Mid-Day Dream

It was a struggle, attempting to balance the wants of the three grandkids, the demanding schedule of a Doctor son, the absence of a wife who was with the daughter-in-law and our forth grandchild, and an everchanging balance of rental cars and return flight schedules.

Our son needed to be at a job interview early the next day so he had taken off the evening before, just after I had made arrangements to fly home from a nearby airport after dropping off the rental car.  The grandkids and I had just checked into a new hotel after deciding it was too far to drive to Greenville, North Carolina that afternoon and I would drop them off the next morning after their mother had arrived home.

As I asked them if they wanted to head down to the pool for a quick swim before we sorted out what to do for dinner, or if we should push on to Greenville that night and I would leave extra early the next day the door to our room suddenly burst open as John showed up with a shoulder covered in suits and his hands filled with suitcases.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as I struggled to get into my swimsuit while the kids were in the other room.  In that effort, I fell backward onto one of the three beds in the room.  “The interview isn’t until later in the day and I figured we could drive over there together in the morning.  This way I could help with the kids.” 

As I wrestled with the thoughts of how I could adjust all the changing schedules.  Where would I turn in the rental car, how would I change the flight schedule, would I ever see my wife again, and who was feeding the cats?  The phone rang and I woke up.

Oh well, just another day of social distancing.

Christmas, 2018 "On the Road to Bethlehem"

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The snow fell silently as traffic moved slowly along the darkened road.  Wally stared at the tail lights ahead of him as he let his mind wander.  The evening commute had become so routine and common he rarely spent the time concentrating on the traffic as he should.  Suddenly the brake lights of the car ahead jarred him from his stupor and he slammed on the brakes to avoid rear-ending the fancy Cadillac ahead of him.

There, on the side of the road, he saw the reason for the sudden stop.  An old Chevy Nova was pulled over, its lights flashing as a couple stood by the open hood.  Wally never stopped for these small calamities, after all the police would be along shortly and they would take care of everything.  But something was different this evening.  He couldn’t exactly say what it was.  Maybe it was that he had a Nova when he was younger and knew a thing or two about how to fix it, or maybe it was just the snow and the cold.  For whatever reason Wally decided to pull over and see if he could be of some help.  As he passed the car he pulled slowly onto the shoulder and turned on his flashers.  Leaving the engine running he got out and walked back to the couple.

“Good evening folks, is there anything I can do to help?” Wally asked as he got close enough to recognize two very young faces huddled together for warmth.  The young man turned towards him, held out his hand and said, “it just died.”  Wally’s first thought was it was probably the electrical system and the alternator.  Looking under the hood he could see very little in the dark, so he excused himself and went back to his car to get his flashlight and a small tool bag. 

As he was walking he called his wife and explained what was going on, telling her he would be late but would let her know how things were going.  She, of course, chided him for stopping for strangers and cautioned him about how so many were robbed in these types of situations.  He assured her he would be careful, and that everything was okay.  It seemed a sad testament to the times we lived in.

When he got back to the Nova he saw the two were still huddled together.  On closer examination, he also saw they were lightly dressed and seemed ill-prepared for this cold weather.  As he turned on the flashlight he chatted with them.  “Hi, my name is Wally, what’s yours?”  The man said his name was Jules, and his wife was Martine.  “Seems like a cold night and your coats are hardly keeping you warm, do you have anything else to put on?  By the way, where are you headed to?” 

Jules answered and said they were headed to his parent’s home in eastern Pennsylvania.  They had eloped and gotten married in Ohio and were returning home to tell his father.  Wally did a quick calculation, it was at least another three-hour drive in this storm and he doubted the Nova would get them there, assuming he could get it started at all.  As he bent over the engine he started troubleshooting the most obvious areas.  Were the battery cables secure?  The terminals were covered in corrosion – so he loosened them and scraped them clean.  He ran back to his car for the coke he had been sipping.  While he was there he grabbed the emergency blanket he kept with his tools.

As he got back to the Nova he handed the blanket to Jules and Martine, who quickly wrapped it around themselves.  He then poured the coke on the terminals to help clean off the corrosion.  He reattached the cables.

Next, he looked for loose fittings on the alternator.  They seemed okay.  Getting to the spark plug cables was pretty much out of the question, at least here, with these tools and this weather.  Finally, he checked the fuse box.  He had never really seen a fuse blow on his old Nova, but it was a place to check.  There it was the engine fuse had in fact blown.  “Oh great,” he thought.  This could be a result of the age of the car, or it could be something else.  “Well we’ll never know unless we replace it and try and start the car,” he said mostly to himself.

He pulled the old fuse out, stuck it in his pocket, and slipped a new one into its place.  He turned to Jules and said, “I’m not sure if this will work but get in and try starting it up.” 

Jules moved quickly and after a few cranks, the car did, in fact, fire up.  “Is the heater working?” Wally asked?  Jules shook his head no, it didn’t seem to be getting warm.  “Well, the engine may still be cold.  Martine, why don’t you jump in there and get out of this snow,” Wally said.

As they waited, Wally called his wife and explained the situation.  He said he would be bringing the couple home since it didn’t seem like they would be safe on the road this evening and he could troubleshoot the car much better in the garage.  His wife agreed that this was not a good night for a young couple to be on the road.  She would add a couple of plates to the dinner table and make up the spare room.

When he hung up he closed the hood and went to the driver’s door.  Jules said it still didn’t look like the heater was working, and Wally could see from their breath he was right.  So, he told them he lived about 10-minutes away and said they should stay with him tonight.  He asked if they had cell phones, and of course, they did, so he gave them his number and address and suggested they call their parents and let them know what was happening. 

He then suggested Martine ride with him since his car was warm and Jules could follow in the Nova. He would go slow to make sure they were together, and if Jules had a problem he should flash his lights or honk.  The horn did work, didn’t it?  With a press, Jules confirmed it did.

Getting back to his car, he saw a break in the traffic and signaled to come out.  Jules did the same and they were back on the road.  Wally drove carefully, making sure the Nova was behind him.  As promised they pulled into the lane his home was on about 10 minutes after starting.  As they pulled into the driveway the Nova gave up the ghost again and couldn’t make it past the mailbox.

Wally stopped, got out and helped Jules hook up the tow strap Wally kept in the trunk, and they pulled car the last 100 yards up to the house. 

There on the porch was Wally’s wife, Maureen, waiting for them.

