My cousin's Facebook status asked, "why: Rain Drops but Snow Falls." So I sat down and wrote an answer...
Snow falls,
beautifully,
of its own volition,
like falling in love.
But rain is discarded,
it drops to the ground to bring new life,
like a broken heart,
and the tears it cries.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
566
I removed the music from my life, not by choice, and my life became hell. I let the music back in, and the sun rose on a new day.
I awake to find water over my head, I swim and struggle for the light of the sun refracted through the shimmering waves. My chest burns, my heart claws desperately fighting my lungs for a fresh breath of air. I get nearer the light and the darkness starts to seep into the edges of perception. The world slowly shrinks to Zeno’s pinhole, I break the surface and the light explodes into my lungs. The roar of death slowly recedes from my ears to be replaced by a lilting laughter. She’s standing there laughing at me.
The world shifts.
The mind shifts.
The quiet scenery passes by in a midsummer blur muted by the tinted window inches from my nose. Although the trip is not tiring, it is exhausting. Running away is never as easy as it sounds, what they don’t tell you is that you are always leaving something behind. When my brother wrote from Iraq he always ended each letter with six words, “I miss home, I love you.” Fourteen is too young to understand those words, to young to keep them in mind, to young to become wise.
The last image of home I have is a picture placed carefully in my breast pocket. It’s faded and worn around the edges, but the smile on my mother’s face still shines, and the pride in my father’s eyes still carries the weight of the world.
The train jerks and my face slams into the window. The lights flicker on overhead, a tired voice announces that we are nearing the outskirts of Berlin, and we’ll arrive at the encampment shortly. I tighten the shoulder straps of my pack and flip the safety off on my rifle. Close as we are to the front American snipers have been known to pick off soldiers in the moments between exiting the train and entering the encampment.
The last push to clear the Americans from Europe will begin in a few weeks, just enough time for the Brits to mangle the Atlantic supply lines, and the Muslims to secure their footholds in the south of France. On last push, and the hope that this war will finally be over.
A bright light envelopes the interior of the car and I instinctively pull my visor over my eyes. Even with the tinted windows the nuclear flash can cause blindness in the unprotected eyes. Turning to look at the mushroom cloud beginning to form behind us I can see the shockwave catching up with us. Estimating the impact I begin the countdown. Seven, six, five, four, three, two and a half, two, one and three quarters, nine eighths, two fifths, Zeno.
The world shifts.
The mind shifts.
The sun light rains through the window onto my eyelids. Shielding my face with my hand I roll over and grab my phone of the nightstand while it softly plays Mario’s Underworld. Flipping the phone open I deftly disable the alarm with my eyes closed. A face floats through the post sleep haze. Smiling I sit up and dangle my feet off the edge of the bed. I may have to go to work, but at least I have she’ll be there to brighten my day.
I awake to find water over my head, I swim and struggle for the light of the sun refracted through the shimmering waves. My chest burns, my heart claws desperately fighting my lungs for a fresh breath of air. I get nearer the light and the darkness starts to seep into the edges of perception. The world slowly shrinks to Zeno’s pinhole, I break the surface and the light explodes into my lungs. The roar of death slowly recedes from my ears to be replaced by a lilting laughter. She’s standing there laughing at me.
The world shifts.
The mind shifts.
The quiet scenery passes by in a midsummer blur muted by the tinted window inches from my nose. Although the trip is not tiring, it is exhausting. Running away is never as easy as it sounds, what they don’t tell you is that you are always leaving something behind. When my brother wrote from Iraq he always ended each letter with six words, “I miss home, I love you.” Fourteen is too young to understand those words, to young to keep them in mind, to young to become wise.
The last image of home I have is a picture placed carefully in my breast pocket. It’s faded and worn around the edges, but the smile on my mother’s face still shines, and the pride in my father’s eyes still carries the weight of the world.
The train jerks and my face slams into the window. The lights flicker on overhead, a tired voice announces that we are nearing the outskirts of Berlin, and we’ll arrive at the encampment shortly. I tighten the shoulder straps of my pack and flip the safety off on my rifle. Close as we are to the front American snipers have been known to pick off soldiers in the moments between exiting the train and entering the encampment.
