be chosen.

It didn’t take long. Almost within hours, the remaining members of what was known to the Mormons as ‘The First Presidency’ claimed title to lead the church, and its integrated community. His name was Sidney Rigdon. In a meeting of the ‘Saints’, another rose to contest his right. His name was Brigham Young. Brigham stood at the head of Quorum of the 12 Apostles. Quoting a recent Revelation of Smith’s that stated that the 12 had an equal power or responsibility to the First Presidency, he stated that he had inherited that right of leadership. Some of the members said of that meeting that Brigham took on the appearance of Smith as he spoke. I did not witness that.

But what I did witness was a powerful, charismatic, and intelligent man that was about to take on a task that would leave a legacy that would last through the centuries. I wanted to see that, and record the history of it. Only small pockets of religion still remain in 2518. I entra-ported to old Salt Lake City the day before starting my assignment for a day of studying their archives. The Mormons are a record keeping people, although I am sure they would admit that they keep their own slant on their history.

But Brother Brigham, as he was often called, still stood tall in the birth of the west and the colonialization of the old American West.
I decided that I would introduce myself. I had been successful with Ben Franklin; no tears in time. I would try again.

I waited until I figured out Brigham’s schedule, watching him over several weeks of his life; a couple of hours of mine. Finally, I figured out what times of the day and when he went to the Temple to pray. I followed him to the Temple on a late fall day in 1845. Today would be the day. The situation in Nauvoo was deteriorating rapidly. The non-Mormon population of the surrounding area had become jealous of, and a bit more fearful of, the ‘Saints’. They hated that the Mormon’s said that their Church was the one and only Church recognized by God. You can kind of understand that, but the Mormon’s shouted it to the hilltops, and their opponents seethed.

I found Brigham in a private room in the upper stories of the Temple. I didn’t want him praying when I appeared. He was just taking off his coat when I appeared.

He looked at me and fell to his knees. He said “I am so blessed! Will you identify yourself?”

“Well, first of all, Mr. Young, I am not deity. So it is not necessary for you to kneel.”

“Then if thou be not deity, thou must be a follower of Lucifer, that Fallen Angel.”

“No, not that either, Sir. I am from the future, from the early 26th century.”

Brigham looked around him, looking at doors and windows. “What manner of nonsense is this, Sir? Be this a jest? If it is, thou hast no business in this holy building!”

“It is no joke, Sir. I wanted to be in a place when I exposed myself to you that we would not be discovered.”

“For what purpose do you appear to me?”

“For guidenance, if you so wish. And, if you wish, I can show you something of the future.”

“You resemble, quite accurately, Brother Joseph’s description of the Father and the Son and also the Prophet Moroni.”

“I assure you, I am not one of them.”

“Very well, then, what have you to show me?”

“Well, first of all, I well tell you that I can show you things, but cannot tell you how or where, or who will make them happen. Those things will change history, and cannot be done under any circumstances.”

“If you are from our future, Sir, then you must know our history.”

“What history there is, Sir. Your organization is only a few years old.”

“True. We are going to be forced from our beautiful city. Will we survive?”

“That I can show you. But I will show you your people a hundred and fifty years into their future.”

I flashed a hologram of the Great Salt City in Utah, circa about 2000 A.D. Brigham leaned forward, reaching his hand into the visual, staring intently. As it faded he said “What manner of deviltry is this? That land where that city lies, it looks like no place I have ever seen before. Yet you say that will be our people’s future. How?”

“I cannot tell you that. But if you lead your people and use good judgment, this is their future. I would encourage you to not tell of this or of me. This is only to give you hope. I will visit you again, with your permission, every few years. But I cannot stay long at a time. Will this help you Sir?”

“Yes. Ah, do you have a name? It gives me a bolster to my faith.”

“My friends call me Jamie, and you will need your faith and all your strength. You have bad times ahead of you but also many rewards, Brigham. I suggest that you study as you have never done before, and pick people to help you lead. Now, I must go. I will see you again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Something Brigham said stuck with me. He remarked that I had the appearance of the men that Joseph Smith saw in his vision in 1820 who he related were God and his son Jesus. It would be easy enough to check out. So I tried several times to dial in the exact time of the event. Its place is fixed, so that was easy. Finally, I was able to spot young Joseph on his way to the Sacred Grove. I followed at a distance. It went somewhat as the story has been told. But when the shining personages appeared I knew right away it was pure bunko. The two were travelers, from a bit earlier than myself. I recorded what I saw. Now, what to do? I felt I had to report it. I went back to my base and checked in. I went to my supervisor and told him what had happened.

