Foray to the Future: Chapter 2

Getting tired of this yet? Yeah, me too.

2

            The residents of Cochrane, Nathan’s hometown, were a very proud and exclusive group (with the exception of a few residents). Many were farmers and close friends of Henry Berringer, and at one point or another, Henry Berringer had done enough favors for just about every shop owner in Cochrane so that they all collectively owed him a small fortune; Nathan knew that Henry would call in those favors, asking them not to help Nathan in any way, so walking the forty-mile hike was Nathan’s only option.

A person’s debt from a favor in Cochrane has always been something held sacred, often repaid through labor, expensive beer, or some other agreeable term. No indebted person has ever allowed a debt to be wiped away, as it comes to imply something lacking on the part of the indebted. Regardless of how the debt is repaid, the indebted person will continually work until what is owed has been nullified by what was given, or at least if it appears to be nullified. Maintaining the Berringer farm was never an easy task, so a prime strategy within the family has always been to do favors for other families with the inherent implication being that the Berringer family eventually receives something in return, typically beneficial for the farm.

With that in mind, the departure of Henry Berringer’s son was the talk of the town within minutes, much to Nathan’s chagrin. In fact, Nathan hypothesized that his father had gone off to tell all the neighbors not to offer any help to Nathan on his departure. Not a happy thought, but knowing his father, it was very probable. The only people who might be willing to help Nathan were the Genes and the Majels, and neither of them owned cars because they were both elderly couples that never left the town. For them, bicycles always sufficed. Thus, Nathan was alone on his long trek.

           

            As Nathan walked along a perpetual stretch of highway, along endless green corn and golden wheat fields, distant cold, gray mountains, and a sea of blue-sky overhead, he could not help but feel pangs of regret about leaving the only home he knew. He had once made a promise to his father to maintain the family business after his mother’s death, and that promise still tugged at the back of his mind. He shook it off, however, because Henry had become self-obsessed about the farm after Nathan’s mother died, though he was only slightly less so when she was alive. Nathan had often heard Henry remark to himself, in what Henry believed were private moments, that “this house, and this land, and this home shall always be mine, mine no matter what, mine no matter what befalls, mine no matter what interrupts, mine no matter what dies.” To Henry Berringer, losing his possessions after so much grief, after so much anguish, was unbearable. Nathan looked at his watch; a quarter to four. He had been walking on the road for three hours now. He removed the small notebook and pen from his traveling bag, scribbled down the time, his surroundings, and proceeded to write down his thoughts:

But I wasn’t his possession, wrote Nathan. He thought I was some ball of clay or piece of wood that he could hammer and hammer until it became what he wanted, just some freakish facsimile of the family image. He just wanted another man as obdurate as he was running the farm, someone so blinded by their dedication that even love takes a backseat. What a pitiful life.

            At five-thirty, some animal in Nathan’s stomach decided to growl. The animal felt sluggish and tired, so Nathan planted himself on the side of the road and unpacked the canvas bag Mr. and Mrs. Gene had given him. He had not seen any cars go by in the time he had been walking, and found it rather curious. But, his hunger overshadowed his curiosity, and he ravenously opened up the lunchbox with the picture of the man in the suit next to the large blue box, and unwrapped the sandwich. He eyed it as a predator does his prey, examining it for its contents and looking at all its features, choosing the most vulnerable spot in which to strike. Finally, after hearing his stomach complain too much and having his mouth overflow with saliva, he struck. His teeth dug into what he chose as the best entry point, and the taste cascaded over his senses like a wave of ecstasy. Oh, the most delicious torture, thought Nathan. It just makes everything taste better. Looking at the rest of the lunchbox’s contents, Nathan noticed a small piece of paper tucked underneath the bag of grapes. Holding his sandwich in one hand, he picked out the note and read it to himself while he chewed away.