The last push to clear the Americans from Europe will begin in a few weeks, just enough time for the Brits to mangle the Atlantic supply lines, and the Muslims to secure their footholds in the south of France. On last push, and the hope that this war will finally be over.
A bright light envelopes the interior of the car and I instinctively pull my visor over my eyes. Even with the tinted windows the nuclear flash can cause blindness in the unprotected eyes. Turning to look at the mushroom cloud beginning to form behind us I can see the shockwave catching up with us. Estimating the impact I begin the countdown. Seven, six, five, four, three, two and a half, two, one and three quarters, nine eighths, two fifths, Zeno.
The world shifts.
The mind shifts.
The sun light rains through the window onto my eyelids. Shielding my face with my hand I roll over and grab my phone of the nightstand while it softly plays Mario’s Underworld. Flipping the phone open I deftly disable the alarm with my eyes closed. A face floats through the post sleep haze. Smiling I sit up and dangle my feet off the edge of the bed. I may have to go to work, but at least I have she’ll be there to brighten my day.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Orion-42 102
“Attention on deck!” The young man shouted and then taking his own order snapped to attention. A mechanic was kneeling at the threshold, the top part of his uniform coveralls wrapped around his waist and an open tool box at his side. He casually dropped the tool in his hand in to the box, gave a withering glance at the young officer and stood pulling his coveralls back up as he turned to face the commander, “Sorry sir, they pulled me out of my bunk to get this hatch open.”
Catching the insignia as the mechanic slid his left arm into the sleeve of his coveralls, Madison stepped across the threshold, “At ease lieutenant,” eyeing the young officer, “Commander Gilbert?”
The Commander nodded.
Madison pulled a plastic memory stick out of his pocket and handed it to the commander, “Pursuant to Colonial Authority Order 314 I’m taking command of Jump Station Orion-42 on this the 35th of Tereshkova, one-hundred and ten. I’m also to inform you that you’ll be staying on as my XO, your orders are on the memory stick.” Pausing he glanced back as the lieutenant finished getting his uniform in order, “lieutenant walk with me a bit.” Turning back to Gilbert, “I want senior staff in my office, 20 minutes.”
Commander Gilbert stood, mouth agape, and watched Madison walk down the corridor the lieutenant following in his wake. He remained motionless for several moments after the two men disappeared around the corner. He had read Commander Madison’s dossier, but his abrupt manner had not been expected. His thoughts were interrupted by a woman coming through the airlock.
She came to attention as she stepped in front of Gilbert, dropping a heavy duffle at her side she presented her orders. “Lieutenant Commander Brinks reporting as ordered.”
Gilbert plugged her memory stick into his PDA and reviewed the information. “Amanda Brinks, Operations Specialist, you’ll be helping me keep this station running, once we get it running. This is your first billet on a jump station?”
“Yes sir.”
“You spent the last 15 months on the Columbia ring, that’s a research station out in the void?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good you’ll be an asset in getting this station operational. Grab your gear, I’ll show you to your quarters.”
“Yes sir.”
Catching the insignia as the mechanic slid his left arm into the sleeve of his coveralls, Madison stepped across the threshold, “At ease lieutenant,” eyeing the young officer, “Commander Gilbert?”
The Commander nodded.
Madison pulled a plastic memory stick out of his pocket and handed it to the commander, “Pursuant to Colonial Authority Order 314 I’m taking command of Jump Station Orion-42 on this the 35th of Tereshkova, one-hundred and ten. I’m also to inform you that you’ll be staying on as my XO, your orders are on the memory stick.” Pausing he glanced back as the lieutenant finished getting his uniform in order, “lieutenant walk with me a bit.” Turning back to Gilbert, “I want senior staff in my office, 20 minutes.”
Commander Gilbert stood, mouth agape, and watched Madison walk down the corridor the lieutenant following in his wake. He remained motionless for several moments after the two men disappeared around the corner. He had read Commander Madison’s dossier, but his abrupt manner had not been expected. His thoughts were interrupted by a woman coming through the airlock.
