Hullabaloo for a Speedbump

For the past 4-5 years, much of the western world has been in the throes of a recession. The European Union in particular has come under fire for allowing countries with high debt or risk levels to join the Euro, i.e. Greece, Ireland, Portugal, Italy, and Spain. There has been much speculation (mostly from the Euro-skeptics) that, because of these "toxic" countries, the Euro will break up, the countries will revert to their old currencies, and possibly the EU itself will break up.
Let's assume, for a moment, that a country does decide to leave the Euro and revert back to its old currency. What would happen? Well, because that currency is not collectively backed by the other 16 members, the old currency would face severe inflation because of its speculated buying risk on the international market. The currency itself would fall in terms of exchange rate, and there would probably be austerity within the country, leading to higher unemployment, possibly the rise of nationalist parties, etc. There is little to no incentive to leave the Euro.
For a "smaller" country (always use that term lightly), the Euro and the Eurozone is a treasure trove. Not only is there equal footing for interstate trade within the Eurozone, but there is also a free transit for both people and companies. It also protects the smaller countries from highly unfavorable exchange rates in the international market.
But what about the current crisis, you ask? Won't the other Eurozone members want to boot the countries who are bringing the Euro down?
The answer, in simple terms, is no. The countries rated lower in international credit standards keep the Euro at a stable trading level, unlike the pound, which British Exchequer Osborne refuses to devalue (currently worth $1.53). Should the endangered countries leave the Euro, purchasing on the currency will likely rise, leading to an increase in its price, making exports of goods more difficult.
As for the legal side, crises such as these in a currency's infancy lead to a consolidation of the currency itself, such as in a set of new banking rules unveiled in December of 2012. Obviously, no currency is ever flawless: the dollar had more than its fair share of crises in its infancy, including individual states' desires to return to their own individual currencies.
I can only say it so many times: the European Union will not break up. Even if, on the strange and unlikely contingent that the Eurozone dissolves, the EU will remain. It is too deeply entrenched in the laws and trading regulations of its member states (especially in the original six) to suddenly dissolve, or even dissolve over time.
As one can always expect, recessions do not necessarily cure themselves in five years' time, or ten years' time, or even fifteen years' time. What matters, however, is wondering for whom is this a recession? Those who make from half a million (in whatever currency) to one million or more a year, or everyone below them?

That's all for now, 
Das Flüg

Don't Drink the Blue Cup: Chapter 1

After deciding not to comment on any news this week, I have decided to put the first chapter of a very odd story I came up with off-the-cuff. Enjoy.

1

“You’re shitting me.”

“I shit you not.”

Jason shifted around in his seat as if he had irritable bowel syndrome. His eyes darted every which way, from the waitress held together by a tortured corset to the obese man on his third shrimp sandwich, trying to see if he could see it too.

“So you know everything I’m going to say?”

“Everything.”

“Bullshit,” we spoke at the same time. He raised his eyebrow and crinkled his nose.

“Yabba dabba doo. Skittle-lee-winks,” we said in perfect stereo. His fingers wrapped around his fork and prodded his half-eaten chicken sandwich. The poor thing would never get eaten by him at this rate.

“I fucked your sister!” we yelled, and sadly, I knew it was true. A few eyes turned our way. Jason slouched back in his seat and eyeballed the room.

“Do her,” he said, nodding to the obese waitress. I turned to look at her; she was collecting cups from a group of old men in bowler hats.

            It’s not like I had to really focus or anything for it to work; it just worked. I gazed at her refrigerator-shaped form, and in an instant, she broke off into a million different people, some clearer than others. This was the part I hated: discerning which one would happen.

            The clearest one traveled along, some ghosts in tow, as it clomped towards the kitchen with the tray in hand. One of either two things would happen based on the actions of the flirtatious bowler hat men around her: she would skid over the bit of spilled water on the tacky yellow tiles, or she would fall on her back, the tray would fly in the air, and her corset would burst apart like two people who made a drunken mistake but don’t much care for each other. I was hoping for the latter.

“She’s going to skid over that water spill,” I said to Jason with a frown. They never do the ridiculous falls. Jason looked over my shoulder as the sound of the rhino’s heel squeaked on the water.

“Oops!” said the waitress with a nervous chuckle. The cups shook on her tray. “That would have hurt.”

Jason’s golf-ball sized eyes turned to me. I had the sickest urge to throw one of my fries in his mouth just to close it, but that would result in him choking. Probably a bad idea to kill my best friend.

“Dude.”

“Yeah…”

I looked out the window. The goddamned Doopers were out again, trolling around on the sidewalk. It’s not that I mind their presence; hell, they’re great, but I hate the way they look at me and at skyscrapers. They look at me like I’m their goddamned savior, and they look at skyscrapers like that fat guy a few seats down looks at a sirloin steak.

“How’d this happen?” asked Jason, scratching his idiotic rapist mustache. He’ll shave in three days once he gets the nursing job.

“You remember that day a few weeks ago when I brought home that bag of carrots by mistake, and we already had that first bag of carrots in the fridge?”

Jason stopped scratching. Just shave it now, god damn it.

“Of course not.”

I sighed. This was going to sound ridiculous.

“Well, I figured that it would be better to eat all the old carrots since I brought home that bag of new carrots-”

He’s going to interrupt.

“Wait, you’re saying that you can see the future because you ate a shit-ton of carrots?”

I hate when I’m right.

“Let me finish.”

Jason slouched back in his seat.

“So, I ate all the carrots we already had. That was like, thirty carrots man. That night, I started seeing weird shit. I started seeing all these ghosts and stuff walking out of my body and doing things, and ghosts walking out of your body and doing things, so I freaked out, just like one ghost did, which is when it hit me: I was seeing the future, but not just the most certain future: I was seeing all futures.”

He leaned forward again. At this rate, he might actually get in a decent workout.

“So dude, what you’re telling me is that if I eat a ton of carrots, I’ll be able to see the future?”

Being patient with conversations is the worst.

“No, and trust me, I’ve seen the future where you eat a lot of carrots. You just end up with orange-colored crap.”

He leaned back again, but rebounded instantly.

“Wait, you saw that future?”

Okay, I’m cutting this conversation short.

“Yes, and before you ask, I’ve seen every possible future for the next four days, no I don’t know how exactly my brain sorts it all out because it just does, and yes, there is a future with you eating a crap-ton of carrots and subsequently crapping orange the entire night. It wasn’t just the carrots, it was something in that specific batch of carrots, though I don’t know what and I don’t see any future, at least not yet, telling me that answer.”

His eyes searched the table. There were actually multiple questions that were probable at that point, but they all depended on whether or not I spoke or if the monster truck of a waitress came by just in time. To not speak would probably be better; after all, he’d just ask me about the goddamned Doopers if I mentioned them, and they’re too goddamned intense. At the same time, I have no idea what to do with them.

“You boys doin’ okay?” asked she-Hulk. I should stop being so mean. Her name is Alberta, as in she comprises one-fifth of Canada. That poor, poor corset. If it had a mouth and lungs, it would scream. I turned to her and smiled.

“Yeah, thanks ma’am.”

Jason was still searching for a question. He only nodded and she clomped away to go terrorize Japan. Jason finally found his question, just like I knew he would.

“So does this mean that you know lottery numbers?”

Shit, it leads to the goddamned Doopers anyway.

“Yes, and no, I’m not going to game the system more than I already have.”

Jason’s eyes went wide and he grinned.

“That’s how you’re fucking all those girls!” he yelled, pointing a finger. Eyes turned once more, though I couldn’t help but grin as well.

“You see the future, you clever bastard, and you talk to them in a way so that they respond to you. You clever bastard.”

