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Almost Angels Chapter 15

I sat back in my grav chair and sighed. I had witnessed so much history that I had come to believe in the fables about Miracles.

The greatest Miracle was the fact that there was what at the time was called a “United States of America”. I smiled. If someone in the past, especially early 21st Century, would have heard me repeat those words in a slight manner, they would have been ready to fight. What was equally an oxymoron; this was at a time that they would have been losing their rights, faster than any time in its history.

The world had evolved so very slow, so primitive in it’s thinking, so reluctant to think outside the box, it was, for the most part, The ME generation. Only it wasn’t just one generation, it had turned into a century. Trouble is, when thought patterns are allowed to replicate, that programs the DNA. Now you have multiple levels of habit and a more deep seated community for it to grow in.

Ahhhhh, quit thinking Jamie, it isn’t your job. Yours is to record history, accurately, thoroughly, with no disturbance to the leaves of time and the layers which they fall into.

The whole reflected set of thoughts was a flashback of the last weeks work. A double set of events, linked to a people that painted a painful picture of greed, vile, prejudice, and cruelty. Events that some of which were highly illegal, and horribly immoral.

OK, from the top. After Misha and I came back from the moon on Sunday, I found a message for my next week’s assignment. It read for the most part.

“Jamie, we need to have the period between 2016 and 2022, and the period of 1932 to 1936, USA recorded. Particularly, all history pertaining people of Hispanic culture. All records you can find copied and recorded. Do some digging for a couple of days and, oh yeah, brush up on your Spanish language, especially Mexican dialects.”

Misha and I had ice cream for dinner and hung on the deck till the setting sun behind us cast long shadows out over the city of Denver and the Great Plains beyond. Misha slipped out of her grav chair and came over and kissed me wetly on the lip. I licked my lips and mused.DEnSky

“Umm, strawberry, yummy! I want all my kisses to be strawberry kisses from now on.”

She whispered, sexily, “Yaasss, it mixes so good with lime-vanilla. G’nite babe, the salt mines lie before, for tomorrow.”

“Yeah, salt mines…. g’nite love.”

I made a mental note to get some more personal recordings of especially the people in the thirties. I had done a job on the Great Depression of that period, it had to be a difficult time for even the sturdiest.

I leaned my grav chair back and opened videos of depression era 1930’s,1930s immigtnts dark grey pictures of dark grey men in ill-fitting suits and hats, with sour expressions, and a defeated look in their eyes. I did a side search for Mexican immigrants same period. My hologram blossomed into fields full of men women and children, picking cotton, oranges, apples, watermelons, and every other kind of food that grows. On and on it went as I deepened my search, not only videos but magazine pictures of what seemed like nothing but a people of labor. I muttered under his breath, “And who the F—-, would want to get rid of people that spend their lives working, and even more, why? For what reason?”

It had grown dark now. The lights out over the plains were dark, and Denver was beacon of light that could be seen from outer shot The air had chilled, time to call it a holiday well done. I stepped out my grav chair, and pressed the park button; it immediately drifted to the ceiling in a corner and hung there ready when needed. I turned and did the same for Misha’s chair, which promptly moved and parked itself next to mine.

The chairs had been a wedding gift from Misha’s parents. What a great piece of engineering! They would hang at whatever level you wished, at whatever level of firmness of cushion that you desired, and could set anywhere from straight up to full recline. The first day or so I found myself waking of a morning, still in my chair.
I had thanked her parents many times over. The company that manufactured them was in Fort Collins, just up the road. They were a by product of the latest disabled person’s mobility chairs, formerly know as wheel chairs. They had instantly gone viral on social media. And the company had grown rich.

By Thursday morning I had prepared myelf for the time jump. I had obtained permission to spend some overnights, and not return to my terminal at the end of his shift. I had to satisfy my personal questions about the times.

After log-in and time tether attachment, I pressed the button. I found himself just outside El Paso, Texas, May 17th, 2020.wetbacks I stayed invisible for sometime, observing. Buses were coming in by the dozens. Someone mentioned the trucks need to go to the railroad terminal and load the people from the boxcars and bring them back to be processed. There was no processing, just people herded into cages, and then let out on the other side, to walk back across the bridge to Mexico. They were photographed and retina scanned, and fingerprinted, then turned out to walk over this huge bridge that formerly had been a highway filled with trucks transporting goods for both countries. But they had been closed weeks ago. Hmm, no chance of singling out anyone here to speak with, too much turmoil. Perhaps if I would just follow them into Mexico an occasion might arise.

I stepped out with a group headed west over the bridge over the Rio Grande. I stayed aloof until across the bridge, then as the crowd dispersed somewhat, I fell into line with an elderly gentleman and a man in his early sixties. At the end of the street was a plaza with benches and food vendors. The two men sat at a bench, the older gentleman seemed very forlorn, and totally exhausted. He had leaned on the other man the last block before reaching the resting spot. He patted the older man’s shoulder,
“It will be alright, Papa. Uncle Marcus said he would meet us before nightfall, and take us home with him. Wait here and I will get us some food.”

When he walked away, I looked around, and seeing myself alone, turned my visibility on. I stepped over to the bench near the old man, and sat down.

“Señor, are you alright?”

“What? Oh, si, I didn’t see you, until you spoke.”

“Pardon, I didn’t mean to startle you. You look exhausted, may I be of service?”

“Uh, gracias, but my son is here with me.”

“Oh, bueno. Have you traveled far today?”

“Si, they came to my home at four this morning. They took me and my son, and put us on a bus. I had no time to prepare food or to take my valuables, or even to call relatives.”

“Señor, how long had you lived in America?”

“Ahh, all of my life. I was born there. I have lived in America all my life except when I was but a nino. My father, in 1935, was forced out of the country in much the same way, when I was very small. He, too, had lived in America for years. He had a good job, he owned his own home. It was small, but we were happy. Do I know you? You seem very familiar to me, or perhaps I knew your family?”

My thoughts raced. How could the old man know me? I had never seen him before. Then it hit me. In my present time, he could not, but I will go to his past and meet his father, and it will be from that meeting will come his memory.

“Perhaps, sir, you may remember, I am not sure. We will speak of it more later. Your son is coming with food and something to drink, you rest now.”

“Señor, what are you doing here with my father? He has had very tiring day.”

“Yes, I know. We were just discussing that. He appeared very weak, I asked him if I could help him. He told me you would be back. I am very sorry for your troubles, it seems the world has gone mad, at least the United States.”sadkids4

“Yes, it seems so. His brother will be here soon, to pick us up and take us to his home.”

At about that time a dark sedan pulled up. A man in his 70’s exited the vehicle and walked to us with a cane. He was wearing jeans and a western shirt.

“Luis! Hermano, what has happened? This is madness!”

He wrapped his arms around the older man, embracing him.
“Come, let us get you in the car, and take you where you can lie down and rest. Arturo, help your father. You, young man, would you please help? You are welcome to come along, this area might not be safe at night, with all this masses of people being forced in. Madre de Dios! I know not what is going to happen to us! Come, hurry.”

We all loaded into the sedan and a short drive later, pulled up to a rambling house in a rural area. Two dogs greeted us with barks and wagging tails, and two horses watched us from a board corral fence. A couple of goats munched bits of a small bush. Chickens wandered everywhere.

The younger brother, whose name was Marcus, climbed out and gave orders for us to get his brother out and bring him inside, and we followed his directions. As we entered a lady, perhaps in her late 50s or early 60, met us.

“Oh, Luis! What has happened?”

“Maria, turn down the covers in the day bed, and let us get Luis comfortable. Then we will talk,” Marcus ordered.

“Si Marcus, momento, por favor!”

Soon the older man was resting comfortably. Arturo, exhausted from caring for his father all day, collapsed on the couch in the living room. Marcus asked me to come into the kitchen and Maria would make us some food. I complied, thanking him. We sat down and had a early dinner of tortillos and frijoles with some type of peppers and meat that was delicious. I secretly wished that Misha might have been there.

I looked up at Marcus, “Gracias, Señor Marcus, Señora Maria, for your hospitality. Luis told me just before you came that his father was deported in 1935, when he was a small boy. Do you know why?”

“Si. Crazy gringo Politicians, and probably rich white men as well. It was all well before I was born. Luis is my half brother, his father passed away not too long after he was deported. Our mama remarried, she was younger than Luis’s father,” he looked at Maria, “much younger. Years later, since he was a citizen, he was able to return to Refugio. His mother stayed here, and met my father, and I was born. As I grew up, I never had much trust for the Norte Americanos, and so, that brings me to you. What is your business here?”

“Fair enough. Yes, I have some Mexican heritage, so springs my interest. But I also write for a Mexico City magazine, and I am a member of Amnesty International. I got myself deported to follow the story, and see if there is not a way of ending this travesty. My question to you; do you have any idea as to when Luis’s father was deported in the 30’s?”