She came to attention as she stepped in front of Gilbert, dropping a heavy duffle at her side she presented her orders. “Lieutenant Commander Brinks reporting as ordered.”
Gilbert plugged her memory stick into his PDA and reviewed the information. “Amanda Brinks, Operations Specialist, you’ll be helping me keep this station running, once we get it running. This is your first billet on a jump station?”
“Yes sir.”
“You spent the last 15 months on the Columbia ring, that’s a research station out in the void?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good you’ll be an asset in getting this station operational. Grab your gear, I’ll show you to your quarters.”
“Yes sir.”
Friday, June 29, 2007
Orion-42 101:Begining
The silvery little space craft made a slow orbit around the Jump Station Orion-42. The ship’s pilot maintained a 20 meter altitude as he studied the outer surface of the ring, occasionally closing the distance to examine a docking port or airlock.
On his second of three circuits his radio chirped, “Commander, the Cruiser Galileo just jumped into L-2 with the last of the shake-down crew and the Specialists to align our station. They expect to arrive this afternoon, and will make preparations to begin testing tomorrow at 800 hours.”
Commander Madison keyed his mic, “Grand. Forward my regards to the Galileo and let the Captain know that he, his senior staff, and the specialists are invited to dinner.” Madison swore quietly after terminating his transmission. Not that the idea of a formal dinner was particularly off putting, he just didn’t care much for the formality. Invariably the captain would be boisterous and full of himself, captains usually were. They were so used to being in complete control that being correct became a way of life and anyone who disagreed with you was wither an idiot or an asshole, generally depending on their rank.
What Madison looked forward to was completing his survey of the station, and returning to his office to finish the day’s paperwork before heading off to his quarters for a few hours of relaxation. He had been running since his arrival yesterday and aside from a few hours sleep had not sat down till he strapped himself into the light fighter he was currently sitting in.
His last assignment had been in a system that was a couple hundred light years from Earth in a system where the Colonial Government had taken over every habitable acre of land, and a few that weren’t. He was second in command at one of the six Jump Stations in the system, it also happened to be the oldest ring, prone to mechanical problems the immense station had taken all of his resources to maintain. As it was one of the earliest rings to be constructed it was also one of the largest, at three kilometers in diameter it dwarfed O-42. He was grateful to have handed command of the station over to the decommissioning team that would dismantle the station and build a new one in its place. As soon as the ceremony was over he caught a transport to his current assignment and took command minutes after he arrived.
****
Standing at the airlock portal Commander Madison watched through the window as the transport slowly closed the distance between itself and the Jump Station. There was a slight bump as the two made contact and a hiss as the docking clamps locked the ship to the ring. Madison immediately reached over to the panel next to the airlock an pressurized the space between. When the red indicators switched to green he jabbed the control that opened the door. As the hatch slid open, a young face appeared in the portal of the stations hatch. The young man’s eyes widened as he caught site of Madison’s rank insignia, and his head disappeared from view. The commander heard some muffled shouting from the other side of the closed hatch. He crossed his arms and adjusted his expression to take on the appearance of a man not happy to be kept waiting. A full minute passed before the young man’s face reappeared in the portal, he smiled than shrugged apologetically. His face disappeared and there was more shouting. After another minute there was a noticeable commotion on the other side of the portal and someone’s back was pressed up against the transparent aluminum. The back disappeared and the hatch hissed open…
On his second of three circuits his radio chirped, “Commander, the Cruiser Galileo just jumped into L-2 with the last of the shake-down crew and the Specialists to align our station. They expect to arrive this afternoon, and will make preparations to begin testing tomorrow at 800 hours.”
Commander Madison keyed his mic, “Grand. Forward my regards to the Galileo and let the Captain know that he, his senior staff, and the specialists are invited to dinner.” Madison swore quietly after terminating his transmission. Not that the idea of a formal dinner was particularly off putting, he just didn’t care much for the formality. Invariably the captain would be boisterous and full of himself, captains usually were. They were so used to being in complete control that being correct became a way of life and anyone who disagreed with you was wither an idiot or an asshole, generally depending on their rank.
