9

Next stop, 1920. It’s twilight and I’m walking down a dusty road. I see some lights in the distance and I soon come to a city limits sign. When I reach the center of town, an interesting site is revealed. It’s a campground. I had read about this phenomenon. When automobiles became affordable to members of the middle class, they had the opportunity to see this great land. At first there was nowhere to stay, and travelers would have make do with whatever piece of ground was available. The owners of those locations were not always amenable to strangers camping on their property, so unpleasant confrontations arose from time to time. Then towns and communities realized that traveling Americans represented a way to make money, so campgrounds (with all the amenities) for automotive traveling started springing up. I had just arrived at one.

I met Bob and Susie sitting around a campfire. They offered me some hot chocolate.

They were relaxing after a long day of traveling almost one-hundred miles. Today had been a good day. They only had one flat tire. Their two kids were already asleep in the tent.

“What’s your destination?” I asked.

Susie answered, “The Grand Canyon.”

The Grand Canyon had only been designated as a national park for twelve years, so they would be doing something very few Americans had done.

“Sounds like a great trip.”

I didn’t know exactly where I was, but I suspected I was somewhere in Southern California. The humidity was lower than what I was used to, and the area we were in had a desert feel to it. Los Angeles to the Grand Canyon is about 500 miles. So, if they were coming from LA, that means we were about 100 miles east of LA. A thousand-mile round trip in 1920 probably represents the limits of a family automotive vacation.

“We’ve been planning it for several years. We wanted the kids to be old enough to not only enjoy but also remember it.”

“So, you’re from LA?”

“How did you guess?”

“Well, it’s the only place I can think of that’s a hundred miles from here. But of course, I also had to guess this was the first day of your trip.”

We talked for a few more minutes, but I could tell they were tired, so I said good night. Nice people.

Sometime that night in the desert, I had a confrontation with reality. I took it by the scruff of the neck and demanded that it tell me who it was. All it could say was, “I am Reality, I am Reality, I am Reality…” Disgusted, I let it go, and it shuffled out into the night.

Since I was only a hundred miles away, I decided to go ahead and visit LA. Silent movies were still being made. It was about six or seven years before the talkies took over the industry. Movies follow a script. It’s predetermined before what the actors are going to say, what they’re going to do, and what they’re not going to do. The only freedom the actors have are in the nuances they bring to their performance, but even that is strictly controlled by the director. Some religions of the world, including some Christian denominations, think God operates that way. In my imagination I have God saying the following, “I knew what happened. Before it happened, I knew it might happen, but I also knew it might not happen. Contrary to popular thinking, I’m not omniscient. Oh, I suppose I could be but that would defeat the very reason I created humans in the first place. After all, I’m free to make decisions and then face the consequences of those decisions. Would I expect any less of the beings I created in my image?” Then he adds, “The future is an open road. Wide open. Jump on it and go for a ride.”

I’m finding that the past is an open road too.

Determinism, in any direction of time, reduces God from a God of Thought and Action to a God of Only Thought. An actionless God is no God at all.

Only three names come to mind when I try to think of the silent movie stars of 1920: Charlie Chaplin, Mary Pickford, and Douglas Fairbanks. Comedian, heroine, and swashbuckler. To be honest, I’ve never appreciated the structure of silent movies. I’m so used to the voice(s) being in sync with the action, I find it slow going when the words are between scenes. Now, subtitles are different. I can follow those pretty good.

I decided to take a look around the studios. At one studio a biblical epic was being shot. There was a call for extras. I signed up and was given an appropriate outfit. My assignment was to be a part of a mob. I was to jeer and catcall. There was something oddly familiar about the scene:

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.”

So, what I had experienced in Chapter 2 originated in Chapter 9. Or did it?

The next day I found work in a fruit orchard picking oranges. The owner of the orchard was in Europe on business. He had previously served in the Wilson administration in World War I. He was an advocate for the League of Nations, but Congress earlier had rebuffed Wilson’s efforts to have America join the League. As of now, as seemingly always, there is no ‘peace in our time’ or anyone’s time for that matter. But the future is not over yet.

When I (or my body; not quite sure that’s the same thing) had been re-integrated and enhanced, I had been equipped with a neutral charge, in other words, I felt pain but it was of the numb variety and it was only for warning me that there was something wrong that I might otherwise be totally oblivious to; this brings to mind the famous example of a person who didn’t have the ability to feel pain leaving his vulnerable hand on a hot stove and not realizing it until it was too late and thus suffering third-degree burns on his hand.

Hunger, thirst and exhaustion were also never really a problem. I was equipped to go long periods of time without food or water all the while maintaining the level of energy I needed to do whatever it was I needed to do. Some people enjoy walking just for the sake of walking. Some people only walk when necessary. They never met a means of conveyance, whether it’s a bike, a car, a horse or even an elephant, that they didn’t like and didn’t think more of than walking. But I bet even those people would enjoy walking if they could do so with absolutely no pain or loss or energy. The only caveat is you can’t be in a hurry, but most people usually are not in a hurry if they are enjoying what they’re doing.

Consciousness is the only way the universe recognizes its own existence.

After the day at the orchard, I wandered into an area controlled by the military. It was now the late 1940’s because what I saw many miles away was a vast mushroom cloud rising into the air. Since I wasn’t arrested by the military police, I should probably say I was near an area controlled by the military. And the mushroom cloud, of course, was the result of an atom bomb test, which I gather was a huge success.

I decided to take a break from my meandering and get a cold drink at a place that was sitting by itself in the middle of the desert. Two gas pumps, of the Mae West design, were in front of the store. The store was made out of adobe. I was surprised how cool it was inside the store. The clerk was named Jose’.

“Do you have any cold drinks?”

“Si’, Senor, to your left by the wall.”

I went over and pulled a coke out of the large container. He was right. It was cold.

“How much?”

“Ten cents, senor.”

I said gracias and drank the coke in three gulps. It was only six and a half ounces.

Going outside, I saw where a pickup truck had pulled up to the gas pump. A tall, lean man with cowboy boots and a ten-gallon hat was filling up his truck.

I walked over and asked him, “Did you see the mushroom cloud?”

“Yep, third one this month. Looks like they figured out how to blow up the whole damn world. I just don’t understand why they have to keep practicing.”

I could have told him that the atomic bombs would never be used but he wouldn’t have believed me. I don’t blame him. I just said, “Practice makes perfect.”

That night I realized why I was now in the desert. The night sky was nothing less than spectacular. I stayed up all night just watching and soaking it all in. There was even a meteor shower. Everything was lining up, like ducks in a row, but the time wasn’t yet right.

I think what happened to me (and to many, many others) was that the molecules in the fabric of my being became denser. I became a miniature sun. But it’s true that we all have the potential to be miniature suns. Long eons from now, there’ll be a myriad of new stars in the universe. It may even be suggested that a new universe should be formed. Because you can never have too many universes.

Somewhere in Southern California near the coast I happened upon an observatory. I went in and asked the receptionist if I could speak to an astronomer. She said sure. The astronomers at Pell Mell Observatory were always glad to talk to a stranger from the future.

I met Dr. Graystone and we talked shop.

“So, you’re the guy looking for the coruscated sky?

“That would be me. But what gave me away?”

“The stars, of course.”

“Ah, yes. They are notorious at giving away information. They just can’t hide their light.”

“Do you need any help in finding your coruscated sky?”

“I don’t think so. What year is it, by the way?”

“1949.”

“If I do need help, I’ll make sure to ask you in 1948, and when I see you again in 1949, hopefully you’ll have the answer.”

“How delightful.”