“Maria, would you please bring me the big bible? I am a lucky man. I met Maria when I was in my 50’s. We fell in love and have built a simple but wonderful life together.”

Maria placed the large bible on the table before Marcus. He opened it and ran his finger down the page.

“Yes, he was taken at Refugio, on April 12, 1934 and sent to El Paso as well. It was vey hard for him, he was not as old as Luis but still, an old man.”

“Thank you,” I replied. I sat back from the table and pulled a small note pad from my pocket and wrote down the time and date and place.

“Oh, yes, and what is Luis last name and what was his father’s?”

“His father’s name was Roberto Ramirez. Luis is also the same last name. Do you think your writing will help this evil thing?”

“Señor Marcus, I am sorry to say, I know not.”

I could not tell him that 5 years from now would see a huge change in politics. I also couldn’t tell him about the difficulties that lay in the future. I leaned back, and closed my eyes.

“Ah, young man, where is my manners? You are tired! Come, you can use my son’s room. He is away for the month, it is detached from the house. Follow me.”

I did so, and found myself in a roomy little bungalow just comfortable for one person. When Marcus left, I lay down on the bed that was covered with a big serape style cover. I looked around at the various possessions that belong to this young man. A soccer ball, pictures of Soccer stars, some beautiful dark eyed girls, a large framed document. Some older toys from days gone past. My eyes started to close. I roused myself long enough touch the side of my ring, a hologram popped up of the monitoring agent back at home in the 26th century. I told her I was just checking in, and all was well, would contact in about 8 hours my time. Then I slept.

My eyes, opened with difficulty. A strange trumpeting sound erupted several times outside my window, jarring me to life. I raised myself on one elbow. A cock was sitting on a low wall, about 20 feet away, notifying the world that the sun had once more made it light and food was to be served momentarily. I dropped back. What an interesting alarm clock. There was also baaa’s from the goats and nickerings and squeals from the horses.

I dressed quickly and wandered outside and back toward the main house. As I went I saw Maria and a younger woman coming from the barns. They had a bucket of milk, I thought, although I had never seen such a thing up close, and an apron of eggs.

“Buenos dias! This is my daughter, Angela. Angela, Señor… oh pardon! What did you say your name was?”

“Good morning. I am not sure I did, we were all very tired last evening. It is Jamie.”

“Ah, Señor Jamie, come to the kitchen, we are about to have breakfast.”

Minutes later, the 6 of us were seated around a big table of eggs and bacon and homemade hot tortillas, frijoles, a big dish of whipped butter, and a jar of honey, and a half dozen other dishes I didn’t recognize. Luis and Arturo seemed to be restored, but both had worried looks on their faces. Both faced an uncertain future this morning.

Luis said the blessing on the food, and closed it by saying
“And Father, protect these families that have been sent here, who have no family such as we have to help them in these trying times. Protect the little children, that have no bed this day to lay their head on, nor a hot meal like that which has been prepared here before us. For such we thank thee, Amen.”

Maria responded, “Yes, and how about those families that have no ties in Mexico, no family here? Some don’t even speak Spanish. How will they survive, what are they to do?”

There was no answer given. I asked Marcus how I might get back to the city, to get more information. He told me at 9 a bus comes by the end of the lane to his house. I walked down about a quarter to 9 to await. I contacted my terminal and told them I was leaving 2020 and going to 1934, and all was well. As I saw the bus go by, I did a time jump to April 11, 1934, Refugio, Texas.

It was quite warm at 4 in the afternoon in southwest Texas, even for April. There was considerable amount of activity, Sheriffs and deputies, and Border Patrol.

I popped into a barber shop, sat down near a fan. The warm breeze somehow helped. I asked the guy next to me, “Lot’s of activity going on, what is happening?”

“Oh, someone said they were going to raid some more Mexicans tonight or tomorrow, and send them back to Mexico.”

“Really?” I said.

I left the shop, nodded at the barber and said I would return later. I had obtained a small city map, and walked about a bit. Then, in a small neat cottage on the south side of the street, I saw a name on a mailbox, – Roberto Ramirez. Under a small, neatly trimmed, probably some kind of oak tree in the front yard, a young Mexican woman sat with a toddler, maybe 3 years of age. I walked by and stopped.

“That is a handsome young lad, what is his name?”

“Gracias, señor. His name is Luis.”

“Oh, that is a fine name. A man can grow old with a name like Luis. Gracias, señora.”

I turned and walked down the street. This was the right home. I would be back later.

About midnight I returned to the little home, this time invisible. I found a spot in the yard to sit and wait. I could hear neighborhood sounds around me. About 2 a.m., a small bus turned down the street, followed by 3 rattling Model-A Ford cars. As they stopped, men piled out, going to three different houses, the Ramirez house hold included. I had to clinch my hands on the chair arms I was in, to keep from running to warn them, but that could not be. A serious tear in time would be irreparable. They rousted the poor people out, no possessions, barely clothed, and loaded them in the little bus, women and children included. I watched as they drove them away, probably to San Antonio, to a railroad head somewhere. If they took them to Corpus Christie or Rockport they would be taken away by boat. But I knew that Luis and his family went to El Paso. I sighed, sat back in the chair, visably shaken. My ancestor’s country did this. I opened my communicator, Misha was on duty tonight. I was glad, I needed to see a friendly face.

“Jamie, what’s wrong? You look as if you had lost your best friend!”

“Worse, I have just seen the dirty underbelly of our ancestor’s country, and it makes me very sad.”

“Aww, I am so sorry. Wish I could come give you a hug.”

“Me too, sweetie. Maybe another day or two, then you can. I am sure I will still need it.”

I jumped time, and landed in El Paso again, different spot this time. I had to wait one more day before Roberto and his wife and little Luis appeared. I followed them, invisible, until they were in Mexico. They went to a big church and were taken in. I waited till evening, and everyone had relaxed. Then I turned visible and walked into the room, I walked over to the Ramirez family and spoke to Luis’s mom.immigrants present

“Señora, I am so sorry they got you too.”

She looked down, tears in her eyes. “Si, señor.”

I squatted down and spoke to Luis. “Señor Luis, you will be fine. With a fine name like Luis you will live a good life. Señor Roberto, what will you do?”

“The priest has told us that there is a small farm outside of town, a man lives who has lost his wife and has need of someone to help him manage. We will go there tomorrow.”

I figured that I knew just the place he was speaking about. I jumped time 3 years later, appearing at the small ranch outside town. I walked up the shady lane to the rambling ranch house. A small boy, maybe 6, was playing in the yard. As I walked up his mother appeared on the shaded porch.

“Ah, señor! Como esta! How are you?”

“I am fine, señora. I am leaving Mexico, and I thought to come back and see you and Señor Roberto, and of course, Señor Luis, before I go.”

She melted in tears, then straightened herself. “Señor, Roberto passed away about 3 months ago. His heart was broken over what happened, he never recovered. The man who owns the ranch has let us stay. He has grown attached to Luis, so there is hope for us.”
I sat down in front of Luis, he looked at me with a frown.

“I know you, I have seen you before.”

“Yes, you have Luis. And you know what? You just might see me again before you die. Here I have something for you.” I gave him a tiny American flag, the sort that goes on a coat lapel. “Here is something to remember me by. Now, adios to you and you too, señora. You will not be forgotten.”

I walked back up the shady lane to the small ranch again, this time in 2020. Marcus raised his arm in greeting.

“Hola amigo, you return!”

“Si, but only to say goodbye. I am leaving Mexico, but felt I need to thank you one more time for your hospitality, and hope if I ever return, that I might be welcomed again.”

“Of course you will. It would be our pleasure, stay as long as you wish. Maria is calling me.”

I sat on the chair opposite Luis. I looked into his eyes, those sad eyes that had seen so much change over his 80 plus years.

“Luis, you said you thought you might have remembered me, is that true?”

“Yes, I still think I remember you.”

“Do you remember when you were but a small boy, someone gave you a tiny American flag?”

For a minute his eyes went blank, then a memory stirred and with it a puzzling look. He became confused for a moment, then he looked me in the eyes, and with a frown he said “I know you, I remember. How is this possible? It is you, you look the same, but how?”

“Luis, I came back today to tell you, that you don’t have to understand, but I want you to know, I wanted you to know, that the future holds such marvelous new things, and much better lives. Yes, there will be more trials as time goes on. But we will get there. Rest easy, sir, and enjoy your days here with a loving family. I must go.”sad kids 2

“Señor Jamie, are you from another world?”

“Yes and no. It is a very different world, but the same planet. I live in the 26th century, but don’t tell anyone that or they might think you are not right!”

“I won’t, thank you for telling me. If you can comeback sometime and tell me more, I would love to know. I have grandchildren and great grandchildren, and it would give me pleasure to know about their world.”