He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head with that stupid mustache extending with his smile. Leave it to Jason to completely ignore the philosophical and scientific implications of this ability and focus only on the fifty-seven women I’ve slept with since I gained this ability. Oh, don’t worry, I foresaw no happy ending with any of them.

“You’ve got to wingman for me, you clever bastard you. But why not play the lottery, man? You’re a sure thing!”

I bowed my head. God damn it, he wasn’t going to let this one sit.

“Because there is so much more going on right now,” I said, leaning on the table. My food was getting cold, but it sucked anyway. Jason leaned in close like he wanted to hear a secret. He wasn’t going to hear about my minor lottery playing.

“Like what?”

“Fuck. It’s the goddamned Doopers, man.”

A nude mariachi band could have walked up to Jason and started blaring Besame Mucho in his ear, and he still would have stared at me with his confused ogle.

“Doopers?”

“Yes, the goddamned Doopers. Look outside.”

He turned his head to the bustling street. A few people in suits argued on something over their phones. Only one of them was getting laid that night.

“What do you see, Jason?”

His eyes danced from person to person, from building to building, from car to car, but he had no idea what I was talking about.

“Of course you don’t see them,” I said, preempting his obvious quip. “They’re one second in the future.”

He turned back to me, still the look of baffled consternation on his face. At this point, I would have preferred the naked mariachi band.

“They’re what?”

“They’re these aliens, see, and they’re like, three feet tall. Gray skin, three eyes, four legs, some of them look like kids who have had too much LSD. They’re called the Doopers. Those little fuckers are here protecting us.”

“From wh-”

“From the Asheeyo.”

“The wh-”

I look forward to my quiet masturbation time tonight.

“These big dickhead conqueror aliens who come to planets and fuck shit up.”

I popped a fry in my mouth. No use in letting this shitty diner food go to waste. Jason was still trying to wrap his head around what I told him. It would take him a few seconds, so I picked on some of the chicken on his plate and ate it. Not too terrible, actually. I might get that to go.

“Wait wait wait,” said Jason, shaking his head. His mustache looked like a speedy caterpillar. “There are actual aliens on Earth?”

I nodded and ate more of his chicken.

“And they’re here protecting us from other aliens?”

“Yep,” I said.

“And you’re cool with this?”

Of all his possible responses, I didn’t think that one would be the most probable.

“No, I’m not.”

I grabbed his entire sandwich and bit into it. Pretty nice. It’s got a hint of paprika. I should definitely get this to go.

“But, if they are here protecting us, why aren’t you cool with it?”

This sandwich was too good. I don’t know why Jason wasn’t eating it. There really is no way for him to understand the magnitude of what’s going on with me. God damn it, there has to be someone more intelligent I can talk to in the distant future.

“Becauf,” I said with a full mouth, “they’re not being totally honest wif me.”

A bit of chicken flew onto Jason’s plate.

“About what?”

I shrugged and ate more of the sandwich.

“I ‘unno.”

His next question would possibly open him to greater philosophical possibilities, or he’d just let it go and not bother to think on it. Being patient sucks.

“So, wait,” he said, leaning forward once more, “why not game the system more than you already have?”

I swallowed a bit of chicken. There was still some bread stuck to my teeth. Worst feeling in the world, man.

“You need to imagine all lives as taking a pre-set course along a planned route, kind of like a road trip. All your decisions are already made for you, all that’s necessary is to drive it. That’s kind of what I’ve discovered about individual human timelines. We are, on this Earth, pre-ordained, and I hate to use that word, to make every single decision in our lives the way we have in the past and will in the future.

Jason stared at me, bug-eyed.

“Now, because I can see every single possible decision someone could make, including my own, I can choose the least-probable decision, meaning that I’ve drastically changed that pre-ordination. That means I’ve upset the natural flow of the world, because there most certainly is one. Just the other day I stopped a kid from wandering into the street, where he would have gotten hit by a car and died. I created an entirely new timeline on this Earth. Do you understand that?”

He probably didn’t, though sometimes I give him too little credit.

“Now, these timelines intersect where we meet others,” I continued without looking into his ridiculous face. “Because I’ve chosen to interact with timelines I would not otherwise, in all probability, have interacted with, I have, again, upset the natural future of the Earth.”

I wouldn’t have been surprised if Jason had shit his pants.

“So-”

“Yes, I’ve seen all outcomes of this conversation, yes I am extremely patient with everyone, though sometimes it wears on me, to be honest. There’s no easy way to really describe it except to say that I’m omniscient when it comes to the immediate future.”

He leaned back and stroked the pedophile’s watermark on his face. Come on, Jason, I know you can come up with the right goddamn question with me prodding you.

            A car honked outside and I glanced at it while Jason ruminated on his existential quandary. Two young, attractive people, very much in love, put their luggage in the trunk of a cab, and in the moment before they entered the back seat, I saw the end of both their romance and their lives. I turned back to Jason.

“Before you say anything, look outside.”

Jason turned his head, expecting to see some goddamned Doopers.

“See the cab?”

He nodded.

“Ten seconds after the cab driver takes off, the brakes will fail and all three of the people in that car will die because they won’t be able to stop at the light.”

Jason turned a sickly pale.

“Now, I have two options here: I stay here and talk to you or I go out there and perpetuate three timelines that wouldn’t otherwise exist past fifteen seconds from now. What do I choose?”

“You, you save them?”

“Why?” I asked, and if Jason’s jaw had dropped any lower, he’d have to go to the hospital to get it reattached.

“Why? Why? Because, because it’s right!” he yelled, and some eyes turned to us. I smirked. The cab drove away, and Jason was ready to explode.

“What makes it right?”

“You’ve got to, you’ve-”

The crunch of metal and screams from the street interrupted him. A few people turned to look outside. Jason only stared at me.

“You could have-”

“I could have, yes, but again, I’d create unforeseen timelines. I saved the kid because it was a gut reaction and because I thought I knew what ‘right’ was. But is it right to completely negate what is supposed to happen to save a life that has unsure meaning in the future?”

He was confused. Understandable. A few people ran past our window towards the accident.

“Do you believe in multiverse theory?” I asked Jason. He still had no idea what I was talking about. “Do you remember all those alternate-universe stories from sci-fi and comics?”

He nodded, his expression an unsure mixture of constipation and shock.

“Well, I’ve come to believe in it. How can I not? I see all the goddamned choices we can make. So, in another universe where I have this ability, I made the decision to go out and talk to that cabbie to tell him that his brakes were faulty. I apologized to the couple for delaying them, and then I lied, saying that I was a mechanic and I realized that there was a faulty alignment on the wheel, whatever that means. The cabbie and I talked some more, and of course, I used my foresight to stop him, and eventually he called a tow. The couple lived.”

Jason scratched his head. He should grow his afro so he could be a funky man-nurse.

“But how do you justify all this?”

It always came down to this.

“I don’t. I try to maintain the integrity of the future, but I’m capricious, kind of like Zeus, except I don’t hurl lightning bolts and I don’t impregnate women. Sure, I use my ability to get a girl to sleep with me, but that’s a minor alteration of the future. Reversing death is a shockwave. It upsets the balance of our universe. Someone is alive who shouldn’t be. That means that everything that person does will have an unaccountable ripple effect throughout all time, even if it might be as minor as the introduction of another genome.”

He sat back and folded his arms. I couldn’t help but envy his position of utter ignorance, but at the same time, I’d rather not have that ugly mustache. Sirens blared in the distance as still more people ran towards the accident. They were already dead at this time, but at least the last thing they saw was each other.

            A Dooper walked up to the window and waved at me, though only the top of his prickly head reached the window. I waved back, and Jason tried to see what I was waving at.

“What-”

“A goddamned Dooper,” I said as I smiled at the stupid thing. Stop looking at me like that, asshole. It makes me uncomfortable.