Wally told them to grab whatever they needed from the Nova and they would sort out the cars in the morning.  Once they had their small backpacks, they headed up the steps and into a warm house that was all ready for Christmas which was only a couple of days away.

As they entered the house Wally could smell the soup steeping on the stove, and the air had a hint of cinnamon and apple.  That could only mean an apple pie was cooking in the oven, or cooling on the counter. 

Wally introduced Jules and Martine, and Maureen went into full “Mother Hen” mode.  “Okay now, let’s get those wet coats off of you.  My gracious you are soaked to the bone and chilled to your core. Wally, this will never do.  Go up to Tom’s room and look in his dresser, I know there are clean sweats up there just waiting to use.  Jules, you follow Wally and let’s get you into some warm clothes before we do one thing more.  I’ll take care of Martine, now get moving you two!”

With those commands, Wally, followed by a sheepish Jules, headed upstairs to the bedrooms.  At the top of the steps, Wally pointed out the bath and the bedroom he and Martine could use.  Jules tossed their backpacks into the corner as Wally turned on the lights and headed to the dresser to find the fresh clothing.  “Won’t your son mind me taking his room?” Jules asked.  Wally turned with clean sweatshirt and pants and said only, “No Tom won’t mind.  He hasn’t been here for quite a while.”  “You can change and freshen up in the bathroom.  I’ll meet you downstairs when you are done.”  With that Wally left the room, closing the door softly behind him as he went.

Jules was left to look around as he changed.  The sweats were a size or two too big but they would serve their purpose.  He was glad to get out of the wet cloths.  It looked like Tom was away in college from the appearance of the room, and Jules wondered if he would be home soon.  Taking his small toilet kit, he headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth, wash his face and comb his hair.

Meanwhile, Maureen and Martine had hung up the coats and headed off to the Master bedroom to find some warm clothing and to freshen up.  As petite as Martine was, Maureen just knew none of the things she had would fit her, but she did have an ace up her sleeve.  The last time Tom had visited his girlfriend had left some clothing behind and she had carefully washed them and tucked them away for when she returned.  Maureen thought they should be a reasonable fit, even with Martine’s unexpected condition.  Wally hadn’t mentioned she was pregnant, but then again men, being men, rarely notice the important facts.

As Martine shrugged off her wet clothing, Maureen ran the shower to get it warm.  “Dear, just jump in and wash off all that road grime.  You can hand me your clothing and I’ll toss it in the washer.  It won’t take but a few minutes to get them clean, fresh and dry.  We can have dinner while they are washing.  You just take your time and join me in the kitchen when you’re ready.”  With that, Maureen gathered up the clothing, left the room, and headed to the laundry.  Along the way she ran into Wally who was fixing himself a drink and asked if he had Jules all squared away.  Wally said he did, and Maureen said, “well, where are his dirty clothes?”  “Oh, right,” Wally replied.  I’ll be right back.

As soon as the laundry was in the wash, Maureen and Wally were joined in the kitchen by the two wayfarers, looking remarkably more comfortable than when they first arrived at the home.  Maureen took charge and directed Wally and Jules to set the table while she and Martine gathered up the food for supper.  In two shakes of a dog’s tail, they were sitting around the table and the conversation turned to what brought Jules and Martine out on the road during this storm.

Jules cleared his throat as he began to explain how he and Martine had become friends and now husband and wife.  Jules said his father ran a wood factory in eastern PA and had invited Jules to join him.  Jules had been living in western Ohio where he had met Martine, who lived with her parents.  They had known each other for only a few months, and Martine was already pregnant when they met.  Her old boyfriend had bailed when she found she had a child growing in her.

Martine’s Mom and Dad weren’t all that thrilled with the relationship and refused to give their blessings for marriage, believing both were ill-prepared to handle the responsibilities.  So, despite their objections, they decided it was best to make a fresh start by moving back to eastern Pennsylvania.  Unfortunately, the car didn’t seem to think a long trip was all that great an idea. 

“Well, we’ll just see about that old car in the morning!” Maureen exclaimed, as she looked over to Wally, who nodded in agreement.  “For now - it is supper time, Wally please say the blessing.”  Giving thanks for their safety, and the food before them, he asked for the safe journeys for all those traveling this holiday season, ending in an Amen from all at the table.

Before them, the table was set with rich pumpkin soup, a fresh kale salad, a plate of ham slices, carrots, peas, and of course a bowl of mashed potatoes, along with rolls and butter.  “It isn’t fancy,” Maureen offered “but it will sustain us and the new friendships will more than make up for any shortcomings in its elegance.”  Of course, Jules and Martine loudly objected to this disclaimer but agreed wholeheartedly that Wally and Maureen were the answer to their prayer as they stood along that dark road just an hour or so earlier.

As they ate - the conversation turned to families.  First, they began with what Jules’ father did with his woodworking business, and then what was Jules background and what he hoped to accomplish.  Jules, it turned out, was actually a carpenter and had been working in an Amish plant building furniture.  During the past couple of years, he had become quite good and thought he was now ready to return home to help his father and perhaps take over the business.  The fact he had worked with the Amish was one of the concerns Martine’s parents had raised in the objections.

Eventually, the conversation came around to some family history on Wally and Maureen.  Martine asked, “How long have you been married?”  Maureen told them the story of how Jules and she had met in college and after dating for several years had married.  Wally had served in the Air Force for a few years and was now a manager at a local plant that builds electronic components for the auto industry. 

Jules asked if Tom was going to make it home for Christmas, and the table grew silent.  Wally looked at Maureen, who with a slight nod indicated he should tell the story.  “No Jules,” Wally said.  “We lost Tom a year ago.  He was on his way home from college when he and his girlfriend were struck by a tractor-trailer on the interstate.  The weather was worse than it is right now, the roads were icy and a car ahead of them spun out.  Tom hit the brakes, almost came to a stop without hitting the car in front, but the 18-wheeler jackknifed as it slid into to them.  It was a horrible crash and neither survived.”

“This is our first year without him, and we weren’t sure we would celebrate Christmas at all, but there is something important about keeping our traditions alive, so we are going through the steps if only to help keep Tom alive for us.”

“Your arrival, as unfortunate as it may seem to you, is really a blessing for us.  It gives us a moment to share the blessings we have with someone who could use a few blessings as they start their own journey.”

The table grew silent again as each considered the story.  But within a moment or two, Maureen said, “Who’s ready for some coffee and Apple pie and maybe a scoop of vanilla ice cream?”

