The Time Stone (The Time Stone Trilogy Book 1)

by Robert F Hays

  They turned and walked to the front of the store where another customer was inspecting the ovens. The man did a double take when he saw Jim. “Ah, excuse me, are you that Old Earth man Jim Young? You certainly look like him.”

  “No, I’m his twin brother,” Jim said, swiftly exiting the store.

  He stepped back on the moving sidewalk. “I love chatting with everyone, but all those cameras and people wanting to touch me is driving me batty. I think I’ll grow a beard as a disguise.”

  Redmond nodded. “There’s a medication you can rub on that will make it grow faster.”

  Jim folded his arms and continued to look about. Out of the corner of one eye he noticed the middle aged lady directly behind him staring in his direction. He looked away and continued to browse the stores. Another glance. She was still staring. He changed body positions several times then decided on direct action as the best course. “Hi. How do you like the Mall?”

  “Are you the young man from Old Earth? You look like him.”

  “No, no, I just look like him.”

  Jim turned away and changed his body position several more times. There were other people around him also staring.

  “It is him!” a young lady to his right said. “There’s that archeologist, doctor Redding.”

  “No, he’s no doctor, he’s my cousin on my.... ah.... uncle’s side. He’s an electronic bug catcher operator from ah.... from ah.... somewhere.”

  Above the slowly increasing commotion Jim heard Redmond laughing and felt a hand grab his shoulder.

  “Come on Jim, this is where we get off.”

  “That’s it, no shaving from now on.”

  They stepped off the moving sidewalk and quickly proceeded toward a small group of elegantly dressed people.

  “Praise the lord sir.” Jim’s head jerked around toward the sound of the voice. “Care to donate to help continue his work.”

  A young man, a couple of meters away, approached him holding out a pen phone.

  “Left my wallet at the office.” Jim continued to walk passing a brown uniformed security guard similar to ones he had seen at the university. “So you have them here too?” Jim said and trotted toward the doors in front of him.

  “The religious beggars? Oh yes, everywhere you go.”

  Behind them they heard the security guard requesting to inspect the young man’s permit. Jim had nothing against religion, just the people who practiced it. Back in Texas, part of the Bible Belt, he had them on his doorstep every second day. Once, on a Sunday, he was pulling weeds in his front yard. A group walked in his gate and announced that they had come to minister to people who couldn’t get to church. They asked why he wasn’t there. When he answered that he never went, they proclaimed that the lord was punishing him by afflicting his yard with weeds. Then they prayed over the yard for half an hour.

  “You have to buy a permit to beg?”

  “The permit is free, it’s just to make sure that they’re from a legitimate organization.”

  Jim heard a scuffle behind him and pivoted to see the young man pursued down the sidewalk by the guard.

  “Looks like that guy was free-lance,” Jim chuckled.

  They had reached a set of six large ornate doors through which several well dressed people were entering.

  “He was probably unemployed and did not want to do his deuce,” Redmond said.

  “His what?”

  “Deuce, two days a week working for the city. It validates their unemployment benefits. They clean things up or work at minor office jobs. It separates those who are out of work from those who do not want to work.”

  A security guard halted them at the door and demanded their invitations. Redmond handed over two blue plastic disks which the guard inserted into a hand held scanner.

  “Doctor; Mr. Young.”

  He looked at Jim with an expression of awe while returning the disks to Redmond.

  They entered.

  “Doctor Redmond,” said an oriental man extending his hand with enthusiasm toward the doctor.

  “Jim, I would like you to meet Doctor Hong, head of the history department of Kent university.”

  Jim shook his hand. “Doctor.”

  “You and your boys have created quite an impression on my planet. I called home yesterday and my son greeted me with Cowabunga dude”

  “Sorry ‘bout that,” Jim said, looking rather embarrassed.

  “Would you like a drink?” Dr. Hong turned and raised a hand to attract the attention of a uniformed human attendant. The man pointed a small object in their direction and appeared to squeeze it. He then resumed scanning the crowded room. Within thirty seconds a nonhuman servant appeared at Jim’s elbow. He recognized his favorite brown beverage amongst the others on the machine. With beer in hand the conversation resumed.