                                    Nathan,

                                                I hope you enjoy this food, as it was

                                    supposed to be my lunch today. Mrs. G said

                                    that you probably needed something to eat

                                    on your trip to wherever, and she puts too            

                                    much mustard on my sandwich anyway.

 Love her as I do, I have finally accepted that

I should make my own lunch from now on.

Enjoy that “tea,” along with my favorite lunchbox, and be sure to call when you get to wherever you’re going. For once, you’re going to regale ME with a story.

                                                                        Love Always,

                                                                        Julian Gene

                                    (and let’s not forget)   Doris Gene

            Nathan stopped chewing to smile. The note felt like a warm, comforting blanket on a cold night. Whatever worries and anxieties he had about the future were allayed for the time being as he began thinking about all the time he spent at the library with Mr. and Mrs. Gene. His mind escaped him as he now ate automatically, his eyes retracing the vast forest of memories he had about the library. He remembered his first time visiting there on a pre-school “field trip.” Everyone was not the least bit enthused about going on a field trip to the library down the road, and all the students made their protests quite audible. Upon arriving, the huge tower of books that reached to the ceiling impressed Nathan, at the time a tiny boy with overgrown blond hair and overalls. It is bigger than my dad, he remembered thinking. He grabbed the highest book he could, though that wasn’t very high. He looked at the cover, pronouncing each syllable with the utmost care.

“H. G. Wells, The Time…ma, match, matching…”

“Machine. The Time Machine.” A tall, thin man with well-parted salt-and-pepper hair knelt down to meet Nathan at eye level. He was clean-shaven, and he looked Nathan directly in the eyes with a friendly smile. Nathan, rather shy at the time, clutched the book with both arms, covering his mouth with it, eyeing this new stranger with the oddly parted hair who knew the strange words. The man wore a simple white button-up shirt and black pants with black dress shoes.

“Yeah, I love it too. I actually once read it for so long that my wife got a bit irked that I wasn’t washing the dishes. A good book will do that to you.” He waited for Nathan to respond, but Nathan continued to stand there, staring wide-eyed at the tall stranger.

“Want to know what it’s about?” the man asked. Nathan nodded slowly, not removing the book from over his mouth. The man planted himself in front of Nathan and crossed his legs.

“A brilliant English scientist builds a machine that lets him travel through time. Ten years, one million, to him, it becomes a second’s journey. He travels very far into the future, so far, in fact, that all humans have evolved into two species: the Eloi and the Morlocks. The Eloi look quite a bit like you, actually. They evolved not doing much work and not stimulating their minds that much, so they are carefree and only live for what tickles their fancy. The Morlocks, on the other hand, lived underground for millennia upon millennia, giving them pale, white skin, large glowing eyes, and thick, gray fur covering their bodies. They are actually the ones maintaining the Earth, though they only understand how to maintain, not to build. They eat the Eloi,” the man made an awkward biting motion, “like cattle. The scientist leaves that place, eventually heading forward in time to the end of Earth itself. All he finds is emptiness, an Earth desolate and devoid of human existence as we would know it. Saddened by this, he goes back to his present time, arriving only a short while after he left. He tells his friends of what happened, and then leaves again for another journey. Into when, we do not know.” The man sat with a satisfied grin. Nathan lowered the book slightly, though it still covered most of his mouth.

“You didn’t really get any of that, did you?” asked the man. Nathan was still silent.

“Oh, Julian Gene, by the way. That’s my name, though I suppose you’d call me Mr. Gene or whatever rubbish you’re respectfully supposed to call me.”

 Nathan looked at Julian’s smiling face, and uttered a single, high-pitched word.

“Nathan.” He was barely audible.

“What’s that, my hearing isn’t as good as it was fifteen years ago, though fifteen years ago I was in a band and that certainly didn’t help my hearing.”

Nathan repeated himself, louder this time.

“Nathan.” Julian reached out his hand, and Nathan trepidatiously met it with his own. Julian shook it very slowly, and then spoke in an affected British accent.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, young man. I certainly hope your literary taste outgrows your pituitary gland.” Julian chuckled a bit and Nathan looked at him curiously. Julian then sighed.