“I will try, sir, but this is very controlled thing we do, we must be very careful. Adios, Luis!”

As no one was looking, I smiled at him and touched my ring and faded slowly from his world. The peace on his face, and his smile, was worth it all.DEnSky

At home that evening I sat overlooking Denver and tried to imagine what motivates leaders of countries to commit the horrors that they commit on the people they are supposed serve.sad kids 3 In the 20th century the people on the right were screaming no open borders. They couldn’t accept that the left didn’t either. Borders must have control, but the right wing media made it seem to some that the left wanted them open. The left put little effort into understanding the rights opinions and beliefs, so it went on for centuries before we evolved enough to get it right. This history recording certainly helped. When the facts are put before you, well, it just makes a difference. Sure, some will always say nay, but over the last hundred years it has become less and less, and as we reach out across the galaxies and populate other worlds, the need gets greater to succeed.

I kicked my grav chair back, and drifted away, thinking of a little ranch outside of San Antonio where they served real Mexican food.

Almost Angels, Chapter 14

I had just finished two long weeks of grueling duty covering various wars in 19th century and early 20th century America. The Boer War, The Spanish American, some Chinese conflicts, and lesser squabbles in Eastern Europe. I took my first day with my girl and flew to Switzerland and played for the day. We went to Rome for dinner and were back home in our townhouse overlooking dinner by 12 midnight. After two weeks of the archaic, slow methods of the last two weeks, it just felt good.


I awoke the next morning to the bright Colorado sunrise peeking through the blinds she had so thoughtfully drawn. She had to work today. I stepped out onto the deck and looked down at the air traffic arriving and leaving the huge metropolitan area. A slight zoom flicked by my face. I turned. A ruby breasted humming bird was feeding on a trumpeting flower on the ledge of the deck. Then there was another, and another. I walked back into the house and dug out the feeder and mixed up a sugar water mix and went back and hung it on the hanger above the rail. It took less than 5 minutes until it had a half dozen customers were flitting about, chasing, having dog fights that would impress our very best light fighter aircraft that practiced daily north of Colorado Springs. I smiled and went back inside, making a mental note to refill the feeder later.

As I entered, the holophone buzzed and my boss rose from the floor and formed. He turned to me and spoke.


“Jamie, I realize you are off for a few days, but sometime ago you turned in some records for 2016 and 2017 about some political stuff, right?”


“Yes, I did. Were they alright? No one mentioned them afterwards?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, they were fine. Do you remember anything about the period from being there? A mood or anything?”


“Well, the one in ‘16 was during a big election. It seemed pretty passionate. The other seemed quite tense, if I remember right.”


“Well, ok. Uh, look, go ahead and take your break. You earned it. If you have any spare time, pull up some records on 2018 to 2020. The council has some concerns about a section of history. When you come back, we would like you to explore it.”




“Ok, enjoy your time, see you later.” He spiraled down out of sight.


Hmmm, that was interesting. Wonder why? Oh well, too nice a day to spend it inside. I fixed a bit of breakfast, dressed, grabbed my helmet, and went to the garage. I had just bought the new hoverbike, the Air Bandit. I donned the helmet, dropped the visor, and stepped across the seat and sat down and gripped the handle controls. My thumb found the start button, and as it recognized my thumbprint, it found its voice. “Where to, Jamie?”


“I would like to go to Rocky Mountain National Park today. And take a scenic route.”


“Very well. Stand by until I file a flight plan and set a tracer signal. Ok, we are set. Are you comfortable? Please hold the control handles firmly, but allow me to navigate. Alright, if you are ready.”


“I’m ready.”


“We are off.”


And with that, with a hum, we lifted off the floor. The garage door opened, and we were out and down the road until we intersected US-285. We turned right and somewhere just after Conifer we lifted to about 500 feet and turned due north. Our speed increased to just over 100mph. It seemed no time that we passed over the sprawling resort town of Estes Park. We held our altitude, and turned a bit more northwest, and our speed decreased to about 60mph. We continued up the side of the mountains. Soon we reached timberline, and then the broad expanses of the Park.


“Uh, take me down, and lower the speed. I would like to slowly cruise and see what wild life is about.”


“Ok, Jamie. We are going to sightseeing mode.”


For the next hour we slipped silently over the tops of deer, and elk, and moose. And then below us a big grizzly bear reared on his hind legs and waved at us.


“Uh, record that if you will.”


“We got him.”


Grizzly’s had been reintroduced to Colorado in the mid 21st century, along with wolves. There was a bit of a controversy about it but the objections died out. The population had been kept under control with new ways of teleporting the animals. If one got too familiar with humans, he was whisked away to a more remote area.  After a while I had soaked up enough nature for one day.


“Ok, back to Denver to the Federal Archive hub on Larimer Street.”


“Larimer Street it is.”


It was only a half hour ride to my destination. We landed in front of the tall building that contained most of the history records from the past, or at least copies of them.


“Jamie, I took the liberty of linking with your communication device. When you are ready to leave, just call me. I installed an App, you will see it when you open. I will have it up and waiting for you. Enjoy your visit.”


With that my Air Bandit lifted and turned to the parking garage. I went inside, found a table with a holomonitor and asked for records from 2018 thru 2020. I slipped my ear-buds in and clicked on remote speakers. As holographic pictures starting in 2018 started unfolding, I listen to various news broadcasters relating their versions of the events. The first thing I determined was that the individual elected President, a Donald Trump, was the center of a large controversy. The two factions, a right and a left, held very different views of the same events. That concerned me. How could the same people, all citizens of same country, from the same schools, the same general environments, have such different ideas? It was perplexing. There were basically two different media systems. CNN and MSNBC and even CBS and ABC were mostly left, with different degrees of zeal. Fox News was totally right, and quite fanatic about it. Still, you couldn’t use that imbalance to determine right or wrong. The President did have some odd habits, such as in wee morning hours he would broadcast his thoughts from his communications device rather than through press briefings as other leaders had done through the years. A strange habit, at a strange time of day. I listened to some of his talks. He had a habit of praising himself, something I had not seen other Presidents do from flashing back on their talks.


I pulled up some speeches from 2016 and 2017. He seemed obsessed with building a huge expensive wall across the entire southern border of the United States, and he was ridiculed for it by some and praised by others. Interesting.


Almost from the first, the social media platforms were alive and on fire with warfare between citizens. Oftimes friends becoming enemies, and it even reached into family circles, causing unrest and huge stress on relationships.


2017 and 2018 saw huge catastrophic natural disasters in America. Floods, fires, storms, hurricanes – all costing lives and billions of dollars. Violent shootings in schools and public places became common. In 2017 I had witnessed the man crashing his car into protestors in Charlottesville, Virginia. Huge hate groups began to surface and to publicly display themselves. And it just all seemed to grow like a cancer. As the midterm elections approached, both sides prepared for battle, using whatever media and tools they had to defeat the other side. The left – the blue side – predicted a blue wave of successes that would take the House of Representatives and Senate back from the controlling right. At the same time, there were right wing donors and politicians refusing to run for a next term. It looked like the blue could be right, but the right were running strong TV ads, berating the left and stirring the right conservative base to vote and fight back. This looked interesting.


I popped my earplugs back in my pocket and went outside I opened the app for my sled and pressed return. When I approached the curb, it landed about ten feet in front of me.


“Ready to go Jamie?”


“Yes, I am. Let’s go home.”


Thirty minutes later, we arrived home. My ride parked itself in the garage, and settled down to earth.


“Have a good evening, Jamie.”


“Thank you.”


I took a long shower on the deck, and filled a bowl with some good Colorado sativa, and took a hit.


“Music,” I said, “Play list three.”


The room filled with a digitized techno orchestra number that took me away. I lay on my air chair for an hour or two listening to music, thinking about what I had read earlier. It was a time in history that seemed to be blank in our records. It seemed that the media and the newspapers quit reporting for a time. No one spoke of it. I would read more tomorrow. My three more days off looked good ahead. Besides, I was very stoned. I had not been able to do that in a while.


“Jamie, you awake? I mean, you look lovely there all naked and delicious on your little anti-grav, but I am starved.”


By the time she had finished her sentence I had returned from sheer bliss.


“Hi Misha. You could always get naked and join me. There is room for two, if you stack us right.“ I giggled.


“Oh you bum! You have been stoned! I thought I smelled it. Nope, you will have to wait till later. What do you say to Tex-Mex?”


“Oh, yeah. Where?”


“Why, Austin, of course. You silly.”


I dressed in a hurry. Misha undressed showered and redressed in about the same time. 30 minutes later we were walking into Trudy’s off the strip in downtown Austin. After fajitas and frijoles, tortillas and queso, with a couple of margaritas each, we were still home in time to catch the ten o’clock news. After all that food, sex was out of the question. We drifted off to sleep with the sounds of a Mexican love ballad filling our house.