“This is heavy, man,” said Jason, sitting back. Lady Juggernaut marched over to our table.

“Anything else, darlins?”

She glanced at Jason, who was about ready to vomit.

“You okay, darlin’? You’re not lookin’ too good.”

He looked at me with his sunken eyes for an answer. Great, this is my new use: a personal Dear Abby. I nodded, only thinking about what unpleasant dreams I’ll have tonight. That always happens when I see death.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” said Jason, a meek smile stretching out his mustache. I swear, I could have drawn that thing on with a pencil.

“And you, darlin’?”

“Yeah, can I have what he had to go, please?”

“Sure, dear,” she said with a grin. Her cheeks were probably hiding nuts for winter. She wrote down my order and got ready to go to the kitchens, but the sirens from all the police cars and ambulances grabbed her attention.

“Say, you know what’s goin’ on out there? Sounds like something big happenin’ on the street,” she said, pointing out the window with her sausage of a thumb. For a second, my eyes dared to follow one of her less likely decisions for later in the night. I no longer wanted to make fun of her.

            Jason glanced out the window every so often and then to me, trying to come up with some response that might accurately convey everything I’ve told him into a sentence. There was no need really, because there was always just one word that ever needed to be used.

“Life,” I said, and with a puzzled squint, Alberta walked off to the kitchens to place my order.

Saddle Up, Lock and Load

In case you've missed it (somehow), North Korea has been ratcheting up their war rhetoric of late. Of course, any actual tactical strike made by Mr. Kim Jong-Un is likely to elicit an extreme response from the US and South Korea. North Korea is far outgunned, because at this point, it's unlikely that they have a capable nuclear arsenal, much less the ability to actually put nuclear warheads on intercontinental ballistic missiles. However, let's assume, at least for the moment, that North Korea is serious in its bellicosity and actually intends to strike at South Korea or Japan (because the US is probably unreachable). What should the international community (re: the US) do?

One obvious answer is, of course, retaliate. Why shouldn't we retaliate, the hawks would say. It's a good question, but there is also a good answer. It isn't the North Korean people who threaten the world with annihilation, it is its untested and frightened leader. Kim Jong-Un stepped into the leadership position not a military man, but a son of a respected leader (in NK) who has a history of enjoying western culture.

When looking at North Korea, one must also look at the military: the military rules, above all else. North Korea has the largest standing army on Earth, mostly due to the fact that its government spouts anti-west and anti-South Korean propaganda. The top generals also wouldn't want a respected leader replaced by someone who has no prior military experience and who has, at least rhetorically, stated that peaceful negotiations are possible. What better way to perpetuate military dominance than to remove the man who threatens their purpose?

Thus, this is likely Jong-Un's proving ground: seeing how far he can push the rest of the world before the clock stops on his decision to push the button or not push the button. Of course, there is always a point of no return for this sort of thing, and it was nearly crossed in the Cuban Missile Crisis; for Jong-Un, that point may be when he recognizes that the NK military generals want to proceed with military action, and he doesn't want to. That would almost certainly lead to the beginning of hostilities, or a coup.

So, let's assume that Jong-Un does decide to strike a target, without being too specific about its location. What does the US do? The US has a military umbrella protecting South Korea and Japan, two of North Korea's assumed targets, leaving it responsible to come to the aid of either country in case of attack. Should it retaliate immediately, however?

In my opinion, no. Even if the US military strikes can be carried out only on government targets, the US should not attack. Why, you ask?

First, let me state that I am not ubiquitously anti-war; if a nation is attacked, obviously they have the right to retaliate, but just because one has the right to retaliate, that does not mean that it should be the first option. Consider the military strength of the US: it is the most technologically advanced military in the world with the highest number of nuclear weapons, fighter jets, etc. etc. etc. Razing a country like North Korea would only be problematic, especially with China right nearby (though that is another story).

The US should, instead, give North Korea, and specifically, Kim Jong-Un, options: First, give him the option of ceding power and dissolving the government (obviously won't happen); Second, give him the option of fleeing North Korea (problematic, but Kim is facing a lot of backlash from the established military leaders, though it still likely won't happen); Third, in conjunction with both China and South Korea, open the borders and allow NK citizens to become refugees (definitely won't happen); Fourth, disarm completely, dissolve the government, place the military under South Korean command, and surrender to a coalition force (definitely won't happen); Fifth, give him the option of disarming and opening the economy AND government.

President Obama has avoided making any aggressive remarks against North Korea, and for that, he is smart. He knows the situation of the country all too well, and is much less likely to engage in any kind of strike, preemptive or otherwise, than his predecessor was. I'm hoping that he can carry this rumination with him should there be some sort of outbreak; otherwise, several million people may die in the process.

Any war instigated by NK would have to be an absolute war, i.e. an all-or-nothing game. Giving Kim the option of an escape from (basically guaranteed) annihilation will likely work, but of course, that doesn't say anything about his generals.

The situation, in itself, is complex, with so many different angles (I avoided talking about China completely, though it fulfills the strange love triangle between them, NK, and the US; the issue of famine in North Korea is also salient, along with the younger population, many of whom are less likely to believe the government propaganda, etc.) that it's hard to see viable options. I'm just hoping that the first option isn't the last one for the people of North Korea.

That's all for now, 
Das Flüg

I've decided to drop out of school

April fool's! Wait, what, that was two days ago? God damn it, where does my time go?

Foray to the Future: Chapter 5

I think 5 chapters is enough. It's not like you want to read them anyway.

5

            Nathan awoke with a start several hours later, covered in sweat and panting. He wiped his brow with his gown, trying to slow his rapid breathing. What had he dreamed? Garbled images flashed before his eyes, but he could not discern any clear, coherent sequence that made any sense. He rubbed his face and, seeing the dark ward, dropped his head back into the pillow.

The next day came uneventfully. No questioning, no exams, no painful injections; just Nathan relaxing on his bed as the window went from an opaque wall to transparent, filling the room with fresh sunlight. Nathan was continually amazed by the technology; the wall faded away as the sun rose, though it was still solid. Nathan tried thinking of explanations for this, but in the end, his mind simply reverted to eh, it’s the future.

            He was allowed out of the ward, though he mostly used this time to look at himself in the mirror in the bathroom. Since he had arrived, Nathan had not showered, though one could not tell by smelling him. It seemed that the hospital gown collected all the dead skin that would normally cause a stench and had somehow removed it. He also had neither shaved nor brushed his teeth, and his patchy blonde beard was very apparent, though it seemed that the food he had been eating had taken care of any pungent breath he might have had.

            Doctor Baker, his facemask off, strode into the ward. He had his hands held behind his back. He walked straight to Nathan with a pleasant smile.

“Good morning! I have a surprise for you.” He pulled the book Mrs. Gene gave him out from behind his back and handed it to Nathan. Nathan took it eagerly, his mood taking leaps and bounds over what it was before. He ran his hands over the cover, feeling, if just for a brief second, the comfort of home.

“All of your belongings were delivered here this morning. I assume that the Acclimation Officer will be here relatively soon too.” Doctor Baker paused for a second. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

“If I knew how the work the magical dispensary over there, I most certainly would.”

Doctor Baker sighed. “One of the other doctors here should have offered, but they always seem reluctant to be in here…”

“How come there are hardly any doctors for the other patients?” asked Nathan. “I mean, it’s kind of noticeable, this being a hospital and all.” Doctor Baker’s voice softened.

“They are all members of Silens Terra, deemed terrorists. They all received some kind of injury when they clashed with members of the Defense Forces. They’re recovering here until they are well enough to be imprisoned.” Doctor Baker then headed to the small alcove, returning with another bowl of mush.

