by C. E. Smith
There was an incredibly bright flash of yellow light, blinding her to the gunmen who chased her. Mimi screamed as the uncomfortable ticking and light combination grew too ghastly to endure.
Her thoughts returned to home. She wished to be in bed reading a book. Not here, in this dreaded, illogical bubble with the blinding light and horrid tick-tock blasting her ears. And then it all stopped.
A strong gale of wind threatened the tired city nestled under the late afternoon shadows of the King’s Castle. The wind swept over the glades of bluegrass, causing pollen and dust to rise up from the small patches of lawn that grew in between the weakened homes and buildings of the once great New York City. The buildings had tarred over the centuries from many attacks on the city seeking to rid the world of the King. Since the first king had taken power over half the world two hundred years ago, the city had always been threatened, and each king had preferred to spend on warfare than invest in building restoration. Julian Barros, the current King’s historic advisor, wondered if the kings of old had realized their city would never be safe. Still, the decaying state of living was troublesome for citizens and weakened them as a defensive unit, but no one dared mention it in the King’s victorious Court.
What troubled Julian Barros the most was that history was repeating itself: the King too stubborn to change anything, and the citizens too ignorant to notice. He felt like the only one able to see it, the only one not fooled, and that was frustrating beyond belief. It made his heart bitter to think how blind the world was. No matter how hard he tried, and try he did, he couldn’t bury the truth deep within him and play the part of the happy ignorant.
Which was why no gust of wind was too strong to keep him out of his favorite haunt, The Wise Oak Inn. That pub was the answer to all of his troubles during the night, a place where he could clear his mind of the ignorance around him.
Despite his better judgment that warned drinking was not good for him, Julian preferred to have a clear mind over a healthy body. He permitted himself this bit of ignorance and enjoyed heavy drinking to release his troubles.
The pub itself was a hole-in-the-wall place. Two long rooms made up the establishment. It was called “The Inn” due to the rooms housed above the pub. The lighting of the pub was always kept low and non-invasive, and the stone floor and wood ceilings offered a pleasant, old-fashioned vibe. There were short stools at the bar and a few booths lined up on the wall next to the windows. A few tall tables were scattered around the room, and those were usually what people flocked to first.
Even history’s sense of fashion seemed to be repeating itself.
Julian wore a white, linen shirt with long puffy sleeves rolled up past boney elbows and a black vest layered over it. Because of the strong gust of wind outside, he also wore his favorite long, coal-black wool coat, which now rested over the wooden bar with his fingerless leather gloves. He had cut the fingers from his tan gloves to prevent them from dying out with all the pages of books he turned every day. The gloves did the trick of keeping his hands from blistering, and added a dash of sophisticated charm to his wardrobe as a bonus.
Julian’s outfit didn’t get too many strange looks, for many were dressed in the same manner. Inside the pub were men in waistcoats and top-hats, some with welding goggles from working along the roads searching for riches for the King with their brass metal detectors. With all the crumbled buildings and skyscrapers, a well-paying job was one searching for scrap metal the King could use for weaponry. They were known as Metal-Hunters, and the job took great patience. As a result of their long hours, the Metal-Hunters loved to dwell in the same pub that was Julian’s favorite, and celebrate each day of hard work completed.
Other gentlemen wore simple long shirts over baggy trousers. One hobo, more of a regular than even Julian, wore a black polo with old, torn up pants several sizes too big. There were a few ladies gossiping in the corner, in long, fashionable dresses. One lady had chosen the more comfortable trouser and top approach. A gentleman kept eyeing her, but Julian assumed he was too shy to approach her.
And then there was the lovely Kacey Braddock.
Kacey worked the bar as a server, and she was as close to a friend that wasn’t a book as Julian would allow himself to have. She was the only one who tolerated his daily ranting about how wrong the world was.