“Wow, Jamie, this is world class tampering with time.”

“I know that. What do we do?”

“Well, I will take it up the ladder. But I believe it has gone too far to fix, it will probably have to stand. If it was anything other than religion then, well…..I don’t know.”

April 4, 1847. I stood to the side of a large crowd of a Mormon gathering at a place they had named Winter Quarters. Years later it would be called Omaha, Nebraska. Brigham, with others of the leadership, were speaking to their followers. As he spoke, Brigham whitened and stammered for only a moment when he caught sight of me. I listened quietly to his words. He spoke of the prayer he had offered, and the study he had put into their move. He said that a vision had been opened to him of their Zion to the West. And that tomorrow he and the lead party would set out on the journey.

I looked around. Whatever one must think of the Mormons, one must admire their creativity, their resolve, their knack for development. In just over a year, they had abandoned their city on the Mississippi, traveled across the state of Iowa, built homes of sorts, built a city full of various trades, amassed a huge herd of cattle, and stood ready at the doorway to the American West. I was a bit astonished as to what they had done with such a small primitive amount of technology.

Brigham finished speaking. I walked to a corral of cattle and oxen nearby and leaned over the top rail. It was just a minute later that Mormon leader joined me.

“Master Jamie, I presume.”

“Yes Sir. How are you, Mr. Young?”

“I am well, in both body and spirit. And stand on the brink of a great endeavor, I believe.”

“Yes you are. And, if you might be wondering, you are on course.”

“Bless you, young man. That means a lot to me. After our last short meeting, I studied in my mind the picture you showed me. I read of stories brought back from the great wilderness by the fur trappers and decided that it was most logical. From the picture you showed me, I knew it could not be anywhere to the East. The mountains were unlike any I had seen on this continent. I believe that this is the course to take, and if you are who you pretend to be, and agree, then I am at Peace. Thank you.”

I bid him goodbye and safe travels and set my coordinates for June 27th, 1847 for southwest Wyoming, or is now Wyoming. Then it belonged to Spain, then later to Utah. But that is another story. I camped just a bit away from Old Fort Bridger for two mornings for several hours each morning. I knew, or rather thought, that Brigham and his party should arrive on the 28th. And they did. I made myself into a trapper of sorts, and watched from a dark corner as Young and Jim Bridger met for the first time. It was evident that Bridger was contemptuous of Young, and when the Mormon leader mentioned settling the basin of the Great Salt Lake with a few thousand people, Bridger remarked it was insanity, and that he would pay a thousand dollars for the first bushel of corn that was harvested there.

Young retorted, “Give us a little time and you will see.”

Young and his troop were not in very good shape by this time. Bad food and the exertions of the journey had left its toll. In the days left, it would be one of the 12 who would see the Salt Lake first. His name was Parley Pratt.

Near the end of July, a quite ill Brigham finally entered the valley. I met with him a few days afterward. He was quite sober with me; he looked at me with a new curiosity. We had rode out into the country and stood on a rise looking at the Great Salt Lake. He stood for a moment, then turned and looked back at the towering Wasatch Range to the east, rising up like might sentinels, watchful of his persecutors from the east.

“Jamie, I am a humbled man. When first meeting you, I felt that I was in the same situation that Jesus found himself in while in the desert, being tempted by Lucifer. But you asked not of me, you never told me not what course to take, but only one of my choosing, giving me total agency unto myself. Even after meeting in Winter Quarters and our talk, then seeing you again at Bridger’s, I was still plagued by doubt, and cast about a wary eye for the serpents tongue. But when we drove down that mountain yonder, into this most sublime valley, and I gazed upon yon lofty peaks, I knew most assuredly that your words were true. I then set about making plans for a mighty kingdom to be based in this valley of the mountains. I have started work on a Temple to our God. We have laid out the plans for our city, and other outlying towns and villages. We are turning the sod and planting crops. I have sent parties out in exploration. Next year more of our flock will arrive, then each year we will grow. I embarked upon this venture mostly on faith, but now that it is proven. There is no stopping us.”

“Brigham, it is true, you will flourish. But never forget, there will be adversity, and a lot of it. Keep yourself prepared, and surround yourself with good leaders and strong people.”

I waved a farewell and vanished from his sight. He turned away, and fixed his vision on the setting sun, at my last sight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I visited Brigham several times over the next few days, following him into the sundown of his life. I watched his huge families, his wives numbering near half a hundred, his countless children. Some of those wives were just to stabilize their families after husbands died or were killed serving the church. Many never saw his countenance in their private quarters.