After dessert and some light conversation to lift the mood, it was time for Jules and Martine to head upstairs to get some sleep after a stress filled day.  Maureen and Wally settled into their easy chairs and put on a classic movie as they chatted about how remarkable the world was.  Maureen asked if Wally could fix the car, and he said he really didn’t know, but tomorrow was Saturday and if he needed some parts the auto parts stores would be open.  He’d worry about that tomorrow, but in the back of his mind, he knew even if the Nova couldn’t be brought back to life he had a plan to get the two home without too much of a delay.

Wally cherished the idea of sleeping in on Saturdays when there was no demand to face the morning commute to arrive at the plant at a certain time.  But today was different, without disturbing Maureen he rolled out of bed when the sun was still an hour away from rising.  He dressed quietly and headed to the kitchen to start the coffee maker.  While it was brewing he grabbed his jacket and headed out to the driveway to push the old Nova into the garage where he could put some lights on and work in some relative comfort.

Once he got the car up on some jack stands he headed back in to get some coffee.  He met Jules who was looking for a cup at the coffee maker.  Together they poured their coffee and headed back to the garage.  Jules was anxious to do what he could to help and get on the road again as quickly as possible.  Before anything else, Wally talked to Jules about exactly how the car had died the first time.  Once he was satisfied it was a rather sudden thing and realizing he’d been able to start it once he’d replaced a fuse he pulled out a cheap diagnostic checker to see if there were any codes that would help isolate the problem.

Unfortunately, there was nothing substantial other than a series of electrical failures, but not what was a likely common cause.  He checked the fuse box and the engine fuse was again burned out.  That could only mean there was a short somewhere.  But where?

Time moved slowly as he and Jules went through all the possible causes for this short.  Each time they thought they’d narrowed it down to a likely culprit they found their guess had been wrong.  Right in the middle of their fourth or was it their fifth effort at troubleshooting Maureen stuck her head in the garage and told them both to clean up for breakfast. 

As they entered the house they were surprised by the bright, almost blinding, sunlight streaming in the windows.  It was a cold and clear beautiful winter morning.  Maureen and Martine had the table set with an egg and sausage casserole, corn muffins, orange juice, and hot coffee.   “You two wash up and we can eat, then you can get back to fixing that car, but we have a young lady who has been working her tail off to make you breakfast, now get your hands clean so we can eat.”

As they sat at the morning table, Wally again gave thanks and asked both Jules and Martine if they had anything they would like to offer.  Martine went first and offered her thanks for people who would open their homes to strangers and provide shelter when the problems of the world seemed too overwhelming to fix.  Jules echoed Martine’s thoughts and hoped they would soon find the problems with their car.

Wally assured them both they would be on the road today but didn’t tell them how he knew that. 

With those thoughts, they dug into breakfast and enjoyed the conversation of new acquaintances who seemed like old friends, despite the differences in their ages.

As they finished Wally suggested that perhaps Jules and Martine should take a walk to enjoy the fresh morning and the snow-covered landscape.  They would get back to work on the car once the morning dishes were done.

As they put on their jackets and set out on the back porch, Wally and Maureen began to clear the plates.  Once they were alone Wally looked at Maureen and said.  “Honey, I would like to loan them the ‘68 GTO to get home with, and give me some time to fix this old Nova so it is a safe car for their family.”  Maureen stared at Wally as if he had lost his mind.  “Hear me out on this.  I know it was the car Tom and I had been working on and was going to be his Graduation present, but Tom is gone and I know he would want more than it to sit gathering dust in the shed.  I finished the restoration last August, it’s been registered and insured, and I’ve run the engine every week to keep it serviceable.  I can think of no better use than to loan it to these two, with their promise to bring it back in a couple of weeks to get their car.”

Maureen considered this, as well as the possibility they would never see these two again but in her heart, she knew these two were a couple who needed a break and would be back to get their car.  She said, “Let me think about this for a bit.  I don’t know what I would do if something was to happen to that car.  You and Tom spent so much time working on it, he’s gone and this is about all that’s left.”

Wally nodded but said.  “Tom will be in our hearts forever.  The car, as important as it was to him is still just a thing.  We have an opportunity to use that thing to make someone’s life just a little bit better.  Please consider that as you think about it.”

With that, Wally headed back into the garage to keep working on the Nova.  A few minutes later Jules came in and began asking how he could help.

Time passed far too quickly and the next thing Wally and Jules knew Martine was next to them telling them it was time for lunch.  As they put down their tools and went to clean up Maureen followed Wally into the bath and closed the door.

“Wally, I’ve given this whole give them the car idea and I think after talking with Martine about what they want to do when they get to their new home I am good with letting them go in Tom’s car.  Why don’t we talk about it at lunch and set up an agreement?”

“Okay” was Wally’s reply.

As they sat eating their lunch they watched the snow melting in the mid-day sun.  Although it was still cold, the roads were quickly clearing, but Jules and Martine worried about how they would make to Jules’ home.  That served as the perfect opportunity to bring up the idea of loaning them the ’68 GTO.

“Jules,” Wally “began can you drive a car with a manual transmission?”  Everything he had planned hinged on this answer and it was only now that he realized that.  Fortunately, Jules said he could, so that hurdle was crossed.

“I am not sure we can get that Nova sorted out today.  It is going to take more troubleshooting than we have time for if you are to make it home before Christmas.  Maureen and I have been talking and we would like to offer you and Martine an option.”

“We have a restored 1968 Pontiac GTO that is sitting gathering dust in our shed and are willing to loan it to you to make the trip home.  The only thing we ask is you be gentle with it and come back to visit when you can, or when I get the problems with the Nova sorted out.  The car is registered and insured so it is street legal, and I will write a contract authorizing you as a driver in case you are stopped, but I don’t think that will be a problem.  What do you say?”

Jules and Martine said nothing, they could only stare at the other couple while they considered the magnitude of what they were offering almost perfect strangers.

Finally, Jules stood and said thank you as he embraced first Maureen and then Wally.  With that Wally said they would need to get going now if they were to make it home before dark.

He and Jules headed to the shed to unwrap the Pontiac and get it fired up.  It had almost a full tank, and Wally handed Jules a fifty for gas and snacks.   As the engine warmed up Martine and Maureen joined them with the young couple’s backpacks. 

With hugs all around the two kids said their goodbyes and got in the car.  They slowly drove down the driveway with only a minor amount of jerking as Jules shifted from neutral to first and then second.

Wally and Maureen waved and called after them, “Safe journey and good luck in Bethlehem, call us when you get in.”