“Ah, kids these days. If you like to read, then you’ll like it here. As you can see, we’ve got plenty to read, and you honestly need to have all the time in the world to read it all, unless you break your glasses.” Julian smiled, and again, Nathan was confused.

“It’s a joke, Twilight Zone, you know, duh nuh nuh nuh duh nuh- oh never mind. Let’s find you something a little easier on which to start you off.” Standing up, Julian began walking Nathan out of the aisle. Nathan reached up and silently held Julian’s hand as they walked toward the section on the wall reserved for children’s books. There stood a tall, beautiful woman with hair the color of liquid gold. When she turned and smiled at Nathan, he felt comfort beyond anything he had ever felt before. She looked up at the strange man and back at Nathan, and then knelt down to meet Nathan’s gaze at eye-level. He didn’t cover his mouth in shyness, as he was astounded at this woman whose hair was even more sun-like than his. She spoke to him in a voice similar to a familiar song: “Hello there! What would you like to read today?”

            Nathan’s thoughts snapped back to the present as he coughed and sputtered after swallowing some of Mrs. Gene’s “tea.” The poignant taste of whiskey surprised Nathan, and he smiled at the tepid brown drink in the thermos. Mr. Gene had clearly put in a bit more whiskey than he let on. Nathan mopped his face with his shirt and took a few more sips. More than the surprisingly strong taste with the warm after-feeling, Mr. Gene’s compassion kept Nathan drinking it. From his seat on the side of the road, Nathan packed up his belongings and arose to continue walking the distance to the next town over.

            Night crept up on Nathan slowly, but certainly faster than he was able to walk. The temperature was dropping, though the whiskey lent him ephemeral warmth. He paused a second to look directly above him, the pale black sky aglow with the light of hundreds of thousands of elusive and beautiful stars. He closed his eyes, imagining himself launching off the Earth, hurtling past the moon, past countless stars, toward a planet untouched by man but suitable for life. He landed in an overgrown oasis, flowers of iridescent pink floating daintily on the air as if they were sentient. The trees around him hummed a song together at different pitches, each one combining to sound like a soft symphony. Looking up in his oasis, Nathan saw stars, but most noticeable was the very center of the Milky Way, shining brighter than Earth’s moon on any given night. The light yellow hue illuminated thousands of small specks in the sky, planets, asteroids, comets, that were all within the vicinity of his little oasis planet. There were thousands upon thousands more planets and stars and wonders to behold in this galaxy, and yet, this was Nathan’s oasis, his perfect spot in the entire universe, a place directly connected to his soul. Nathan opened his eyes, slowly inhaling, and wiped away a small speck from his eye as he walked on.

            After several hours of walking, midnight finally greeted Nathan with absolute nonchalance. Nathan was still only a few hours away from his destination, but he was tired; his feet were beginning to drag, and the whiskey was all gone. I’ll rest for a bit. Might as well, thought Nathan. He plopped himself down on the side of the road once again and removed the book Mrs. Gene had given him from the canvas bag. He took out his cell phone (noticing for the first time that his service had been cancelled) and used it as a light.

“Ian,” he read aloud. He opened the first page.

“We are the snowflakes of the world. Every single snowflake is different from the other, meaning that every single snowflake that has ever fallen throughout history has been different from the ones that fell before it. Snowflakes, unlike humans, become one complete entity with a purpose all its own, while humans remain fragmented, alone,” Nathan read aloud. “Well, that’s not depressing at all,” he remarked, laughing to himself. He continued reading.

“Snowflakes are beautiful at night, especially when reflecting light. It is as if each individual snowflake, for that brief moment they shine, contains within it a universe of billions of brightly-burning stars, with each star anchoring planets, and populating those planets, life, very much like our own. I wonder, are we not on a snowflake, slowly falling to become part of a greater, expanded universe of other snowflakes?” Nathan stopped, an impressed expression spreading across his face. “Not bad. Lovely analogy.” He flipped through the pages, occasionally stopping at a few. He caught some words, like “Beethoven” and the phrase “death is my expression of life,” and became intrigued at what the book had to offer. He turned back to the first page when a strange buzzing sound diverted his attention.

