It
appears that the universe may go on infinitely even though the universe itself
is not infinite. No single thing can be infinite and still be a single thing.
Reality on the other hand is finite. It depends on only one criterion and that
is consciousness. But only one consciousness is necessary for reality to exist.
Are all other consciousnesses superfluous?
The
day has turned nice and warm. The recent rains have hastened the greening of
the countryside and the green background contrasted with the now blue sky makes
my walking much more palatable.
As
I meander down the road, I find the traffic to be almost non-existent. By the
styles of the extremely few vehicles I do see, it looks like I’m somewhere in the late 1940’s. World
War II is not long-ended and Harry Truman is president of the United States.
The country is enjoying a post war boom but from the looks of things the boom
has not extended to the area I’m now in.
Around
mid-afternoon I come to a crossroads. One lone cement block building stood in
the northwest corner of the crossroads. A high tower was juxtaposed to the
building. A couple of cars were also next to the building. I decided to see
what was going on.
It’s
easy to say that the message is more important than the messenger but it’s a
good bet we won’t listen to the message if we don’t like the messenger.
Sometimes I think part of the reason messengers don’t have the impact they
should is because they don’t like the message they’re supposedly trying to
communicate. A series of circumstances have led them to the position of
messenger. These circumstances are predicated upon a past life of following the
path of least resistance. But if the messenger doesn’t really believe what he’s
saying then the question is: what’s the point?
I
do what the sign on the door says: ‘Welcome! Come On In!’ I immediately realize
I’m in what is undoubtedly a radio station. The call letters on the wall are
WRJ. There’s a glass enclosure and a red-faced, balding, rotund man sitting in
front of a microphone talking away at what seems like the speed of light. The
glass must be soundproof because I can’t make out anything he’s saying. The
front room is empty so the engineer is probably in the room just behind the
front room. I take a seat and wait. For some reason, I feel the need to talk to
the guy behind the microphone.
In
the year 2020, astronomers speculate that the giant star, Betelgeuse has blown
up (this happened long ago) but because of the lag in space time they were just
discovering it. Wonder how many stars in our galaxy and others have suffered
the same fate? What will the sky look like if the light of more than one of
them hits us at the same time?
A
young guy walks out of the back room. He’s medium height with tousled, brown
hair. He notices I’m staring at his overalls.
“I
came straight from plowing. Uncle Junior was scheduled for noon and he needed
me to help get set up for his show. I brought my lunch. Care for a piece of
fried chicken?”
“No
thanks. You say his name is Uncle Junior?”
“That’s
what our family calls him. His real name is Thornberry Jackson Smithville.
Friends and parishioners call him Pastor TJ.”
“So
he’s a preacher?”
“Among
other things. He also sells land, cuts lumber, and has the best still in the
county.”
“Sounds
like an interesting fellow.”
“I’ll
say. Look here I need to go back to the board in case Uncle Junior needs
something. Do you want to talk to him?”
I
said yes.
“He
should be through in about ten minutes. He has trouble winding down but he also
doesn’t like to pay overtime.”
I
said thanks and let him know I didn’t mind waiting.
Man
made it back to the moon in 2026 with plans of going to Mars in 2032. I sure
had asked about the Mars expedition when I had the chance.
In
what was more like fifteen minutes, Pastor TJ finished his talk and walked into
the room where I was sitting. He was sweating profusely and wiping his forehead
with a flowery handkerchief. He didn’t seem startled to see me
I
introduced myself and asked, “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“Sure,
what are you interested in: 40 acres, oak or pine, moonshine or salvation? Or
all the above?”
“I
was wondering if you wouldn’t me telling me where you were last night?”
“I
was at a poker game until 11 pm."
The
Re-integrators were right. I now seemed to possess the ability to make
strangers feel at ease and readily answer questions.
“When
it was over and you walked outside, do you happen to glance at the night sky?”
Pastor
TJ’s eyes suddenly expanded, “Well, damn, I had forgotten all about it, and I
find that hard to believe considering what I saw.”
“Which
was?”
“The
sky was totally black except for directly overhead. There were two lines of
lights or stars. They crossed each other. It was an amazing sight. How could I
have forgotten it?”
I
knew why he had forgotten it and why he would forget it again as soon as I left
the room. But that was information I wasn’t about to share.
“Thanks,
TJ. I’ll pass on the moonshine. This time.”
I
walked out into the bright, cool sunshine. It was 1 pm.
Thirty
minutes later I was still standing at the crossroads. I had three choices (I
wasn’t going back the way I came). Each way was not only a different direction
but they also each turned into different time periods. My choices were north,
east or west. I decided to heed Horace Greeley’s advice and ‘Go West, Young
Man.” This was only possible because I was now younger than I was before.