“What is Silens Terra, exactly? I mean, the two officers mentioned it when they were questioning me,” asked Nathan. Doctor Baker’s demeanor hardened a bit, his face displaying an odd wrinkle or two.

“They’re a group of people who believe that humans should remain separate from non-terrestrials. They use rather…unconventional means to get their message across.” Doctor Baker then went silent. Nathan thought of probing deeper, but Doctor Baker seemed rather sensitive on the subject.

“Anyway, I adjusted the ingredients slightly, so the taste should be different, hopefully a bit better.” He handed the silver bowl and spoon to Nathan. It still looked like moulding clay. Nathan sat up in his bed and crossed his legs. He put the book down at the foot of his bed. For a moment, Nathan thought he saw a bit of the food move on its own; undeterred, however, Nathan grabbed a spoonful and ate it with delight. It now tasted a bit like cinnamon and had no sickly aftertastes or embarrassing side effects.

“How is it?” asked Doctor Baker.

“Pretty damn good, actually. It tastes like real food,” said Nathan through a mouthful. Doctor Baker went to get himself a bowl and returned.

“So how does that thingy make this stuff?” said Nathan, who then realized how ridiculous his sentence sounded. “I meant-”

“It’s called the synthesizer,” said Doctor Baker, nodding towards the small alcove. “It can create basically anything as long as you know the atomic composition. Granted, to the layman such as yourself, that might be a little intense, and oh, you’re right, this is good, but since most objects such as food, clothing, and devices have been atomically mapped and catalogued, there is very little that the synthesizer can’t make.”

“Can it make living things?” asked Nathan, quickly finishing off his mush.

“Depends what you mean by living,” replied Doctor Baker. “It can make seeds for a plant, it can replicate animal proteins for food, but it can’t make a fetus. The human cerebral cortex, immune system, and nervous system are too complex for the synthesizer to replicate, though there are researchers attempting to do so even now. If they succeed, there will certainly be a revolution in treating diseases that will be surpassed by, well, probably nothing.”

“Amazing. How does it create things?” asked Nathan, rapt in attention.

“Haha, well, to put it simply, everything no longer needed is recycled. By recycled, I mean that it is broken down into its core atoms which are then stored, and those atoms are re-assembled into whatever you need them to be. Empty bowls, tattered clothing, even human waste, they are all recycled. There are a whole bunch of processes underlying that, but I’m sure that it wouldn’t make much sense if I tried to explain it to you.”

“I’m not as dumb as…well, yeah, technically I am,” said Nathan contentedly. “So, how do I work it?” Doctor Baker ushered Nathan over to the synthesizer. It was an indented space, only about seven inches into the wall. Just above the opening on the wall was a panel with a single blinking red square light button. Doctor Baker pushed it and it immediately disappeared; it was replaced by three oval buttons: a blue one that had “FOODSTUFFS” written in black letters in the center, a green one that had “MATERIAL” written in black letters, and a yellow one that had “RECYCLE” written in black letters.

“First, Nathan, place your bowl and spoon in the synthesizer,” said Doctor Baker. Nathan did so, and Doctor Baker pressed the “RECYCLE” button. Immediately, the bowl began disintegrating, its contents turning into small blue particles that appeared to fall through the bottom of the synthesizer, almost as if the bottom were another hologram. After the particles disappeared, Nathan poked at the bottom of the synthesizer curiously. It was completely solid.

“Well, now, obviously, you press the button that reads ‘foodstuffs,’”-he pressed it- “and then this menu comes up.” Smaller buttons appeared in varying colors, except they all had abbreviations that Nathan did not understand. Many only contained one letter and one number.

“Yeah, um, sorry, this does not make any sense. We all learn from a very young age about the codes. Here,” he pressed a green unmarked button to the very right of all the coded ones, “this is the vocal command button. Watch.” He cleared his throat. “Synthesize nutritional supplement Berringer R-CHHN24.” Small blue lights began accruing together, almost the exact reverse of what happened for recycling. A new silver bowl and spoon appeared, though this bowl was full of the mush. Nathan could not help but stare in awe.

“It’s such a simple concept…” said Nathan as he trailed off. He grabbed the bowl, examining it as if it was supposed to be different from his other bowls. It was exactly the same, except it was full. He took the spoon, running it through the mush slowly, examining if it had any differences from before. He then picked up a spoonful, examined it, brought it up to each of his eyes, and finally put it in his mouth. It tasted exactly like the bowlful he had before. Doctor Baker placed his empty bowl into the synthesizer and recycled it, though Nathan didn’t notice. He was still inspecting the bowl, as if it were composed of small diamonds.

“Come on, let’s go for a walk. You have yet to look outside.” Doctor Baker tapped Nathan on the arm. Nathan finished his bowl, placed it in the synthesizer, and pressed the “recycle” button. He watched in delighted amazement as the bowl broke down into small blue glowing circles, and as soon as they all disappeared, he followed Doctor Baker out of the ward.

            The inside of the hospital looked like any normal hospital except for the abnormal amount of white. Everything, from the incalculable number of doctors, to the walls, to the floors, was the purest of pure white, and everything was completely clean. Not a spot of dirt could be seen on the ground, though Nathan did not have much time to look around as Doctor Baker led them directly outside to the back of the hospital, through the solid-glass doors that parted for them.

            Seeing the outside world felt like an epiphany to Nathan; the sky was the shade of blue reserved for the most contented day in spring, and a gentle breeze caressed Nathan’s cheek in a way that felt almost familial. The back of the hospital was not at all what Nathan had been expecting; a widened circular drive able to fit several large vehicles encompassed a circular garden of flowers arranged in the typical flow of colors in a rainbow, except where the colors might border, the flowers were mixed, giving a smooth transition from one color to the next. Surrounding the drive on both sides was an expansive lawn where many people were walking about, sitting on benches, or talking to others. It was unusually calm for the typical hospital, at least in Nathan’s experience.

“Wow. This is…different,” remarked Nathan. He and Doctor Baker began walking along the grass.

“Oh? How so?” asked Doctor Baker.

“Well, this type of set-up was usually reserved for the asylums for the, you know,” Nathan whistled and spun his finger pointing at his head, “insane. I read a pretty good book on this stuff back when I was in college. You never saw this kind of thing in a normal medical hospital. Hell, you never saw this at an asylum. They were never so nice.” Doctor Baker chuckled.

“Well, we’ve learned quite a bit about mental and cognitive conditions since your time. We certainly don’t practice eugenics the way that it was once practiced, nor do we dull the mind with narcotics. There is a greater appreciation for the mind, which is recognized as separate from the brain. A soul, if you prefer old religious parlance. The mind is the portion where creativity and self is contained; you might think of it as composed of certain portions of the brain, but not confined to the brain itself. Also, we now believe that a bit of fresh air is necessary for a recovering patient, though only for those who can make it outside, of course. Come, sit.” Doctor Baker motioned to a nearby white bench.

“Fascinating. I feel like this pervades into some area of philosophy that I may or may not have learned about, though more likely not, but that is only because my philosophy class was composed of me staring at the incredibly cute blonde girl in front of me who sneezed whenever the professor said ‘Heidegger.’ Made for a pretty entertaining week on German philosophers,” said Nathan. Doctor Baker smiled, though he was obviously aching to say something.

“Look, Nathan, in approximately the next half-hour or so, you will be completely out of my hands. I won’t be able to protect you anymore, and even though the officers have assured me that they will no longer want you in prison, I still fear that you may be in some danger. I can only offer you my aid as a friend; if you need to contact me, simply use the wrist bracelet if you are given one, or contact me via your living quarters. You’ll have a computer terminal equipped with a communicator, so you will be able to find me if necessary. I’m sure your Acclimation Officer will show you how to use the basics of what you’re given,” Doctor Baker said reassuringly.