He did deeds to keep his church alive that were not always done in the sunlight, some of them quite dark. He never faltered.
I listened in 1874 when he preached at a funeral of a friend about the mysteries of death, and his faith in his religion that would be his companion during that dark journey. I admired that, his strength of resolve I mean. And in a few years, unbeknown to him, he would make that journey. At the end of August 1877 he fell into great pain in his right side, and the poison of a ruptured appendix took his life. I was able to speak with him for a few moments before he passed. He asked me if I knew if Joseph’s vision was true, or did I appear to Joseph, with a friend. I told him I did not, and that his great faith had taken him through a great journey, let it be there to take him through that valley of death and to not worry himself.

It was only a short time later he was heard to cry out for his friend.

“Joseph, Joseph, Joseph…..” and the Lion was dead, to this world.

What ever contention arises in this world about Brigham and the Church that he guided one simply must look past the religion, and look at the people and admire their diversity, their hard work, their diligence. You must look at their creativity. Their love of beauty, their admiration of skill and talent. Some will say it is their religion that has given birth to that. I leave that to others to decide. They showed great prejudice for the black man, calling him a child of Cain, but they acknowledged him a man at least. Many southern slaveholders didn’t acknowledge that. He was, and they were, people of their time, no more no less. Those of us who would judge, if put to the same tasks, might fall quite short. Each thing happens in its own time, and most can never cross those boundaries. But those of us that do travel though time learn tolerance. We become aware of those differences, we respect those abilities, and develop great admiration for our citizens of the past.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I took a week off with Misha, and I spent most of my time trying to tell her what I was doing with my interactions, without compromising her security, I am not sure it ever became clear to her. Maybe that is for the best. I now see how a simple act of the past can affect millions of lives into the future. I will be so very watchful. Can you imagine what could have happened to the descendents of those people, called Mormons, if Joseph Smith had never had those visits? What might they be doing today?

Almost Angels, Chapter 6

Ben

Yes, we still celebrate that semi-heathen holiday of Christmas, in 2518.
We probably look at it a bit differently than they did in the 20th and 21st century, but hell, it is too much fun to not have Christmas! Even our children are too smart to believe in the fat old elf. They are too well informed, too aware, to believe in that nonsense. And yes, religion has almost become a strange ritual we read about. We still find tiny pools of civilization that fall back on those old myths. I suppose they are searching for something, although why, I have no clue. It has always been that way in the world though. People need a god, or something of that sort to hold onto, to protect them, to lean on because they have not enough confidence in themselves. So be it.

But anyway, I was studying my new assignment just after the Christmas holiday, a new thing for me. I had gotten into some trouble for not knowing my topic. It had settled me down. I was still a maverick (ancient term, had to look up its meaning), but now I would be an informed maverick.

My next assignment was to be a heroic character of the late 18th century, -one of the founding fathers of the old United States of America. His name was Benjamin Franklin. As I sat and read and watched old documentaries of this old man, a character slightly ahead of his time emerged, stepped out into the light and looked around. You know, I think I like this guy. I decided to step into his life about the same time of the year as I am not enjoying, but of the year 1732, the night before the first day of 1733, and three days after he had published the first edition of his celebrated Poor Richard’s Almanac.

I reported back to my duty station on the evening of the Dec 31st. It had been a bit of a lonely holiday. Misha had only been there a few days of it. Her mother was not well, and she kept flitting back from our place, near Vail, Colorado, to a small village in New Zealand every few hours. She finally just kissed me, said she was sorry, and left for a week. So it was okay to go back to work on New Years Eve. Wouldn’t have been much of a party anyway.

I set my time on my computer for the address given for Franklin’s shop, for 11 PM. I wanted just a short bit of time to take a look at what he was doing before I met him, so a bit of night-time scouting. It took me an hour to get into these ridiculous clothes of this period. It was easy to understand why everyone of this period seemed so cranky all the time. So I signaled the controller I was ready, and he just disappeared and the room with it. I don’t care how many times you do this, it is rather disconcerting. I had gotten to closing my eyes as I departed.

This time when I opened my eyes there was, about six feet in front of me, stood a stocky gentlemen, with long hair, looking quite shocked at my sudden arrival.

He spoke, “And who, or rather what are you, good Sir? And what are you doing in my place of business at this odd hour?”

OMG. What to do now? What is he doing here is a better question. But I can’t ask that, no. Well, hell, he was Benjamin Franklin, wasn’t he? One of the most unusual men of the century – brilliant writer, thinker, inventor. Ok, I am going to get into deep shit for this. This isn’t going to be a tear in the fabric of time, this is going to be a gigantic rip.