What Madison looked forward to was completing his survey of the station, and returning to his office to finish the day’s paperwork before heading off to his quarters for a few hours of relaxation. He had been running since his arrival yesterday and aside from a few hours sleep had not sat down till he strapped himself into the light fighter he was currently sitting in.
His last assignment had been in a system that was a couple hundred light years from Earth in a system where the Colonial Government had taken over every habitable acre of land, and a few that weren’t. He was second in command at one of the six Jump Stations in the system, it also happened to be the oldest ring, prone to mechanical problems the immense station had taken all of his resources to maintain. As it was one of the earliest rings to be constructed it was also one of the largest, at three kilometers in diameter it dwarfed O-42. He was grateful to have handed command of the station over to the decommissioning team that would dismantle the station and build a new one in its place. As soon as the ceremony was over he caught a transport to his current assignment and took command minutes after he arrived.
****
Standing at the airlock portal Commander Madison watched through the window as the transport slowly closed the distance between itself and the Jump Station. There was a slight bump as the two made contact and a hiss as the docking clamps locked the ship to the ring. Madison immediately reached over to the panel next to the airlock an pressurized the space between. When the red indicators switched to green he jabbed the control that opened the door. As the hatch slid open, a young face appeared in the portal of the stations hatch. The young man’s eyes widened as he caught site of Madison’s rank insignia, and his head disappeared from view. The commander heard some muffled shouting from the other side of the closed hatch. He crossed his arms and adjusted his expression to take on the appearance of a man not happy to be kept waiting. A full minute passed before the young man’s face reappeared in the portal, he smiled than shrugged apologetically. His face disappeared and there was more shouting. After another minute there was a noticeable commotion on the other side of the portal and someone’s back was pressed up against the transparent aluminum. The back disappeared and the hatch hissed open…
Friday, May 18, 2007
Morning
Pain. Pain and a bright light. And some god awful racket, a droning noise intermittently mixed with grinding. Oh my god the smell, like the dumpster behind a Chinese restaurant, cooking in the late afternoon sun. Opening my eyes I saw the ceiling of my bedroom slowly spinning around me. Closing my eyes I reached out with my arms to reaffirm my belief in gravity, it was indeed still pulling me towards my bed.
Opening my eyes I found the room had come to rest. I could feel the wind blowing faintly through the open window and across my body. The cool breeze felt good, but it was also reacquainting my olfactory senses with the stench rising from my body. On the plus side I was finally able to discern the source of the “god awful racket” as my neighbor came around the side of his house with his lawnmower. I listened as the sound waxed and waned as he circled his house. Finally I had enough and sat up to see what time it was.
I sat up much too quickly, so much so that I am now sitting on the side of my bed with my head between my knees trying desperately to keep down whatever bio-sludge is in my stomach. Presently my stomach decided to retain its contents and I was able to slowly sit upright. Glancing over at the clock I realized that it was mid-afternoon. Having no memory of events following the fifth, no sixth round of drinks I didn’t know whether I had slept too long or not enough, but I was leaning towards the not enough.
I was all set to lie back down and go back to sleep when my bladder announced that I had a new, and more pressing, problem. Standing up was tricky, for whatever reason there was a lengthy delay in the passage of signals from my brain to my muscles. Fortunately my brain was working slow enough that timing was not crucial, I just had to give the command and then wait for my legs to respond.
I walked slowly to the bathroom, my eyes closed to enjoy the brief moments of sleep that occurred between steps. Upon reaching my destination in front of the throne I opened one eye to aim properly and caught sight of myself in the mirror. I was a mess, my shirt was stained with sweat and blood and what appeared to be the remains of several meals. I also realized that aside from my shirt, and the socks I was wriggling my toes in, I wasn’t wearing a stitch of anything else.