“Thank you, Doctor. If I sneeze, you will certainly be the first to know.”

Doctor Baker stared at Nathan dumbfounded for a second, then guffawed heartily.

“You’ve got quite the sense of humor. Come, let’s get you some better clothes than the ones you have already.” Doctor Baker stood up from the bench, and Nathan followed. It really was quite a beautiful day; Nathan could hear several birds singing happily in the distance, and somewhere near those birds were some patients, laughing heartily, while playing with what looked like a slightly oversized silver volleyball. On a bench nearby the patients sat a rather rough looking man wearing something similar to the officers, and from the distance, it looked like he was staring directly at Nathan. Nathan could almost swear that one of his eyes was unusually shiny, but Nathan turned away, disregarded the man, and entered the hospital without a word.

The Doctor led Nathan to a room in the hospital about half the size of his ward, though there was not much in the room aside from a synthesizer and what looked like an empty, silver doorframe in the center of the room. Upon closer inspection, however, this doorframe was longer than it appeared. It was more like an opened box, the beams on each side wider than Nathan. Several cables ran from the bottom of the doorframe to a standing glass control panel that looked like a podium. Doctor Baker went to the podium, the transparent display booting up at his touch. He looked up at Nathan.

“Step right into the imager right between the vertical beams.”

Nathan walked up to it and stood directly under the horizontal panel on top. He had not noticed before that, on the sides of the panels facing him, each panel was black with horizontal green lines spaced a few inches apart.

“All right, look directly forward, arms at your sides, try not to move too much, and stand up straight; your posture is sagging a bit.” Nathan stood like a soldier, looking directly forward at the wall. Doctor Baker pressed a button on the glass panel, and a low hum of electricity began to emanate from the imager. A red light emerged from the horizontal panel at the top, gradually moving down the frame until it reached the top of Nathan’s head. When it did, it paused, and then disappeared. Two new red lights emerged from either side of Nathan, moving gradually towards him until they reached his shoulders, after which they disappeared as well. Nathan looked around, wondering if the whole thing was done. A blue light, right on cue, began to make its way up his legs, scanning his entire body gradually. It felt like absolutely nothing was happening; there was not even a trace of heat from the light. Finally, when it reached the top of his head, the electrical hum stopped.

“You can step out now, Nathan.” Nathan walked out of the imager and towards Doctor Baker. On the glass control panel was a diagram of Nathan’s body, detailing his height, weight, and body classification. Nathan watched curiously as Doctor Baker tapped a few buttons, the options on the sides of the diagram changing each time.

“All right, what color do you want your clothes to be? Keep in mind that you can change it whenever you wish.” Doctor Baker looked at Nathan for an answer.

“Uh…blue?” said Nathan.

“What kind of blue?” asked Doctor Baker.

“I have to choose a kind of blue?”

“Well, yes, there are many various shades of blue. There’s navy, sky, aqua, cerulean, steel, azure, electric, royal…”

“Okay, I get it,” interrupted Nathan. He thought for a second. “Fine, just give me navy blue.”

“Navy it is!” Doctor Baker tapped one of the buttons on the side. “Matching shoes? Or black?”

“Wait, shoes? You’re wearing shoes?” Nathan looked down at Doctor Baker’s feet. He was, in fact, wearing white shoes that conformed perfectly to his feet without having individual slots for toes. The shoes themselves overlapped with Doctor Baker’s clothes, though Nathan could only tell because he was looking so closely. He couldn’t believe that he never noticed that Doctor Baker was wearing shoes. Nathan had figured that the entire skin suit covered the feet as well.

“Wow, I’m dumb. Yeah, make them blue. Wait! Can I have a stripe?” asked Nathan.

“You can have whatever you want on them,” replied Doctor Baker.

“Great, give me a black stripe perpendicular to the bottom of the heel. For once, I won’t have to pay for these.” Doctor Baker tapped another button at the side. The screen then wiped itself, completely blank. Doctor Baker walked to the synthesizer, turned it on, and tapped a few buttons. He turned around, and there in his hands were Nathan’s new clothes, his shoes on top. He handed them to Nathan who took them eagerly; the fabric was nearly weightless in his hands. He ran his hands over the clothes and the shoes; they all felt like silk, smooth and embracing.

“I’ll get you a shaver so you can get rid of that bird’s nest growing on your face.” Doctor Baker turned again to the synthesizer and came back with an item that looked like a silver butane cigarette lighter, except that there was a single blue button on it and the top was open.

“Just put the open portion on your facial hair and press the button. Move it around your face and for the love of all that is sacred, do not put it on your eye.” Nathan laughed and placed the item on top of his clothes.

“Also, go take a proper shower. While your gown might have absorbed a lot of grime from you, it certainly doesn’t cover your entire body. The showers are in the bathroom, just past the toilets on the left side. Just press the panel and set the temperature. I’ll see you back in the ward. If you have any problems in the bathrooms, please don’t call me; showering other people is not in my job description.”

“I shall return cleaner than a priest after a long Saturday night. And don’t worry, if I do happen to gouge my eyes out, I will call you. I believe something about that is in your job description.” And with a wink, Nathan turned and headed to the bathroom.

            After a very long shower, several poor renditions of an opera Nathan had once heard, a shave, getting dressed, and being amazed at how the clothes and shoes quite literally melded together, he walked into the ward a new man. His face looked young and wholesome and the clothes fit him perfectly. Nathan thought he looked almost like a super hero; the navy blue clothes matched his body shape almost to the micrometer, though it left ample room for his privates. The light blue Earth on his chest felt to him like a symbol of heroism; and I shall be called, ‘Earth-Man!’ Nathan thought to himself. He walked up to Doctor Baker, who stood next to Nathan’s bed with Nathan’s belongings.

“These clothes almost fit me too well. I feel like people are continually staring at my ass.” Nathan twisted around a bit, attempting to get a look at his behind. Doctor Baker grinned.

“Don’t worry about it. Actually, your Acclimation Officer just arrived. She should be arriving within the minute.”

“She, eh? I just hope she doesn’t find my ass too unappealing in these pants,” joked Nathan. A short silence then hung in the air, making Nathan feel a bit awkward. He felt as if he did not know how to express all the gratitude he wished to. Luckily, he didn’t have to, because Doctor Baker looked to the door of the ward a second later and remarked “ah.”

            Nathan turned, only to have the wind knocked out of him. He was sure his jaw had hit the floor and shattered upon impact. Standing there, at the entrance of the ward, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen before, and what’s better, he knew that she was there for him. Her black security suit left just enough to Nathan’s imagination to make what was underneath extremely appealing, but that was not what made his heart rate spike. Her eyes were the color of sand mixed with a red fire, giving them a strange, vivid tinge of brown; her hair was a light brown, tied in a professional bun behind her head. Even though she was a security officer, her face glowed with a white radiance, making it appear soft. She was neither too tall nor too short, but just the right height for Nathan. He wanted to touch her face, to caress it, but he figured that would not be the best way to make a first impression.

            She finally reached him, standing up straight and looking Nathan in the eye. She gave what might be called a forced smile and extended her hand. Nathan grabbed it with his, a stupid grin across his face.

“Lieutenant Denara Stewart of the Office of Defense and Security. Mr. Nathan Berringer, correct?” she asked in what sounded like a British accent. Nathan gave what sounded like a small dog’s whimper as a reply. Doctor Baker chimed in. “Yes, he is.”

“Very good. As you know, I have been assigned to you as your Acclimation Officer, as mandated by a joint directive by both the Office of Defense and Security and the Office of Vocational Placement and Aid. Are you ready to leave?” Nathan replied with another whimper, though he quickly cleared his throat.