KACEY THOUGHT Julian to be an old man trapped in a young man’s skin. He was bitter, crabby, jaded and irritable enough to be eighty years old, not a mere thirty-something. Even his voice had a low and raspy tempo. But he was a good paying customer, and she must put up with him. She stared out the window as Julian droned on about what was wrong with the world. The gusts were growing stronger, and she worried one of them would be the gust to collapse the frail structure of her home. It made her patience rather thin. Julian failed to notice.
JULIAN WISHED all the Metal-Hunters would shut up. They had spent far too long debating whether this wind would become a storm.
“I mean,” Julian said to the un-listening Kacey, “you would think what with all lack of technology and our backward way of clothing that we weren’t in a pub in the year 4218, but rather in the Dark Ages. Like see in this picture, our clothing is very similar, don’t you think? I was noticing that today as I was reading from a play by a William Shakespeare chap. The collection of plays included a picture of an artists’ interpretation of the Dark Ages and what it looked like. Doesn’t it look familiar to you? It terrifies me how similar it looks to us. Oh, I don’t mean us, as in you and me...because, you know, that’ll probably never happen. I mean us as in our time. As in the King’s time. See?”
The device he held was like the tablets of the 21st century. Julian held it up so she could see the picture, but she was still ignoring him. The images floated above the device in perfect holographic view.
The group of Metal-Hunters grew louder as one gent was called a liar, Julian scowled at the noise behind him and refocused his attention on Kacey.
“Yeah, Julian, that’s great,” she said, looking away from the window. She gasped when she saw the device. “Is that a halo-tab?”
He nodded. The arguing grew louder behind them; it was very distracting to Julian. But Kacey seemed used to the noise. And though Julian was there nearly every night, he never appreciated how rowdy the Metal-Hunters could get.
“Julian Barros! You know I told you no technology in my pub. It makes the other patrons uncomfortable.”
“Why? Because it’s a reminder how unfair it is we have to be sent back to the Dark Ages? It is unfair! They should be uncomfortable! We should be downright outraged! By this point in time of how advanced humanity ought to be, we should be living on other planets by now! Not fighting the same war we’ve been fighting for the last century!”
“Julian,” warned Kacey in a stern voice, “I will not have our King be spoken about that way. Don’t forget, it’s the King that allows you to even read such books. A privilege most of us don’t care to have. Now shut up and drink up. And for God sakes, put that dreadful tablet away!”
The noise continued to grow around him. It annoyed Julian how it was only that one group of Metal-Hunters that wouldn’t shut up.
Julian glared at her but did as he was told.
“All I’m saying is, in no disrespect to the King, we could be scientifically further along if we spared some expense to better humanity. But the King only cares about the war; he tells me this every day. He only cares about winning, and he fails to see we could have won already if we explored the reaches of science even for a moment.”
Kacey gave him a final warning glare and he dropped the subject. At least out loud. In his mind, he was still thinking it. And it was putting him in a foul mood.
KACEY WANTED to march away in righteous anger, but Julian seemed extra distressed tonight. Against her better judgment, she allowed her softer side to win and decided to care about Julian instead of treating him like any other customer.
There was cheering coming from the loud group of
Metal-Hunters. Working in a bar for four years, Kacey had learned to deal with the rowdy ones, but technology bothered her. She didn’t want the establishment shut down because the King thought she was harboring technology enthusiasts. Though the King hardly left his castle, he had many guards to keep the citizens in line. She would not lose her job because of people like Julian.
His sullen look made her pity him for a moment. “All right Julian, you seem more distressed than usual. What’s up?”
“I failed the King,” he said with shame in his voice. With how loud the group was behind him, he didn’t feel the need to whisper.
Kacey’s eyes widened at that news. One didn’t have to work in the castle to know never to fail the King. “How?”
“I couldn’t find something he asked me to find. I searched all the books I could all week. That was the deadline he gave me. And now I’m going to be dead by the end of the night. I just know it, he’s going to execute me.”
Kacey knew this was an actual possibility and tried to be light-hearted. “How about one more drink for a future ghost?”