  “I’ll leave you with the doctor Jim,” Redmond said. “I can see a former colleague I wish to speak with. Doris just walked in the door so you’ll not be totally unprotected.”

  “Got it,” Dr. Hong said after making a dive for the retreating autoserve, procuring his own drink. “Those things have a habit of disappearing just when I need them. I don’t think they like me.”

  “I’ll have to remember to be fast.” Jim watched it as it left. Two replacement glasses appeared from a storage compartment below the tray as the machine meandered into the crowd.

  The doctor’s manner turned slightly officious. “Mr. Young. Did you have any contact with the Chinese culture? There are many old traditions we have with unknown origins. I was hoping you could illuminate us.”

  Jim smiled at Doris who had appeared to his left then returned his attention to Hong. “Not really, but I do have some general knowledge.” He then took a sip of his beer and tried to conceal a mild souring expression. The beer of the times had a bland taste. It reminded him of an extremely cheap brand he used to drink on Earth when he was short of cash. This brew was going to take a lot of getting used to.

  The gathering of about a hundred people stood carrying on their own conversations while occasionally glancing in Jim’s direction. They waited patiently and in some cases impatiently for their own turn to corner the celebrity.

  Doris acted as interceptor. She distracted people when Jim occasionally looked overwhelmed by the fusillade of questions. He answered to the best of his ability, stressing on occasion that his memory wasn’t perfect and that he could be wrong.

  One lady, the wife of a university professor, tried to monopolize his time completely. Mrs. Holtz asked his opinion on some of the most obscure subjects in Earth history. It became rapidly obvious that she didn’t know what she was talking about.

  She was a very large lady dressed in a blue chiffon skirt and blouse that Jim had seen before, but couldn’t remember where. Her obesity was uncommon in this society. With medical adjustment to metabolism, most people could regulate their weight to whatever level they wished. But, Jim was informed that not all procedures were successful. It depended on the precise causes of the problem. Some were beyond the capabilities of even this advanced society to correct.

  “Mr. Young, I saw the first two of your movies, they were very well done and so interesting. You should be congratulated,” Mrs. Holtz articulated in a pretentious manner that grated on Jim’s nerves.

  “They’re not exactly mine, I didn’t make them.” Jim was tiring of the lady, but Doris couldn’t help. She was occupied with another man who had questioned Jim on Irish American marriage rights. When Jim had informed him that they were about the same as everyone else’s, hence destroying several of the man’s pet theories, he became irate. That’s when Doris stepped in. She was very skillful at the art of pacifying the infuriated.

  “The one about the black soldiers was extremely good,” Mrs. Holtz continued. “They struggled so hard for recognition then having most of them die in the end. It was so sad. Mr. Young, you were in the army weren’t you?”

  “Yes I was Mrs. Holtz,” Jim replied, trying to cover his increasi
ng exasperation.

  “Tell me; during that war which side were you on, the Union or the Confederacy?”

  “Ah... well... that was a little before my time.” Jim glanced in the direction of the dining hall entrance. Red uniformed ushers stood idle indicating that the meal could still be a long way off.

  “Are you interested in firearms, Mr. Young?” another asked. Jim turned toward the male speaker’s voice. “The name is Professor Miguel Orosco.”

  Jim shook the man’s hand. He had obvious Hispanic features with a wide mouth and large ears that stuck out.

  “I have several, a shotgun two rifles and a handgun.”

  “The hand gun, a revolver?”

  “Yes, Colt 38 caliber.”

  “They interest me, but the thing that interests me most is that car of yours. May I get you a refill?” Dr. Orosco reached for Jim’s empty glass. “I will be back in a minute; there’re some questions I want to ask.”

  Jim handed him the glass and he turned to pursue a passing autoserve.

  “The other video, how did a lion get to Africa?” Mrs. Holtz said as she forcefully moved into Jim’s line of vision.

