Button in the Fabric of Time

by Dicksion, William Wayne

  Jan’s remarkable hearing and keen perception allowed her to overhear an elderly couple talking. They had lost all their money, and the lady was crying. Jan handed her a hundred-dollar bill and said, “Place this money on that roulette table. Put it on number 8-black.” The lady did as Jan had instructed, and when the ball stopped bouncing, sure enough, it landed on 8-black. The lady picked up the winnings and turned to give them to Jan, but Jan had taken my hand and led me away. We still wonder what the couple did with the money.

  A soft desert breeze ruffled Jan’s skirt, offering a glance at the most beautiful legs in Las Vegas. Neon lights gave her eyes an iridescent glow. She was more than I could resist, so I took her hand and walked her to our hotel room. She grasped my arm, smiled, and walked briskly beside me.

  * **

  Next morning, we had breakfast and drove on. We crossed the Colorado River at Boulder Dam. The water level was precariously low.

  Jan was quick to recognize the problem and said, “This river simply will not provide the water needed and, because of that lack of water, the desert is being wasted.”

  Speaking as an engineer who had spent a lot of time considering the problem, I said, “We know the problems, but we have no viable solutions. That’s why I traveled into the future. I had hoped to find solutions, then return and make the changes needed. Now I see the folly of my rationale. If I told the people here how to overcome their problems, they wouldn’t listen. If you listen to the radio or read a newspaper, you will hear scientists warning people of the coming disaster, but they won’t listen. They wouldn’t listen to me, either. The Great War must come, so they can finally see the consequences of their ignorance and greed. It’s sad that so many innocent people must suffer and die.”

  “That’s why,” Jan said, “that you and I must go back to the thirty-first century and work to find a way, so that those people who have suffered will be able to move forward to a paradise. And isn’t it wonderful to know that the burning desert sun that makes this place barren now will, in time, be the power that will turn it into a beautiful garden?”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 25

  As we rode, I told Jan stories about the settling of the great American frontier. She listened in fascinated silence. We stopped for the night at the last major city before reaching Stoville. I called my folks to let them know when we would be arriving. The time was set for 11:30 Saturday morning.

  Jan was nervous; my mind was churning with concern about how I should introduce her. I remembered the law, DO NO HARM, and I knew they would love her as I did. So the only proper way to tell the story was with complete candor. As we drove down the long tree-shaded lane to the farmhouse, we saw them standing on the porch. Mother looked excited—Dad was calm. He was always calm. He was dressed like he was going to church. Grandpa was dressed in khaki pants and a white shirt. Typical for him—his boots were polished and his hat had a fresh crease.

  Jan watched them closely. Mother ran from the porch as we got out of the car to hug me as she always did—only this time she embraced Jan. She stepped back to see Jan better and remarked, “Gus, she’s beautiful!”

  Father was next. Always a bit formal, he held Jan at arm’s length and looked at her closely. Jan stepped between his arms and hugged him tightly. I could see Dad was pleased.

  Grandfather stood back a moment, then extended both hands and said, “It took you a while, Augustus, but you sure chose well.”

  Jan was always radiant, but this time she was more radiant than usual. My family finally focused on me—I was feeling left out, but I understood their reactions. Jan was special, and everyone responded to her in a special way.

  “Mother, Father, Grandfather, this is Jan-3. Jan-3, this is my mother Ella, my father Douglas, and my grandfather Ben.”

  Jan stepped forward and one by one, placed their right hand on her left shoulder, placed her right hand on their left shoulders, then looked straight into their eyes and said, “I am pleased to witness your life force.”

  Grandfather was smiling his usual charming smile and, as patriarch of the Wilder family, said, “Jan-3, welcome! Augustus, you lucky devil, she is charming. Your mother has fixed your favorite dish. Now, Ella, when do we eat?” he said almost in one breath.

  “Right now,” Mother answered as she put her arm around Jan and walked with her up the porch steps and into her kitchen.