            Nathan looked up, expecting to see power cables to explain the noise, but there were none. It was a low hum, one typical of an active generator. Nathan placed the book back in the canvas bag, his phone back in his pocket, slung his bags around him, and began to investigate. To his left and his right were walls of cornfields, and in the pitch black, they were as daunting as any phobia or childhood nightmare. He walked in the direction of Helena, and the buzz became louder. His pace increased, the sound of his footsteps getting lost in the massive cornstalks. The buzz became louder and louder until Nathan could tell that it was distinctly to his left. Looking at the wall of corn, he entered the overgrown area with his travel bag in tow.

            The buzz seemed to vibrate the cornstalks around him. Each stalk he brushed against seemed to give him an electric shock, though Nathan kept telling himself that it was his fatigue that was causing the small jolts. As he walked further and further into the field, the buzzing grew louder and the vibrations grew stronger until Nathan could discern light coming through the cornstalks. He looked incredulously at the source of the light, as waves of energy seemed to wash over him. It was disturbing, but curious, as he felt drawn to the strange thing. His walk turned into an awkward jog as his bags jostled around until he reached what seemed like a small clearing; however, it was more like a large, perfect circle around what appeared to be a white, glowing crack in the middle of the circle, suspended a few feet off the ground in mid-air. Nathan looked around at the clearing: there was neither corn nor grass, only dirt, and instead of being a normal black or brown, this dirt was blue.

            Nathan approached the crack slowly. It had jagged edges, as if someone had taken an axe to the spot and broken a hole in…space. He put his bags down as he began circling around it. It didn’t seem to be three-dimensional. At the side, Nathan could still see light, but only in a straight line. When he got around to the “back,” there was no crack at all, only normal space in front of him.

“What the hell…” He reached out his hand to the spot where the crack would be. The volume of the buzz seemed to increase when his hand passed the threshold; his hand felt almost as if it were passing through warm pudding, but otherwise, nothing happened. It was as if he had touched nothing at all.

            Nathan circled back around to the “front” of the crack, looking at it in consternation. He took a deep breath and exhaled.

“For science.” He reached out his hand to touch the glowing crack. The buzzing got louder, and louder, and louder as his outstretched finger got closer and closer to the crack; then, his finger made contact. For a second, there was absolute silence; nothing could be heard but chilly crickets. With a blinding flash of light, Nathan was thrown back through the air into the cornstalks at the edge of the circle. He knocked over several, finally rolling to a stop on the several that he had flattened. His eyes were wide in shock, and he felt as if his ability to speak had been knocked out of him. Dusting himself off, he looked at the space where the crack was, except now, there was no crack; only some kind of oval-shaped, blue...thing.

            A sound of wind against a tree replaced the buzz; this object in space seemed much more serene than its noisy predecessor. In fact, what had once been a blinding white light was now a swirling, blue oval disc whose textures were reminiscent of a liquid being stirred. Various shades of blue spiraled in constant orbit around the center of the oval. Nathan approached this new shape slowly, fearing the same repercussions as touching the crack. The sound from the oval did not increase, nor did it decrease; it simply existed as-is, its contents spiraling around the center like an oceanic solar system. He reached out his left hand to the oval and touched the apparent surface; it felt slightly cool, as if someone were running a light stream of water over his hand, but otherwise, it felt like nothing at all. He withdrew his hand, examining it; nothing seemed different aside from a slight sensation of cooler air. He went to his telescope bag and removed his telescope, setting it up in front of the oval. He nudged it forward gently until the lens passed through the fluid surface. What am I doing, thought Nathan. What the hell am I doing? He bit his lip as he looked through his telescope.