“Mm, yes.” He stood eyeing her, while she looked at him expectantly.

“Do you need help moving your things?” Denara asked.

“What, oh, no, I’ve got it, no problem,” replied Nathan, quickly bending over to gather his belongings, unable to wipe the foolish grin off his face. He began to walk out, but stopped suddenly. He put his things down, turned around, and walked back to Doctor Baker. Doctor Baker looked at Nathan approvingly. He extended his hand and Nathan took it, squeezing it.

“Thank you,” said Nathan.

“Any time,” replied Doctor Baker. Nathan released his hand, standing for a second; he knew there was infinitely more to say to Doctor Baker, to thank him for being supportive, for protecting Nathan, but at the moment, a simple “thank you” seemed to suffice. Nathan turned, picked up his things, and walked out of the ward with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Foray to the Future: Chapter 4

4

            Nathan thought all night about what Officer Denorus told him: “reported missing 20 August 2012.” Uncertainties about temporal paradoxes had him worried; since he was still reported missing in the past, did that mean that Nathan would not be able to leave the future? Does that mean that at no point in the future could he travel back to his own time? Or, alternatively, could he go back and live a comparatively normal life, changing how he was painted by the past? Nathan’s understanding of temporal mechanics was only as good as the science fiction he read in books and watched on television. Implausible theories and ridiculous fantasies of time travel all danced around like sensuous women in his mind; they all seemed so close and available, but he knew them to only tease his fancy. More and more theories emerged, one more ridiculous than the next, until his eyes slowly fluttered and he fell asleep.

Nathan awoke the next morning, though he would have preferred to remain in his calming imagination. He had dreamed that Mr. and Mrs. Gene were sorrowfully watching a news report about his mysterious disappearance, and then eagerly joined up with Henry Berringer to comb through the miles of highway Nathan had traversed. Henry seemed miserable; his face was bloated and his eyes were red, as if he had been crying the entire night. They walked through all the vast cornfields until they finally found Nathan, asleep in a small patch of downed corn. Everyone was overjoyed, even Henry;  and Mr. and Mrs. Gene hugged Nathan so tightly that his head almost popped off, and they all returned home. Henry and Nathan had a long, calm talk, and Henry finally allowed Nathan to find his own way in the world.

            Eventually, Nathan opened his eyes. The images of his dreams slowly faded away, leaving Nathan with a cold, hollow feeling in his chest. He lay there for an hour or so, hoping against hope that he had only been dreaming the unconscionable that had presented itself to him the day before. But, there was his small ward with the ceiling aglow, the large, open window, several doctors wearing their facemasks and skin suits, and five other beds containing five other patients. Nathan could not help but shut all this out, muting the world beyond the limits of his mind, thinking only of a darkness now being experienced by everyone he once knew. It was void of thought or emotion, and simply felt empty, like falling freely forever. The void felt cold, and pulled at him like hooks in his skin.

“Mr. Berringer.” Nathan snapped back to the present. Doctor Baker stood at the foot of Nathan’s bed, looking well rested and holding a silver bowl and spoon. He lacked the white facemask today. The skin around the rest of his face matched his forehead: relatively wrinkle-free. “I present to you the first of your nutrient-infused meals.” He handed the bowl to Nathan. Nathan certainly was hungry, seeing as his last meal had been nearly a day and a half ago. He grabbed the silver dish ravenously from Doctor Baker and was ready to bury his face into it before he looked at the meal itself.

            It was the color of a cloud during rain. There were a few lumps, making the thought of vomit creep perilously into Nathan’s mind. He looked up at Doctor Baker with a slight expression of disgust.

“Really?” Nathan asked. Doctor Baker smirked.

“It does not taste as bad as it looks, though I have no idea how it tastes, so I’m actually lying to you. I assure you though, it’s quite healthy and will enable you to eat anything you wish after you leave here,” replied Doctor Baker. He handed Nathan a spoon. Nathan reached for the spoon slowly, glancing back and forth from his meal to Doctor Baker, half-expecting the gray sludge to come alive and suffocate him. He poked the gray matter a few times with the spoon. It acted like porridge, except it was chunkier and not at all appetizing. Regardless, Nathan was hungry, so he picked up a spoonful, eyed it closely, and hesitantly put it in his mouth.

            It tasted like sour grapes. The taste actually surprised Nathan; he expected it to be as appealing as licking a spoonful of lead paint. It didn’t feel at all desirable in his mouth, but the taste was overwhelming enough so that he ignored the large chunks of stuff that reminded him of stale marshmallows. He swallowed it gratefully, taking spoonful after spoonful until there was no more mush for him to eat. He looked up at Doctor Baker, who stared in disbelief.

“It was actually good?” Doctor Baker asked, shocked.

“My expectations were just exceptionally low,” replied Nathan. He extended the bowl to Doctor Baker.

“More?” asked Doctor Baker.

“Please.”

Doctor Baker took the bowl, went to a small alcove in the wall adjacent to the entrance of the ward, pressed a few buttons, and returned a few seconds later. He handed the bowl to Nathan and Nathan took it eagerly, though his stomach unexpectedly started to grumble. He paused, surprised. He looked to Doctor Baker to help.

“What’s wrong?” asked the Doctor.

“My stomach, it feels upset.”

“Ah, yes, that would be the enzymes and amino acids taking effect on your digestive system. Toilets are out the door, to the right, about fifteen feet down. They will be on your left,” said Doctor Baker nonchalantly. Nathan leapt out of his bed. He felt unsure of whether or not he should run or walk based on the odd gurgling in his stomach, but he knew he should get there fast.

            Fifteen minutes later and after much fumbling with the odd toilets that Nathan would rather not remember, he finally returned to his bed. Doctor Baker stood leaning against the foot of Nathan’s bed, eating some of the mush. He looked up to see Nathan waddling awkwardly towards him with his hand on his backside. The Doctor opened his grinning mouth to say something, but Nathan pre-empted him and said, “No, no, just give me my mush, no comments.”

            Nathan sidled up next to his bed and climbed in awkwardly, issuing a sigh of relief once he laid himself upon it. Doctor Baker handed Nathan the mush, and the disgustingly hilarious cycle continued itself several more times and over the course of two hours. Doctor Baker would break into fits of stifled giggles every time Nathan entered the ward, as he would grasp his buttocks firmly and take each step with the utmost care. Finally, Nathan felt full without having to relieve himself. Doctor Baker pressed some buttons on his wrist bracelet, and a few minutes later, Officers Denorus and Ka’arin entered the ward. Nathan felt his control over his sphincter waver slightly.

            Doctor Baker, seeing the two men, adopted an unexpectedly welcoming disposition. He waved them over to Nathan’s bed.

“Officers, good morning. I hope you slept well and had decent meals. Mr. Berringer here certainly has. I know you have questions, and I certainly shall not impede your questioning process, but if you don’t mind, I will sit next to Mr. Berringer’s bed and provide color commentary where I feel appropriate. Just act as if I’m not here.” He grabbed a white chair from behind Nathan’s bed and sat on the opposite side from where the officers were standing. Nathan had never noticed the chair before; it looked rather like a spoon, except the handle was holding it up.

“Oh, one more thing.” Doctor Baker got up, jogged to the wall alcove, and returned with a bowl of mush. He began eating it and listening intently. Officer Denorus glared at the Doctor. Officer Ka’arin grabbed another chair from behind Nathan’s bed, similar to the Doctor’s, and placed it next to Nathan’s bed, on the opposite side of the Doctor. He sat in the chair calmly, not breaking eye contact with Nathan.

“Well then, Mr. Berringer, we certainly have quite the litany of questions for you to answer, as you can imagine,” gargled Officer Ka’arin, the water over his gills bubbling slightly. He pressed a few buttons on his wrist-bracelet.

