Despite the
fact that none of it was voluntary, it felt good to be clean and
groomed. I was handed a pair of loose grey pants and a blue
T-shirt.
“Are you hungry?” the lead man asked before
locking me into a cell.
I nodded.
Several minutes later, I was brought a tray
of beef and vegetables with a short loaf of hard bread and a
pitcher of water. The food was good, the meat and vegetables of
much higher quality than I would have expected. Of course, I hadn’t
eaten anything like it in several weeks so it was possible that my
perception was skewed.
It was several hours before someone came for
me. The man who took me from the cell was different from the man
who had brought me there. He didn’t speak at all and I wasn’t sure
that he understood English. I was led back up the stairs and onto
the main level. We only passed the grand lobby, but I could see
that the sun had set and the true effect of the lighting of the
chandeliers. If it wasn’t a police station, it would have been
beautiful. I saw no other prisoners. In fact, it seemed that I was
the spectacle of the hour as all eyes turned to look at me. Once
again in an elevator, I was taken to the seventh floor where I was
marched through a group of cubicles, once again to be ogled by Arab
office workers, and deposited into an office.
The office was small, but had a nice view of
the street. The street lights were lit and there was moderate foot
traffic. But I couldn’t really look at it for very long without
being overcome by this terrible sense of loneliness. I felt so far
away from home, years and years from everything I had known. The
clock on the desk read 7:22.
The door behind me opened and a man entered
the room. He was a young man, probably five or six years younger
than I was, and he wore an expensive black suit with tiny little
pinstripes. He was carrying my wallet, my phone, and my notebook.
His name was Samud.
“You have not kept up your journal,” he said
to me.
“I lost bits of time,” I explained while
explaining nothing.
He nodded skeptically. “Five years is a large
bit to lose.”
I didn’t react. It was not surprising. Five
years. Jennie was five years gone.
“Please sit.” Samud offered me the chair
opposite the window and took his own behind the desk. I took the
seat, my heart growing cold.
“I apologize for taking so long to see you,
but it was very difficult tracing you. Your identity matches the
identity of a man who was reported missing more than six years ago.
You were last seen at your place of employment…”
“K-mart,” I said sadly.
“Yes,” he said both surprised and delighted
at my knowing that. “This matches an entry in your journal. I am
also familiar with the man Warren Li that you mention in later
entries. Quite a hero among your people. He brought over one
thousand refugees out of Arab occupied territory and into what
remains of the United States before he was killed.”
And just like that I started to cry. My head
dropped into my hands and the tears came. I don’t suppose I cared
so much about Li, but hearing that he had died was too much for me.
The faces of all of the people I had seen in that short time
flashed before my eyes. The Tiris, the wispy man, the gang man who
Jennie had…
Jennie.
Jennie.
Jennie.
Samud’s hand fell on my shoulder and he
shoved a soft tissue into my hands. “Please, my friend. No one here
will harm you.”
I looked up at him, struggling to regain my
composure. It seemed a very long time since I had been afraid for
myself.
“It’s 2014?” I asked.
He nodded. “I would normally disbelieve the
assertions made in your journal. This time skipping power…”
“It’s not a power ,” I corrected. “It’s
something that happens to me, not something that I do.”
“Of course,” he acquiesced. “However, the
circumstantial evidence would seem to support you.”
I sensed a trap. “What evidence?”
“The annexation of North America’s north east
has been
fact that none of it was voluntary, it felt good to be clean and
groomed. I was handed a pair of loose grey pants and a blue
T-shirt.
“Are you hungry?” the lead man asked before
locking me into a cell.
I nodded.
Several minutes later, I was brought a tray
of beef and vegetables with a short loaf of hard bread and a
pitcher of water. The food was good, the meat and vegetables of
much higher quality than I would have expected. Of course, I hadn’t
eaten anything like it in several weeks so it was possible that my
perception was skewed.
It was several hours before someone came for
me. The man who took me from the cell was different from the man
who had brought me there. He didn’t speak at all and I wasn’t sure
that he understood English. I was led back up the stairs and onto
the main level. We only passed the grand lobby, but I could see
that the sun had set and the true effect of the lighting of the
chandeliers. If it wasn’t a police station, it would have been
beautiful. I saw no other prisoners. In fact, it seemed that I was
the spectacle of the hour as all eyes turned to look at me. Once
again in an elevator, I was taken to the seventh floor where I was
marched through a group of cubicles, once again to be ogled by Arab
office workers, and deposited into an office.
The office was small, but had a nice view of
the street. The street lights were lit and there was moderate foot
traffic. But I couldn’t really look at it for very long without
being overcome by this terrible sense of loneliness. I felt so far
away from home, years and years from everything I had known. The
clock on the desk read 7:22.
The door behind me opened and a man entered
the room. He was a young man, probably five or six years younger
than I was, and he wore an expensive black suit with tiny little
pinstripes. He was carrying my wallet, my phone, and my notebook.
His name was Samud.
“You have not kept up your journal,” he said
to me.
“I lost bits of time,” I explained while
explaining nothing.
He nodded skeptically. “Five years is a large
bit to lose.”
I didn’t react. It was not surprising. Five
years. Jennie was five years gone.
“Please sit.” Samud offered me the chair
opposite the window and took his own behind the desk. I took the
seat, my heart growing cold.
“I apologize for taking so long to see you,
but it was very difficult tracing you. Your identity matches the
identity of a man who was reported missing more than six years ago.
You were last seen at your place of employment…”
“K-mart,” I said sadly.
“Yes,” he said both surprised and delighted
at my knowing that. “This matches an entry in your journal. I am
also familiar with the man Warren Li that you mention in later
entries. Quite a hero among your people. He brought over one
thousand refugees out of Arab occupied territory and into what
remains of the United States before he was killed.”
And just like that I started to cry. My head
dropped into my hands and the tears came. I don’t suppose I cared
so much about Li, but hearing that he had died was too much for me.
The faces of all of the people I had seen in that short time
flashed before my eyes. The Tiris, the wispy man, the gang man who
Jennie had…
Jennie.
Jennie.
Jennie.
Samud’s hand fell on my shoulder and he
shoved a soft tissue into my hands. “Please, my friend. No one here
will harm you.”
I looked up at him, struggling to regain my
composure. It seemed a very long time since I had been afraid for
myself.
“It’s 2014?” I asked.
He nodded. “I would normally disbelieve the
assertions made in your journal. This time skipping power…”
“It’s not a power ,” I corrected. “It’s
something that happens to me, not something that I do.”
“Of course,” he acquiesced. “However, the
circumstantial evidence would seem to support you.”
I sensed a trap. “What evidence?”
“The annexation of North America’s north east
has been
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