The Time Travel Chronicles (30 page)

“I’d imagine the same things they did in the time when you were last walking around.”

Darren shook his head, a little bemused by that thought. “Somehow, I doubt that. But really, what will I do with my time?”

Before she could answer, the door to his room opened and the day shift physical therapist poked her head in. Darren groaned before she could even ask, her voice bright and cheery, “Ready?”

Genarae moved to help him stand, steadying him with a firm, but gentle arm around his waist. She smiled up at him and said, “Well, you asked.”

“Yeah, I get tortured by Smiley over there.”

Chapter Three – A Garden Stroll

Tugging the long hem of his shirt down over his thighs one last time, Darren looked in the mirror with an uneasy mixture of disdain and appreciation. He had figured Genarae’s loose cotton clothing was a fashion statement or some variation on the hospital clothing he wore, but he was wrong. After almost a full week of being awake, he was going to wear something remarkably similar in front of actual people.

For the most part, this was standard wear for everyone. The cut or color might vary—with less variation in men’s styles—but loose cotton trousers and a long cotton shirt with a short, vaguely Mandarin-type collar were the fashion of this century. It was cool and comfortable, but he still felt like he was walking around in his underwear or a pair of pajamas. The very idea that there was no place to purchase a suit made him feel a little twitchy.

He faced the bathroom door, took a fortifying breath, and walked back into the hospital room where Genarae waited. He spread his arms a little and asked, “How do I look?”

She gave a little clap of her hands and motioned for him to turn around. He complied, feeling foolish.

“Darren, you look just right!” she exclaimed and then got up to tug at his sleeves and test his shoulder seams. “It fits perfectly. And the color is exactly right. You were quite right to choose it.”

She had first come in with a small bunch of fabric swatches and suggested colors that looked more suited to an infant. Pale green or blue, soft yellow, even pink. His pained expression had made her hand over a much bigger bundle with a shake of her head. He’d selected a color as close to his favorite suit as he could find amongst the pastels and bright hues, dove gray.

Genarae held out an arm to steady him while he slipped on the same sort of soft shoes everyone wore. It made him feel unaccountably more dressed to have something other than the rubber-bottomed socks on his feet.

As they made their way from his wing of the hospital toward the center atrium and the walled garden beyond, Darren couldn’t help but notice how very small the hospital was. While neat and filled with machines he couldn’t even begin to understand, the number of rooms was small and the staff large in comparison.

“The future is healthier, it seems,” he remarked. At her quizzical look, he added, “This is a very small hospital compared to my time.”

“People were sick often?” she asked.

“I don’t know that I would say often. There are also accidents to consider, but when people got old they generally spent more time in hospitals as things went awry inside.”

Genarae tsked and shook her head. “Such a sad thing. To suffer like that, I mean. Well, as you say, we do have accidents, but other than working here and being born, I’ve never spent any time in a hospital. Most don’t, so we must be healthier. Of course, hospitals that cater to retirees probably have more facilities. We still get old, but it must be less difficult.”

Their conversation was interrupted as the door to the garden slid open and he motioned for her to precede him. As she passed, the alluring scent of her tickled at his nostrils. He couldn't place it, but it smelled clean, feminine, and entirely her. Her dark hair shone as the sunlight touched it.

Darren was used to beautiful women. They flocked to the rich like...well...like birds to scattered feed. He'd never been foolish enough to believe any of them loved him for who he was. Genarae wasn't like them. Younger than he, yes. Beautiful, certainly. But Darren was beginning to see something new in her, something he'd never seen before, beauty that shined out from an equally beautiful soul.

Maybe he was foolish after all. He smiled at the thought and followed her out the door.

Outside, the air was balmy and as soft as a first kiss, fragrant with blossoms and the smell of growing things. He knew it was May, but it was nothing like the place he had gone to enter the Life/Time facility. Tucked deep underground in the relatively uninhabited hills of Tennessee, there had been only the smallest of cleared spaces for customers to alight from their helicopters. There hadn’t even been a road to the facility. No access ensured absolute privacy.

“How did you make Tennessee flat?” he asked.

“Tennessee? We’re not in…oh…I see what you mean,” she said, motioning toward a bench under a twisted tree with paper-like blossoms of the brightest fuchsia. “We’re in Virginia, about a hundred miles or so from the coast in your time. The nearest city of any size when you last lived was called Emporia. Your container was transported here when it began to fail.” At his expression of confusion, she added, “So we could wake you, you see. No one lives where that facility is. It’s a protected zone.”

“Ah,” Darren responded. “Protecting the environment?” Never a tree hugger, even he had been aware of how desperately bad the situation had been in some areas.

She laughed in response. “In a way, I suppose. It’s more like contained. You were gone a long time. A lot has happened since then.”

“Tell me,” he said, settling back on the bench. He closed his eyes and turned his face toward the warm yellow sun.  The light against his skin made little prickling tickles. It felt divine.

“It would take weeks to tell you everything, but here’s the short version. Genetic engineering went unhappily berserk for a while. New species were created to combat invasive species. Others were created to aggressively protect natural environments from humans or unacceptable human behavior. Still others were created to combat
those
when they didn’t work out the way they were meant to.” She paused, waving a hand as if to indicate an endless cycle, and then continued. “Many places are still unsafe, like the area around the facility where you were housed.”

She finished with a shrug, as if that explained everything instead of creating more questions that begged for an answer. It didn’t matter for the moment. He had the rest of his life to figure it out.