“Misha, the boss wants me to do some recording in America between 2016 and 2020. Have you heard anything about that?”


“Hmmmmm. Only that someone said there was some policy disagreements with the council, and someone said they didn’t want a repeat of 2019. Didn’t understand the implication.”


She was brushing her teeth and telling me all this, but I did get it.

“Wow. I read a bit yesterday afternoon, there was a real contested election in 2016. Ok, I will read some more today.”


As soon as she had breakfasted and vanished out the door, I opened my viewer and called up fall of 2018. The first thing that popped up was a headline that the left had not taken the House or Senate, and the country was in an uproar. People were screaming about a fixed election, threats were being levered to both sides from both sides. Then, strangely enough, news seemed to quit being reported. CNN was embroiled in several lawsuits. Its anchors almost in house arrest for fear of their lives. A bomb went off at Fox News Headquarters, taking them down for a few days. Wow, no wonder no one spoke of this. Now I couldn’t wait to get back to work. I went to DC the next day and went to the Archives. Still seemed to be quit. Then I found this letter from a lady in California, in 2021, addressed to a sister back east.


Dearest Caroline,

   A friend is carrying this letter to you. He has kin near where you live. He has been given permission to visit his brother in a re-education camp near there. He won’t be able to stay, as he feels he will be watched the whole time. I just wanted you to know that we are well. It is hard, with all the embargos and tariffs on goods. We can’t sell any of our almonds and we can’t seem to be able to buy very much food. We raise what we can. I can’t tell you when we last ate meat. Oh, well, yes I can. Jason trapped a big old scrawny jack rabbit and we made a stew out of him. Barely was enough for the four of us. I miss you, my sister. I hope this country can get fixed again. But I don’t know if it ever will. Be careful, my sister. Don’t trust anyone, not even those who were friends of yours before.


I love you.





OMG, what has happened?


Monday morning dawned bright and beautiful on the front range of Colorado. I was sitting patiently waiting for my boss when he walked into the room.


“Good Morning Jamie.”


“Good morning. I am ready to go on this one. I did some research. This period is almost as dark as the Dark Ages. I think I want to go to election day 2018. That seems to be a key point.”


“Ok, run the mission the way you want. You know we trust your judgement.”


An hour later, I was sitting in Houston, Texas in one of the outlying burbs. It was November 6, 2018. It was plain to see dissention in the air. Lots of people at the polls. Some being turned away for various reasons. That I didn’t understand. I bounced from city to city around the country, seeing mostly the same scene. Hard to tell who was voting for whom. People mostly silent, tight-lipped even.


I skipped forward until the next morning to view the results. The research was right. California and Colorado, Vermont, and other states won their seats, but it was not enough. The Senate and House of Representatives still held the majority. Little changed. The pundits and media hosts like Chuck Todd and comedians like Bill Maher were furious. The left had just expected everyone else to turn out and vote and had stayed home.


Skipping through time, I watched the President gaining more power. Two more ultra conservative judges were placed on the Supreme Court.  The country was at odds with Germany, England, France, Canada, Mexico, China, and even Russia, like an island in an angry sea. Embargos had been thrown up against us. America’s GNP fell like snowballs rolling off Mount Reiner, gaining momentum every day in it’s downward plunge. Huge amounts of funding was going to the military, yet the military seemed to not get any stronger. But the ones who won the contracts got richer. If you were black or Hispanic, it became dangerous to leave your home at night. Hordes of young white men roamed the streets en mass, maiming, even killing the unlucky one who fell in their path. True, gangs of blacks and Hispanics, even Asians, tried to organize, but when they did the police joined against them or the National Guard was sent out to suppress them.


By the fall of 2020, it was a country basically under military law. The press was for the most part silenced. Only some pirate radio’s, and in a couple of cases webcast television news tried to fight back.


Trump and his followers had done what no one else had been able to do. They stopped the wheel of progress. Most leftist Congressmen and Senators were forced into resignation. America was a third world country. Men in white shirts and red caps roamed the streets armed accosting citizens, requesting identification. If they resisted, they were beaten.


Farmers were shut down almost coast to coast. They couldn’t sell their goods on a world market anymore. The President had raised the tariffs so high that other countries would not buy their goods. The factories were silent. Starvation raised its ugly head. Public schools were empty all across America by the end of 2021. The elite sent their offspring to charter schools and programmed their little interior computers the way they wanted them to think. Now the average children would not be educated, and that would spell America’s doom.


The highways and bridges all across America were in great dis-repair. As I watched this tableau unfold, I was in total disbelief.

Trump had died early in ‘21 before he could take his second oath of office. He had a massive heart attack, and died sitting on his pot at 4 o’clock in the morning while texting.


Pence was made President in his place. He changed nothing, but he gave the churches permission to delve into politics. Roe vs. Wade was revoked, and abortion was considered a Level 1 Felony.


The rich got richer for a while. Then, sometime in 2022 late in the fall, the rich became divided. The politically rich became obsessed with the business rich, and started finding ways to take from them. It was about that time some rightwing leaders started appearing. They started movements all over the country to reform the Republican Party. Oh yeah, they caught flack. And lots of it. A few met with the same type of assassinations that some Russian defectors suffered in 2016 and 2017. It was a slow movement, but the fire was kindled all over Europe, and then in America. They were men of vision, much the same kind of men that had inspired America in the 18th century. They organized, they conspired. And, when the election in 2024 was a landslide to the right, with none opposed, revolution was born. Congressional leaders, professors from colleges, journalists, had been tucked away in re-education centers in Dallas, Atlanta, Springfield and Nevada started losing prisoners. They started disappearing and re-appearing in Mexico and Canada. The old people that had parents who had told their children how bad the starvation was in 1929 remembered. People on the right who had voted Trump in to start with and who had been tea-partiers finally saw the error of their ways. They finally saw how bad they had been lied to. I think they become more angry than the left who had fought against Trump in the first place. It is hard to admit you were wrong.


America was uniting. But how to overthrow a country that was living under martial law? A beaten working class, a middle class stripped of its tools.


It was in summer of 2025 when the governor of Texas, an ex US Senator, was the first to fall. He met the displeasure of the ruling class. It was a secret thing. Then, two members of the Senate met a similar fate. It was told it was treason. The men who took their places were unknown.


President Pence was involved in a case where he was accused of adultery with a 17 year old girl, daughter of a single mother employee at the White House. It took a while to take him down, but it happened. Mind you, all this happened behind closed doors.  Pence had never taken a Vice President. He termed the office useless. The office fell on the new Speaker of the House, Dan Reynolds. He had run on a republican ticket from Colorado, a fairly newcomer to  politics.


Other leaders fell during the next few years. Still, it remained a Republican leadership. Sometime in 2031, new faces sprung up all across America. In some places they were red, in others, Democrats were voted back for the first since 2018. People had started being released from the re-edu……. concentration camps.


After the Election of 2032, Congress convened and the President addressed it. The long banished press was invited to televise it.

When President Reynolds rose to speak, the crowd listened.


“Fellow Americans. This is going to be a long evening. And it will be an interesting one, you can count on it. First of all, as of this moment, all laws passed and signed, all Presidential Decrees put into effect, and all tariffs on our products produced in America after 2016, are null and void. This is the point where America went astray. It is past time to undo the wrongs, and it should be delayed no longer!”


There was a thunderous clamor from the Congressional Hall.


“I would like all of you in our lawmaking body, who are with me, please stand.”


Over ¾ of the legislative body rose to their feet and cheered. Those of the old body looked around in dismay.


   “Fellow Americans, to borrow a phrase, we start today to take our country back. Sanctions against countries that were once our friends are now relived. There are going to be great changes made. Term limits for Congress, for the Supreme Court. Stringent tests for anyone seeking public office. We seek to reorganize, away from a presidential office to a council of three, with the two houses of congress as a balance. No longer will either the left or the right be allowed to dominate the offices of power. They must be balanced. Restrictions will not be placed on business as to how much a citizen can earn, but at intervals they will be called on to be of service to their country. So many new idea, are in the making. Education; business is going to take on the responsibility of education, to train the generations for what they will need to move forward. Educators will be chosen from the highest levels of our leadership. Strict separations of church and state. Strict separation of state and business. No more will a corporation be considered an entity with the rights of the individual. It will take time to come back. We are on our way forward, and we WILL LOOK BACK. For history is what shows us the right path!”


Another thunderous ovation erupted; even those seated the last time were on their feet. That night, for the first time in 14 years, there was peace in America. The concentration camps were opened and the guards sent home. Strangely enough, that night was a full moon. America was reborn.


