by Michael Dodd
Cathy smiled, lifted up her Tempron…and vanished.
‡
2075
Michael had just finished reading Gates a bedtime story. Mrs. Feldman was still the live-in nanny, but Michael had begun doing some of the more mundane chores around the house and trying to help Mrs. Feldman out with Gates as much as possible. He wanted the boy to know his father cared for him. Since Big Gates had gone, Michael’s desire to spend time with his son had taken on an even greater significance.
Once the boy had fallen asleep, Michael adjourned to his den with a bottle of Pinot Noir. It was something he had found himself doing more and more lately, especially since Gates had gone 2 weeks prior. It wasn’t the need to drink that caused these hibernations, but the desire to reflect on the overwhelming events of his past.
He sat down i n his captain’s chair behind his mahogany desk. A fire was blazing in the hearth as the flames flickered about in a biochemical dance of light. It was Michael’s place of solitude; it was like being back in the womb.
He poured a glass of wine, swirled it around the rim of the glass, took a short sniff and brought the glass to his lips. Pinot Noir was his favorite wine. It was a libation he had shared with both Juno and Cindy.
He began to reflect on a life that was almost too disjointed to remember. It was as if he’d lived two different lives; and, in fact, he had. His memories of childhood were as if a bad dream: growing up in a community residence; being raised by people who had no love for him; being bred for a certain role in society and then assigned to a job for the “betterment of society” without any thought as to what he might wish to do personally.
The only pleasant part of it was being raised with Juno and eventually living with her as lovers and friends. She could not bear him a child and the concept of marriage was a foreign one; however, they shared a deep love for one another and a healthy respect, as well.
Now, considering the changes that had taken place in the world because of his traveling back in time, Michael would not have had it any other way. The world was a wholly different and more tolerable place to live. People were free to live the lives they chose to live, rather than be pawns in a massive, global organism.
His marriage and relationship with Cindy had been a wonder to be experienced. The very concept of it would have been unthinkable in his previous life. And having his own child, from the woman he loved…unbelievable! Yet, there were times, as now, when he would do almost anything to spend time with his beloved Juno. Oddly, she would not be born for another 25 years. He would be 60 the year of her birth; 81 when she turned 21 years old. “Oh well”, he said out loud, subconsciously hoping Juno might hear his prayer in the flowing frequencies of time, “Here’s to Juno. May she live a long and happy life in a world where she can truly love a man, have her own children and be anything she wants to be.”
“That’s a beautiful sentiment. Who’s the lucky girl?”
The voice came from behind his chair. At first, i t didn’t register that it was an actual voice. Michael just assumed he either had too many sips of wine or that Mrs. Feldman had come down from bed. But, that wasn’t Mrs. Feldman’s voice. No, it was someone else’s. It was a voice that was quite familiar. One that had spoken to him many times in the bedroom with just that same gentle tone. It was a voice that filled him with warmth at its very utterance.
Slowly, without any expectations, Michael swiveled his chair around to see who had spoken. When he did, his eyes met those of a woman he’d known since his childhood in the banal community residence. They were the eyes that he’d said goodbye to only ten short years ago, but what now seemed a lifetime. They were the eyes of Juno.
“Got another glass,” she said, “You know that’s my favorite wine.”
Michael’s eyes began to water. He was still not entirely convinced he wasn’t dreaming. “Juno, is it really you?”
Cathy/Juno walked over and gently sat on
Michael’s/Xylon’s lap, giving him a gentle kiss on the lips as she did. “It’s me, Xylon. I’ve come home.”
EPILOG
When Gates arrived in Dallas, Texas he couldn’t believe his eyes. Having mastered the techniques of temporal travel over the previous few years, he was relatively certain he could place himself in any timeframe and at any location he wished. His assumptions turned out to be correct. He had planned to appear on November 20, 1963 in front of the seated Abraham Lincoln at 3am, and that’s exactly where and when he arrived. There was no one anywhere around. He looked across the Reflecting Pool to the Washington Monument, flabbergasted at how little had changed in over a hundred years.
He checked his valise to make sure all his technological items had survived the trip and then began the long journey down the stairs. He would find himself a hotel and gather his thoughts before delivering the letter he’d written before he left 2075. If his research was correct, he was dressed in a manner that would not raise suspicions; he’d even gotten a haircut to better blend into 1963 Washington. Additionally, before he left, he managed to find money from the same period so that he’d have no problems traveling and finding food and lodging. He’d thought of everything, he hoped. Now, the only question was: Would John F. Kennedy take him at his word and meet with him before traveling to Dallas, Texas and his date with destiny?
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