But my bladder reasserted its need. I took hold of my equipment and proceeded to let fly. What should have happened was my urine should have traveled and on a nice ballistic trajectory and landed in the bowl. What actually happened was two streams were emitted in opposite directions, neither one of which landed anywhere near the bowl. Thankfully at this point my central nervous system picked this moment to swing into action and closed off the flow from my bladder. I took the momentary reprieve to adjust my equipment, and then eased open the valve. Confident that my plumbing was working correctly I closed my eyes and allowed my bladder to drain.
I almost fell asleep standing there, but was revived as the sound of water splashing changed to the sound of water hitting porcelain. I cracked my eye open and adjusted my aim as the pressure from my bladder slowly let off. I shook hands with the man, flushed and as I stepped out of the bathroom I found a girl lying on the floor beside my bed. She was wearing a pair of my underwear, and not a stitch else. Judging from the stains, there was at least some time where my shirt and that pair of underwear had been on the same body during the previous night, and judging by the smell that body was mine. I stepped back into the bathroom and took a good long look at myself in the mirror. Maybe going back to bed wasn’t a good idea, I needed time to work shit out, and I needed a shower.
After starting the water I held my breath and pulled my shirt over my head. Throwing it in the hamper I placed the heel of my left foot on the toe of my right sock. Leaning on the door jamb for balance I admired the girl lying next to my bed as I pulled my foot out of the sock. I repeated the operation with my other foot, and finding no memory of the girl, I tossed my socks in with my shirt and stepped into the shower. I must have had a hell of a night.
Opening my eyes I found the room had come to rest. I could feel the wind blowing faintly through the open window and across my body. The cool breeze felt good, but it was also reacquainting my olfactory senses with the stench rising from my body. On the plus side I was finally able to discern the source of the “god awful racket” as my neighbor came around the side of his house with his lawnmower. I listened as the sound waxed and waned as he circled his house. Finally I had enough and sat up to see what time it was.
I sat up much too quickly, so much so that I am now sitting on the side of my bed with my head between my knees trying desperately to keep down whatever bio-sludge is in my stomach. Presently my stomach decided to retain its contents and I was able to slowly sit upright. Glancing over at the clock I realized that it was mid-afternoon. Having no memory of events following the fifth, no sixth round of drinks I didn’t know whether I had slept too long or not enough, but I was leaning towards the not enough.
I was all set to lie back down and go back to sleep when my bladder announced that I had a new, and more pressing, problem. Standing up was tricky, for whatever reason there was a lengthy delay in the passage of signals from my brain to my muscles. Fortunately my brain was working slow enough that timing was not crucial, I just had to give the command and then wait for my legs to respond.
I walked slowly to the bathroom, my eyes closed to enjoy the brief moments of sleep that occurred between steps. Upon reaching my destination in front of the throne I opened one eye to aim properly and caught sight of myself in the mirror. I was a mess, my shirt was stained with sweat and blood and what appeared to be the remains of several meals. I also realized that aside from my shirt, and the socks I was wriggling my toes in, I wasn’t wearing a stitch of anything else.
But my bladder reasserted its need. I took hold of my equipment and proceeded to let fly. What should have happened was my urine should have traveled and on a nice ballistic trajectory and landed in the bowl. What actually happened was two streams were emitted in opposite directions, neither one of which landed anywhere near the bowl. Thankfully at this point my central nervous system picked this moment to swing into action and closed off the flow from my bladder. I took the momentary reprieve to adjust my equipment, and then eased open the valve. Confident that my plumbing was working correctly I closed my eyes and allowed my bladder to drain.
I almost fell asleep standing there, but was revived as the sound of water splashing changed to the sound of water hitting porcelain. I cracked my eye open and adjusted my aim as the pressure from my bladder slowly let off. I shook hands with the man, flushed and as I stepped out of the bathroom I found a girl lying on the floor beside my bed. She was wearing a pair of my underwear, and not a stitch else. Judging from the stains, there was at least some time where my shirt and that pair of underwear had been on the same body during the previous night, and judging by the smell that body was mine. I stepped back into the bathroom and took a good long look at myself in the mirror. Maybe going back to bed wasn’t a good idea, I needed time to work shit out, and I needed a shower.
