by Jeff Carter
name.
Once a week I drove Master into town to shop. A few weeks after we'd moved there I was outside the store, waiting for Master to call me to carry the packages. I was talking to some other slaves, who asked what kind of master Master was. I replied that if they were lucky they would get sold to Master, because I had never had it so good. "Course," I added, "ain't no field work there, 'cause he ain't got 'nough niggers for plantin'."
At that point Mr. Nicholls came up to the store. I realized that this was the same place where I had pushed Mr. Nicholls over only a few weeks before, but this time I was not blocking the door, but standing next to a window. Mr. Nicholls came right up to me. "You, nigra," he said, pointing his stick at me.
I realized Mr. Nicholls had not been satisfied with his hundred fifty dollars, and had come to remedy the situation. Though very scared, I managed to reply, "Yessuh."
"You come with me and help me unload some boxes."
Clearly he intended to beat me if I refused, and to find fault with my work and beat me if I didn't. He would probably have beat me for being too slow to respond if I had not heard Master, inside the window, whisper to me to say, "Nosuh, Massuh done tol' me I's to stay here till he call."
"I don't care what your master told you, nigra, you do as you're told."
Again repeating Master's words I replied, "I ain't your slave, and I gotta do what Massuh tol' me."
Master said, "Don't fight back. I'll be there in a minute."
Mr. Nicholls raised his stick. "You damned uppity nigger, you do as I tell you!" I shook my head. "I'll have your black hide," he yelled, hitting me with his stick.
Master came out then and pulled him off me and pushed him into the street, where he landed on his back in a puddle of mud. He'd only hit me a couple of times, but there was some blood on my forehead.
"Damn you, Legion, I'll have you up for assault. You've ruined my clothes."
"I think not, Mr. Nicholls," Master said calmly. "I have merely prevented you from vandalizing my property. You notice that you have damaged my property already," he said, pointing to the blood. "Vandalism is a felony, and it is I who can press criminal charges against you if I choose, as well as file a civil suit. I will call on you this afternoon to discuss whether I will take you to court. If you're not there, you will go to jail. Good day, Mr. Nicholls." Master turned and walked into the store, motioning me to follow him. We left Mr. Nicholls spluttering in the mud.
That afternoon I drove Master to Mr. Nicholls' place. While the main house was in good repair, the slave quarters could hardly have served even to keep the rain out. Master asked me some questions about the slaves before he went into the house. He wanted to know which of the slaves were married, which were single, and things like that. I didn't know all the answers, but Mr. Nicholls only had about ten slaves.
Master was in the house for a good hour and a half. I could hear Mr. Nicholls shouting sometimes, though I couldn't understand the words. Finally Mr. Nicholls and Master came out of the house. "Norm, you and Bev get your things and put them in the carriage," Mr. Nicholls said. "You and your son belong to Mr. Legion now." He looked at Master for a moment and then went back into the house.
Not much was said on the way home, though Master ascertained the names of his new slaves and their son, Matt, although he called them Norman, Beverley, and Matthew. Matt wasn't much older than Lizzie May. When we arrived home, Master said, "Adam, put the horse away and join us in the house." Then he took Norm and Bev inside. I hurried the horse into the stable, knowing what was happening.
When I got inside, Norm and Bev were standing holding pieces of paper and looking blankly at each other. Master rose and said, "I'm glad you're here, Adam. Perhaps you'll take Norm and Bev into the kitchen and explain what it is they have there and how things work here, while dinner is being prepared. I think they might find it easier to accept coming from you than from me."
"Yes, Master," I said, being careful with the "T" and "R" sounds.
"That's very good," Master said, "but be careful not to talk like that in front of outsiders."
"No, Sir."
"Why's you talkin' so fancy?" Norm asked as we went to the kitchen.
"Master says it will make things easier for me later on," I told him.
Norm and Bev took their transition to freedom much as Mandy and I had, even coming from us. It was wonderful to see the looks on their faces as the truth sank in. I suspect that, while it was true that they probably accepted what they were told a little quicker coming from Mandy and me than they would have from Master, the real reason Master wanted us to tell them was so he would not have to try to explain why he was doing this, and accept their gratitude.