This tour of duty had taken me 3 days to watch. But I went home that evening to Misha and we sat on our deck and watched a full moon rise over the Great Plains and I told her the story of what had happened in those terrible years early in the 21st Century.


My studies over the next weeks revealed atrocities to rival Nazi Germany, Red Russia during the Cold War, and other dark times in history. Even comedians such as Bill Maher, Jimmy Kimmel, Alex Baldwin, and others were brought to court and sent to concentration camps and in some cases never survived. Experts believe that America was set back 50 to 75 years. And it wasn’t just America. Progress worldwide suffered comparatively. I gained a new faith in people though. Regardless how bad it gets, things can be changed, when people find cause and unite for it.

A Time of True Desperation

She is old now, 97 in fact. But I can remember when that was not so. It was way back, I was just a babe. It was a time of great worry.

Grandpa, Grandma & Larry

You see, we were in the midst of a great war. People had great concern, you see, for about 30 years before we had fought “the war to end all wars”. Now it was happening again.


During that first war our country was not in any real danger. It wasn’t like Ol’ Kaiser Bill was going to jump on ships and come conquer America. No Siree, that would never happen! But now, people I knew went about their daily tasks with a furrowed brow. It was an uncertain time. You see, Nazi Germany had been raising hell in Europe for a spell. Our citizens didn’t want to get involved in it. Stay isolated they said, no sending our boys to fight and die for no reason at all. Then, on the other side of the world, Japan was spreading its armies throughout Asia and the islands of the South Pacific. Still, it didn’t bother us none. It was nigh about that time that I came on the scene. I want you to know, I just didn’t burst forth into the midst of humanity, streaming the glories of heaven from behind me like a comet shooting through the night sky. No, I was born about five o’clock in the afternoon one spring day, in a small rural community of northeastern Arkansas. I really don’t think many other than family and maybe a few neighbors was aware of my arrival.


I was born in a two story house on a cotton farm belonging to the father-in-law of Earnest Hemingway. Life in my community was not glamorous or upscale by any means. My family had come through the Great Depression. Indeed, they had not entirely shaken off the bonds that had been thrust upon them by the shackling force that had held America in bondage. Money was very short. My dad’s folks had come to this place only a few years before, and my mothers only a few years before that. They were trying to find a way to survive just a bit better.


Now the Dogs of War howled about them from both sides of the planet. Concern crept even closer. Just a few months after I was born Hitler invaded and conquered Poland, and reports coming from China had been grim to gruesome for at least two years. Still, America persisted to not involve itself.


Then, 76 years ago tomorrow, as I sit and write this narrative, early on a peaceful Sunday morning, the fingers of hellfire rained down on paradise. The Japanese struck Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. I won’t add to the volumes that have been written or the pictures taken of that holocaust. One only must raise your head from your smart phone and search a bit to hear that story.


But even though that island was shaken and rocked by explosions and blasts, the greater damage was that America was shaken for the first time since the War of 1812. America was attacked on its on soil. No longer did the vast oceans that protected our borders enough. We were vulnerable. Our children had no guarantee of safety in their play or at school. Our homes could lie in harms way. Now parents were afraid, children were afraid. It showed on their faces.


This was my beginning in life. I was two years old. Now the call went out. And young men and women answered that call – Army Navy, Marines, Air Corps, Coast Guard – their ranks needed to be filled. And they were filled.


That lady I spoke of at the start of the narrative, well, she came our house one day when I was less than a year old. She was driving her father’s car, a Model A Ford. He never drove. I probably never knew the reason why she visited, maybe it was just to visit my mother. After all, she was her baby sister, my mother being the oldest child. As she backed the car out she backed it into the potato patch and it stuck. My father came out and put his shoulder to the car and pushed her out enough until she was on her way. I don’t know if that was the same day that she took the picture with me in her arms or not. Maybe.

Aunt Jean & Larry


Some months after Pearl Harbor her older brother, my uncle, enlisted in the Army.


By now things were getting serious. Things that was normal to have access to were suddenly limited, rationed, scarce. Gasoline was one. Many auto parts became impossible to obtain. Tires were hard to get. Sugar, alcohol… the list was long. That furrowed brow became deeper. Much of our farming was done with horse drawn equipment. We did have a tractor, an early thirties Model H John Deere. But there was the fuel, it was rationed. I can remember by now the shortages. Being country people we, to use the expression, “made do”. Dad and Grandfather would take to the woods. And they were such grand woods then; ancient, virgin forests, set in very swampy land, but full of the bounty of nature. They would find bee trees. Then, on a cool day, we would pile into a steel wheeled farm wagon and pick our way through the woods and the mud. We would park the wagon some distance from the bee tree and the men would take a two man cross-cut saw and saw it down. They would open it up and come back with tubs of fresh raw honey. Then they would go back and take a box hive and catch the queen bee and install her in her new quarters, usually leaving it for a few days until all the bees found their new home. Then they would go back and plug it, put it in a wagon, and haul it home. We usually had around fifty or a hundred hives of bees. I got stung all the time as a kid.


We had large gardens and truck patches. We raised hogs and cattle. We always had plenty to eat, we raised it all our selves. I remember my dad rolling his cigarettes out of a Prince Albert can, Lucky Strikes were too expensive.


June, 1942 brought the assault on Normandy. Omaha Beach, Utah Beach, you have heard the stories. The valor, the slaughter, the bloodshed, the victory. But with those stories came to the telegrams. Mothers waiting, wives holding on to lives while their young husbands fought thousands of miles from home. All were affected. Dinner tables held that unspoken, maybe spot of vacancy. Then the telegram would come. Another hero had fallen. But to the family it was a husband, a son, a brother, an uncle. He would never again sit at his place at that table again.


Sometime in late ‘44 I was in my 5th year. I was playing on the porch of our little shotgun house when a black ‘39 Ford pickup truck hurriedly crossed the bridge into our yard, off the dirt road that ran from US 62 down to just passed my grandfather’s house and dead ended. It was our neighbor Virgil. He hurriedly got out and approached the house. I remember his face. He wasn’t laughing or teasing me as he usually did. My dad stepped out of the house and greeted him.


He then told my dad they had gotten one of those telegrams. Their son had been killed, and he needed my mother to go down and sit with his wife Bertie or Birdie, I can’t remember for sure. Men of that era didn’t fall apart easily. They held on to their emotions. But his face displayed his grief and heartbreak. He just needed someone, a lady, to stay with the mother while he went to rally the other kin. I didn’t really understand, but I remember hours later Mom worrying about Berlon, her brother, and the brother of that teenage aunt I spoke of earlier. She was out of her teens by now. He was in Germany now, and was at the doorstep of the Ardennes Forest, and the Infamous Battle of the Bulge.

Uncle Berlon

It was our family’s habit was to go to town on Saturday afternoon, and it was then they would read the public lists of casualties. The years have erased the memory, I can’t remember if it was posted or in the local newspaper. But it seemed to be sobering, and in many cases, I remember tears. Lots of tears. It seems that during the winter of ‘44 and ‘45 not much news was received from my uncle, but he must have suffered horribly. It was so cold, they lived in the snow in foxholes. He was a company cook. On Christmas Day, 1944, he and his teammates cooked Christmas dinner for their troops. Late in the afternoon some Brass walked into their area, and told them to put it away, there was no one left. The cooks grabbed their rifles and headed to the lines, but were called back and there was no use. Many years later the old lady, my aunt, told me that story, as told to her by her brother when she asked him why he would never sit down and have Christmas dinner with his family.


There was simplicity about the people of the forties. They were patriotic, they were for the most part God-fearing and religious. Those young men that started volunteering in ’41 were serious about giving for their country and for their families. Many of them had fathers that had fought in the teens during the first war. I remember them very well. I believe they deserve the designation of “The Greatest Generation”. Not many are left today, but those who still cling to life have a dignity about them that is missing in our society. Somewhere, somehow, it became a casualty of time. It was a vestige of honor.


Most of my memories of those days were less affected, but still, I remember, and sometimes something comes along and triggers a thought long forgotten, like Virgil and Bertie, and countless others that became missing during those days that a young boy might not have been aware of at the time.  I remember the walks on dirt roads to my grandparents, and other children’s houses close by. I remember going to church on Sunday morning in a small country church set in a grove of trees. All the roads were dirt or if not, were graveled. The autos were simple. Many literally wore out during the war, and sat until plants quit making war materials and started making auto parts again. I remember the little ‘36 Ford 4 door sedan that was ours, sometime probably in the later years of the war developed an engine knock that became increasingly worse. Finally, it was pulled under an oak tree in the front yard. A block and tackle was attached to the engine and it was lifted out and somewhat disassembled. The knock was repaired by placing pieces of bacon rind under the rod or main bearing caps and tightening it down. It worked.


