Part 10 (1/2)
Nick opens the door and steps back, saying nothing. John steps in through the door. And Sean turns to greet him.
His Sean. Five years old when this long, long day began. Now he must be almost sixty, nearly twenty years older than John himself. He's wearing the same round, wire-frame gla.s.ses. Aside from the gray hair and a bit of Yoko in the eyes, like a ghost, it's like looking in a mirror. Sean. Five years old when this long, long day began. Now he must be almost sixty, nearly twenty years older than John himself. He's wearing the same round, wire-frame gla.s.ses. Aside from the gray hair and a bit of Yoko in the eyes, like a ghost, it's like looking in a mirror.
”Hi, Dad,” he says.
The tears come, swift and unstoppable. Yielding to them, John goes, at last, to his son.
It's Just a Matter of Time James M. Ward
James M. Ward on James M. Ward: Obviously, he was born, and not quite as obviously, he has lived a pleasantly long time. He married his high school sweetheart, and she's put up with him for almost forty years. He has three unusually charming sons: Breck, James, and Theon. They in turn have given him five startlingly charming grandchildren: Keely, Miriam, Sophia, Preston, and Teagan. In that same stretch of time he managed to write the first science fiction role-playing game, Metamorphosis Alpha Metamorphosis Alpha; he worked for TSR and did lots of Dungeon & Dragons Dungeon & Dragons and and After Dungeon & Dragons After Dungeon & Dragons things; and designed the best-selling things; and designed the best-selling Spellfire Spellfire and and Dragon Ball Z Dragon Ball Z collectable card games. collectable card games.He has written all manner of things that he is unusually proud of-the Dragon Lairds board game, the novel Halcyon Blithe, Mids.h.i.+pwizard Halcyon Blithe, Mids.h.i.+pwizard, the My Precious Present card game, and the role-playing game supplement Of G.o.ds & Monsters Of G.o.ds & Monsters. He's working with a computer company to produce the Panzer General board game.He reads a lot, greatly enjoys fencing with a rapier when he gets the chance, and constantly gets beat in board games with friends in the area. Currently, he is the managing editor for Troll Lords' Crusader Crusader magazine, and the go-to guy when his sons need a babysitter. magazine, and the go-to guy when his sons need a babysitter.
Jason Nips was possibly the richest man in the world. He'd stopped counting his money a long time ago.
He currently stood in line waiting for his turn into the temporal field like the five other rich tourists. Mr. Nips was the owner of Refresh, a corporation responsible for keeping a youthful look on the faces and hands of the rich. Standing five- foot-eight, Jason didn't look a day over sixty. He was far older, but the products from his company kept him looking younger and fitter than almost any other man his age in the world.
What's the sense of owning one of the largest companies in the world if you couldn't take advantage of it?
Zap!
Another tourist walked into the field dressed as a Roman soldier, and the line grew shorter. In front of him stood a lovely woman in Renaissance garb, a man in some sort of Raj costume from India's past, and a woman in a short Greek tunic with a bow and quiver on her back and a bronze helm on her head. Jason's suit was a dull black, typical of the style of dress in the 1880s, and he held a worn leather satchel at his side. His heart raced in his excitement, but his face never showed it.
Zap! Zap! Zap!
The glowing neon sign said TIMESHARES Incorporated above the desk. The badge on the man's chest read TIME TECH GLEN JOHNSON LEVEL 3 TECH.
”Your forms and birth certificate please,” the Time Tech asked, his hand out.
Jason handed over the prepared materials.
The tech read over the information.
”Mr. Nips, I'm a huge fan of your company. My parents won one of your public lotteries and got treatments free. Would you mind giving me your autograph?”
”Sure, my boy, and thank you for asking.”
”Wow, a real paper birth certificate from 1910,” the tech marveled. ”We don't get many of these. Your papers say you want to go back to your grandfather's time in 1887.”
Jason looked down at his birth certificate. The perfect forgery had cost him a cool million dollars. In his mind, it was worth every penny. ”Yes. I want to refresh my memories of the place. I didn't get the chance to say good-bye to my grandfather before he died.”
”I suggest you don't talk too much to your grandfather. We don't want to risk Temporal Divarication, do we? As you know from your three previous briefings, Temporal Divarication happens when you deal with the immediate relatives of your past. We've found that in some instances just touching your parents or yourself can force a readjustment in the timeline. I think it was Mike Gray and his time studies that . . .”
”I've studied time travel with the designers of your unit. They've given me some good advice. I think I'll be all right. Thank you for your concern.”
