by Michael Dodd
“I’m in Chicago for the first time,” he said, “I’m from Los Angeles, California.” (Another piece of Mick fiction) “Can you tell me how much it would cost to get a hotel room for the week?”
“Well,” the man said, “You can go right down here,” he pointed toward the door, “and stay at the Sheridan for about $400 a week. I’ve heard it’s only about $1200 for the month. How long you plannin’ to stay in Chicago?”
“I’m not sure, sir,” Xylon said, then, “I accept your offer of $15,000. However, I don’t have an account at the local banking establishment at this time. It might be difficult to carry such a large amount of money on my person.”
The man thought Xylon was quite odd: interesting and harmless, but odd. “I’ll tell you what,” he said, “I can download the full amount on a debit card. You can use it the same way as cash; but, if you lose it, you can come here and I’ll replace it for you. Just make sure nobody gets your PIN number.”
“That sounds excellent,” Xylon replied with a satisfied grin, having no concept of the term, PIN number, “How long will that take?”
“Give me your PIN number and I’ll have it ready in two minutes,” he said.
“Forgive me for sounding ignorant,” Xylon said, “but what’s a PIN number?”
The man laughed out loud, but didn’t bat an eye. “P I N means, Personal Identification Number,” he said in explanation. “Just give me four numbers or letters to use as your PIN number. That way, only you will be able to use the card and access the money.”
Xylon smiled more profoundly than before. “That’s quite cleaver,” he said, “Very well, my…PIN number will be…zero…nine…two…six.” (0926 was the final four numbers of Juno’s actual name)
“Okay,” the man said, “Just gimme a few.” He turned and walked into a back office. Xylon had no idea what “gimme a few” meant; but he assumed he was simply supposed to wait until the man finished the transaction. Four minutes later, he was proven correct when the man returned and handed him a ridged piece of hard plastic that was smaller than his Comp.
According to Mick, in order to check into a hotel in 2065, you would need money and an ID card. Mick was foresightful enough to make him a facsimile of a National ID Card, complete with picture. Xylon should have no problem getting a place to stay.
In the meantime, hoping to gather his thoughts, Xylon noticed an inviting bench across the street from the pawn shop. When he crossed the street, the sign on the entrance to the arboretum said, University of Chicago Library.
Xylon walked over to the bench and sat down. He already missed Juno and wished she had somehow been able to travel with him to the past. As it was, he would have to be content with the idea of finding her when he got older. She would not be born until the year 2100, just over 35 years from now.
Unbeknownst to Xylon, at that very moment, in the year he had just left behind, Juno was sitting on the very same bench in the very same arboretum in front of the University of Chicago Library. She had just finished Physics 102 and thought she’d take a break before venturing back to the student building and attending her last class of the day.
In the time it had taken Xylon to press his thumb to the amulet and wait five seconds, Juno’s life had changed in every respect. In the first place, her name was no longer, Juno: it was Catherine Ann Akers. While she was still Juno in every physical and spiritual respect, she had not been the product of a genetically-engineered embryo carried by a Vestal Virgin. Instead, she had been born the third child of a mother and father who had loved and nurtured her since birth, some twenty-five years before.
As she rose to head back to the student building, she noticed an elderly-looking man standing beside the gate at the library’s entrance. He was looking at her as though she was his beloved daughter, or something. He smiled, subtly, but never approached her.
She didn’t bother to exit the ar boretum through the gate the old man was standing near; she walked out the north entrance. After class, her boyfriend was going to meet her at Rozetti’s for pizza. As she turned to leave, she chanced one last glance in the old man’s direction. He was still looking at her, smiling in a way that made her feel the man knew her intimately. It was a bit disturbing. For the 85 year-old Xylon, it was thrilling.
CHAPTER FOUR
In a week, Xylon had all but mastered the nuances of 21st century life in the United States. After purchasing a “laptop” computer, he spent the week scouring the internet for information about the time in which he now found himself. Whatever happened, he would be here for the rest of his life.
Surprisingly, television turned out to be the most accurate teacher for Xylon. He watched the local news programs, the national news programs and the
entertainment channels. While he considered the society to be somewhat superficial, he was amazed at the fervency and passion of its inhabitant’s lifestyles. It was a whole new world to Xylon and he was anxious to do his part to see that it wasn’t destroyed.
While he could now access all of human history from his laptop computer, Xylon was more concerned with the history that was yet to occur, hopefully, with a bent toward altering its flow. The more he learned about the past, the more he realized how much he and the people of his time had been lied to. It was as if everything he’d ever been taught about the history of the world was a lie, designed to keep him productive and on a course of their choosing. He had been like a racehorse, given tunnel-vision with blinders, and then told to run until he dropped dead.
It was important for him to have an accurate idea of the future events that Mick described. He’d committed them to memory, but decided to put them in a form he could read and study. So, he brought up a blank Word document on his laptop and began to type from memory:
In 2065, the American President John Wooten would preside over talks between the Chinese-Indian Pact and the Pakistani-Iranian Pact. It was President Wooten that had negotiated the famous, Jerusalem Pact, which ended the century-old conflict between the Arabs and the Jews.