The next morning Master had me drive him to Mr. Ballington's plantation. Mr. Ballington came out and met us in front of the house. "How do you do, Mr. Legion?" he said. "Hello, Adam. How are things at Mr. Legion's for you and Mandy?"
"We's been fine, suh," I said, smiling and looking at Master.
"That's good. What brings you here this fine day?" he asked Master.
"I've brought you some money. One hundred fifty dollars, to be exact, from Mr. Nicholls."
"That's very nice, but I must admit it is one of the last things I would have expected of him. I'm still surprised that he didn't insist that Adam be hanged."
"He is only doing this under duress. You and I both know that he had no case against Adam, and so did not deserve the money. He overstepped himself in town yesterday, as you may have heard, and this is part of the conditions I placed on not filing criminal charges against him."
"Then I must thank you for this. You needn't have done this, though, sir. I was amply recompensed for the loss of my slaves, which was more than I expected."
"I did have to do this for my own sake," Master said. "I paid market price for your slaves, knowing that some of it would go to Mr. Nicholls. In effect, you were not receiving market price for your slaves. I was glad of this opportunity to see that you received your due."
"I'm glad the opportunity arose."
"So am I. If circumstances permit, I will take advantage of further such opportunities until Mr. Nicholls owns no slaves at all."
"Perhaps you would like to come inside and have a cool drink. It is the least I can do to repay you for your kindness."
"Thank you, but no. You need not repay me. And I have two new Negroes at home who require supervision, so I must leave immediately."
Later, on the drive home, Master said, "That should improve my reputation among most of the local population, while subconsciously giving the impression that I am a person who thinks people are worth a certain sum of money."
"Why did Mr. Nicholls take money instead of hanging me?" I asked. "Mr. Ballington said it surprised him?"
"I convinced him that money would be of more value to him than hanging you. I pointed out that hanging you would give him momentary pleasure, but afterwards he would be no better off than before. Also, that legally he would have to prove that he was justified in having you hanged in order to have it done, and that, although it was likely he could do it, it would cost him time and money."
"Why did you do that, Master?"
"I knew Ballington would have to sell you to raise the money, and thought that I could probably buy you."
"So you could set us free and teach us to read and write?"
"Exactly. I also thought that Mr. Nicholls' violent nature would seek a further outlet against you. I was right, and now Norm and Bev are also free."
The harvest was not as good that year as usual, and several plantations had to sell slaves to get enough money. The only person buying was Master. Mr. Nicholls had to sell four slaves. He had wanted to sell just women, but Master insisted that he sell families. He refused at first, but no one else would buy and he needed the money, so he gave in at last.
We completed the "slave quart
ers," but Mandy, Lizzie May, and I stayed in the house. We began planning to plant the next year. Mandy and I learned to read well enough that we started using the candles to read in the evenings, just as Master had said we would. We read almost anything, but I tended to read about the law, since it had had such a role in my being freed and in Mr. Nicholls' humiliation.
One evening Master asked me into his private study, the one upstairs with the bright lights. It was the first time I had been in there. When my eyes adjusted I saw a desk with some strange boxes on it, and in a corner was an oddly shaped thing which made the strange noise I had become used to hearing every evening. Thin black ropes led from this thing to the lights and to the boxes on the desk.
"I have some things to show you, Adam," he said. "I haven't been entirely truthful with you about some things. For example, I did not invent the electrical generator or the light bulb. I told you this because I did not think you would accept the truth."
He did something to a box on the desk and a flat shiny surface on one of them turned white, and some words appeared on it. "You may have wondered how I get my money. Mr. Ballington was unable to produce the money to pay Mr. Nicholls without selling you, and he has crops planted each year to provide him with income. I was able to pay market price for you and Mandy, but I have no income."
"I guess I just assumed that white people have money. Obviously, that's not true."
"Obviously." He did something with a box with bumps on it. I saw that most of the bumps had letters on them, and they moved down when he pressed on them and came back up when he released them. Letters appeared on the flat shiny thing for each bump he pressed. Then he pressed a bump with several letters on it and several lines of writing appeared. "I originally had a large amount of money when I came here. It was counterfeit, but no one here could ever tell that. I long ago spent all that money. Since then I have made money by dealing in the stock market. What I have done with this device is have it display tomorrow's closing prices for several stocks. I'd like you to write them down. Are you familiar with the stock quotations in the newspaper?"