“Mr. Franklin, I presume?”

“Yes, I am Benjamin Franklin. And who are you, Sir?”

“Well, a name would be of no use to you, as I really do not exist in your time. I am a friend though, and I came here to meet you, personally.”

“Came from where?”

“Came from when, would be the better question. Because the where would be meaningless to you at this point.”

“What do you mean, came from when? I am not much for religion, per se. I do believe in God, but not much in spirits, or such the like.”

“Mr. Franklin, Sir, sit down there. Okay, Sir, I am from the year 2518 A.D.”

He smiled and his look at me said You are daft, but instead he politely said, “Of course you are. I was wondering what century you are from. I see fashion has not advanced to any great degree.”

“Sir,” I felt strange calling a man about my own age sir, “Sir, I can see you don’t quite believe me. In order for our discourse to advance, you must.”

I stood up from the bench I had been sitting upon. “Here, Sir, shake my hand.”

I extended my hand to him and he immediately reached to grasp it. Instead, his hand passed through mine. I saw the look of realization pass through his face.

“What is your purpose here? Am I about to die?”

“No Sir, not for a good while. My purpose is simply to suggest direction for you. You will soon stand in very important places, and I think it wise to let you know this. Few have little time in life to prepare themselves for important work. I cannot do anything that changes history myself, that can have disastrous results on the future. I am probably going to get in trouble over this anyway, but, here goes.”

“What do you mean, you cannot do anything to change history? And when am I going to die, if you are privy to that?”

I laughed, “Sir, I am not going to tell you that. It really would not be good for you to know right now. I will tell you though, that you should continue simply as you are at the moment. Fame will follow you, but you can not let it change you. Be the same man that you are, and always trust your judgment.”

“What may I call you, Sir?”

I smiled. “My friends call me Jamie.”

Franklin shifted back in the chair he was sitting in and threw his leg over the padded arm and leaned back, a smirk crossed his lips.

“Well, Jamie, what can you tell me about us in, what did you say, 2518? What are we going to be then?”

“What would you like to know?”

“This country, America. What will it be like? Will we cross the mountains to the west?”

“Let me show you, Ben, if I may be so familiar.”

“Please do. You know my death date, I suppose that grants you leniency.“

I turned my ring sideways and pulled up a holographic map of the United States in the 21st Century. He gasped and leaned forward, his face almost white in the glow of the hologram.

“Please, please! Explain! What am I seeing? And how do you do this?”

“This is what we call a hologram. It is just a projection. The map is what the country you call America will be like 250 years from your time. You can see the boundaries of the states, and the cities. I, likewise, am a projection of this same nature. My basic job is to record history as it is happening, so that the future will have it archived. History has been written usually by the victors or the wealthy powerful elements. I usually never allow anyone to see me this well, or to know my purpose.”

Franklin pulled his leg almost absent mindedly back in front of him. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Good God, my friend, this is so hard to absorb! Nor do I think I can for some time to come. But if what you say is true, then, Oh My! What a future! It is so exciting!”

“Yes, Sir, exciting. But know you this, it doesn’t happen without blood being spilt, lives being lost. The very fabric of the country’s existence being rent from end to end sometimes. It will experience adversity, contention from within but, if history remains true, will prevail. And you, Sir, will play a huge part in it.”

Out side I heard a cock crow, and then small street noises.

“Ben, this is all I have time for at the moment. With your permission, Sir, I will show up in your life from time to time. It may be two years, or 20. But you will see me again. Goodbye, Mr. Franklin, it has been my honor.” I touched my ring.

The next day I spent reading Ben Franklin’s history, knowing full well that what I was doing was playing with fire. Still, it was a worthy effort. I had not been discovered yet, so there was evidently no tears in time. At about 11 PM I set my computer for Mr. Franklin’s residence. I watched from outside for almost an hour, he was alone in his study/laboratory. Finally, I projected into his room.

“Oh My God, Man, can you not announce yourself? I shall die of heart failure!”

“Good evening, Mr. Franklin.” It was easier this time to address him thus, as he was a man in his late forties at present time.

“Ah, good evening Jamie. If my memory serves me well…”

“It does, Sir. I have been following in your progress. You have been a busy man. How is your health, Sir?”

“It seems, young man, that you would know that better than I. However, I am well, with some exception. I have suffered a bout with gout, but at present, it is at rest. But enough of that. I want to know more of what we are to accomplish as a country, I would like to see more of the future. What you showed me the first visit has cost me many hours of sleep. I have conversed with men who have been over the mountains, to the great river Ohio. I have read materials from the French and Spanish and their endeavors. How did we attain these lands? Was it war?”