  Jan looked over her shoulder at me. I smiled and shrugged.

  Dad grasped my hand and said, “Good to have you home, son.”

  I could tell by his expression that Grandpa was thinking back to the time I had shown up in the barn when he said, “A guy came by here about twelve years ago who looked just like you.”

  “Yeah, I know. . . . It was me.”

  “Well, I see you’ve developed a sense of humor,” Grandpa replied, smiling.

  Mother said, “Jan, if you’ll pour the iced tea while I set the food on the table, we’ll be ready to eat.”

  Mother had prepared fried chicken with flour gravy and biscuits. She served creamed sweet peas, a salad fresh from the garden, and for dessert we had peach cobbler with cream. The meal was wonderful. The conversation was light; we talked about the weather, the current news, and the crops.

  Then, as we were finishing, Mother asked, “Jan, where do you live?”

  Again, without hesitation, Jan replied, “I live on the fortieth floor of a glass city that floats in the ocean two thousand kilometers southwest of where Los Angeles now sits. It’s called Alpha-1. It’s our capital city.”

  Everyone except me stared at her in silence. They seemed to be waiting for the punch line. My story had to be told, and now was as good a time as any.

  “Well,” I said, “let’s go sit in the living room. I have a story to tell and it’s going to take a little time. I want you to be comfortable while I tell it. Would anyone like more iced tea?”

  Mother took Jan’s hand and asked warmly, “Would you sit with me? I’ve always wanted a daughter but, until now, it wasn’t meant to be.”

  After everyone was comfortable, I stood by the fireplace with my right elbow on the mantel, so they could see me. Everyone, even Jan, sat quietly looking at me. I began the story by telling about the drive on the desert road when I saw the blue light, and I ended the story right where I was standing. I told about coming to the farm many years ago and about going to the restaurant.

  Dad chuckled, “I heard about that. Some people still kid Joe about it even today. The constable is dead now, but he loved to tell the story.”

  “I remember that day,” Grandfather said. “I still think about it sometimes.”

  There was much to the story that even Jan hadn’t heard. She, too, sat and listened as I told about the Antons and the Ergons. Jan helped describe the encounter with the Lōōg. Everybody remained sitting after I finished, seemingly unable to comment.

  With a twinkle in his eyes, Grandpa said, “Augustus, you always could tell some whoppers, but this is the best one yet.”

  Mother looked worried. She said, “I don’t know if I should be pleased or frightened.”

  Dad said, “Son, this is a wild story. Can you verify any of it?”

  “Yes, I think I can. . . . Grandfather, you wear grandmother’s wedding band on your little finger. You once told me that there is an inscription on the inside, but you’ve never told anyone what the inscription says. Is that right?”

  “Yes, that’s right, but what has Rita’s ring got to do with your story?”

  “Where did you buy the ring,” I asked, “and who put the inscription on it?”

  “Rita and I bought the ring at Hawberg’s Jewelers, from Mr. and Mrs. Hawberg. They were the original owners of the store; but you can’t learn about the engraving from them because they’re both dead now.”

  “With your permission, I’ll go back and watch them do the engraving.”

  “You have my permission,” Grandfather said, “but I don’t see how my permission is going to help.”r />
  “Do you remember when you bought the ring?” I asked.

  “I’ll never forget. We bought it on the morning of September 20, 1941. We were married after the harvest. It was only a few months before the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor.”

  They saw me take the button from my pocket, rub it, and disappear, but before they could wonder where I had gone, or what had happened, I was back, with the inscription ‘Till the end of time’ handwritten on the front page of a newspaper that was dated September 20, 1941. Grandfather was a strong man, but tears came into his eyes.

  They all stared at the newspaper.

  “This ring was never off Rita’s hand until the day she died, and it’s never been off my hand since. . . .” He ended his comment when another thought came into his mind. “Augustus, I remember seeing you in the barn just like you said. The man I saw looked like you do now. I don’t understand how you did it, but I think you’re telling us the truth.”