I
was now (and now is the operative word) in some kind of condition where I could
travel through time without time affecting me. In other words, I didn’t seem to
be aging. No matter where (or when) I went I was always in the ‘Now’. But there
was one question that still was unanswered and would probably remain so for a
long time. Why was this happening to me?
To
be honest, the main reason I headed west was because a sigh at the crossroads
had pointed in that direction with the words ‘Corinth 5 miles’. It was the
closest settlement to my present location. It took me about two hours of easy
walking to get there. On the leading edge of town was a motor court with only
one car out front. I got a room for the night and weighed my options.
I
must have been more tired than I realized. I slept until 10 am and realizing
checkout time was in thirty minutes, I quickly took a shower and got dressed. As I walked out the door of the room, I heard a loud
commotion coming from across the road. A crowd of people were in a circle and
it looked like they were throwing objects of some kind toward the center of the
circle. I rushed over.
When I got there, I was suddenly seized with
the terrible realization the crowd was cruelly pelting a man with rocks, bricks
and stones. Using one of the ‘enhancements’ the Re-integrators had equipped me
with, I immediately dispersed the crowd. I then went over and knelt by the man
who was unconscious and bleeding. I did what I could and in a few minutes, he
came back to consciousness.
I lifted his head up and his eyes opened, “What
happened?”
“You were stoned within an inch of your life.”
Surprisingly, there was a faint smile, “Ah,
yes, they didn’t like what I had to say.”
“That’s the understatement of the year. By the
way, what year is it?” Apparently, when I headed west at the crossroads, I had
headed ‘south’ in time.
The man looked at me warily, “You’re not an
angel of the Lord, are you? I had a friend tell me it was possible to meet
angels unawares.”
“I’m just a man, like you.” Which was the truth
but maybe not all the truth.
I then asked him, “What will you do now?”
“I’ll keep talking. It’s all I know.”
We had both stood up. I said, “Well, if my
services are no longer needed, I’ll be moving on.”
“Thank you, friend. Maybe we’ll meet again
somewhere down the line.”
“I
hope so.”
I
kept walking west for the rest of the day. I came across another country store
where I was able to buy a fairly substantial meal. That night I slept under the
stars.
All
my sleep now is dreamless. I could tell you why but I’m going to leave it for
you to figure out. You may already have. The main thing to know is, since I
travel alone, is that no matter where I am or under what conditions I sleep, I
am perfectly safe. Nothing can touch me during that time. And no, angels are
not secretly surrounding and protecting me.
Human
logic plays a large part in what I’m doing but it doesn’t explain everything.
Time travel is not logical. It doesn’t make sense in many ways but in my case
it’s true, so therefore it’s logical. Human logic is not the only logic.
In
2029, about a year before I first died, I was in the southern part of
Saskatchewan, only a few miles north of the Montana, USA border. It was the
fall of the year and wheat harvest had just commenced. The sky was a light blue
broken up by only a few white, wispy clouds. The temperature was in the 60’s
Fahrenheit with a slight wind out of the west. The giant reapers were chugging
along nicely. I was speaking to an elderly Canadian farmer.
“Your
crop looks good. Do you anticipate a good price for it?”
“Absolutely.”
“Who
buys most of your wheat?”
“The
wheat goes to Greenland.”
His
reply didn’t surprise me. The new colony there was thriving.
“How
does it get there?”
“It
goes by train to Lake Superior, then by tanker to Greenland. Pretty simple,
really.”
That
was my last trip to Canada.
After
sleeping outside for the night, I needed a bath. Behind a row of trees that
lined the road, was a fast-moving stream. I took the opportunity to jump in and
wash with a bar of soap that was in my travel bag. Definitely refreshing and
cold; but it woke me up.
I
made a fire, heated some water and made a cup of instant coffee. Along with a
protein bar, it was the perfect breakfast for the occasion.
When
I came out of the woods, a farm truck carrying a load of hay was parked across
the road. A middle-aged woman had the front hood up. Steam was rising out of
the radiator.
“Anything
I can do to help?” The woman looked at me carefully but not suspiciously. She
was probably used to dealing with unemployed men wandering through the countryside.
I say that because the ambience was of the depression era.
“The
old truck is overheating again.”
“If
you have a container I can walk over to the stream and get some water.”
“That
would be real nice of you.”
She
had an empty bucket in the back of the truck. I went and got the water. It
seemed to do the trick.
“I’m
headed to Prestonville to sell the hay. Do you need a ride?”
I
readily accepted.