“Ben, I can’t tell you how any of this happens, that would endanger time and history. But I came more prepared this time, to show you achievements that have been made. But first, are we alone? Is there any chance of discovery?”

“No, we are free this evening. My family is away.”

“Very well. First of all, this is what we use to light our homes and businesses.” I had glanced around and notice the room was lighted by four large candles sitting in a glass and metal lantern type devices. I showed him light bulbs of different types, then fixtures, and great spotlights that threw beams of light for great distances. I showed him scenes of homes where the room was as light as day itself. Then I showed him lasers. I explained they were all cousins to each other. I knew he had experimented with lightening, and had proved that lightening was electricity. I told him these were only a few things that were done with his new discovery.

He turned and looked at me for what seemed like half a minute. “Ah-ha! Electricity! I knew it! I knew it! This is most gratifying! I had no idea how important it would be. I felt that it meant something at the time, but this is….” his voice trailed off. Then he smiled and exclaimed, “But how? Oh, never mind, it will have to be invented in due course, right?”

I smiled and nodded. I proceeded to show him bits of history: early aircraft, automobiles, trains. Then some more modern technology. I spent about 3 hours that evening explaining the world that was to come, the world he would never see for himself. I finished about 2 in the morning, then we sat and visited. In was such an astute man, wise far beyond his years, he seemed almost naturally to see the proper course in almost every situation. I felt more secure in what I was doing. I made a promise to myself to never go beyond the limits of what was correct to tell him. At the close of the evening he automatically reached for my hand, then laughed when he couldn’t grasp it.

I went back over the next few days and visited him about every 10 or 15
years of his life. He was always overjoyed to see me and as responsibility was heaped on his shoulders, especially after the beginning of the birth pains of the Revolution, he would ask if he was acting in the best manner. Of course, I could not advise him.

After the treaty with Great Britain was signed, he came home from France. France had become his home, the people loved him. I visited him there on occasion. When he left it was almost as if the village outside of Paris was having a funeral for a favorite dignitary, he was so revered.

The last time I saw him was just before his death in 1790. Late one night I appeared to him, expecting to find him asleep. He wasn’t.

“Ah, Jamie, lad. I was just thinking of you.”

“How are you, Ben?”

“Ah, well. I am on my way out of this life, my young friend. I know this.
But I am well with it. I have had such a rich part of my life given to me, much of it in the glimpses you have given me. But I am ready to step through that curtain that separates us from life, and see what the next great adventure brings. My body has given out on me and I am in constant pain. It is time to give it up and I am willing. One of the worst parts is I can’t enjoy the ladies anymore. That is reason enough to die!” He laughed, then seemed to choke, and coughed into his handkerchief.

“Jamie, you don’t seem to have aged a day since the first time I saw you. Then we were about the same age. How long as it been in your life that you have spent with me?”

I smiled at him, “Ben, it has been only about a week.”

He smiled weakly, “What a marvelous thing.” There was a stirring in the next room. He lifted his head. “Thank you, Jamie, and goodbye. What you have given me bears no price. Remember me, please.”

“Mr. Franklin, the entire world will remember you and your efforts for centuries. Go rest now. It is for sure I will never forget you.”

There was a voice outside, “Mr. Franklin! Are you alright? I thought I heard voices.“

“Oh, yes, I am alright. You probably just heard an angel, coming to keep me company.”

As he faded from sight, and I returned to my own time, I did it with tears running down my cheeks. I had experienced greatness.

Almost Angels, Chapter 5

cental park

Oct 30, 2016
New York City, New York, USA

On assignment to record the history regarding the United States Presidential Election of 2016, and a follow up of the few months after the election, I found myself strolling down 5th Avenue on this late fall day. I had made my appearance in Central Park in a wooded area, so as to not be observed until I got my bearings. The park was ablaze in fall colors, but it seemed larger somehow than it did in my youth in 2494. I suppose it was the population, even though it was a crowded city, even in 2016 the population had much increased during the time of my youth. With so many moved away to other planets, even solar systems now, in 2518, it was less inhabited. Still, it was an interesting stroll, mixed with both men and women dressed in conservative business apparel hurrying to appointments. Then there were the casuals. Mostly young, dressed in what appeared to be the latest fashion out of a garbage dumpster, or from the fashion runway of the city dump. One could only guess where the mentality was born to try to everyday to look your worse. Some of the fashion statements would have been funny, if not so tragic, and impossible to manage in a work environment. The ones I am referring to are the young men with their trousers belted beneath their buttocks, and the legs of the trousers wadded about their ankles. So very strange.