Postscript:  It took Wally a solid day of troubleshooting but he eventually found the problem and got the Nova back into a running condition.  Along the way. he took the opportunity to fix a few other things, and make sure the car was safe to drive for the young couple.  A month after leaving three young faces appeared at Wally and Maureen’s door.  There stood Jules, Martine and their new son Tom.  

A Short Story (part 9 - post script)

Home Again

He felt the hot breath of the bison, heard the beating of its hooves, tasted the dust it kicked before it and closed his eyes as he pushed the return on his machine.  His heart was racing at almost 200 beats a minute as he stood in the middle of his living room.  It was quiet, but it took his brain some moments to register the fact he was not dead.  He had not been trampled by the herd.

Tom slowly came back to the present, the world, his world of 2222, and worked to calm his breathing and his heart.  He knew his grand adventure was over, for although he could start over with the preparation and planning he had learned an important lesson.

While he had wide-open space before him, he was never truly alone.  The beauty of nature, with its vast expanse, crystal clear nights, and distant sounds filled the space with a peace and majesty unmatched by any human construction.  But even in the quietest of solitude there was something that provided the comfort of companionship.  He couldn’t quite put his finger on what that was, he had never been a religious man, but there in the open space of the plains, with only his horse and the two mules to keep him company he found companionship that silenced the fears and troubles of his soul.

Tom sat for a long time considering this revelation and tried to decide his next move.  Would he choose a new time and place to explore, or would he begin to explore himself, to see if he could understand that companion he found in the plains of the mid-west?

A Short Story (part 8).

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The Night of the Buffalo

Tom had been on the prairie for almost two weeks.  He had become comfortable with the routine and the animals.  He found starting out at daybreak and then taking a rest during the heat of the day worked best for all concerned.  After the mid-day rest, they would travel another four hours or so before setting up a night camp. He found he was able to walk more, and ride less each day, as his body was conditioned by the exercise.

In those two weeks, he had not seen another human, although he could not shake the feeling that someone, or something, had been watching him almost the whole time.  He had purposely chosen not to follow the river, and this would have been a problem if he had not brought along the solar still.  It was the first thing he set up during his mid-day rests and it provided just enough water for him and the animals during those times he was not able to find a stream or other water source.

With his routine, he was able to cover about 20 miles a day without too much difficulty.  He worried about the loads on the animals, but was amazed they seemed to carry on without much effort.  Of course, any chance they had they would stop to graze on the now brown grasses.

As he crossed the rise of a low hill, Tom, Chester, and the mules came to a standstill.  There in the wide valley below was something Tom had never imagined possible.  Before him, as far as he could see were American Bison, or Buffalo as they were called in the history text.  They seemed to cover the earth for miles in every direction.  He decided, then and there, that this would be his campsite for the night.  He wanted to watch the herd until the night came.  He checked his micro weather station and although the pressure was dropping there was no indication of storms, so he figured a night on the top of this hill wouldn’t be too much of a risk.

As luck would have it, there was a small artesian spring that bubbled out of a crevice in some rocks.  Tom chose those rocks as his campsite, and quickly erected the tents, the electronic corral, and the shelter for the animals.  These days he wasn’t hobbling Chester or the mules for he felt with a halter and a long lead tied to a stake they would be more comfortable as they moved around to graze.  Once everything was set up, and he had grabbed a bite to eat he headed over to watch the vast herd below.  As he settled in he felt the wind pick up. 

With that subtle shift, the mood of the herd seemed to change as well.  He noticed the bulls begin to sniff the air and scuff the earth with their hooves.  The cows seemed to shift toward the center with their calves.  With his concentration on the herd, Tom hadn’t noticed the sky darkening.  He had expected it to do so, but as he looked to the Western horizon he was shocked to see not the warm glow of a summer sunset, but the angry dark of thunderstorms building to the stratosphere.  Although he could not hear anything he saw the flashes as the symphony of lightening danced from cloud to cloud and cloud to earth.

He was astonished at how quickly these storms were building and how intense they were becoming.  As they built and moved ever closer the buffalo bunched tighter together, but still they stretched for as far as Tom could see.  Concentrating now on the growing storms Tom could see the bottoms of the clouds as they appeared to become soft and round.  Then, quicker than you could say “get me out of here,” a funnel emerged from the closest clouds and reached for the earth.  Now Tom could hear the thunder, and as he watched in fascination the Tornado began moving directly towards the herd.

As if by some silent signal the entire herd, maybe 10,000 head turned and started running.  Running directly at Tom, his camp, his horse, and the mules.  Tom had moments to decide what to do.  They would be up the hill and on him in less than two minutes.  He had only one thought, the same as the buffalo, survival.  He sprinted to the camp, released Chester and the mules, hit the disable switch on the corral, and kicked the takedown switch on the tent. 

By this time, the first of the herd was reaching the crest of the hill, the very spot Tom had been just a minute earlier.  As they bore down on him the horse and mules took off running.  Tom was about to be trampled.  This would be the end of the grand adventure and perhaps his life.  Just then he remembered his return home mode on his time machine.  Reaching into his pocket, he hit home just as the lead bull arrived.

A Short Story (part 7)

The first day on the trail.

As the sun rose, Tom was up to greet it.  He had prepared his breakfast from the stock of condensed and packaged foods he had brought.  He’d had quite enough bacon to last for this trip.  This morning, he chose a lovely egg soufflé with Bearnaise sauce, and a cup of hi-energy coffee as his start for the day.  Soon enough the heavy-lifting of breaking down the camp, and packing his essentials onto the two mules would begin.

As he sat in his inflatable recliner and watched the glorious sun rise, he could hear nothing, except for a few birds or some distant echo from some lonesome animal.  This, he thought, was all he had hoped for.  The solitude and the peace of looking around and seeing no one.

After his brief reflection, he completed his meal.  Rising with a long stretch he got to the task of folding the tent.  He first pulled the four stakes that secured it to the ground, and then pushed the fold button by the door.  In about 30 seconds the tent was back to its original size and weight (5 pounds). 

Next, he pulled out his light weight exo-suit and strapped himself in.  This suit was a wonderful invention, he discovered on his first journey back to 2190.  Folded -- it weighted just over two-pounds, and fit in a 12-inch pouch, but when opened and powered on, the neuron systems grew to match his frame and provided him with the strength of three men.  This made loading the 25-pound bundles onto the mules manageable.