  Mother got up, walked to me and hugged me really hard. She asked, “What does this all mean? Are our lives going to change?”

  “Of course your lives will change—everything is changing all the time. I don’t know when it will happen, but the world is going to experience a Great War. I think most everyone already knows that, but until then, you’ll go on just the way you always have.”

  Impatient to get on with our wedding plans, I said, “Jan and I want to be married in the chapel where you and Dad were married. We want to spend our honeymoon in the cottage on the knoll overlooking the creek. Then we’ll return to the thirty-first century, and use the knowledge we’ve been given to help make the earth a paradise. If any of you ever want to, you can come and live with us in the future. For now, you’ll continue living your lives just as you are. Jan and I will return to visit at regular intervals. If you decide that you want to come with us, we’ll take you into the thirty-first century. But we’ll do nothing unless you ask us to do it.”

  Jan took Father’s hand and said, “I love your son, and I would like to be a part of your family. Will you approve of our marriage?”

  Mom went to Jan and Dad, took them both in her arms, looked at Jan, and said, “We approve of the marriage. I can see that Augustus loves you, and you’ll have a wonderful life together. I’ll help you prepare for the wedding. . . . Have you set a date?”

  “We want to be married right away,” Jan said. “Would one week from today be all right?”

  “Well, let’s see. You’ll have to get a marriage license and get a wedding gown made. We’ll have to make arrangements with the minister and reserve the chapel. We must get wedding invitations out right away. . . . Oh, dear! I’ll have to send invitations to my family. They’ll want to meet you. One week may not be enough time for them to respond; they live in Boston.”

  “Don’t worry, Gus and I will put the invitations in their mailboxes yesterday.”

  “Yesterday!” Mom exclaimed. “We can’t even get the invitations printed until tomorrow. The print shop will have to work extra hours to get them done.” She looked at Jan and her brow furrowed into a crease over her right eye. “Oh! I forgot! You can deliver the invitations anytime you want, can’t you? Or can you?”

  Jan hugged her, smiled and said, “Yes, we can deliver the invitations any time we want. I know it’s confusing; it’s even confusing to me at times.”

  The two women hugged each other, laughing. “How many guests are you going to invite?” Mom asked.

  “Invite everyone who wants to come,” I said. “We’ll have it catered, and don’t worry about the cost—Jan and I can get all the money we’ll need.”

  “There’ll be a lot of people who’ll want to attend the wedding,” Mom said. “Where can we hold the reception? . . . I know; we’ll hold it in the little glen by the creek under the old oak trees.”

  Dad put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Son, let’s sit on the porch. Women prepare for weddings better without the help of men. We’ve got other things to talk about.”

  Grandpa said, “Yeah, we got a good crop of corn this year. The price is up, too, because of all this talk about using it to make ethanol.”

  “Dad, do you still have the horses we called Ol’ Brownie and Ol’ Blaze? I’d like to teach Jan-3 to ride.”

  “Of course,” Dad said. “I wouldn’t sell either one of them. You’d better put Jan on Brownie; Blaze likes to run and Jan might get hurt. Jan sure is pretty. I’m surprised that a girl that pretty isn’t already married. Is there something wrong with the men in the thirty-first century?”

  “No, there’s nothing wrong, Dad, they’re normal. In fact, everybody is supernormal. That’s why Jan is so beautiful. All of the women in the thirty-first century are beautiful.”

  “Are the old ones pretty, too?” Grandpa asked.

  “There are no old ones,” I replied. “Women live a lot of years, but the passing of time doesn’t wear their bodies down. They’ve found cures for every known disease, so their body cells reproduce themselves undiminished. They live many years, but they don’t look old. Other than the children, everyone looks the same age as Jan. Jan-1, the lady Jan copied, looks exactly the same as Jan, and she’s 133 years old. . . . Dad, you know that I’m 30 years old, but how old do I look?”

  “I was wondering about that,” Dad replied. “You were home for your mother’s birthday three months ago. You looked 30 then, and you were getting a few gray hairs, but you look at least five years younger now, and I can’t see any gray.”