After starting the water I held my breath and pulled my shirt over my head. Throwing it in the hamper I placed the heel of my left foot on the toe of my right sock. Leaning on the door jamb for balance I admired the girl lying next to my bed as I pulled my foot out of the sock. I repeated the operation with my other foot, and finding no memory of the girl, I tossed my socks in with my shirt and stepped into the shower. I must have had a hell of a night.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Chronology
You never think you are going to meet yourself coming back the other way. You are traveling down this highway of life, you may have some inkling of your destination, but you never expect to come across the you that has been to the end of the road. I sure as hell didn’t, it didn’t even occur to me until I saw myself walk through the door of that coffee house.
The Locutory wasn’t extraordinarily busy for a Tuesday afternoon. Graduation had been the previous weekend, and the town had lost half its winter population to the freedom of summer. I was sitting with Ashley at a table near the door. We were playing Go and philosophizing the nature of existence. Our summer teaching assitantships wouldn’t start for another week and we looking at a wide open summer filled with opportunity. I was contemplating the next stone placement and riffing off Kant when Ashley gasped.
I looked up from the board and then turned to see what she was gapping at. And there I was standing at the door, shaking the rain off of a well worn leather coat.
“Oh my god, is that your dad? He looks just like you. I thought he died when you were a kid?”
I turned back to her and slouched in my chair, “he’s not my dad. It’s hard to explain.” It was hard to explain, there was no reason it could be me, but I knew instinctively that I was looking at myself 30 years down the line.
“He’s coming over here,” Ashley hissed at me.
She made it sound like I had time to something about him, but he took two steps and was standing next to the table looking down at us. “Peter I need to talk to you.”
Ashley looked from me to him and back again, “Peter aren’t you going to introduce us?”
The older me smiled, “Allow me. You’re Ashley right?” He offered his hand at her nodding accent, “You can call me Simon.”
Ashley shook his hand, “Simon. Peter has mentioned me?”
“You’ve come up a time or two. Do you mind if I have a few moments with Peter?”
“Not at all,” rising she picked her purse off the table, “I have to use the restroom anyway.”
Simon watched her walk away, smiling as if reviewing a fond memory he took her chair. Looking down at the board he picked up a white stone and started rolling it around his palm, “If I remember correctly it’s your move.”
Picking a stone up between my index and middle fingers I resumed my contemplation of the board. “You’ve played this game before?”
“Yes, only once. I was sitting where you are now.”
Placing my stone to cut off his advancement towards the edge of the board I asked, “You mean that literally don’t you?”
He thought a moment before placing his white stone in an undeveloped area of the board, “Quite literally.”
I looked up from the board into his eyes, “so did you chose where to put that stone, or are you just doing what you saw yourself do before?”
When he smiled his face bunched up and I almost touched my own face to trace the lines where those wrinkles began. “I don’t know that it really matters. One of us had to come up with where to put the stone at some point. Maybe I just chose some random intersection of lines, the placement was determined by the quantum mechanical probabilities of our brain. It’s your move.”
Looking back down at the board I picked up a stone and placed it without really giving thought to why, “You didn’t come all this way for a tautology of chronological paradoxes, so why are you here.”
He quickly placed a stone cutting off one of my lines. “Now that’s a mystery. I had hoped by the time I had come to the point where I’m sitting on this side of the table I would know why I came here in the first place.”
I stopped half way to picking up a new stone, “so when you were sitting in my chair, the you that’s sitting in your chair never told you why he was here?”
Simon sighed, “The timeline of this event has progressed the same as when I was sitting in your chair. I have no further light to shed on the matter.” Placing his hand on the board he messed up the game we were playing, “Ashley is coming back, and it’s time for me to go.”
Ashley returned as Simon stood to leave, “Leaving so soon Simon?”
Turning toward her he touched her arm lightly, “I am afraid my time here was destined to be short. I enjoyed seeing you.” Looking down at me he shrugged, “I’m sorry Peter, I wish there was more I could say or do.”