Before too long each mule had about 150-pounds of equipment and supplies loaded and balanced on their backs, secured to the pack frames Tom had found in 1986.  After he finished with the packing he dug a small hole to bury the packaging from his meal.  It was made from natural fibers and would be broken down by the earth within about a week so there would be nothing to show he had been here.  The last thing to do was to saddle Chester, and set off for the wilderness.

Tom swung an unsteady leg over the seat and settled into the saddle.  This whole horse riding thing was new for him, but he was determined to live out this dream.  The horizon lay out before him, unbroken by buildings, sky scrapers, paved roads, or any other sign of civilization.  How unlike his home he thought?  To be alone, totally alone, and without a deadline to make or meeting to attend, was something Tom had wished for as long as he could remember.

With a gentle nudge, Tom and Chester set off with the sun to their backs, and the two mules in tow.  Since he had no clear destination, or expectation on time to arrive, there was no hurry in their pace.  With an even walk, Tom’s aching muscles from the ride the day before began to protest this new day.  He reached into his pocket and removed a muscle relaxing pad.  Reaching behind himself he pressed it on the lower part of his back and pressed the activate button.  In a flash, his pain was just a memory, and he could sit back and enjoy the ride.

Slowly they traveled west, with Tom making sure to dismount and walk as the instruction manual suggested.  As the sun rose high in the sky the heat became intense and he could see the storm clouds building to his north.  When the sun appeared to be overhead he stopped to let the animals drink from a small stream and graze on some grass, as he had lunch, a Rubin sandwich with pickles and a nice light white wine.  While he thought of this as  roughing it, there was no sense in getting too carried away.  As he ate, he watched the astro-tracker take a noon fix to determine his location.  He was shocked to see in the course of four hours he had traveled only 12-miles.  With few landmarks to provide reference and nothing to judge scale it was impossible to know exactly how fast or how far he had traveled, without using the stars.  When he camped tonight he would set the tracker up to look into the clear night sky and use at least six stars to mark his position.

When the animals had rested, he dug a small hole for his trash, and mounted Chester to begin the afternoon's walk.  He saw a stand of trees on the western horizon and used that as his goal for the afternoon.  Once they reached those trees he would settle the livestock and himself in for the evening.  One hour passed, then a second, and a third and still he did not seem any closer to the trees than he did when he first saw them.  Finally, after six solid hours of travel they came to a small pond and the trees.  Cautiously he approached them, hoping no one else was around, but expecting that this small oasis was probably a popular spot.  Luck was on his side, the area appeared to be empty and void of other human life, although a number of birds and a couple of deer were shocked by his arrival.

He tied the mules to a tree as he donned his exo-suit to unload the supplies, which he bundled together and suspended from the tree branch about 15 feet above the ground.  He had learned this trick from John Muir on one of his shopping trips to Yosemite Park in 1903.  Of course, he had camouflaged the bundle so once he activated it the only thing visible was the rope that held it aloft.  He then hobbled the mules and as an added precaution he put an electronic security fence around them.  Once this was done he proceeded to remove Charlies saddle and blanket, hobble him and then put him inside the security fence.  Seeing how he was alone he didn’t see a need to shelter and activate a cloaking screen.

Finishing up, he set down his tent, activated the erect button and settled back as it set itself up.  He staked it down and then set out to explore this little grove of trees.  Night would settle on them in an hour or so, and he wanted to know where to go in the dark if he had to.  Once he was comfortable with the area he thought about dinner.  He had enough supplies for about 30 days in his kit, so today he had almost the full menu of choices.  He settled on a sweet and sour pork dish over wild rice with a hot Sake wine.  He took the packages, placed them in the solar cooker that had been charging all afternoon on the back of one of the mules and hit the menu choice, cook and start.  Inside two minutes the meal was ready to eat.  He then warmed the Sake and sat down to eat.   In the distance, he heard the howl of a wolf.  It was unlike any sound he had heard before and it sent a shiver along his spine.  As he looked to the heavens he could not believe how clear and close the stars were. 

He set up the astro-tracker and within just a couple of minutes he had a precise location for his camp.  He had traveled just over 28 miles on his first day.  As he prepared for sleep he took care of his dinner boxes for he knew the smells could attract unwanted company.  He brushed his teeth, washed his face with the warm water from the sun heated water jug, and crawled into the tent.  As he settled in, he made sure he had his rifle and pistol handy as he drifted off to sleep.

A Short Story (Part 6)

Setting Out

It was a fitful sleep for Tom, between the other men, the hard ground and a mid-night thunderstorm he did not get much sleep.  He began to wonder if this whole adventure was a mistake.  Had he, to use the archaic phrase – bitten off more than he could chew?  Finally, as the light of the eastern sun began to break through the dark of the night he heard his fellow tent-mates begin to stir.

Quickly, Tom realized “stir” was not the right word, for these men were loud, course, and in no way subtle.  Their rising was more of a very loud clamor and in many ways like an earthquake.  As quickly as they started, they were out of the tent and moving towards the outhouse.  Tom rose and pulling on his boots, he too followed the men.  He was amazed at the filth and garbage strewn around the camp.  He had not noticed it last night as he made his way to the tent, but in the early morning light it was almost overwhelming.  How could these men care so little about their environment?  As soon as that thought crossed he was shaken back to the reality.  These men survived in this environment, and the carnage they left was as it had been through history.  They thought little about the beaver, the bison, or the natives, they were here to make their fortune, free to do as they will, and they gave no thought to the consequences.

As the sun continued to rise, Tom found Fergus and set about negotiating for the animals he would need to travel west, away from the filth of St. Louis and into the vast plains in search of the Rocky Mountains to the west.  For the cost of 2 shillings, and an ounce of gold Tom was able to get a horse, saddle, and two pack mules, which Fergus assured him were in the prime of their lives.  He showed Tom how to saddle the horse and mules and asked where Tom was headed.  Fergus didn’t really care, he had seen idiots like Tom come and go, never to return and assumed Tom would be dead in a week, but he had gotten hard currency and gold from him so he was the better off.

Tom pointed in a vague generally west, northwesterly direction as Fergus asked about supplies.  Tom said he had some about a day’s ride away and with that he set out.

The first half-day was an experiment in balance as Chester walked slowly along.  According to the horse riding manual, Tom was supposed to get off every hour or so and let Chester have a break.  The getting on and getting off became quite tiring as the day went on, and he found his back and his legs hurt like the dickens.  Finally, he said to himself, enough is enough and decided to walk the last two hours of the trip. 