As I passed windows with large screen televisions, blaring advertisements for everything imaginable from automobiles to personal toilet items, and lots and lots of fast foods, I observed the ads for the two political opponents, Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump. The two medias were as different as were the two opponents. Although Mrs. Clinton did from time to time stoop below her station to degrade Mr. Trump, it was the latter from day one who had hit the media outlets down and dirty. That would not have been so bad, but he seemed to lack plans for the future. His rhetoric seemed to be centered on hate, prejudice, and violence against opponents.

I stopped across the street from 725 5th Avenue. With its head in the sky, Trump Towers stood towering before me, it’s label in huge gold lettering above the entrance. “Grand”, though a bit gaudy. I needed to get inside, but it was plain I needed credentials. I pressed my ring and said, “Do you have me a cover?”

“Yes. You are James West, a medium level staffer. Mr. West is at home ill today. You will find your ID in your right coat pocket, and if you will look in a mirror, you will find his image on your face. Please try being a little invisible today.” The smiling voice of Misha chided in my ear.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

I watched for traffic to clear, then dashed across the street, fully expecting to be arrested for jay-walking, but no one interfered. I stopped and looked up then followed the line to the security entrance. I showed my pass and the officer half heartedly scanned me, then nodded me on. I stepped in and looked around. My first thought was wow. But it was a bit too wow. A golden water fall, a gift store with lots of Trump branded items. Most of the items bore tags of ‘Hecho en Mexico’, or ‘Made in China’… Pakistan, India, etc. I am not sure any tags read made in America. Then there was the Starbucks coffee shop, the restaurant. I found the elevator, and passed through the next security, finding the huge conference room where campaign head-quarters was in full swing. I recognized several faces. KellyAnne Conway, Trump’s son-in-law Jared, his daughter Ivanka.

Someone said, “ Hey, James! Thought you were sick?”

I smiled and did a kinda thumbs up, thumbs down, thumbs up and walked to a desk that had James West on the little block in front and sat down.
I started reading various papers. Instructions for tactics, most of them. Quite confusing. Things like, “write media posts that created dissention between the parties” or “Keep the base pumped”, and other quite aggressive tactics.

“Hey James, c’mon we got a meeting.”

I followed my associate into another big room where about 50 to 75 people were seated. A gentleman, well dressed and sporting good hair, that was just graying a bit, stepped to the podium.

“If I can have your attention, thank you. In just about a week, all the results of our hard work will come to an end. One way or the other. But never fear, we will win, and Mr. Trump is going to be the next President of the United States!” There was a loud round of applause. “But, that doesn’t mean we can stop yet, so here are your instructions. All personnel will spend as much time on social media as you can. You will all be given passwords to Facebook, Twitter, and other social media accounts. Find political discussions going on and invite yourself in, and start as many wars as possible. Start rumors, about the left, all the left, including the green and independent parties. You know what to do. Now, LET’S HAVE SOME FUN!”

When the cheering stopped I found my way back to my desk. About 5 PM many people left. I stayed. As there was less people, I shifted from room to room, sometimes into a closet, or hall way. It was some time after midnight that 5 men came up the elevator to one of the upper offices. I couldn’t hear their voices well, but two had a thick accent. Maybe Russian? I watched as they enter the room. The room next door showed dark under the door, so I skipped 5 seconds and reappeared in the dark room. I pressed my ring and said, ”I need one way transparency of a 12 by 8 square in front of me.”

Misha answered, “So you want to see through a wall? What are you up to”?

“I need to know what is going on in this meeting. I feel it is very important.”

As the wall opened up, I could see the men were seated in comfortable chairs. Someone was pouring drinks, they were busy talking and laughing amongst themselves.

As the final gentleman took his seat, he took as sip of his drink, swallowed, he took a breath, and leaned forward. He laughed. Not an evil laugh, yet something about his voice chilled me. He had rather long wavy hair. He was thickset, with slightly heavy features. He had a decidedly Russian accent.

“I never thought, on the outset of this venture, that the Americans would fall prey to these tactics. But I suppose one can learn something new every day. Throughout all her wars, she has used propaganda so efficiently. In WWII she even got the Italian Navy to surrender that way. They dropped leaflets everywhere, swaying countless millions of people. It is as if this year, they all went to sleep. And we didn’t even have to print very much. Most of it was “dropped” on them by the media. All we had to do was create a headline, and it got countless attention. Then, of course, there was the social media. Where they could do it to themselves.” There was that laugh again. “It has been too easy, even though the government know there has been ‘hacking’. They make so little of it, as if they are invulnerable.