  “That’s because I went through their purification chamber,” I said, “and the impurities were taken from my body. My body cells have reproduced themselves undiminished, so I look and feel younger.”

  “If everybody does that, and if everyone looks the same age, it must get a little confusing,” Dad said.

  “It’s confusing at first, but after you get used to it, everything seems normal. Dad, Grandpa, I want to talk about the coming war. I think you should prepare a shelter that you can live in for weeks, even months if you have to. This area will not be bombed, but the radiation from the atomic bombs will be bad for a while. If you stay underground until the worst of it dissipates, you’ll be all right.”

  “When will the bomb be dropped?” Grandpa asked, with a worried look.

  “I don’t know the date, but I came by here in 2107, a hundred years into the future, and the house and barn were gone. It didn’t look like there had been any blast damage at the farm, but the cities around the Great Lakes and along both the Atlantic and Pacific coasts had been blown to smithereens. Some of the rural people were spared, and they were rebuilding.”

  “Gus,” Father said, “I can tell by the expression on your face and the seriousness in your voice that you believe what you are saying, but surely you don’t expect us to believe it.”

  “I know it’s too much to accept all at once, and I’m trying to explain. Bad things are going to happen, and I can’t change that. I could change some things, but it would be wrong. If I change anything, it would change everything. What I can do is come back for you, after you’ve lived your lives here, and take you into the thirty-first century.” I paused, looking into their eyes. “Of course, you can’t believe me now, but Jan and I will come back from time to time, bringing something that could not have been obtained anywhere on earth at this time. After a while, you’ll believe. Dad, you’re sixty-five, so the war may not come in your lifetime, but it will come.”

  I said, “Grandpa, if you want me to, I’ll reunite you with Grandmother just before you die, and then I’ll take both of you into the future, where you will be made young again. After all of your health problems have been corrected, you and Grandmother will live long into the future.”

  Grandfather said in a scolding tone, “Augustus, I’m beginning to think like your mother. You are sounding a little scary. You’re talking about resurrection. Only God can do that.”

  “You’re right, Grandpa, I cannot resurrect. Grandmother is dead and I can’t change that. You’ll
die, and I can’t change that, but I can take a nanosecond of your lives and take the you, that exist in that nanosecond, into the future, where all your illnesses will be cured. Think of all the diseases that medical science has found cures for in your lifetime. Look back at what the world was like a thousand years ago, and you’ll get some idea of what’s possible a thousand years into the future.” I stood up and scratched my head, trying to think of some way to convince them. “I’ll try to illustrate,” I continued. “Do you still have that old tintype of your grandparents in your room?”

  “It’s hanging right where it’s been for 60 years,” Grandpa replied.

  “May I use it?” I asked.

  “Yeah, but don’t break it. It’s the only one I’ve got.”

  I went upstairs to his room and, handling the tintype with care, carried it to the front porch and showed it to Dad and Grandpa. “How old were your grandparents when this likeness was taken?” I asked.

  Rubbing his chin, Grandpa said, “Well now, let’s see. That picture was taken on their wedding day. Dad was their fourth child, and he was born in 1896, so that picture must have been taken around 1885. Girls got married young in those days, so Grandmother must have been about 17. Granddad was a few years older, so he was probably about 20. That’s about how old they look, don’t you think?”

  “This tintype displays a visual moment of their lives,” I said. “That moment was captured by the camera and moved forward. The image of the people in the picture has stayed the same, and they have attained a form of immortality. Over the years, photography improved. Motion pictures made it possible to view a person moving, capturing their emotions of love, fear, hate, and then sound and color were added. Improved method of filming enabled the cinematographer to bring into the present, and hold for the future the sound of a person’s voice. We can hear them cry, speak, and sing. The possibility of that person attaining immortality was advanced. Now, with digital cameras, we can electronically move that image to wherever there are computers to receive the image.” No one said anything, so I continued.