Button in the Fabric of Time (19 page)

I grinned when I said, “Joe, the description
‘out of this world’ is more accurate than you know. And no, we
haven’t set a date. I want to take her to the farm and introduce
her to my family. . . . I’d like a few weeks off.”

He ignored me, took Jan-3’s hand, and started
walking away.

He said, “Jan-3, let’s get some coffee.”

Jan-3 looked over her shoulder smiling, and
asked Joe, “Can Gus come along?”

“Yeah, he can come with us,” Joe said, “if he
has enough money to buy the coffee and donuts.”

Everything was happening so fast, I had
forgotten that I would need money. I had to check to see if I had
my wallet. Luckily, I had remembered to put it in my pants pocket,
and it still had money, my driver’s license, and my credit cards in
it. I’d have to get used to paying for things again.

We went to our usual coffee shop, a quaint
little place with checkered tablecloths. The waitresses flirted
with me, as usual, thinking that Jan-3 was with Joe.

Joe and Jan-3 were talking about geography.
Joe fancied himself an expert and wanted to impress his guest. He
soon found that he had met his match. “Gus, you’ve got to bring her
over to my place for dinner; I want my wife, Hester, to meet
her.”

I was getting a little tired of Joe
dominating Jan-3’s attention, so I answered, “I’ll call you and set
up a time.”

“Why do you call this lovely lady Jan-3?
Doesn’t she have a last name?” Joe asked.

Not wanting to take the time to explain, I
said, “Three is her last name.”

Jan-3 understood my reason for not explaining
and smiled. Joe cocked his head to the side, and said, “Gus, you’re
never going to make it as a comedian.”

After finishing the coffee and donuts, I paid
the tab, took Jan-3’s hand and said, “Joe, we’ve got to go. We have
to prepare for the wedding.”

As we walked back to the office, Joe said, “I
hope Hester and I are invited.”

I said loudly enough for everybody to hear,
“We’re going to be married at the little chapel in my hometown, and
everybody is invited!”

The girls surrounded Jan, wanting to talk
about the wedding. My fellow engineers all congratulated me. After
the excitement died down, Jan and I walked to my car.

Driving home, I told her, “I’ve got to tell
my folks that we’re coming. They’ll be eager to meet you. They’ll
love you, but they’re going to be surprised to hear that we’re
getting married.”

I showed Jan my house and garden. Since we
had returned at the same time I had departed, the food in my
refrigerator was still fresh, so I made a fruit salad and a
grilled-cheese sandwich. We ate, bathed, and rested, and then I
called the phone number at the farm. Mother answered.

“Hi, Mom! This is Gus.”

“You don’t need to tell me your name, son,
I’m your mother. Didn’t you think I’d recognize your voice? Good to
hear from you, Augustus. Where are you? When are you coming
home?”

I had the phone on speaker so Jan could hear
both sides of the conversation.

“She sounds wonderful,” Jan whispered,
smiling.

“I’m in L.A., Mom. A special girl has come
into my life, and I’d like you to meet her. When would be a good
time to bring her by?”

“This sounds serious! It’s about time you
found someone and settled down. We’ll all be looking forward to
meeting her. When can you get here?”

“We’ll be driving, so it’ll take a few days.
Would next Saturday be all right? We can be there for lunch.”

“Wonderful! Your room is always ready, and
we’ll tidy up the guest room for your friend.”

“We’ll see you Saturday. Say hi to Dad and
Grandpa.”

“We’ll be waiting. What’s her name?”

“Her name is Jan.”

“What’s her last name?”

“She’s a little unusual. She doesn’t have a
last name, but she has a second part to her first name. It’s 3.
I’ll explain when we get there. We’ll see you Saturday. Love you,
Mom.” And I hung up.

Jan was so excited! She grabbed me around the
neck without warning, and we fell in a heap on the living room
rug.

“When can we start?” she practically
screamed.

“I’m ready now, if you are. We’ll have to
drive through Los Angeles. Would you like to see a
twenty-first-century city? I’ve lived in L. A. all my adult life,
and to me, it’s one of the most exciting cities on earth.” Then I
remembered what it had looked like after the bombs fell, and tears
came to my eyes.

Jan-3 saw the tears and looked at me
questioningly. I explained.