He shrugged his shoulders lethargically. She placed a hand on his forearm in a gesture of comfort. He looked up and managed a slight smile. “All right. Thanks, Kacey.”
Kacey smiled. He actually looks his own age when he smiles. A miracle!
JULIAN HAD been patiently ignoring the unruly folk all night, but lost his cool when one fell on him, slamming him face-first into the bar counter. Julian shot out of his chair. “Hey!”
Kacey looked embarrassed. “Julian, sit back down!” she pleaded.
“You got somen’ to say to me, paper-turner?” challenged the Metal-Hunter.
There was a collective “ooh” from the other Metal-Hunters. Julian would’ve been happy he had enough of a reputation that the Metal-Hunter knew what he did for a living, but anger overtook pride.
The bar server leaned over the counter, trying to get their attention. “Please, I’ll offer you both a drink, on the house, if you just please both stand down. I don’t encourage fights at the Wise Oak Inn!”
“Tell yer girlfriend, it’s too late!” said the Metal-Hunter as he stepped closer to Julian.
“Oi!” yelled Julian, “you can insult me, you can insult the English language, but never insult Ms. Kacey!”
“Yer right, callin’ her yer boyfriend would be insulting,” taunted the Metal-Hunter, causing his friends to hoot with laughter.
From the corner of his eyes, Julian could see Kacey bury her head in her hands. The fact that Kacey had been drawn into the argument tipped Julian over the edge.
“That’s it!” cried Julian and lunged at the Metal-Hunter.
There was a cheer of pleasant surprise from the Metal-Hunter’s friends. “Da-vid, Da-vid, Da-vid!” they chanted, pounding their fists on the tall wooden tables.
“Julian, please stop!” yelled Kacey, but Julian could barely hear her as his head was submerged in David’s muscular forearm in a tight headlock.
The cheering continued as Julian struggled to break free from the wrestling match.
His breathing became short as he fought his way back onto his own two feet. His arms were pounding away at the man in front of him to no avail. Julian looked around desperately, spotted a chair, and without thinking used it as leverage and smashed the brute.
There was silence in the bar as David let go of Julian and collapsed to the floor.
Feeling on an adrenaline high, Julian pushed his long, silky locks of hair out of his eyes and waved the broken chair leg in the air, then swung it at the crowd of Metal-Hunters.
Kacey put her hands over her mouth in horror. The expression on her face suggested she did not recognize the man before her.
“Who is next?” challenged Julian.
The group of five Metal-Hunters stared at their fallen comrade, then at the man who had knocked him out. Julian looked too skinny to be threatening, but had proven otherwise. They charged at him, ready to avenge David.
Just as Julian was hoisted into the air by two Metal-Hunters ready to toss him out of the pub doors and onto the street, the door swung open, catching everyone by surprise, even Julian.
There was dead silence in the previously rambunctious bar as two royal guards stormed in.
The patrons murmured to each other, but the Metal-Hunters didn’t let go of Julian, rather intent on throwing him out like the trash. Ironic, since Julian thought the Metal-Hunters to be fools. The trash and the fools. The creatures of the bar.
The guards were dressed in their standard uniform, a very medieval outfit with capes over metal chest plates like knights. Each chest plate bore the King’s insignia, a backward “K” and “N” which were positioned to resemble a fox. Their swords had lasers on the tips.
“Julian Barros. We were told you would be here,” said the guard on the left, “but we weren’t told you were a scum who started fights.”
“He started it!” yelled Julian and pointed to David.
Kacey groaned.
“Let’s go, Barros, the King summoned you.”
“But, I’m not due for another two hours,” said Julian, spying a smidgen of sunlight outside.
“When the King summons you, you don’t argue. Drop him,” the guard said to the Metal-Hunters. “Or we’ll arrest everyone in the room for standing in the way of the King’s command.”
Julian groaned as he was thrown harshly on the floor. He looked up at the lantern chandelier, wondering if someone had heard him tell Kacey of his failed mission.