It was a year that historians considered to be vital in shaping the world war that was to follow in five-short years. With the Russian Federation disbanded, China began to flex its muscles, gobbling up most of the nations to her south. In the meantime, India, now a world economic power, sought to join the Chinese and create a Superpower, like the United States. Not to be outdone, the nations of the Middle East began to band together to form an Arab Alliance.
In South America, the nations decided, with the strong urging of Brazil, to unite into a single national entity. By 2066, the South American Union was a reality.
The United States, still a power, both economically and militarily, accepted the nation of Mexico as its 51st state. By the year 2067, the United States would welcome all of North America into one powerful nation, as Canada followed Mexico in statehood. (Canada actually formed five new states)
Europe, the historical leader in art and literature for millennia, found themselves playing second fiddle to numerous political unions and desired to bring the European Union back to global prominence.
In the end, they were less than successful, as the United Kingdom joined, not with traditional Europe, but with Ireland, Scotland, Wales, Norway, Finland and Denmark, forming the, New United Kingdom. In mutual alliance, the New United Kingdom and the vastly enlarged United States of America were the predominant world power in the sixth decade of the 21st century.
The nation states had not disintegrated; they had taken on a new form: that of unitednation states. Now, rather than hundreds of separate and sovereign nation states, the world was formed mostly of five national conglomerates: the United States of America and the New United Kingdom; the South American Union; the Chinese-Indian Alliance; the Pakistani-Iranian-Arab Pact; and the less than powerful European Union. Only a smattering of nation states remained unaffiliated: Australia, Israel and a few former Russian republics.
Of course, this makes no mention of the continent of Africa. Its continued tribal at
titudes and “mafia” mentality left it open for anyone who wished to invade it and take away its fertile lands, as the South American Union did in 2066.
Attacking the nation of Nigeria in West Central Africa and Angola in South Central, the South American Union had control of the southern half of the continent by the
beginning of 2067. Europe, with alliances and relationships with many of the northern nations of Africa, sent armies to stop the South American Union’s northern advance.
During the year of 2067, this “guerrilla war”, as it was called at the time, left millions dead and accomplished little for either side, further depleting Europe’s resources and leaving it virtually helpless in international affairs.
By 2069, China and India left the bargaining table and launched a full-scale invasion of their neighbors. With the full backing of China’s military might, India invaded Pakistan, Iran and Iraq. At the same time, China launched an invasion to the north, taking Mongolia, Kazakhstan and much of the former Russian Federation. By the time the dust settled in the latter half of 2069, the only viable Superpowers were the United States of America, with its alliance with the New United Kingdom, the Chinese-Indian Alliance, and the South American Union, now controlling all of Africa except Saudi Arabia and Egypt: they were now occupied by the Indians.
The focal point of this whole realignment seemed to have been the leadership, or lack thereof, of the United States. Once President Wooten left office, the succeeding President turned his nation’s resources inward and became almost isolationist. Within this vacuum of leadership, China, India and South America were only too happy to fill it with conquest and terror.
Mick Jagger suggests that I befriend the current President of the United States: John Wooten, and explain the consequences of his successor’s lack of leadership.
Furthermore, Mick suggests that this “Great Conciliator”, as he was known at the time, could give great insight as to the proper course of action, should he be given all the relevant information. The benevolent world leader, Sammy Davis Jr., who governed the planet Omni during Mick Jagger’s time, suggested as much.
‡
2125 AD
Mick Jagger was flabbergasted!
Gaia had not informed him that when he sent someone back in time to change the past, his future would change as well. Oh, he knew when Xylon left for 2065—assuming he was successful—the present timeline of 2125 would change; it just never occurred to him that he would be the only person on earth to be aware of it. The fact that he had traveled from the future into this altered past must have protected him from the changes that would occur in this new timeline.
One second, he was having a rather mundane lunch at one of Omni’s “sensible” eateries, and the next, he was seated in the booth of a luxuriously-appointed restaurant, eating something he did not recognize.
While he understood in an instant what had happened, the sudden and unexpected change was startling nonetheless. He looked down at his plate of food and wondered what it was he was eating. There was actually food in his mouth that he did not recognize. However, the taste was quite pleasing to him; so he continued to chew and swallow it without concern.
He glanced around the busy room and noticed a distinct difference in the people’s facial expressions, as well as their general disposition. These were not the uninspired patrons he had come to expect in this type of social situation; they conversed with one another in a much more robust manner: laughing and fliting about in a playful exuberance. These people were not afraid of Omni surveillance. On the contrary, most of them were inebriated: something Omni did not allow.
He returned to his meal and continued to eat the odd but pleasant tasting plate of what he would later learn was spaghetti and meat balls. While he liked the taste, he found it particularly difficult to manipulate with his fork. By the time he was finished, his face was blotted with spaghetti sauce, as was his shirt.