I nodded, “I know. Will I see you again?”
He smiled, “obviously,” patted me on the shoulder and walked out.
Ashley regained her seat across from me, “Who was that?”
Turning behind me to look at the door I had just walked out of I said, “Just a guy that knew me when he was younger.” I looked back at her and then down at the board, “looks like our game is messed up, want to start a new one?”
The Locutory wasn’t extraordinarily busy for a Tuesday afternoon. Graduation had been the previous weekend, and the town had lost half its winter population to the freedom of summer. I was sitting with Ashley at a table near the door. We were playing Go and philosophizing the nature of existence. Our summer teaching assitantships wouldn’t start for another week and we looking at a wide open summer filled with opportunity. I was contemplating the next stone placement and riffing off Kant when Ashley gasped.
I looked up from the board and then turned to see what she was gapping at. And there I was standing at the door, shaking the rain off of a well worn leather coat.
“Oh my god, is that your dad? He looks just like you. I thought he died when you were a kid?”
I turned back to her and slouched in my chair, “he’s not my dad. It’s hard to explain.” It was hard to explain, there was no reason it could be me, but I knew instinctively that I was looking at myself 30 years down the line.
“He’s coming over here,” Ashley hissed at me.
She made it sound like I had time to something about him, but he took two steps and was standing next to the table looking down at us. “Peter I need to talk to you.”
Ashley looked from me to him and back again, “Peter aren’t you going to introduce us?”
The older me smiled, “Allow me. You’re Ashley right?” He offered his hand at her nodding accent, “You can call me Simon.”
Ashley shook his hand, “Simon. Peter has mentioned me?”
“You’ve come up a time or two. Do you mind if I have a few moments with Peter?”
“Not at all,” rising she picked her purse off the table, “I have to use the restroom anyway.”
Simon watched her walk away, smiling as if reviewing a fond memory he took her chair. Looking down at the board he picked up a white stone and started rolling it around his palm, “If I remember correctly it’s your move.”
Picking a stone up between my index and middle fingers I resumed my contemplation of the board. “You’ve played this game before?”
“Yes, only once. I was sitting where you are now.”
Placing my stone to cut off his advancement towards the edge of the board I asked, “You mean that literally don’t you?”
He thought a moment before placing his white stone in an undeveloped area of the board, “Quite literally.”
I looked up from the board into his eyes, “so did you chose where to put that stone, or are you just doing what you saw yourself do before?”
When he smiled his face bunched up and I almost touched my own face to trace the lines where those wrinkles began. “I don’t know that it really matters. One of us had to come up with where to put the stone at some point. Maybe I just chose some random intersection of lines, the placement was determined by the quantum mechanical probabilities of our brain. It’s your move.”
Looking back down at the board I picked up a stone and placed it without really giving thought to why, “You didn’t come all this way for a tautology of chronological paradoxes, so why are you here.”
He quickly placed a stone cutting off one of my lines. “Now that’s a mystery. I had hoped by the time I had come to the point where I’m sitting on this side of the table I would know why I came here in the first place.”
I stopped half way to picking up a new stone, “so when you were sitting in my chair, the you that’s sitting in your chair never told you why he was here?”
Simon sighed, “The timeline of this event has progressed the same as when I was sitting in your chair. I have no further light to shed on the matter.” Placing his hand on the board he messed up the game we were playing, “Ashley is coming back, and it’s time for me to go.”
Ashley returned as Simon stood to leave, “Leaving so soon Simon?”
Turning toward her he touched her arm lightly, “I am afraid my time here was destined to be short. I enjoyed seeing you.” Looking down at me he shrugged, “I’m sorry Peter, I wish there was more I could say or do.”
I nodded, “I know. Will I see you again?”
He smiled, “obviously,” patted me on the shoulder and walked out.
Ashley regained her seat across from me, “Who was that?”
Turning behind me to look at the door I had just walked out of I said, “Just a guy that knew me when he was younger.” I looked back at her and then down at the board, “looks like our game is messed up, want to start a new one?”
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