“Now, Gentlemen, we can use the same tactic once the election is over and Mr. Trump is elected. We can use it to attain yours and our agenda, just as easily. Mr. Trump will be our leverage. On one side he will be so hated, and so mistrusted, and on the other side by his followers, so revered, well, we can keep this going for sometime.”

“Anytime something important needs to be accomplished, we will simply allow him to created a diversion. And,” he laughed, “you know how easy that will be! ‘Conquest through diversion’, ‘Divide and conquer’, ‘A House divided against itself, cannot stand’. You need to work fast my friends. The illusion will not last forever. You need to bring your party to complete power, you need to hold a larger majority of the legislative, and you need to help some of those old judges on the Supreme Court to retire. You understand what I am telling you. My father told me that during the War America sent so many radio broadcasts to its enemies, that they sometimes had a better audience of them than they did of its own citizens. Now is the time to act. There will be a lot of anger and arguing the day after election day. There will be much confusion. Your job is to prey on that confusion.”

With that, he set back in his chair, sipped his drink again, and smiled to himself and closed his eyes, as if he was dreaming of the future.

I pressed my ring, and reappeared in my headquarters.

“What’s the matter? Man, you look as if you have lost your best friend!”

“You know, if I didn’t know that humanity is worth saving, I would just say the hell with them. But then I look around and, well, we have truly come a long way. See you later. I need a long, hot shower. And a distraction. Is Misha off duty yet?”

“Yeah, man, she’s off. Go take your shower. That must have been a really bad trip.”

Two hours later, I brought my bottle of wine and knocked on Misha’s door.

“Enter!”

I did. She was sitting on her moshy couch, surrounded by her computer. Pictures and video filled the air around her. She flicked her hand and it all disappeared.

“I was looking for a movie. Any suggestions?”

“No. As long as it doesn’t have politics, or New York City in it.”

“Bad day, huh? C’mere, let me make it all better.”

Then the lights went down, and a tropical garden sprang up around me. The scent of many flowers assailed my nostrils. Soft music began to play, and I was wrapped in the arms of my best girl.

Almost Angels – Chapter 2

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The General had his dander up, he was hell bent on destroying the Native Americans. I found him just as flamboyant and colorful as the history books described him. His horse was lathered and more animated than any of the others around him. I knew it was because, he was simply feeding off Custer’s energy. Horses are rather like that.

I glanced down at the stout bay that was standing under me. I usually didn’t get this close to that part of history I was recording. I just had to get this right, so many different versions of that fateful day.

The scout charged back up to where the officers were gathered.

“There are thousands of them, Gen’rl! I mean thousands! I din’t know they were that many red devils on earth!”

“Calm down, man. Draw me a picture of where they are, we will surprise them.”

I couldn’t  help chuckle at that. The trooper beside me spat tobacco juice out and said, “Whut’s so funny?  Hey, you new? Don’t remember seein’ yuh.” I was about to answer when

“ATTEN’HUT!”

“Listen up! Gen’rls got a few words!”

I had taken three days off and spent most of it with my best girl. We had gone to the beach, and rode the wave skimmers. I loved it, to be able to ride at any speed reasonable or to stop, a foot off the water, to look at fish or other things beneath the waves. I always secretly wish I had invented that little device.  We spent an evening stalking recent movies. They had found a way to enable you to enter a holo-projection, literally step into a play, completely interactive, then leave whenever you wish. They did that way back when I was just a kid, but wow, they had gotten so much better,. Now you could actually think that you felt a character when you touched them.

The last night home we did an adult one. Not quite porn, but lots of nudity and sex. We left pretty quickly, came home and destroyed our bedroom, table knocked over, mattress in the floor, shower curtain pulled down. When we awoke next morning and looked around, we had a good laugh and wound up in each others arms again.

The General had moved us out toward the river. He seemed to be unsure of his distance He kept stopping as if to ascertain where the north side of the village was Finally he decided and we charged for the river But as we arrived, a heavy fire erupted, and the charge was halted. The fight continues as we make out way back to the little hill behind us. We were attacked from all sides, then finally, with no place to go and not totally surrounded, but still unable to retreat, everyone dismounted.  Men were falling around me. I sensed bullets going through me, and saw them going through the bay.

Such horror. No way to describe it. Almost everyone dead, only a few left.

Now a warrior coming for me, tomahawk upraised, fury in his eyes, painted with blood covering his painted body and face. I touched the Bola, holding my neckerchief in place, and faded from sight, along with the bay. I moved back to where Benteen would be, and joined the rear of the formation and reappeared. The fighting went on for sometime, till reinforcements arrived.