“That’s too bad,” he said, remembering the beautiful country he’d flown over on his way to Life/Time. A blanket of green treetops, glints of gray or white in the places where small rivers and streams snaked through, the occasional cleared spot with a modest, steep-roofed house in the middle, the odd horse or two, running from the noise of the helicopter. All gone. Or maybe all there, just without houses and horses. “Can it be fixed?”

“We’re trying, but slowly and carefully. Every short-term fix creates more long-term problems,” she said with a firm, sure confidence.

Darren could only nod at that. It was true. Humanity always had been notoriously short-sighted, including him. Gain, gain, gain. Look at the bottom line and no further.

"They used to say that time heals all wounds when I was younger," he said.

Genarae looked up at him, a little crease between her brows as she thought about that. Finally, the crease faded and her lips turned up in a smile. "I like that. It's terrifically untrue, but lovely."

They got up and strolled through the garden for a while. Others meandered along the paths and greeted them politely, but they were greetings without any hint of longing for more. That was, in Darren’s experience, not normal.

No matter who they were or how good their life, the one commonality between all humans was longing. Walking down the street was like a parade of longing. For an expensive suit on another body, a gleaming gold watch on a wrist, the perfection of a face that only youth can bring, or maybe the excellent results of a cosmetic procedure on another older face. Longing was an essentially human trait…and one essential to humans.

The only exceptions were when it was the exact opposite of longing. Everyone looked at everyone else and found something to want or something they disdained.

But here, he saw nothing like that. People were kind, even warm. There was no envy in anyone’s eyes, but also no real passion. Darren leaned down to stroke the petals of a bright flower and wondered if these people of the future had finally found the solution to greed. What had they tweaked in their genes to accomplish it?

There was really only one way to find out if everyone was like this. If he wanted to find out if humans had become docile and compliant like the few he'd seen so far, he had to see more of this world. “When can we go to town?”

“Why not now?” she asked, smiling.

Darren changed direction without a second thought, guiding them back to the hospital. He said, “Perfect! I can miss my second session with Smiley if we hurry.”

* * *

After a short physical, during which he was declared both healthy and disease-free, Darren hurried from the exam room and looked up and down the hallway for any sign of Smiley, the physical therapist. The coast was clear, so Darren extended an arm, elbow crooked dramatically, and said, “Madame.”

Genarae laughed and tucked her arm around his, understanding this gesture now that they had done it a few times. In his time, such a gesture might be overly familiar, but it was really a defense here. While there was none of the possessive clutching he frequently saw between young people in his day, there was a shockingly easy level of affection between people here that included touching.

When he had woken and Genarae stroked his face, he had simply thought she was comforting him in a difficult situation, but that wasn’t so. People here often held hands when they fell into step together and touched each other with ease. When he could redirect that affection to his arm in a manner that felt familiar, it wasn’t so difficult to deal with. He had a feeling Genarae understood what he was doing.

They caught a type of railway, though it was silent and not nearly as big as those of old New York. They paid no fare and Darren watched the passing scenery with interest. Neat buildings, each exactly four stories tall, were set well back from the streets. Little courtyards and parking for bicycles—it was a surprise to see those—fronted each of the buildings.

They weren’t plain or utilitarian, but they were uniform in their design. Darren pointed out his window, eyebrows raised and asked, “Does everyone live in those?”

Genarae gave a half nod and said, “In this area, yes. But there are different sizes. Family sizes differ.”

Once they passed into the town center proper, Darren thought it looked like an amusement park version of a perfect town. Everything was neat, clean, and in an amazing state of repair. Nowhere was there any sense of disorder.

Plenty of people walked the streets, some with parcels or bags slung over their shoulders. Children danced along behind their parents, some of them licking what looked suspiciously like ice cream. At the sight of it, Darren stomach tightened with a sudden longing for the treat.

“Can we get some ice cream?” he asked before realizing he sounded like an eager child.

As he entered the sweet shop and was enveloped in the scent of ice cream and something fruity, he decided the future was perfectly fine the way it was.

Chapter Four - Transition

Darren felt more than ready to take his place in the world, even if it was as a retired person. Town was no longer quite so frightening after several visits and even a bit of shopping. There
was
a sort of accounting—which comforted Darren immensely.

The simple idea of pluses and minuses in a log somewhere, even if only in the most rudimentary sense, had almost made him sigh in relief at the store where he “purchased” a pair of sturdier walking shoes. Sustainment and luxury points were permitted each working person and a smaller allotment allowed to children living at home. It made him feel more secure. The idea of not being rich still rankled at him, there was no denying that, but it was a whole lot easier to accept when there was absolutely no one else richer than he.

An hour later, he plopped down into the chair in his new room and tried to contain his disappointment. Rather than an apartment—even a small one—in one of the neat buildings near town, he had moved only as far as the other end of the Hospital Complex to the Transition Complex.

This building, which Genarae assured him was as nice as any other, was for those in transition like himself. This he didn’t understand. Hadn’t he just completed the biggest transition anyone could complete? Hadn’t he just leapt through time almost three centuries and not only survived the waking, but completely accepted his new reality? What more did he need to transition into? Old age?

Genarae took the other chair at his little table and reached for his hand, but he drew it back, unwilling to let her try to ease things with touch like they did so easily here. Her face showed him a new expression then. Hurt.