His perfect view of the low ceiling was broken as the guard leaned forward and hoisted him upward, not giving him a chance to get up himself. He barely had time to lean over and grab his coat from the bar.
As they left the Wise Oak Inn, Julian looked back at Kacey and gestured from her to the guards. “Getting in the way of the King’s demand?” he repeated. “What did I tell you? Dark. Ages.”
AT LAST Julian’s words struck a chord with Kacey. She swallowed heavily, worried about even thinking bad thoughts against the King. She couldn’t afford to be locked up for treason. It’s different for Julian, he works for the King. He can afford to think independently.
She watched as Julian turned to follow the guards out of the pub. The door slamming behind him made her wince. Why was she worried for the fate of Julian Barros? He was a customer. But before she had another moment to digest the strange events of the night, the fallen David woke up with a grunt.
“Yer rotten page-turner!” yelled David. “Yer mom stinks and so does yer dad!”
One of David’s friends rested a concerned hand over David’s shoulder. “David, yer gonna be all right?” asked the fellow Metal-Hunter.
“That depends. Do we have more pints?”
The Metal-Hunter laughed. “Of course we do! More pints for the Metal-Hunters! On me!”
There was a cheer from the Metal-Hunters and they began to sing the King’s Imperial Anthem as David got up.
Kacey sighed. Another round of free drinks would likely make the Metal-Hunters even more drunk than usual.
“Julian Barros,” she whispered to herself, “if the King doesn’t kill you tonight, I’m gonna do it myself tomorrow.”
“In Blood We Trust, In Blood We Trust,” the Metal-Hunters continued to sing. Kacey thought it was rather impressive they were able to stay on key with how much alcohol had been consumed. “We will march into war! War! We’ll slice ignorance down! We will keep the crown! We will rule the world! We will rule the world! In Blood We Trust, In Blood We Trust... God save the King! Long live the King!”
Mimi was home.
But how was that possible?
She rubbed her eyes, trying very hard to wake up from this strange dream. She would often have weird dreams from falling asleep while reading, which for her was almost every night. There was no way she could have gone from the New York City Public Library to her family’s Battery Park apartment in under a minute.
But sure enough, she was home.
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br /> It was definitely her room, her bookshelves, her favorite blue floral reading chair. She walked to the windows and there was her normal view of the Hudson River below. Whenever the sky was clear, she could catch a slight glimpse of the Statue of Liberty.
But what she couldn’t see was an explanation of how she got here.
Wasn’t she just in the library? Mimi’s logical, albeit dreamy mind wasn’t going to admit traveling by light was possible. It didn’t fit in her schema of reality. Physics had always told her that travel by light was impossible. There simply had to be another explanation.
Her legs had a weird tingling sensation, like they had fallen asleep. She could hardly feel the floor she was standing on and wanted to throw up a bit. Her stomach lurched and gurgled, threatening to do so.
Shaking her head, Mimi headed into the hall toward the bathroom. She stopped when someone called her name.
“Albert?” she asked in confusion.
There was her brother, sitting at her blue computer chair using her computer. Albert looked normal, in blue jeans and his usual navy hoodie. His hair was a darker shade of brown than Mimi’s, and was always swept back and held together with gel. Mimi often wondered if he washed it, since it always looked greasy.
Tears filled her eyes; she couldn’t believe he was there. She didn’t even mind that he was using her computer, a complete privacy violation. She was too relieved to have made it home to him.
“Albert, you’re okay!” she yelled happily and gave him a hug.
Thirteen-year-old Albert squeaked as she squeezed him. She bent down to be at his eye level and stared at him with unusual fondness.
Albert’s face fell. “Mimi,” he said with skepticism, “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“I didn’t hear you come in, and I’m not wearing my headphones, how did you get home so quietly? Aren’t you mad at me for using your computer? I’m sorry, I had to borrow it. Jason is still repairing mine!”