He found the camp he had stopped in that first day, and asked if he could join them for the night.  He had a case of whisky and slab of salt pork he had bought from Fergus and offered that as payment for their hospitality.  With the prospect of fresh whisky, the men quickly put down their tools and joined Tom at the fire.

The next morning, he again arose, stiff and sore from the night, as well as the long ride the day before.  Traveling on horseback was only slightly faster than walking as he figured out this whole horse driving thing.  Bidding his camp mates adieu he started to the west, but when he was sure he wasn’t being followed made his way to where he had stashed his real provisions for the journey.

He arrived in mid-afternoon and found a suitable place to tie the animals as he started figuring out how to pack the equipment on the mules.  With the setting sun to remind him that travel at night was never a good idea he made camp, finally in something that offered the comfort a little closer to what he was used to. 

Tom had brought with him a miniature, self-erecting, fully enclosed portable space camp.  It was standard issue for the military in 2222 and easily available on Amazon®. The entire assembly weighed just 5 pounds and provided shelter, light, heating and cooling, a comfortable mattress, a water distillation system as well as a waste disposal system.  Setting it on a level spot, Tom pushed the erect logo and stepped back.  The unit scanned the ground and the environment around itself and within about a minute was fully erect and ready to welcome Tom to its air-conditioned comfort.  He selected camouflage mode and the shelter virtually disappeared from sight.  The only sign of his camp was the horses tied to a nearby tree.  He figured this was alright for tonight, but once he got started he would shelter them as well.

A Short Story (Part 5)

The Adventure, (continued)

Tom claimed to be from New England and was traveling to see the west.  He had lost his horse a day or so earlier when they tried to cross the Missouri river, and he was now searching for a town where he could perhaps trade for one.  The strangers asked what he had to trade for, but he was weary of their motives so he just shrugged.  Finally, they just pointed south and said it was a day’s walk to the outpost of St. Louis.  By now it was getting late and they offered to let Tom stay the night.  Having no better option, he agreed.  They pointed to a pile of animal hides, suggesting Tom use a couple for bedding.

Tom rolled himself up in one that appeared to be from a bison, and was soon asleep.  It was a sound sleep thanks to the drink the men had shared.  In the morning, he awoke to the smell of coffee and sound of meat frying on the fire.  They camp came to life as the group shared breakfast.  At its finish, Tom thanked the group for their hospitality and set off to the south.  Tom left behind a compass, one of the three he had brought with him, as a thank you.

As the men had said, it was indeed a full day’s walk to reach the outpost.  As he reached the top of a hill he could see the small village below.  There were tents on the outer perimeter, then log and sod cabins in the center.  The air was filled with the smoke of a hundred fires burning, despite the heat of the late afternoon.  As he approached the village he asked, in French, directions to somewhere he might find shelter for the night, and perhaps a meal?  A burly man of about six-foot pointed towards a large sod covered building with a simple hand-drawn sign in front about 500 meters away.  With a word of thanks, Tom set off towards what appeared to be a store of some sort.

As he approached, he saw the emporium was really the be-all for the village.  It offered beds to rent, shaves & haircuts, dentistry, medicines, whisky, and hot meals.  It also seemed to have horses and equipment to sell.  Tom stood in awe for a few minutes as a flurry of fur covered men came and went from this haven of commerce. 

Tom had determined he would spend as little time as possible in this place, but it was late, too late to start out so he decided first to seek a meal and shelter for the night.  When the crowds thinned a bit he approached the man who seemed to be in charge and asked if there was a bed and a meal to be had, and if so how much?  The man looked at Tom, sizing him up, for Tom did not look like his normal clientele.  Clean shaven, with only a few days growth of beard, he obviously did not hail from this area, or the wilderness of the plains.  His first question of Tom was to ask how he thought he could pay for such luxuries?  Not to be put off Tom said he would figure that out once he knew it was worth worrying about.  With a loud laugh the man, who Tom would come to know as Fergus, said fair enough.  The bed was a shilling, the meal another shilling.  Tom agreed, and in the course of the conversation pulled a shilling from his purse saying “one now for the meal, the second if the meal is agreeable and I choose the bed as well.”

Fergus was impressed with his new client.  It was not often that real money found its way to this part of the world.  He had set the price, assuming there would be some barter and haggling, but this stranger didn’t argue a bit.  Clearly a man of some wealth.  Fergus invited Tom to join him for dinner and a drink.  Tom agreed. 

The dinner was a simple affair, a stew made from some kind of meat, a biscuit with some sort of ingredient Tom thought it best not to ask about, and ale made from who knows what.  At Tom’s urging Fergus began to talk about himself.  Born in Edinburgh, Scotland, he had signed on with a sailing ship as a cabin boy at 12.  He served the ship for two years, and when it arrived in New York harbor in 1780 he jumped ship and set out to make his way in the new world.  He traveled first to Philadelphia, where the crowds were too big, and then across Pennsylvania to the Ohio frontier.  As civilization closed in he moved further west until he reached the Missouri river where he decided to settle down, take a wife, and put his industrious Scottish heritage to work.

Tom, for his part, listened intently, for while time and space formed different lives, the desire to see the unknown, and find space away from the crowds was a shared feeling.  When it came his turn, he spoke of his education in the east, and how he too had grown weary of the crowed cities, although he did not mention the cities were now reaching a couple of hundred million residents each.  He said he had set out to find what lay beyond horizons, first through the Ohio territory, then the great plains that stretched before them.  Along the way, Tom asked if there was a party traveling west he might join with?

Fergus, passing some more ale, considered the question for a moment and said “aye, there may be a group or two, but you will need supplies and some horses.”  Sipping the ale, Tom looked over the rough formed mug and asked, “and do you know where one might find such things?”  Fergus laughed loud and long as he knew perfectly well where such things could be had, and it all meant profit for himself.

Tom slid a shilling across the table, as a way of saying the dinner was good, but it was time for sleep.  He looked at Fergus and said they would talk in the morning about the cost of the equipment, and the potential for travel.  With that Fergus showed Tom a canvas tent in the back of the shop.  He could hear the loud snores of already sleeping men, as he made his way first to a crude outhouse and then the tent.  Finding an empty pad on the ground he collapsed onto it, and quickly was asleep. 