  “It was born there, that’s where lions are from,” Jim said, impatiently awaiting Orosco’s return.

  “Oh, I thought they came from the mountains of North America.”

  “Your drink, Mr. Young.”

  Jim turned and accepted the glass. The extraction from an extremely frustrating conversation was a welcome relief. “Thank you, you wanted to know something about my car.”

  “Yes, what is its top speed?”

  “About a hundred and twenty k.p.h. It’s getting old and can’t go as fast as it used to.” Jim took a long drink from his glass.

  “That must’ve been exciting. Traveling the freeways... Ah that was the name you called the thoroughfares was it not?”

  “Yes, the major ones.”

  “Ah ha, driving, a term we’ve lost the proper meaning of. Steering wheel in your hand, smelling the aroma of burned petrol fumes. Far different from today, having the main control how you get there, the route you take and the time spent.” Orosco exhaled with a look of satisfaction. “It must have been a good feeling. Sort of being more in control of your own destiny. If you wanted to go to the left lane you went there, if you wanted to slow down you did it. I wish I could have traveled that way.”

  “I think I’m going to miss that,” Jim sighed.

  “Just do it anyway. Take your car out for a drive somewhere in the country. Freedom, freedom, freedom.”

  “I would have liked that driving thing too,” Mrs. Holtz interjected, again moving her bulk in an obvious attempt to cut off Orosco. “But I don’t think I would have liked to have lived back then, what with the black plague and open fires to cook on.”

  “We were a little more advanced than that.” Jim glanced around but was disappointed to find that Orosco had moved away and another had taken his place.

  “You had food servers?” Mrs. Holtz asked.

  “No, but we had microwave ovens.”

  “Oh, that would have made it easier.”

  “In fact, I think you would have fitted in quite well. All you would need is to paint a Goodyear sign on your side. You could hang around at football games. Everyone would’ve looked up to you.”

  “Really?” Mrs. Holtz said, her face lighting up with delight and satisfaction. “Ah... What’s a Goodyear sign?”

  “Advertising on the side of a blimp,” Jim snapped, slowly losing control of his temper.

  “Oh? What’s a blimp?”

  “A big fat thing, full of wind, that flops around in the sky.” Jim puffed out his cheeks and arched his arms hanging by his sides to mimic obesity. He then waddled around. It gave him an enjoyable feeling to finally release his pent up aggravation. Mrs. Holtz was a convenient target. He didn’t care what people thought. A mild feeling of euphoria prompted him to say whatever he wanted and to whom ever he felt like. “Good enough description fatso?”

  “Oh!” Mrs. Holtz put her hand to her mouth and took a pace backward.

  Jim felt Doris tugging on his sleeve. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “I feel fine. Just talking to blimpo here. Did you know that if I wasn’t married I’d chase you ‘round the park? You’re a good looking woman. I’ve never asked, are you married?”

  “No, and you’re acting stupid. Come over here.” Her face turned serious. She grabbed his arm and felt his pulse while leading him reluctantly away from the stunned and staring group.

  “Unhand me woman. I know you’re taking me outside so that you can have your wicked way with me.”

  People they passed went silent as they crossed the room in the direction of Redmond. Jim grinned stupidly and waved to people he recognized as they went.

  “Keep quiet Jim, something’s wrong. Oh... Tal?”

  “Nothing’s wrong, I’m just in a party mood.”

  As he passed a biology professor whose name he couldn’t remember, Jim handed him his empty glass. “Here Jeeves, one more of the same please, and hurry or there’ll be no tip.”

  They reached Redmond.

  “Tal,” Doris said. She grabbed the chin on Jim’s grinning face and said in a low voice. “Look at his eyes.”

  Redmond peered into Jim’s highly dilated pupils. “Good heavens, we have to get him out of here. What happened?”

  “Someone must have slipped him something. I don’t think it is toxic, just mind altering.”

  “Blast,” Redmond said, slapping his sides. “Someone’s trying to discredit him in front of the media. We have to locate security to help us get him to a hospital.”