In fall of 1942 my baby sister was born. I don’t remember much about that but it seemed that my mom had less time for me. I spent a lot of time with my Grandmother, my father’s mother. She told me stories, let me help her bake, and help her in her flower garden. My life during that time never seemed dull. It was full of kid stuff; walking in the pastures and field roads, always watching out for snakes. There were lots of copperheads and cottonmouths where I grew up; an accepted way of life. I played in the woods across from our house. I was Tarzan, and it was my Jungle. I chewed the gun from the sweet gum trees, I ate the wild ‘possum grapes.” I ate persimmons and paw-paws and hazelnuts. It was a great place to grow up.


I don’t want our America to ever be in that situation again. But even today we sit on a bed of quicksand, supported only by a thin crust and large jolt could plunge us into that abyss again. If it happens it won’t be like Viet Nam, or Iraq or Afghanistan. It could even be worse than the days of our time of desperation – the years of World War II.


Two nights ago I watched a movie called “Ithaca.” It prompted me to write this. You should watch it.


~~~Larry Murley, December 6, 2017~~~

Almost Angels, Chapter 11

May 26th 2519, my birthday. I have had friends popping in all day with their best wishes. Now the afternoon sun is dropping behind the Rocky Mountains, as I recline in anti-grav lounger in my garden overlooking the great plains, stretching out to the east.
A slow moving air barge moves slowly up the front range at about 300 feet above ground. It is noiseless. Already, below it, the darkening landscape is broken only by the lights from drone-taxis, bringing home the tech-workers from Denver. The sun reflects off the cargo containers filled with necessities to provide the great city sustenance for a few more hours. There will be others to follow.
It set me to thinking though (what a Gemini does best, or at least most). It is so easy now with the anti-grav technology to move our goods where needed. Back through the centuries, it was mans greatest challenge. They either had to provide with their needs by making it themselves, or growing it themselves, or they had to have it brought to them.
In the early days of America where I had visited a number of times, I had noticed the ships on the docks, unloading goods from wherever they had sailed. Then the endless lines of carts and wagons, pulled by countless horses, mules and oxen. You would have had to have been there to have realized the stench from that energy source. I had watched the wagon trains behind the armies in both the Revolution and the Civil War. I witnessed and recorded General Bragg’s train as he retreated from Perryville, Kentucky in October of 1862. I couldn’t believe my eyes, it was 50 miles long! The first wagons, had bivouacked three nights before the last wagons started. Amazing… how inefficient. Then came the river boats and then the trains over the years. Now we put them on a deck the size of a city block, catalog the locations of items, and float them wherever we need them. And they are unloaded robotically and dispersed by drones to their end address.
Tomorrow, when I return to work, I will document more on this subject. But for now, Misha has just stepped from her shower and my mind is suddenly else where.
Monday the 27th I stepped from my drone taxi in front of the Archive Center on Larimer Street. I looked up toward the top of the tall tower to glimpse the blue sky before I entered. Who knows what the weather would be like where I was going.
After briefing and morning checks, I told my chief what I had in mind. He thought it a good idea, and upon my return we would perhaps refine the editing and cataloging.
My first stop was Jerusalem 32 A.D. The great Roman Empire was occupying this desert world. How would they move their supplies, and what would they export to that world and what would they import to it? I dressed in a worn woolen robe, tied with a course belt. No one seemed to take notice of me on the crowded streets. Up ahead on a hill stood the Temple. I had to stop. There were no known paintings of it. I had to marvel at its splendor. Not large when compared to modern edifices, but majestic I think was the word. But what I wanted to see was market items, convoys of whatever kind. I walked to a corner of a broad street and turned left, when suddenly a Roman soldier stepped in front of me and said something that I totally did not understand. I speak neither Latin or Yiddish and had forgotten to turn on my translator. He made to grab me, and I stepped back, smiled and skipped an hour forward. Of course he was gone, and thoroughly confused, I’m sure. I found the market and walked slowly through, looking at the hundreds of items, many of which I was surprised to see. I recorded everything, including the smells. A new technology had just been developed that allowed us to do that. It was quite nice to be able to capture the smells of the past, in most cases, not all.
After leaving the market I decided to travel to the seacoast at Caesarea Maritima, a seacoast city built by Herod. Just as I turned to the west a group of men were approaching me, talking amongst themselves. I watched them. They were so animated in their conversations. They were talking with their hands, gesturing, walking backwards, gathered about the one young man who appeared to be either their leader or at least the center of their attentions. He was a bit taller than the others, well built, probably did hard labor to develop his shoulders and upper torso. He was dark complexioned, curly hair, a beard. As we came abreast of each other he stopped and looked intently at me. He seemed to study me, I could almost feel him in my head. Then he smiled, a warm smile, seemingly full of mirth, almost as if he knew me. He bowed slightly, turned and continued on his journey. I turned and watched him go. I knew instinctively who he was. I turned back to the west.
The road to Caesarea was to the northwest. I knew from my research it was about 75 miles. Too far for anyone to walk, a good two day ride by horse back, maybe a week with loaded pack animals and carts. Still, I wanted to see as much of it as possible. The only way to do that was too scroll through time. In other words, fast forward myself. I had never done this before, but the effect was extraordinary. I traveled at about 20 times a human’s normal rate of walk, excluding nighttime as I knew no one would be moving. At this rate I would be virtually invisible, and simply create a breeze in passing. I stopped from time to time to take note of convoys. It seemed everything going to Jerusalem was military. But large convoys were observed making their way to the port. Jars of wine, olive oil, oil lamps of clay, slaves and riches too numerous to mention. I spent a night of the local time in the desert. I didn’t sleep much but I was blown away by the night sky. In a world with little artificial light, the magnificence of the heavens was astounding. I made the trip in two days. I watched the ships being loaded. I confess I would not have wanted to journey out on the sea in one of those little tubs. Brave men, those 1st century seamen. The evidence of trade was there.
Now to skip ahead. Where to next?
Henderson, Kentucky, May 1819. A Steamboat lies along the shore of the Ohio River. It one of the first. As I stand watching, a crew of men run to the water, board the boat and quickly cast off into the river and head down stream. Shortly some more run to the river’s edge and look downstream, toward the already disappeared steamboat. It was John James Audubon. He had sold the boat, but was paid with worthless paper money. The buyer absconded with it anyway. The story is much longer, perhaps someone else can tell it in the future.
That was the early start to river-boating. Interestingly enough, when they loaded the boat to go back up river it didn’t have the power it needed to pull a load up stream.
I hung out on the river for several years, skipping through time, watching the American west spread down the rivers and cities spring up all up and down the Mississippi. Then, in 1862, the big steamboats took up the task of transporting the troops during the Civil War. Some of them were armored and became gunboats and fought fierce battles. But that is much too long a subject for this narrative.
Then the railroads took up the loads along with the boats, and the American west came alive. It seemed so quaint in comparison with my present day high tech logistics, with our interplanetary shipping techniques. Yet everything must have a beginning. Each thing a birth, a coming forth from need, oft-times accompanied by pain. Then the struggles of the first steps, then finally to run and take large bounds. When I logged back into my center, I had a good story, I thought. I wondered about that young man back in Judea. Could he have seen all this in my mind when we met? Is that why the smile? I will always wonder.

Almost Angels – Chapter 10

My life. My life has taken a complete change. You ask why? Well, up until a few months ago, I lived in the present. I worked mostly service jobs. In the 26th century service jobs make up about 95% of the job market. Technology, a great deal of it robot technology, has completely dominated manufacturing, mining, agriculture, travel, logistics, and other occupations that for centuries took a large part of population to accomplish.
For several centuries, once this trend started to develop, it created mass havoc in society. Politics fumed and fussed and blamed and excused themselves as to what the opposite party was doing to the employment lines. When, in truth, it was neither’s and both’s fault. It was just the bi-product of progress. Another view of human evolution.
Then, a couple of centuries into this ‘progress’, caste systems evolved. The lesser educated and the financially deprived were put onto a dole. It didn’t take long for that to cause a world of problems. In my opinion, it was what caused the political system that had governed America and, somewhat, the rest of the nations on the planet to fail. Some had seen it coming for a few decades, and kept trying to warn us. But the past dies hard, and change comes even harder. There had, for almost all of written history, been two forces that sought to lead the world. One was the Conservative, and the other the Liberal, and they were labeled many different things throughout history. But essentially, they were the forces of government. They came from basically the people who rose to power, and from the way they were wired mentally. I won’t place good or bad labels on either. So many things effect DNA in humans. Not only the hereditary DNA that is passed through generations, but the effects of environment and the learning trauma that each of us experience from infancy to adulthood and beyond. All these things help to shape that conservative wiring or that liberal wiring.