A Short Story (Part 4)

The Adventure

Tom had estimated it would take him about six-weeks to gather supplies and prepare for his great adventure, it took him almost twice as long, but in his opinion it was time well spent.  Not only did he gather material he could use, worked on his conditioning, and studied the culture of the time, but he programmed his sleep-learning modules to learn about horses, camping, wild animals, and the native cultures and their languages.  Finally, he was ready to make the trip, or should we say trips?  For Tom had decided he needed to transport with him his supplies and his small time-machine/watch could only handle Tom and about 35 kilograms of stuff at a time.  As he laid out his supplies he realized he would need to make three jumps to carry all his things back.  Some would be used for barter, some for survival. 

Tom was a methodical planner.  So, he laid out his goods to make sure they were equally divided, just in case something happened while he was making the trips.  Even though each trip would be an instant, and all three of his arrivals would be within a minute or two of the previous one.  The one rule in time travel Tom was convinced was critical was he could never be in the exact same space-time twice.  This was called “the double-occupancy” problem.  He didn’t want to consider the consequences of such a mistake, but figured all of them would be bad.

Finally, with a big, deep, breath Tom gathered up the first load, mostly food stuff and clothing, set his watch (which was now a pocket watch), and launched himself back to the St. Louis town of 1790.  His research had identified a suitable landing spot just north of the area, where there was a sufficient isolation and shelter to secure his belongings, yet close enough to town to walk in and find the final items he would need, like a horse or two.

In the twinkling of eye, he was transported to North, 38^o 51.73908’, and West 90^o17.0742, 0530(local), June 5^th 1790.  The location he chose was just south of the big bend in the Missouri River, well north of the center of what was the center of the old St. Louis city.

Once on the ground in 1790, Tom looked around as the sun peeked over the eastern horizon.  He could feel the humidity in the air, as he watched the lightning flashes on the distant horizon.  From his experience in recent travels, as well as his study of the weather he knew this was going to be a day of thunderstorms.  He also realized he needed to find some higher ground to secure his stuff in the event of a really heavy rain.  He could see a small hill just to his east so grabbing his load he headed over to it.  He was in luck, for as he reached the crest he found a number of large boulders that provided a convenient hiding place for is bundle.  Programming in these new coordinates he leapt home and back two more times to finish bringing all his stuff to this place.  He made sure to keep separation between his journeys in time and space by altering his arrival times by a good five-minutes after each departure time.  By 0700 he had all his stuff secured and set off towards where he saw smoke rising to the south.

As Tom walked, he was struck by the smells of the land.  The freshness of the air, the smell of the damp grasses, reaching waist high, and the occasional signs of man.  Tom walked until noon, and the smoke rising to the south seemed no closer than it had when he began.  How far had he come?  How much farther must he go?  He reached for his navigational computer to help answer these questions, but something was wrong it said it could not determine his position.  “Oh great” thought Tom, but then a thought came to the front of his mind.  A thought that should have come long ago.  When did we develop electronic stars we could use to guide our way?  When he realized, the device was at least 200 years out of date he tucked it away as useless weight. 

He stopped to rest, eat something, and drink some water, as he pondered what to do next?  After about a half hour he set off again towards the south, as the sky darkened and became threatening.  Soon the afternoon rains would start, and Tom hoped to be somewhere less open then this grassland when that happened.  As luck would have it he stumbled across a small camp with about six men busy doing something with bodies of some beaver.  They had built simple shelters covered with a white canvas and appeared to be engaged in simple conversation.  Tom activated the embedded translator chip all 23^rd Century humans had, and entered the camp.  The men dropped their tool, grabbed their rifles and leveled them at Tom.  The first man barked “Qui es to?” Tom stretched out his hands and replied in English, “I am a traveler,” which his translator changed to “Je – suis – un – voyager.”

This did little to relax these new strangers so Tom decided to show them he was not armed.  The men began an excited discussion about this insane man and what could he possibly want.  Tom stood patiently while the men looked him over.  He really had little choice since the muskets they had leveled at him looked fairly lethal.  Eventually, the six decided this idiot who was walking around without any protection was probably fairly harmless and they invited him to sit and have a drink or two.

Sitting on a log, near the small camp fire, Tom was offered a ceramic jug, whose contents smelled quite powerful.  Tom raised the jug, took a small sip and almost passed out from the gagging that followed.  His new companions found this hilarious as they snatched the jug from him, and took long pulls of drink from it.  Tom asked them what it was they were drinking and all he got back was “the stuff of life.”  When it was again his turn he took another drink, prepared this time as the liquid burned his throat on the way down and settled roughly into his stomach.  With two drinks Tom was already feeling the effects.  He began to worry that if he passed out these men would strip him of the things he was carrying so he decided to stop the drinking until he could figure out their true intent.

Soon, the men set the jug down as they began to pepper Tom with questions.  “Where are you from?”  “How did you get here?” “What do you want?”  Tom smiled as they all flowed together in the warmth of the day and the drink.  Slowly he began to answer them with the story he had made up, hoping his answers would sound reasonable.

A Short Story (Part 3)

Tom found his way to the historical society where he learned more about the history of St. Louis than the holographic monument had provided.  He also learned that spices like salt were valuable commodities in a time when it was not readily available in the food processors.  He also learned that money, in the form of the omnipresent bank chip did not exist in 1790, and barter was the most common business transaction, followed by simple theft.

Soon, his week of research was up, and Tom activated the return home mode of his time machine.  In a flash, he was home.  As he scrambled for that old iPad he tried to place his notes into a usable sequence.  Putting away his old clothing, Tom felt the pockets for his one new treasure.  In the museum, he had found a sample of native beading and was able to use his time watch to pick that up in the middle of the night when the museum was closed.

And so, it went for the next six weeks or so, as Tom made his way back in time to prepare for that final great adventure.  A bobble here, a small treasure there, something that might be useful on his journey was always a goal.  At the same time, while he was in his own time Tom began to realize he would need to be in better condition if he were to survive in the wilderness of 400-years earlier, so he set about the task of exercising.

This raised some suspicion in his neighbors as they wondered about Tom’s mental wellbeing.  After all, who in their right mind would set out to actually sweat in this day and age?  Would this wild behavior actually impact the harmony of the city?  Tom assured them he would ease off on this foolishness, as he found ways to mask the times he worked out by traveling to an earlier time to do it.  There seemed to be some kind of fitness craze in the late twentieth century, and it was very easy to fit in there as an out-of-shape guy looking to lose a few pounds.

Chester’s Story

Born to a mustang on the Great Plains, Chester had lived his first year by his mother in the herd led by his father.  It had been a free and easy time, except for the occasional wolf pack that would chase the herd until one of the older mares fell behind.  The first winter had been hard when the snow covered the grass and there was little to eat, but the herd had moved to the shelter of a river valley were grass could still be found.