She squeezed my hand and said, “I can see how
much you wish you could change what happened, but you know, it
would be wrong for you to change anything. If we changed even one
thing, it would change everything, and we have no way of knowing
what the consequences of that might be. We know that in time it
worked out all right. I think that at some time in the future, all
of those people will have an opportunity to advance into a perfect
world.”

“I wonder how that will be done. Who will
decide who will advance and who won’t?” I asked.

“It seems reasonable to me,” Jan said, “that
everybody will have a second chance. Each person who comes forward
will know someone they want to bring with them and, in time,
everyone will get a chance.”

“How about some of the mean and demented
people who have been responsible for the suffering and killing of
millions? Will they get a second chance also?” I asked.

Jan thought for a while and replied, “I think
that everyone has, at some time, been loved by someone. That
someone will want to bring them forward and give them another
chance, regardless of the suffering caused by the one they love. To
me, this brings to mind the concept of an all-loving Creator. Only
an all-Creating Force could know the burden those despicable people
carried. Perhaps their minds were warped, making them unable to
love and care.”

“I see what you mean. I’ve wondered if mean
and greedy people were born that way, or did they learn to be
greedy? I’ve observed that some greed can never be satisfied. I
once knew a man with wealth so enormous that he and his family and
the descendants of his immediate family could never spend all his
money, yet he worked every waking hour trying to attain more
wealth. I asked him, ‘What do you want?’ He replied, ‘I want more,
and I want the satisfaction of knowing that I am capable of getting
more.’”

“Was he happy?” Jan asked.

“No, not really. I’ve seen many poor people
who lived happier lives than this wealthy man. The poor people were
happier because they had friends and family who loved them. The
poor ones loved their families, and had compassion for their fellow
man. The rich man loved his family, but his first love was the love
of money.”

“We’ve had people in the thirty-first
century,” Jan said, “whose minds became twisted. We’ve found that,
with treatment, they can be helped. Sometimes it requires a change
in DNA.”

Jan’s comment was thoughtfully expressed and
it made me realize that a lot of work was left to do, so I said,
“After our wedding and honeymoon, I want to go back to the
thirty-first century and work with Roc-2 and the Council. We’ll
explore the universe to find planets suitable for people to live
on, so that everyone who is worthy can build his and her own
paradise. Before we go back, I want to tell my family where, and
why, we’re going. I’ll offer them the opportunity to come with us,
but I doubt that they’ll want to, or even believe, it’s possible.
I’ll explain it so that, hopefully, they’ll understand.”

“I’ll try to help, but I fear it will be too
much for them to comprehend. . . . I’m glad that we’ll be driving
to Stoville. I want to see the earth through your eyes. It will
help me to understand the history of this time.”

“I’ll get the car ready, and we’ll leave
right away. I’ll show you Los Angeles on the way through and then
we’ll spend tonight in Las Vegas.”

Jan-3’s excitement was contagious.

As usual, the traffic was terrible. After
Jan’s concern about colliding subsided, she watched the passing
scene and listened to my monologue. She particularly enjoyed seeing
the fossilized remains of the prehistoric animals on display at the
La Brea Tar Pits, but she was appalled by the smog and
debris-littered streets, and shocked by the deplorable living
conditions of the poor people.

* * *

We left the Los Angeles basin through Cajon
Pass and drove out into the desert. Jan was astonished by the
desert because, in the thirty-first century, this area was all
green. We drove through the south end of Death Valley, and I told
her some of the stories I’d heard about the pioneers struggling to
get through the desert and mountains. She sat quietly and listened.
Her eyes were serious, even pained at times.

“I read the stories when I was still a
child,” Jan said, “but they seem so real when you tell them. I can
understand the stories so much better after seeing the places where
the pioneers endured the hardships.”

It was getting dark when we first saw the
neon lights of Las Vegas. The lights radiated off the haze, weaving
a magical spell. We had stopped in Barstow for lunch, but we were
getting hungry again. After checking into a hotel, I made
reservations for a dinner show. Jan-3 was eager to see the night
life. She enjoyed both the food and the show, and then we strolled
through the casinos. We didn’t gamble because for us, it would not
have been gambling. We knew which number the ball would land on. We
knew which card would turn up. We didn’t need money, and to take
money under those circumstances would have been dishonest.

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.”