So how do you get unbiased leadership? Well, it is simply using a method of selecting those legislators by grade level, instead of common election. Bright minds that want to work in that field are taken from the top levels of students. Select your leaders much like one would select a secretary of the army – one who is knowledgeable of the military. Do it by vetted knowledge and proven ability. No one person having absolute power. A governing body of 13, of equal power, each with checks and balances.
But they must be vetted for the way they lean, most of all. Rather like the Supreme Court of the United States should have been. Except they gave the right of choice by whatever side was in power. That sure sounds like a good idea doesn’t it? Someone didn’t understand balance. You put a spinning wheel on an axle that is true and center. Then you spin it and there is no sound, no vibration. Yet if you were to set that axle just a fraction of an inch off center, the whole things rattles and vibrates and makes a great degree of noise. And if spun at much speed, will fly apart and destroy things around it. A simple example of physics. No one thinks to follow that same path in our governing body.
Ok. So, on this train of thought, I decided to select history episodes to test my thinking. First on my lists was Rome. That mighty Empire based on 7 hills in Italy. Through it’s history it was able to advance civilization by many great leaps. Yet, finally, it leaped itself into decay. What went wrong? It had a royal leader, and a Senate. Should that not create a balance? It should have. But no, the rich held all the power. And the royal, became a God.
I zipped through time. Nothing even came close during the Dark Ages. I found some of the semi primitive tribal societies came close in many ways. Yet they had not evolved to the point of advancing their technology, thereby limiting themselves in advancement. So many things, so many variables.
The older Oriental systems, mostly based on exalted royal families with advisers, served as dynasties simply because they were alright for the period of time in which they existed. So we see a pattern.
The people wanted a supreme leader, someone they could look up to. Someone they could praise, if they had good fortune, or blame if their life came to naught. But they also thought it would be a good idea if those leaders had counselors. So they would choose them. But here again, the only ones usually chosen were the rich. Because in many cases, they were the only ones that had the time and resources to hold those positions. The poor person was to busy feeding his face, or keeping shelter over his head.
Power corrupts. You give many people a tiny bit of power, and right away they will search for a way to increase that power, and expand its territory. You must take away the ‘power over’ and stimulate ‘power together’ or ‘power with’.
As I searched the centuries of kingdoms and nations and empires, I realized many of the governments were replicas of their religions. When they allowed their religion too far into their government, they soon failed.
Then, near the end of the 18th century, the United States of America broke off from its parent monarchy. They proceeded to try a democratic society, maybe a democratic republic. This would be fun to watch. Here is a coastal shelf of people that have lived, within much of their lifespan, under a monarch somewhere. Now they had freedom.
Now, remember, no one has ever had a freedom before. No one knows how to drive it. Just imagine if you had never had one. So you work real hard and you go down to the freedom dealer and you buy you a brand new one with stars and stripes, and blue all the way across one side, and it is so cool. And you close the deal, and they hand you the keys to a brand new freedom. What do you do now? Well, you go sit in the driver’s seat and crap, how do you start it? There is no ‘King’ button to get it going. And all those levers to switch – labeled treasury, and law enforcement, and military, and trade, and labor for the masses, so they can feed themselves. And there is no handbook.
Well, that is what those Americans had to deal with. They found that that glue of those states that held it all together, well, that stuff wasn’t worth crap. The slightest bit of heat and stress and the states started splitting. The cost of that is written in their history in Bold Tall type, covered with blood. They found right away that their Conservatives and Liberals had separate camps, and stood strong against the other side. By being allowed to live in separate camps, they never were able to learn to live with each other, to eat each other’s food, wear each other’s boots, to see the other side of the thing. This became a pattern for them. Oh, it worked all right most of the time. The pendulum swings to the left and to the right.
Remember that pendulum is at it’s strongest in the midst of it’s swing. When it is reaching it’s peak either way, it becomes slower, and weaker, then starts picking up speed and strength as it starts the other way. Another lesson in physics. Another lesson learned. The power is in the center.
At the beginning of the 21st century they suffered some experiments in governing the nation. It took a while, but they got it straight again. Then, about 30 years later, fell off the wagon again.
Most figured that is was the couple of decades that children were reared with no discipline, and no rules. Others said that they had become too fixated on themselves. Every 30 years or so some of the generations won’t rise up to accept the responsibility, and growth becomes retrograde. Probably just the span of time of the swing of the pendulum.
The truth of the present can always be found in the past, and the secret of the future can always be guided from both the past and the present together.
It took us another two, maybe three hundred years to be able to see this, but we did. We saw that we need to govern the length of the swing of the pendulum. We came to know that to do this was to limit the power of the liberal-conservative influence. It is still there, it will always be, for it is humanity itself. Only the robot sees no black or white (although many of our artificial intelligences do have that talent now, they evolved as we did).
It is comforting to see how far we have come. It is life changing in itself to be able to travel through the ages, and see how the mentality of mankind has changed. It has taken over my life, as it has for many others, who have been called ‘Almost Angels’. We have been able to see the creation of man up to our time.
We talk about it at work sometimes, after spending hours in another day. What will be next? Where are we headed now?
Well, this is where I leave you for today. Misha has a dinner planed for us on the Mediterranean coast in Spain in a small fishing village. I am supposed to meet her there in 5 minutes.

Almost Angels, Chapter 8

early man

It is was a short vacation, using the 20th century form for a period of not having to tend to your vocation. We call it ‘Leave’. I found, though, that I had become a bit addicted to my job. I was anxious to return to my duties. Misha had to return to hers 3 measured days before I did. I say 3 measured days because time needs to have a standardized measure. I spent most of my leave on a very young planet, two solar systems away from Earths solar system. It had become a favorite of Misha and myself. It had no predators, no noxious insects, two-thirds the gravity as Earth, and an almost constant temperature of 78 degrees Fahrenheit. We had purchased a beach front property, put up an open air shelter and hung an immense hammock in it. Two weeks there swimming, laying in the sun, and watching the marvelous sky at night was, well, heavenly. Oh yeah, it was clothing optional also.

But back at our apartment in Evergreen, Colorado, life had resumed. All my travel, all the experience with humanity in it’s many moods and levels, had set me to thinking. How about early man? Man from the dawn of our evolution? Well, maybe not dawn, but shortly after sun up. When man had gathered into tribes, and was about ready to start exploring the earth. Yeah, has anyone recorded it yet? I would ask.

Next morning, when I knew my supervisor was on duty, I buzzed his communicator.

“Good morning, History Recording. Donald Starr, how can I help?”

“Morning Don, it’s Jamie. I have a question.”

“Ok Jamie, shoot.”
“Has anyone gone back to, say, 200,000 years ago to the beginning of man and recorded that history?”

“No, not yet. Why?”

“Well, I am curious. Could I?”

“Hmmm. I am not sure. It is not as much a priority as later times. Archeology has covered most of man’s progression. Why would you want to? There is no history of language, we couldn’t do translators for you. I am not real sure how much good it could do. Still, I will ask our superiors and see what they think. Let’s see, you are due back day after tomorrow, right? I should know by then, okay?”

“Okay Don. You are a super boss, you know.”

“Yeah, well, flattery will not get you any more time off.”

“I hope to hell not. I am about stir crazy now, ready to come back to work.”

“Ok Jamie. See you day after tomorrow.”

I went down town that morning and went back to the Archives. I found a nice couch, put on the headset and adjusted the sensors to my head. I turned the time back to a million years in our history, and closed my eyes. I tapped the enter button and waited. Slowly, pictures and an audio log began to unfold in my brain. Research from the past centuries, of exploration, mostly in Africa. South Africa, in fact. The firstscenes, ape-like creatures, climbing in the trees and eating fruit. Plant life, some insects and small creatures, also staying mostly in the trees. Then, as time spun crazily on, I could see climates change, and severe weather changes. Environmental events that greatly effected the food chain.
Then I saw, these these ape-men start to come down from the trees to search for other foods. It must have been difficult, because then they were vulnerable to the great land predators. Evolution was slow.

Sometime between 800,000 and 200,000 years back it became obvious that their brains were developing at a huge rate. Suddenly it was apparent that something had changed this race of creatures. They were walking upright, making tools, and a primitive language evidently developed. Now they were Homo-Erectus, almost man.

I spent the next two days on that couch, plugged into all that our world knew of that world. I was impressed when Homo Sapien came on the scene. It was then I noticed that some societies on the planet had not changed that much, while others had sprinted ahead on the evolutionary trail. Why?

I reported back to work on Monday, February 12th 2519. It was snowing as I stepped down from an air taxi at headquarters, just outside of Denver in the foothills. The world had changed from 200,000 years ago. I wanted to know why.