His life changed dramatically in the summer of his second year, when humans came into it, and he was captured by a tribe of the Dakota.  For the next year he learned their customs, and allowed them to ride on his back.  He found great excitement in the wild chase of Bison as the humans drove them, much as the wolves had driven his herd.  He seemed to be joined with one particular human, but was still part of the bigger herd, led by a large stallion ridden by the strongest of the humans.  And it came to be for the next ten years of his life.  It became a comfortable life, as the humans took care to make sure there was food and water for him.

Then one day, when everything seemed so normal, strangers came into his herd and he was led away by men who smelled completely foreign.  He was now on his own with these new humans with just a small herd to bond with, but they were always on the move, with little time to graze or socialize.  He learned to carry the weight of a saddle, along with the increased weight of these new humans.  He also learned not to bolt with the noise of their guns, but each time they fired them the flash and the band did startle him.  Eventually they came to this encampment by the river, where the men gathered and became noisy.  It was here that Charlie met Tom.

A Short Story (Part 2)

Toms Story (continued)

One trip a week is what Tom had settled on.  He would be gone for a week, but in the present he would only be gone for a few seconds.  He decided these trips would begin with recent history and slowly work its way back to the 18^th century as he built up his knowledge of the culture, as well as his fortune to fund the trip. 

His first shopping trip had him heading to where his adventure would begin, only about 400 years later.  He went to his closet to pick out some simple clothing that would have been middle of the road fashionable in that time, reviewed his language requirements, and set 2190, and the coordinates for downtown St. Louis into the time machine, took a deep breath, and in an instant, he was transported to that place.  He had chosen a park, in the very early morning, hours as his landing spot.  With any luck, no one would see him touch down.

Perhaps we should talk about the time machine itself for just a moment, for it truly was a thing of beauty.  Tom found with the technical advances of his time, the power and weight requirements could be scaled down to look like one of those old-fashioned wrist clocks that were just now coming back into style after being passé for over a hundred years.  So, he figured he would not stand out too terribly with it on in his time period, and perhaps as far back as the early 1900s. Any earlier and Tom figured he would have to find another way to disguise it.  The fact he was wearing one in the twenty-second century could be chalked up as a family heirloom with personal meaning and he would be viewed as eccentric.  To initiate a trip, he opened the face to activate the brain link, thought of an exact time and place, initiated a transmit and launch code, and in a flash, was where he wanted to be.  To return home, all he needed to do was repeat the process with a home command and he was back to where he started, in present day time he would be gone for about 5 seconds.

The purpose of this first trip was to shop for local knowledge of the St. Louis area.  Tom chose 2190 because the global facial recognition grid was still in its infancy and he thought he could fool it while staying off the historical grid.  He intended to delve into the crumbling paper copies of the city’s records as if he were an academic looking for the first key to the city.  Along the way, he figured he might be able to pick up something that would be of some value three hundred years earlier.

At precisely 2311 hours’ local time, Tom opened his watch, activated the brain link and thought of 0530 hours (local) August 22^nd 2190, for North 38.628383, West 90.185201.  He then thought through his launch code and go command.  In less than a blink of an eye he was there.  With this jump, only his second, Tom found he arrived just a bit disoriented and was forced to sit down for just a moment or two, but within a couple of minutes he was on his feet and walking to the nearest people mover stop.  After a tiring walk of 10 minutes he found the stop, called for a hover car with a bootleg communication chip, and settled in for the minute or so wait until it arrived.

And arrive it did.  A non-descript box with four seats, adorned with the latest in integrated advertising, Tom had only to say where he wanted to go.  There was no charge, for the corporation that owned St. Louis would cover the cost as part of their business expense, and it would be written off as so much was these days.  Tom realized it was still too early for the city historical museum so he chose to see the markers for the original city location.  He thought this would be important for when he came back four-hundred years earlier.  It took about 1o minutes to find the spot, and another tiring walk up to the mound where the marker stood, awaiting Tom’s arrival.

As he approached – a holographic scene awaited him, and his newly discovered, semi-transparent, guide welcomed his arrival, asking Tom what he would like to discover?  Tom suggested first scenes of the city in the early twenty-second century, assuming that was the most popular request.  As the scene played out Tom worked on a plan to walk his way back to the 1700’s.

St. Louis in 2100 was a bustling city, with its citizens adjusting well to the world government, and the new 40-hour work month.  It had just finished the bidding process for who would be the cities corporate sponsor, and what social benefits that corporation would provide.  Of course, with its long history associated with various brewing companies the residents were shocked when a small trillion-dollar start-up won the bid with a promise of full employment, great social programs, universal health care, and free memberships in the gaming syndicate they owned.  So, thought Tom, this is how St Louis came to be known as gambling capital of the world, displacing those historical centers like Macau, China, Las Vegas, America and Monte Carlo, Europe.

Choosing to step back in 50-year increments he discovered that St. Louis had been a moderately sized city with a vibrancy that impressed many of its visitors.  It had, of course, the big beer brewing company owned by the Europeans, as well as something called the St. Louis Cardinals who played a game called baseyball.  As best Tom could figure out it was a game begun by the natives who tossed rocks at each other, but it grew into a game where the rock was replaced by a ball made in South America that would be hit by a wooden club made somewhere else in America.  It was supposed to be the most popular game of its time, for the video kept calling it “America’s Game.”  Eventually, Tom learned the city began life as an outpost for the French fur trappers and traders, who would sell European goods to the natives in exchange for coats from dead animals like beaver, deer, antelope and buffalo.  Tom made a mental note to research what these animals were and how one was supposed to catch them, and take their coats off.

Enthralled with the monuments presentation Tom soon came to realize he was getting just a bit thirsty and hungry.  It was time to find a good restaurant, so he hiked back to the people mover station, summoned a ride and asked for a restaurant where he might have breakfast.  Off they went for about 200 yards where it stopped in front of the Brake for Breakfast All You Can Eat Breakfast Emporium.  Stepping down, Tom was transported inside by the moving walkway.

Once inside he was overwhelmed by the various smells coming from the aroma machines.  He settled on a traditional wonton and oatmeal curry, along with an electrolyte infused smoothie as his breakfast.  Sat down and began to observe the people coming and going about their daily routine.  Glancing up at the time on the wall Tom noted it was now 1000 hrs (local) and perhaps he should be heading over to the city’s historical society after he finished.