“Please state your name for the record.”

Nathan cleared his throat and spoke exceptionally slowly.

“Nay-than Bear-inn-jerr,” a triumphant smile plastered on his face. “Esquire,” he added quickly. Officer Ka’arin squinted at him.

“Please list any educational qualifications you may have, in what area, and from what university.”

“Bachelor’s degrees in Agricultural Engineering, Astronomy, and Physics from the City University of Montana,” Nathan said flatly.

“According to the medical records we received, you appear to be temporally displaced by approximately three thousand years. Now, can you state for us where you were on the night of 15 August 18k243 and how you got there?”

“I was walking on the highway to Helena. I was going to try to catch a train from there to New York,” replied Nathan.

“A what?” asked Officer Denorus. His stolid expression broke to form an awkward curiosity. He almost looked like a dumbfounded child.

“A train. Choo-choo,” replied Nathan, moving his arms in a circular motion. Officer Denorus still gawked at Nathan.

“Old bit of transportation technology,” interjected Doctor Baker. “Please, continue.”

“Anyway,” continued Officer Ka’arin, “why were you going to take this ‘train’ to New York?”

“I left home,” replied Nathan coolly. “Dad and I had a falling out. I decided to leave and live with one of my relatives. Guess I never got that train, eh?”

“Right. Now, where did you get the ancient technologies that were found on your person?” asked Officer Ka’arin.

“I bought the telescope myself. 2004, I believe it was. My parents gave the phone to me when I was in college, 2008, I think. Damn thing barely worked anyway. I don’t know what other technology there is, unless you count the lunchbox and my underwear as ‘ancient technologies’,” said Nathan.

“We do not,” gurgled Officer Ka’arin. “Please describe how you arrived where we found you.”

            Nathan gave an exasperated sigh and recounted the strange buzzing he heard, the crack in space, how it threw him back, the blue portal, and his arrival to what seemed like the exact same place he had just left.

“Fascinating,” said Officer Ka’arin, his deep gurgling voice getting lighter. “Tell us more about this portal. Be very detailed.”

“It was…blue. It swirled with different bits of color, kind of like different bits of paint going down a drain. When I touched it, well, when my hand went through it, it felt cold. Not terribly freezing, but almost like a slight breeze in autumn. When I passed through it, I just felt the same cold feeling, nothing different.”

“And that crack, tell me again about it. Describe it in detail.” Officer Ka’arin looked at Nathan intently.

“Well,” Nathan started, “it was a crack. And it glowed. You know, take a hammer to a bit of wood or punch a window or something and it’ll look like that, though I suppose it won’t really look like a window because glass gets all spider-webby, so, actually forget I said that. That was just plain wrong of me; I apologize. But it did glow.

“Anyway, it kind of had a front and back, because when I went around it, there was no crack. It also buzzed like it was a beehive, and it got louder the closer I got to it. I could also feel some kind of warm, radiating energy from it, which kind of freaked me out, but at the same time, it was cold, so I didn’t much mind about that. So, because I’m an idiot, I decided to touch it, and then it threw me back like a hot potato.”

“Hm,” remarked Officer Denorus. Nathan had almost forgotten the statue was there.

“Oh, you’re here!” cried Nathan.

“Do the words ‘Silens Terra’ mean anything to you?” interjected Officer Ka’arin quickly. Nathan turned back to Officer Ka’arin.

“Sounds Latin. I think it means ‘Silent Earth,’ if language class taught me anything. What does that have to with me?” replied Nathan.

“Everything,” growled Officer Denorus. He seemed to have tired of the casual line of questions. “You seemed offended by my partner yesterday. Do human-alien hybrids disgust you? Do non-humans on this planet offend you? What are your plans for the upcoming election? Who are your co-conspirators? DO NOT LIE TO ME!” His eyes and tone were accusatory, staring unblinkingly at Nathan. Some spittle flew out of Officer Denorus’ mouth.

“I’ve just never seen one before. Kind of wish I had gills, I can’t swim.” Nathan then turned to Officer Ka’arin. “Do you have webbed feet too?” he asked, excited.

“My feet are actually three-toed fins, though they are too small to be counted as full-fledged Pompilian. I am a pretty good swimmer though,” remarked Officer Ka’arin with a relaxed tone.

“That’s so cool,” said Nathan, impressed. “Whenever I got into a pool, I’d sink to the bottom like a big ol’ lead weight. Nearly drowned once or twice.”

Officer Ka’arin continued.

“Anyway, not to get off-topic, and I’ll make this the last question,” at which Officer Denorus scoffed, “but have you ever experimented with temporal singularities or any kind of temporal or spatial distortion technology at any point in the past?”

Nathan looked at him, slightly bewildered.

“Not unless you count that time I made a clock powered by a potato for science class. Proud moment, that was, until it stopped working about ten minutes into my presentation.”

Doctor Baker gave a hearty guffaw at this, dribbling some mush down his uniform. The stains were absorbed by his clothing, which made them shrink like evaporating puddles.

“Sorry, it was funny,” said Doctor Baker, wiping his face with his sleeve.

“Well, I think we’re done for now. We are going to consult with our superiors and return within the hour. Thank you for your time, Mr. Berringer.” Officer Ka’arin stood up and turned to face Doctor Baker. “Doctor,” he said, nodding. Doctor Baker nodded in kind, and Officer Ka’arin turned to walk out of the ward. Officer Denorus lingered for a few seconds, his Easter Island-like face looking directly at Nathan. The man seemed to produce no major emotional changes in his face aside from the occasional tic and the ever-growing vein bulging out of the side of his forehead. His face was turning slightly red.

“Tyrian!” yelled Officer Ka’arin from the entrance of the ward. Officer Denorus finally turned away from Nathan and left. Nathan watched both him and his partner leave the ward, then turned to find Doctor Baker chuckling to himself.

“Temporal potato,” he giggled. Nathan giggled a bit too.

After approximately half an hour, the officers returned to the ward. Ka’arin looked nonchalant, though Denorus seemed angrier than usual. His right eye twitched on occasion, giving Nathan the impression that Denorus was trying to be awkwardly suggestive.

“Good news, Mr. Berringer, our superiors have determined that you are not a threat to Earth’s security. You’re free to remain here as long as the good Doctor feels you should stay. However, we do require a tissue sample in order to study the neutrino energy your body seems to have absorbed. Doctor, if you would provide that to us?” asked Officer Ka’arin.

“If Mr. Berringer doesn’t object,” said Doctor Baker. Nathan shook his head. Doctor Baker went to the wall alcove, pressed a few buttons, and returned with a device similar to the small metal peppershaker he used to inject the nanites into Nathan. This time, however, instead of having the peppershaker top, it had something that looked like a miniature bulls-eye on the tip. Doctor Baker was about to press it to Nathan’s neck, but Nathan drew back a little.

“I won’t want to break my skull open after you use that, will I?” asked Nathan, his voice wavering. Doctor Baker gave a short chuckle and pushed it to Nathan’s neck, where it made a sound like air expelling. It felt like a light pinch and it took less than a second. Nathan rubbed the area, amazed that he was still conscious after having some tissue removed. Doctor Baker handed the object to Officer Ka’arin, who deposited it in a hip pocket that did not exist before. The clothing continually surprised Nathan.

“Mr. Berringer, as you seemingly have no other place to reside, the Office of Vocational Placement and Aid has offered to give you a certification test. You say you already attended a school of higher learning and we will try to find your educational records. You’re going to need to take a certification test in order for the Office to gauge your aptitude for learning and comprehension of basic modern mathematical principles. There will not be a history portion, for obvious reasons, so it will be mainly mathematics. Luckily, basic mathematical principles have not drastically changed in the past few millennia, so calculus is still calculus. We can have the test ready within forty-five minutes, give or take. Do you agree to take it?” asked Officer Ka’arin.