            Corn. All he saw was corn. He stared dumbfounded at the oval, which was undisturbed by his telescope’s placement.

“Seriously? All that build-up and buzzing and throwing me backwards for nothing on the other side but what’s already there? Jeez.” He withdrew his telescope with an upset grunt and placed it back in its bag. Something, though, would not let Nathan leave without inspecting the oval more. He gathered up his things, breathing heavily, staring into the heart of this unknown object. What it represented to Nathan was the unknown, and that, as always, excited him. If his hand and his telescope were unharmed by passing through that oval, would he not also be fine? He closed his eyes; his courage and anxiety building themselves at the same time, fighting over whether or not to enter the oval. All at once, as if the universe paused just to hear this decision, he opened his eyes with a look of fierce determination.

“It’s just corn!” he yelled, charging as fast as he could through the oval. He was hit with a wave of cold as soon as he passed through the chilly surface, making him inhale suddenly and shiver. He exited and looked around; corn. Corn everywhere. Turning around, he saw the same blue oval, its hues rotating around the center, except the hues were spinning in the opposite direction from when he passed through. Curiously, he poked his head back through the oval. The cold hit him as his eyes only met with a disappointing amount of corn. He withdrew his head.

“God damn corn.” He walked off towards the highway.

Once he was back on the highway, he continued on the road to Helena. In the dark, walking for what seemed like an hour, little seemed to change, at least until something glowing like New York City shone in the distance. Nathan stared, perplexed. He jogged up the road a bit further, his travel bag bouncing annoyingly off of his foot. A massive skyscraper revealed itself in the distance, except this was unlike any skyscraper Nathan had ever seen, in pictures or otherwise: it was white and shimmering, a tower with a pointed top that looked almost like an elongated pyramid, except for a few rectangular portions closer to the top. The building seemed to glow from within, emanating a light so brilliant and blinding that it rivaled the view of a major city from space.

“Since when does Montana have the money for that?” remarked Nathan aloud. The sound of footsteps behind him told Nathan that he was no longer alone. He spun around, his bags flying indiscriminately; a car- no, an oval pod- hovered in the air a few inches from the ground. A quarter of the oval, the part facing Nathan, was completely black; the rest of it was white, except for a black stripe around the back that paused at a design that looked like a picture of the Earth. It was hovering. How the hell is it hovering, thought Nathan. Since when does Montana have money for THAT? Pulling his attention away from the pod, he noticed two oddly dressed men; their clothes seemed to adhere directly to their skin, unless their skin was painted. Their clothes had the opposite design of the pod; instead of a black Earth, their clothes were black with a white vertical stripe and Earth over the heart. They each wore a black helmet that covered the majority of their faces, except for their mouths. The man on Nathan’s right spoke.

“Issa ventuta bondan?” he asked with an upward inflection. Nathan stared at him for a second.

“Sorry, I don’t speak Italian,” Nathan replied. The two men looked at each other for a second. The one on the left spoke this time.

“Toh mee, yuvot ensin terra?” Nathan shook his head.

“I don’t know what you’re saying, I’m sorry. Do you speak English? And since when do people from Montana speak Italian?” Nathan asked, curious. The two men looked at each other again. They began whispering something that Nathan could neither hear nor understand.

“Sorry? Didn’t catch that,” Nathan piped up. The man on the left raised his hand quickly to Nathan, who only had time to fidget in place as an orange beam of light struck him in the chest. A hammer-like blow impacted Nathan directly in the sternum and knocked the wind out of him and he lost feeling in his legs, though he made sure to try to shift his momentum forward so as not to crush the telescope on his back. He tried to scream, but his vocal chords were frozen and his jaw seemed to have been glued together from the inside. He shook slightly, attempting to move, but slowly a dark, silent force closed his eyes and shut down his mind. Everything was a soft darkness except for a small part of his brain, where he rattled the bars of his cage, screaming for help; no one was there to listen.