"I've seen them, but I never knew what they meant."
He opened a newspaper to the stock page. "This paper lists the closing prices for several days ago. For example, the stock I have displayed here is listed in the paper here." He pointed to the writing on the shiny thing, then at the paper. "You can see that the abbreviation is the same. The price I have displayed is tomorrow's price. No one will know tomorrow's price until tomorrow afternoon, and we won't get that price in the paper for several days. When we get the paper with tomorrow's prices in it, I want you to check that these prices are correct."
"How can you know tomorrow's prices, Master?" I asked, my voice unsteady.
"Are you afraid my answer will be magic? Magic does not exist. This device contains all of the stock prices for the past ten years and for the next fifteen years. It allows me to obtain the price for any stock on any day during that period. The information about the stock prices was put into the device in the future. Then it and I came back through time to live here."
"You're saying that you come from the future?" I asked, wondering if Master were a witch, a genius, or a madman.
"That's right. I have not even been born. That won't happen for over one hundred fifty years."
"And you're doing this so you can make money?"
"No. I'm doing this so I can buy slaves and set them free. Are you finished copying this down?" I nodded, and he did something to one of the boxes and the writing displayed on the thing disappeared and the surface became dark again.
"Now," Master said, "you and Mandy are making very good progress with your studies. Have you given any thought to what kind of work you want to do when you become completely free?"
"I've become interested in the law, Master. Since it was so important in our becoming free, I'd like to know more about it. If I can, I think I'd like a job which deals with the law."
"That's a good choice, Adam. You can become a lawyer if you're willing to continue studying for several years. Lawyers are well paid, and you would be able to help other people when they have problems. I have a number of books dealing with law and legal matters. Have you seen them?"
"Yes, I've read some of them."
"Very good. Read the rest as well, and don't hesitate to ask me if you don't understand something you've read. Well, that's what I wanted to see you about. I've felt bad about not telling you the truth. I know I can trust you to keep it a secret."
A few days later I was able to check the paper with the stock prices for the date in question, and every one of Master's predictions was correct. Maybe it was magic, and the story about the future was made up. There's no way I can tell. But Master always insisted that there is no such thing as magic. And the magical things about Master were always related to his devices, not to spoken words and potions the way I had always heard that magic was done. So I tend to believe him.
Nearly a year later Master was able to obtain all of Mr. Nicholls' slaves when Mr. Nicholls was killed by a slave he was beating. Then our first harvest came in and we had a higher yield per acre than any other plantation around town. Master smiled and said, "Happy workers are productive workers."
The spring after that, Master took Mandy and me north to Boston, where we still live. He helped us find a place to stay, and arranged for us to have money while I attended university. Boston is very different from home, and we had to get used to many strange things. Of course, living with Master had prepared us to accept strange things, but the cold winter and the snow were difficult to get used to. I graduated from university and took the bar examination, and became a lawyer. I was not the first Negro lawyer, but we are a very rare breed. I specialize in representing Negroes who have been wronged by whites. I have no shortage of work, but I have to keep my fees low.
Recently Master came to visit us. He had done all he could, freed all the slaves he could, and had stayed too long in our time, and wanted to go home. "I wanted to see you two before I go," he told us. "As my first slaves, you're special to me." He stayed a few days, and we spent a lot of time walking around the town. He had a little box that he held to his eyes sometimes; he called it "taking pictures." He "took pictures" all over town, the State House, the market, North Church, the Common, and almost any other everyday scene.
One morning he unpacked most of the cases he had brought with him. He had the generator, the light device, and the stock price device. He also had a number of metal bars which fit together to form a kind of sphere made of triangles. A box in the center of the sphere formed a kind of platform. He put all the devices on the platform. He connected the platform box to the generator with a thin black rope and started the generator. I heard the strange noise that had once been so familiar but had not heard for so many years. Master opened a panel on the side of the box. He pushed on the surface under the panel and glowing numbers appeared.
Master shook our hands and bade us farewell, then got on the platform with his devices. He smiled and looked at us. "My name is Legion," he said, "for I shall be many." Then everything disappeared. I miss him, but I doubt if I will ever see him again.
About the Author
Jeff Carter is an HF ASD writer of speculative fiction. This was his first published story.
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