I was so very touched. I touched my bolas, “Audio report, please scan my feed and see if it is complete. I wish to leave here and not return. Reply to be silent message.”

A few minutes later came series of clicks against my chest that released me. I rode the bay out to small bush, as if I intend to relieve myself. I look around, no one is looking my way. I touch my bolas, and I’m gone. I now find myself in a large tree above the Cheyenne village, across the river. I will remain here for some time and watch the after battle activity. One thing for sure, the valor of the men, on both sides, was something. Both horrible and inspiring. The troopers, knowing they will die but, still standing, still fighting. What is the thing inside a human that drives it? I want another assignment away from battle for a while.

The whole thing took less than a half hour.

 

 

Almost Angels

I didn’t know what day it was. For sure, I had set the computer for 10 a.m. Friday, May 23, 1863, but one could tell it was later than that. I hadn’t been walking that long and I was losing light fast. The northeast Mississippi foothills along a little river. I started to step across the rusty colored branch to the flat rock when, damn, it moved! I saw the triangular head drawn back to strike. Quickly, totally by reflex, I swung my staff. My aim was deadly. He was dead.

It was at that moment I felt the bump. What the fuck? I had only killed a snake. The orders were to not kill or injure any creature big or small while on detached duty. Our jobs was simple – to correct history. From almost as far back as there was a record the dominant class wrote the history. It was written to benefit them. Facts were only part of the equation. Finally, after several wars and bad administrations, the councils decided that we would send back teams to observe history, and correct the errors. Then we would have sound guidelines for society. I mashed the little Cannon on my ring, and the 12” holographic image sprang up. The very attractive image of my fiancé, Misha, smiled back at me.

“Can I help you Gabe?”

“Yes,” I said, “A moment ago I was a bit forceful with a serpent. I am afraid it is destroyed. I got a bump. Can you bring it up and see what I affected? It was a rather large copperhead. You have my 20 and timestop, right?”

“Roger, OK. Give me a minute.”

I watched the pretty face, with all those delicious expressions. She shook her head, causing the long blonde waves to fall away from her face. “Here you go. Yep, that is a kinda serious tear. It will have to be repaired sometime in the near… my future, not yours. It seems he was to bite someone really important, changing the course of a battle here in this place, about two years into your future.”

“Well, maybe we can scab that, and get another serpent to do it.”

“Don’t worry about it for now, it will have to go to committee.”

“Yeah, just what I didn’t want to hear.”

“Gabe, we are finding out that almost everything in the past links with lots of other things, it doesn’t leave you much space for error. Anyway, that Union Uniform looks great on you. A really good look for you. When will you return?”

“Day after tomorrow, mid-afternoon. I have been craving Vietnamese food, wanna go out? Hmm, on second thought, after sitting here watching you, I think I would just as soon eat in. And you had better crawl back in my ring quickly, I hear voices.”

“Oooh, that sounds like fun! Luv ya babe, I’m gone gone!”

The two men were dressed like him, Union Army Infantrymen. I turned and said, “Hey, you men know the whereabouts of the 3rd Ohio?”

One of the men shook his head and said, “Nope, where ya coming from?”

I said, “Down river from Pittsburg Landing. Been on leave up at my Pa’s and Ma’s in Vincennes, Indiana.”

The other man said, “Probably down here closer to Corinth. You can walk with us.”

I thought, No, not gonna do that. He would wait for the right moment. And that moment appeared, as about 200 Union Cavalry came at a gallop out of the trees. The two men turned and were transfixed by the sight. I stepped back and touched the side of the ring with my left forefinger, and was immediately 20 miles south.

I stood looking down on the breastworks of the town of Corinth Mississippi. I smiled. Those two boys were probably still scratching there heads, wondering how I could have gotten away that fast. I wondered if I would ever see them again. So far, I had always been able to skip when no one was looking. That was the directive, but I knew plenty that had not, and history was full of those stories. Some had sworn they had seen angels, others swore sorcery or witchcraft. Totally depends on your perspective. The History Search was about 50 years old now. The first 5 years they had made so many tears that it took the next 5 years to scab them. But continued improvements and better training had decreased the tears at all levels. #1 Tears were almost unheard of now, #2’s less, and on down the line to his level 5 today. I had a good record, and I wanted to keep it that way. I watched as the Cavalry I had observed earlier make a charge on the Rebel forces. Lots of noise, lots of yelling, then they withdraw. Just a harassment, that’s all. One week from today, those Reb’s are going to abandon their fort, that is what I was there to observe.