“I suppose I have no choice, eh? I’m curious though, how come you’re so nonchalant about the mysterious boy from the past who appeared out of thin air, and is apparently three thousand years out of time?” asked Nathan incisively. The question had been residing in the back of his mind, finally making it onto his tongue. Officer Denorus seemed to want to answer, the vein in his forehead bulging, but instead Officer Ka’arin sighed.

“The fact is, we don’t quite know what to do with you. Something like this didn’t happen even before the temporal testing ban. We’ve got a million and one people running around back at the Defense and the Security offices, attempting to find out exactly what is going on. There have been requisition orders to incarcerate you, isolate you, dissect you, and question you thoroughly, though that would only happen if we found you were a…” Officer Ka’arin paused, thinking over his next words. “Anyway, you have your doctor here to thank for the unreasonably casual way you’ve been treated since your arrival. Thankfully, someone knows military law better than the military does.” Doctor Baker gave a clever smirk, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.

“Well then, we will go to get your examination. I should let you know that, based on your performance on the examination, an acclimation officer will be assigned to you to help you become accustomed to our society.” Both officers turned to leave, but another question tumbled out of Nathan’s mouth.

“How did you know where to find me?” The officers stopped in place, and even Doctor Baker stood up straight. Officer Denorus, surprisingly, turned to answer.

“The terrestrial monitoring center picked up erratic neutrino readings in your location. We were dispatched to find out what they were,” he said in a very straightforward manner.

“What did you find?” asked Nathan.

“Not what we wanted,” answered Officer Denorus simply and sternly, who then walked out of the ward with Officer Ka’arin. Doctor Baker, after being satisfied about the officers’ temporary departure, lifted himself off the wall.

“Well, I’m sorry to say that I have other patients to whom I must attend. Good luck on your examination, Mr. Berringer.” Doctor Baker gave a nod.

“You can call me Nathan,” Nathan blurted out.

“Very well, Nathan. Don’t get too bored while you wait for your exam, and don’t leave the ward, please.” With that, Doctor Baker left the door-less exit.

            Much of the next half-hour was comprised of Nathan twiddling his thumbs, anxious about what a futuristic examination would contain. He could only help but imagine three-dimensional displays, interaction with geometrical shapes holographically projected in the air, or some kind of headset that would beam the examination right into his brain. Much to his chagrin, the officers returned with what looked like a piece of glass about the size of a normal piece of paper. Unlike paper, this piece of glass seemed to have some kind of blinking lights on it.

            Officer Ka’arin handed the glass to Nathan, and then looked at him for a second. Nathan looked down at this glass, unsure of what to make of it. There was his name in red print centered at the top with a little blue square box blinking below it. Beneath that, the glass read, “Examination dispensed on behalf of the Office of Vocational Placement and Aid, Earth, Terran System, subordinate in the Solar Confederation” in smaller red letters.

“Oh, right. Of course, sorry. Put your thumb on the blue box, say your name, and the process will begin. Circle your answer to indicate it is your final one. You can use your finger to write. There’s no time limit,” said Officer Ka’arin. Both officers then sat down in the two chairs next to Nathan’s bed, seemingly ready for an extremely long, drawn out process. Nathan pressed his right thumb to the box, being very gentle so as not to break the glass, though it did not seem very fragile. He spoke his name, and instantly the screen wiped itself. It now read “SECTION 1: SPATIAL GEOMETRY” at the top, and a “Question 1” had appeared beneath it. There was no multiple-choice option, so Nathan would have to work out the entire problem mathematically.

            Nathan worked at a reasonable pace, considering the consequences of his test. He felt that he did quite well on spatial geometry, though he completely flubbed four-dimensional geometry. Unfortunately for him, whenever he got a question wrong, the glass would glow red and would issue a small “beep,” which would prompt a snort from Officer Denorus. Nathan was able to get through geometric calculus with few errors, though he was absolutely dumbfounded by advanced differential geometry. There even came an odd section entitled “preferential symmetry,” which seemed to comprise more aesthetics than mathematics. Once traditional calculus came on, he was able to cruise through it without errors. Finally, and with a sigh of relief, Nathan came to a section on physics. Surprisingly, he faced a good portion of questions on Newtonian physics, and finally questions on relativity, gravitation, particle decay, atomic energy levels, and a plethora of things he knew relatively well. After more sections on astronomy, chemistry, and biology, mostly utilizing equations, he finished. A message appeared on the glass in red, saying, “CONGRATULATIONS, YOU HAVE COMPLETED THE EXAMINATION. PLEASE FILL OUT THE FOLLOWING QUESTIONS TO THE BEST OF YOUR KNOWLEDGE.” A new screen appeared, and the first question confused Nathan more than advanced differential geometry: “What is your favorite color?” He looked down the page, and the rest of the questions were all of the same nature, even going so far as to ask his sexual orientation, favorite holiday destination, and favorite day of the week. He wrote in all the answers, the glass flashed green for a second, and then wiped itself, now only a transparent piece of glass.

            Nathan looked up at the officers; Denorus had fallen asleep in his chair, his head slumped over, while Ka’arin seemed to be gradually sliding out of his, his head resting on his hand. He snored a bit, and whenever he did, the water next to his gills bubbled. Nathan cleared his throat.

“Ehem.” The officers didn’t stir. How long had Nathan been at it?

“BANG!” Nathan yelled, and both officers bolted up out of their chairs, looking around for signs of danger. Other patients even looked up at Nathan, who had a large, self-congratulatory grin on his face. After seeing no threats on their lives, both officers looked at Nathan.

“Oh, I’m done.” He handed the glass to Officer Ka’arin, who looked ready to squirt ink, if he had the ability to do so. Officer Denorus looked at his wrist-bracelet.

“Only took you four hours.” Nathan couldn’t tell if he was impressed or snide.

“We’ll send this to the Office and they’ll have the Acclimation Officer here tomorrow. In the meantime, do not leave the hospital grounds, or we may be forced to arrest you. Do you understand?” asked Officer Ka’arin groggily. Nathan raised his hand up to his forehead in a typical military salute.

“Aye, captain!” he said somewhat sardonically. Both officers rolled their eyes and left.

            Once they had gone, Nathan laid himself down in his bed. He stared at the perfectly white ceiling, thinking only of an uncertain life in this unbelievable time. He did not know what he would make of himself, and a sudden realization smacked him in the face: this was exactly what he wanted, but only in concept; a new beginning, a place in which he could make his own life, his fate guided by none other than himself. Of course, it would have been nice to have an understanding family member to take him in.

            Regardless, Nathan felt a bit more content that he had in the morning. His little sardonic barbs at the stone-faced officer had relieved a bit of stress, though not much; he still felt horribly anxious, though he tried not to show it. He looked around at the other patients; they all looked rather surly and stiff. Even their heads were directed forward, though their eyes would constantly dart around the room. There were no doctors around; in fact, aside from Doctor Baker, there hardly ever seemed to be any doctors in the ward, except for very rare instances.

“Hey, you, guy!” yelled Nathan at the man in the bed directly across from him. The man’s tiny eyes focused on Nathan. His black hair was disheveled, and a few days growth of facial hair made him look extraordinarily brusque.

“What are you here for?” asked Nathan. The man grunted loudly as if he were growling.

“Right then,” Nathan mumbled to himself. “Sleep it is.”

Small break

Watch the 2007 movie "Sunshine." Holy shit, watch the movie. It is some great visuals and incredible psychological tension. The ending is a different story, but goddamn, watch it.