The office was busy as I enter. Several greeted me as I headed to Don’s Office. A rap on the door, then “Enter!”

“Good morning, Boss.”

“Morning Jamie. Well, talk about being at the right time and place. I mentioned your request. They said they were interested, and it has been a topic of discussion for some time. When I mentioned you they scanned you, and found you had spent two days at the Archives, absorbing all the material available on the period. Well, they were convinced. You got it. You are the first to go beyond recorded history.”

“Wow, thanks! That’s great! I made some observations that have raised some serious questions. I sure others have had the same questions, but maybe I might find some of the answers. When can I leave?”

“As soon as you are briefed. This is uncharted territory. There may be some limitations, certainly, because of how far back. Extra, extra care to not have any tears at all. It could seriously effect all time. It is quite dangerous for us all.”

“I understand. I will be very careful.”

The briefing lasted over an hour. My trip would be limited to 6 hours. At the end of that, I would be pulled back. I would start at about 750,000 years. I should not shift over 10,000 years at a time, and I should always shift back to point of entry time, then go forward again in steps of 10,000 each. I should make sure that any of the inhabitants that see me, are not put in danger at the time. I hoped I could remember. Of course, being able to do Hologram mode made it much safer, especially not knowing what bacteria or viruses might lurk there. But it limited my projection. I could only project my hologram as far as I could see it. Oh well.

I stepped into my capsule just after 1 p.m. I set the controls for a locale that I had researched where some fragments of early man had been found, and for just before dawn on a prehistoric day. I hit ‘enter’.

My eyes focused slowly in the darkness. I listened carefully for sounds around me, not knowing what to expect. The eastern sky was coming light, the hills around me began to take shape. Much of the flora and fauna seemed strange. Down below me something moved in the shadows. I couldn’t see what. I leaned back on the great boulder behind me and closed my eyes I maybe dozed for 20 minutes. Stupid, stupid mistake! I checked my computer. I wasn’t at 750,000, but only at 400,000! What had gone wrong? I scanned the immediate area. Over to the left about a dozen images lit up. They were all prone, and quiet. Then two more, walking around them. The ground in the center of them had a heat image, just a glow. One of the images walked to it and did something. It then grew suddenly brighter. A fire. A cooking fire, or campfire, of course. I had to get closer. I hologrammed about a hundred yards to a large rock that would separate me from their view. I climbed the rock until I could see. There, in the little clearing, a dozen or… no, there were 15 adults, and a young child, maybe 12. 10 of them appeared to be males, 5 females; the young child , a girl. They had put something on the fire, some kind of meat it appeared. And a container of sorts, clay perhaps. Hard to tell. As I watched they ate.
Then, as they finished, I move slightly and one of the men stood up and sniffed the air. He pointed toward me. I had been discovered.

Ok, since I am a projection at this point, not to worry. They can’t harm me, so let them advance. I stepped away from the rock out-cropping. I had not particularly costumed myself in prehistoric garb. I was wearing a pair of trousers that were a rather washed grey color, and a lighter colored tunic of slightly the same color.
I held my right hand up, a bit higher than my head, palm forward. A common greeting, used in most time periods. I smiled.

The biggest male came forward. He walked around me, looking me all over. He was dressed, somewhat, in a breech clout affair of skin. His age was undefinable; a mature male. He had a short beard, curly black hair, very little body hair, a prominent nose, and his eyes, they were black and very deep. He showed no anger on his face. His movements were sure but cautious. He held a club of sorts. Not well carved, more like it was lightly fashioned from something he picked up. He came around front and peered up into my eyes. He could not have been much over 5 ft tall, maybe 125 lbs. He sniffed at me, and seemed puzzled. He chuffed a sound at me. I answered, “Hello, friend.” He stepped back, then sniffed again. He seemed puzzled that I had no odor. I would never be able to explain that. About then, some distance away, there was a terrible roar. Something like a big cat, maybe a lion, would make. He immediately forgot about me. The group became very animated, every one had sticks or stones. One picked up a flaming stick from the fire.

One of the women ran by me and picked up a bundle, that I had not noticed before, a skin of some kind wrapped around a…. a baby, for pete’s sake! She ran back past me. She looked very young, maybe no more than 13 or 14. She was nude except for the same breech clout type of dress, her breasts were small but prominent. She evidently was nursing.

I remembered my orders. Evidently they felt threatened by some great beast, so I would retreat. As I faded from sight they seemed thunderstruck, and fell down as if worshipping me. Time to go.
I regained my body, and set my timer for 10,000 years into the future.

I arrived on the bank of a river. Across from me was a city, a large one. Below it were fields, acres and acres of vegetables and grains. People riding full sized horses, wagons of products, boats on the river with sails. What is this? Something is not right, this is too far advanced. I looked at my settings. I had gone 200,000 years forward instead of 10,000. This was scaring me. Could I get back to my original setting? And could I get back to my time? Could they even snatch me back from my base? What had I gotten myself into?

“So, where are you from?”

The voice jarred me back to reality. I turned. Sitting on a rock, about 20 feet away, was a man, maybe my age, wearing a long white robe similar to the early man-dresses worn by Middle Eastern earth men of the late 20th century wore. He had a dark brown beard, long hair and a moustache. He had laughing eyes, and smile on his lips.

I had met many extra-terresitals, so I wasn’t taken aback.

“Well, I might ask you the same question. Where are you from?”

The stranger rose from his seat, stretched, dusted of the seat of his robe, and turned to face me.

“All right, me first. I am from here, and there, and everywhere. Both present and future, and even the past. I am a watcher.”

“A watcher, hmmm? I have heard that term. Very well. I am from the 26th century of this planet, and it is my mission to record history as it actually happens. My name is Jamie.”

“Happy to meet you, Jamie. That is a good plan. So, then, you are of the 26th century Earth. But I think there may be a problem.”

I nodded. “Well, there certainly is. This society is thousands of years ahead of itself in development. Something is terribly wrong.”

“Jamie, your society has studied parallel dimensions, have they not?”

“Well, Yes. I am not sure to what degree, as I am not trained in that field al all.”

“Well, it is time that your society brought themselves up to date. How far back have your people been going back in time, to this point?”

“Usually not more than a thousand years, almost always within the boundaries of recorded history. This was the first attempt to go back this far. It was my idea.”

He looked at me. His entire countenance was the most serene, intelligent, confident face, I had ever beheld. He smiled.

“Jamie, you may refer to me as Michael. First of all, I am sure you have heard the theory. And I am equally sure that your scientists know that time is not lateral. It isn’t a theory, but a fact. Yet your time travel experts are treating it as if it is. I am surprised with all the space travel and exploration you have experienced that no one has gotten misplaced before. Perhaps they have. It is true, you can probably travel up to a thousand years and not cross inter-dimensional lines, but much longer than that and it will be unavoidable.”

“Are you saying that I am misplaced somehow?”

“Yes, you have entered another dimension that runs somewhat along side your planets history. It is slightly ahead. We were worried about it from it’s earliest history. It will destroy itself within a relatively short period. Civilizations need time to progress. Yes, they will all have wars and spurts and pauses and setbacks, but those things bring balance to its growth and its evolution. We are watching it closely. We cannot control it, else it loses it own agency.”

“You said ‘we’. Are there others?”

Michael smiled, “Yes, many others.” His smile widened, “I’m sure you have met some at some point in your past, but didn’t know it.”

“I hate asking this, but are you gods?”

Michael laughed heartily, “There have been many who have termed us that. Mankind feels they need those, you understand. Something to worship, something to call upon for help, something to blame in times of distress.” He chuckled. ”Something to praise when life suddenly goes their way. But, no, we don’t see ourselves like that. We are just a race, a very old race, that have had time to evolve and refine ourselves. We seldom interfere with men. Mostly we just study them.”

“Michael, you have no idea how good that makes me feel. The idea that I would have to spend my eternity sitting around in a golden city praising someone, or something. Well, I just couldn’t believe it was so.”

He looked at me, “You are still in for some real surprises when you rid yourself of your body. Though pleasant surprises, I must say. Jamie, all I will say is, the Universes are limitless, period!”

“Well, Michael, how do I get back to my time?”

Well, you can’t at the moment. I will need help to prepare you. Go to that city there, they are peaceful people. At least for now. You can rest there, and I will prepare you a route of passage. It may take some time in this dimension, but little will pass in yours. No worry. I will come again. Bye for now Jamie.”

I looked across the river. Well, I hope this works out ok. I walked to the edge and waved. A boat man turned and headed to me. Shortly, I was walking up a beautifully paved road, through gardens that were unrivaled in beauty. I found lodging, it was a busy day today. I lay down on the soft bed and looked out at the river, and I closed my eyes.

I was jerked from a sound sleep as I entered my base. I set upright on my couch. Wow! I was home!

Don looked at me. “Jamie, this is really strange. But when you reappeared, for a moment we thought there was someone else with you. But it must have been a shadow.”

I laughed loudly. I looked at Don.

“Don, I have a story to tell you!”

Almost Angels, Chapter 6


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.