”I'm just doing my job,” the tech said, obviously not liking being cut off from his normal lecture. ”Show me your remote and you can go right through.”
Jason took the device out of his pocket.
”Excellent. Just press that when you are ready to come back. If you don't press it, in thirty days you will come back automatically. Enjoy your stay.”
”Thank you.”
The one- hundred-and-twenty-five-year-old posing as a ninety-five-year-old walked into the temporal field and into his own history, breaking the number one rule of the Timeshares Company.
He appeared on the edge of Red Gulch, South Dakota. His mouth tasted of vile vinegar and the place stank to high heaven. He popped an illegal breath mint in his mouth, but he could do nothing about the smell. Cow dung mingled on the street with horse and pig dung as the animals walked about, ignored by the townsfolk. Nips hadn't remembered the stink of his hometown. He took out a piece of paper and read over his notes.
”One, I have to meet myself and talk about our grandfather. Two, I have to attend the ice cream social and get myself to buy Annetta Falkensturm's lunch box. Three, we have to use our inheritance to buy the oil land. Four, we have to save the life of our brother from the Yancy Gang.”
Jason looked up from his notes and his eyes beheld a vision. Annetta Falkensturm and her mother just walked out of Tuttle's Grocery. She was a G.o.ddess in black and white. Her dress perfectly outlined her amazing hourgla.s.s figure. She had full b.r.e.a.s.t.s, a wasp waist, and wide hips. She swayed slowly down the boardwalk with her eyes modestly downcast. Jason thought she was prettier than any movie star. Her skin was white under her parasol, and there wasn't a blemish anywhere. She had to be the loveliest woman in the whole world. He had been a fool to not buy her lunch box at the social those many years ago. His heart ached at the sight of her, and he chastised himself for never pursuing her. He wouldn't be making the mistake of not buying her lunch box this time.
Struggling to tear his eyes off the girl, he moved to Hal's blacksmith shop. He had worked there far too many hours, and that would never happen this time around. As he entered the shop, the old fool Hal walked up to him, wiping his soot-covered hands with an even more soot-covered rag. ”What can I do ya fer, old timer?”
Hal stood five foot and was as wide as he was tall. His hair was sticking out in all directions and he had a soot-dusted beard. His overalls hadn't seen a was.h.i.+ng in a long, long time.
”I'm after a new horse with all its tack,” Jason said. ”I'm told you give fair prices. I want to buy the best you have.”
”Well, we can take care of that right away. Jason! You come on a running with Thunder.”
Jason saw his younger self pop out of a stall with a pitchfork of dirty straw. He dropped the fork and ran for the back of the barn. In minutes, he brought out a large stallion.
”This horse is the best I've got,” Hal said. ”It's a stallion, but calm as you please.”
”What are you asking for it, new tack, and a rented stall for seven days?”
”I like the way you deal, mister,” Hal said. ”I'm asking one hundred and ten for the lot.”
”I'll give you six twenty-dollar gold pieces if young Jason here can get some free time to show me around the town in the next couple of days.”
The younger version of Jason looked up, surprised.
The greedy Hal jumped at the chance. ”It's a deal!”
The older Jason reached into his bag and took out the very authentic gold pieces.
”Jason, my lad,” he told the boy, ”I'm your cousin, Jason Walch, of the Virginia Walches. So you and me share the same name. I was a good friend to your grandfather, Big Mark Nips. I'm sorry I wasn't here for his burial last month. Saddle up my new horse and take me to the best hotel Red Gulch has to offer.”
”You knew Grandpa Mark?” young Jason asked, wide-eyed with surprise. ”That's great. Sure I'll get right to the saddling. The good hotel is a mile down the road, next to Getchil's Dry Goods Store.”
They talked as they slowly rode to the hotel. The younger Jason was unusually ignorant, and that didn't please the older version. They talked about Grandpa Mark.
The younger Jason was all smiles.
When they got to the hotel, people were sniffing at the younger Jason's clothes.
”What's there to do in this little town?” the older version asked.
”There is the ice cream social this evening at sunset. I didn't plan on going this year, but I sure do like the taste of ice cream.”
”Of course you do, and of course you and I are going. Get into Getchil's Store and get yourself some new clothes for the social. I'm going to get a room in this here hotel. When you walk out of that place, I want to see you looking like a New York dandy.” He pa.s.sed two twenty-dollar gold pieces to his younger self and was careful not to touch the boy's flesh.