It suddenly occurred to him that the world had changed to such a degree; the units on his implanted microchip might not pay for his meal. If the world had changed, it was likely the financial world had changed as well.
He looked at the back of his right hand and noticed the microchip was still implanted; however, it was likely that it would be of little use. Assuming he was correct, how would he be able to pay for his meal…or anything else, for that matter? He couldn’t believe he was shortsighted enough not to have considered all this when he sent Xylon back to 2065.
As he looked about the restaurant, he noticed the tremendous change in human attire. The clothes were multicolored and varied in a way he had never seen, not even in his time. It occurred to him that his one-piece jumpsuit looked very out of place. He began to ponder his current situation, as well as the overall distresses he was no doubt about to face.
Everyone in this new, changed timeline was unaware of their alternate pasts. The changes that altered their timeline had occurred long before most were born. As such, they had simply lived different lives than the ones they’d lived in the other timeline. Each was comfortable with the changes because they had never known any other. Also, the timeline change had occurred to them as nothing but the normal passage of time. For Mick Jagger, however, the change had occurred in an instant, leaving him wholly unprepared for its many modifications.
Mick noticed that the restaurant’s patrons were paying for their meals with small, plastic cards, not much bigger than the ID card he’d made for Xylon. He felt around his clothing, hoping he might have one, but he didn’t. He noticed the waiter coming in his direction. He would have to think fast.
“Would you like some desert, sir?” the waiter asked.
“No,” Mick said, “ Thank you. I was wondering if you could help me out,” he continued, hoping a miracle would occur, “I seem to have misplaced my card. Is there any way I could pay for this meal tomorrow?” It was a slim hope, but what the heck.
The waiter didn’t bat an eye. He simply replied, “Well, sir, that’s no problem at all. If you’ll just tell me your name, I can go into the database and retrieve your account information. You can then simply use your fingerprint to pay the check.”
Great! “Oh, okay,” Mick stuttered, “That will be fine. My name is Mick Jagger.”
The waiter laughed. “Oh,” he said, “You mean, like the rock star?”
Xylon had no idea what his namesake had done for a living. He just smiled, hoping the gesture would be enough to avert further questions.
“I’ll return in a moment, sir,” the waiter, then turned and headed in the other direction. When he returned, he placed a small device on the table. It looked very much like Xylon’s Comp, but much smaller.
“Just press down here with your right thumb, Mr. Jagger,” the waiter said with a smile.
Mick didn’t know what a “mister” was, but complied, hoping he somehow had funds available.
A small beep told the waiter that the bill had been paid. “Thank you, Mr. Jagger,” he said, “I hope you find your Unicard.” He left with a pleasant expression on his face.
When Mick left the restaurant, he was amazed at the changes that had taken place around the city. He quickly realized that only the building had changed; he was still in the same location he’d been when the change occurred. This allowed him to have some perspective as to which direction to take.
As he stepped out of the restaurant, a rather large man approached him after exiting a large, black automobile. At first, Mick was alarmed; sure that no one in this timeline could possibly recognize him.
“Excuse me,” the man said with a gesture of deference, “Are you Mick Jagger?”
Mick was so surprised that he didn’t offer any questions. He simply replied, “Yes, I’m Mick Jagger.”
“Mr. Jagger,” the man said, “I have been inst ructed to pick you up at this restaurant and convey you to your home.”
There’s that “ mister” word again. Mick assumed it must be some kind of honorific. He couldn’t imagine how anyone could know h
e was here and he was certain that he didn’t have a home here. Nevertheless, he wasn’t in a position to question anything. He just went along. “Very well,” he said, “Thank you.”
The man turned toward the automobile and Mick followed him. When the man got to the vehicle, he leaned over, opened the rear door, and held it until Mick was seated. Then, without a word, he closed the door, walked around the front of the vehicle and got in the front seat.
Once he was seated, the man looked over his right shoulder and said to Mick, “Mr. Jagger, I have been instructed to drive you to your new home. In the meantime, I have been told to raise the partition between us and instruct you to push the red button on the console to your left. As you can see, there are refreshments in the bar to your right. I will now close the partition, sir.”
The moment the driver stopped speaking, a barrier of some kind began to rise from between he and the driver. At first, Mick thought he was being caged in some fashion, but quickly realized it was for privacy sake.
Once the partition was fully up, Mick looked around the spacious area in the back of this rather long automobile. Sure enough, to his right, there were a number of bottles and glasses. He assumed, correctly, that was the bar. To his left, in the mid-part of the long seat, was a console of some kind and…a large, red button.
The driver told him to push the red button, so he did. Immediately, a rectangular object began to lower from the ceiling of the automobile. When it reached eye level, it stopped and began to flicker. Apparently, this was some type of visual device: perhaps a way of communicating.
When the image fully appeared, it was that of an elderly man. He looked to be well into his seventies, at least, but he looked healthy and was smiling broadly. It didn’t take Mick long to put it all together.
“Xylon,” Mick said with a pleasant sigh, “It’s good to see you again. I see you were successful.”