  Jim laughed. “Nothing’s wrong with me you paradox, get it, pair-o-docs.” Jim resisted all efforts to move him. “I don’t want to leave, I haven’t had my free dinner yet, and you two Docs look pissed. By the way, that’s the plural of Doc. Both you Docs look pissed and weird too. Except for you Doris, you look foxy. When I get my divorce, will you marry me?”

  “We can talk about that later. You’re under the effect of a drug,” Doris said, stepping behind him and pushing hard. “Move it.”

  “And I had all the jokes ready for my speech.” Jim flailed his arms in the air as he begrudgingly walked toward the door.

  Outside, they explained the situation to two security guards. One ran off to procure a small shuttle car while the second assisted in containing Jim’s erratic enthusiasm.

  “This way sir.”

  “Ok rent-a-copper ya got me.” Jim, with full animation, was doing the worst Cagney impersonation in history. “You, you dirty rat. You’re the dirty brother that killed my rat.”

  * * *

  The trip to the hospital was relatively easy. Doris employed his suggestibility to get cooperation. No longer did the controlled transit bother him as it raced through intersections without slowing. The return trip was at higher speeds as Redmond had given the emergency instruction which gave the vehicle priority on the city roads. Jim felt exhilarated by the perceived danger.

  At the university hospital emergency clinic, blood was drawn by a cylindrical shaped appliance. It hissed and left a small red mark on Jim’s forearm.

  Jim stared at the mark then around the room. Varied appliances hung from the walls and two cabinets contained different shaped plastic containers that were probably medications.

  “Mr. Young. We have to get your meds from the pharmacy,” said one of the two nurses in the room while leaning over Jim with a sympathetic expression. “It only takes a few minutes for them to work so you’ll be back to normal in no time. Just sit there, it’ll not take long”

  Doris grabbed Jim by the chin and turned his face to look in his eyes. She spoke slowly. “Who got you the last drink you had?”

  “My very, very, very, good friend Miguel Orosco.”

  “What were you talking to him about?”

  “Freedom, freedom, freedom, driving my car, turning left and right when I wanted. Master of my own des
tiny”

  Doris turned to Redmond. “Do you know him?”

  “No, can’t remember the name.”

  “IIIIIII’ve gotta poooooooo poooooooo.” Jim was swaying in his seat, fascinated by the echoing affect his voice made as it hummed through his head. “Hmmmmmmmmm, ooooooooo, aaaaaaaaaah”

  “What do you have to do?” Doris asked.

  “Poooooo poooooo, shit, crap, see a maaaaan about a dog.” The look on her face showed that she didn’t understand. “Leave a hunk in the toilet,” Jim humorously snapped in a high pitched voice.

  “Oh, come with me.”

  Doris assisted him to his feet and grasped his elbow. They walked out of the room and down a short corridor. He recognized the international sign for a male convenience next to the door. It hadn’t changed. They stopped.

  “What? You going to come in and aim for me?”

  “No,” she said laughing. “You seem steady enough on your feet. I’ll get a male orderly to assist.”

  Jim walked through the door. There was a second door to the left through which he promptly exited. He then meandered down a long corridor and found himself in the lobby. Dancing across the floor, he performed what he told his sons was a ballet entitled ‘The Dying Water Buffalo’. His boys used to laugh, but the reaction of security guard at the door was one of puzzlement as he made an arabesque through the exit.

  The guard called after him. “Sir! Are you all right?”

  Jim turned and bowed in full stage fashion. Then, in his most Shakespearian acting voice, with full gesticulation said, “Life is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury signifying nothing! Alas poor Yoric I knew him Horatio!” Then turning, he bounded across the road in front of the hospital. “A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!”

  The feeling of jogging though the park in the clean open air prompted a few army running songs.

  “C130 rolling down the strip.

  Airborne daddy gonna take a little trip.

  Jump up, hook up, shuffle to the door.

  All jump out and count to four.”

  Jim continued on past several small flower gardens and thought how nice they looked and how they reminded him of the garden he and his wife had made in Texas.