Rome, If You Want To

Originally published in Surprising Stories, May 2004

#

Thom Burns looked out his office window.  He could see the nearby Dallas skyline wavering in the vicious heat.  He could feel the heat radiating off the heavy blue tinting.

He could hear the air conditioning straining.  “Goddamn, maybe this summer really is the beginning,” he thought.

It was 1980, the year before he was born, when Dallas saw its previous record set.  It was over 100 degrees for 40 days straight, and that was when Dallas saw its all-time high--113 degrees.

But nobody was talking about global warning then.  Now, after 30 years, Thom knew, that record was about to be broken.

The dark navy stretch Lincoln which was Burns Limo sat outside soaking up the rays.  A few more years in this sun, he thought, and she’ll be baby blue, dammit.

He couldn’t even afford a garage or car port.  It took all his money when he came back from Operation Iranian Liberation to buy the ride and a small manufactured building.

Burns Limousine Service sat in a small rented corner of a strip shopping mall on Industrial Ave. across the highway from the American Airlines Center.  They still called it that even though the airline was long gone.

“No business today,” he thought. “I can just stand here all day and play pocket pool for all the damn good it’ll do me.”

It was the middle of June and the end-of-the-school-year rush was over.  Lots of times he felt like little more than a glorified pimp.  It took him hours each day during the prom season to clean up the interior of the limo.  The teenagers splattered drugs, booze and bodily fluids until it looked like the inside of an office microwave.

He couldn’t afford any help or a receptionist  “I guess I can use the break,” he rationalized..

He had a B-52s CD playing softly in the background.  He liked the upbeat music; it reminded him of when he was young--and he thought he might amount to something when he grew up.

He went to sit back behind his desk and stopped to turn up the CD player so he could better hear it over the roaring AC unit hanging in the back wall.  Instead, he lowered the volume as he heard the bells on the door jangle.

He turned to see a couple of young ladies, smiling and well-dressed.  “Oh, what now?” he thought.  He hadn’t heard anybody pull up.

“Can I help you ladies?”

Both were tall, but the one with auburn hair was taller than her blonde companion.

“We’re sightseeing in Texas and visiting Dallas,” she said.  “We wanted to rent a limousine for a day tour.”

Despite looking as if she was in her early 20s, her speech had the cadence of a middle-aged woman and she spoke very precisely.

“Where y’all from?” he said slathering on a Texas drawl..

“We’re visiting from Luxembourg,” said the blonde.

“Yeah, well, shit, I had to ask,” thought Thom.

“Welcome to Dallas,” he said. “Do you have anything special in mind?”

“We thought we’d rely on you,” said the auburn-haired one.  “We like to get off the beaten path.”

“Well, I’ve lived here all my life,” he said. “We can start downtown and work our way around.  I’ll go over our rates.”

“Oh, don’t bother,” said the blonde.  “We are well-to-do,” she enunciated precisely.  She pulled a bundle of hundreds from her small handbag.  “Will this cover it for a start?”

“Crap, yes,” he blurted out without thinking.  “You two ain’t into anything illegal or kinky, are you?”

They both laughed loudly.  “No, sir, not at all,” said the auburn-haired one.  “We’re just rich.”

“Nice to know somebody’s doing well these days,” he thought.  “Then again, you’re not Americans.”

“Well, then, can I know you two little rich girls’ names”? he said.

The blonde held out he hand in a well-bred manner. “You can call me Annie.  Annie Gerson.”

Her tall companion pumped his hand.  “You can call me Julie.  My name’s Juliana, Juliana Anselmo.”

Thom grabbed a remote control device and stuck his hand out the door.  It was like sticking it into a convention oven.  He started the limo and punched the remote AC start.

He turned and faced the young ladies, smiling.  “That way it will be cool when we get in,” he said.  “Meanwhile we need a little paperwork.”

“Will you be driving us yourself?” asked Julie.

“This is a mom  and pop operation, without mom,” said Thom.  “I’m one of those hard-working American entrepreneurs you hear so much about.”

Julie smiled, but a strange sort of sad look flitted across Annie’s face.

After reviewing some very neat IDs and filling out paperwork, he pulled on his jacket and plopped on a cap. When he turned around he saw the pair was looking at the muted local Weather Channel on the television that sat on top a filing cabinet in the corner.

“New Dallas Record Set,” the scroll said. “Temp hits 114 as 11:10 a.m.”

He would have cursed but he didn’t want to offend his customers.  “The limousine is nice and cool,” he said. “You’ll be very comfortable.”

“No doubt, Mr. Burns,” said Julie.  “We’re sure a Texan knows how to deal with the heat.”

#

The first place they wanted to visit was the first place everyone visits--Dealey Plaza.  He drove them slowly down Commerce Street and then back around the triple overpass and into the parking lot that overlooks the grassy knoll.

There they got out and looked over the tight white fence where the second gunman supposedly drew his aim.  Thom hung back a bit; their demeanor was reverential, and they didn’t pull out any cameras.

It was a short walk in the searing heat to the County Office Building, the former School Book Depository.  Thom had been through the Sixth Floor Museum many times, but his clients were hushed and downcast at every exhibit. Sometimes Annie seemed on the verge of tears.

It was almost past lunchtime when they emerged.  “You ladies said you wanted some local color while you’re here,” he said.  “Does that include lunch?”

It was an old trick, but it always worked on out-of-towners.  He took them up Central Expressway to Northwest Highway.  The limo barely fit under the awning of Keller’s Drive-In.

He cranked the AC up as high as possible and Julie and Annie giggled as the waitress hung the tables off their windows and plopped down two cheeseburger baskets with onion rings and a couple of ice cold beers.  Thom just had a beer and a chili dog and tipped the waitress very well.

“Any suggestions as to what you would like to visit next?” Thom asked as the tables were being cleared off and taken away.

“We have seen someplace sad and then someplace fun.” Annie leaned forward.  What about someplace beautiful?”

“I have just the place.”

He winced as they drove down Garland Road past a bank that flashed the time and the temperature. It was almost two and the temperature was already 116.

It was a struggle to walk the short distance from the Dallas Arboretum parking lot to the DeGolyer Mansion.  Julie and Annie paused briefly to admire the beautiful blooms that had yet to wilt under the onslaught of the Dallas summer.

Inside, the pair walked slowly as they admired the art and décor of the mansion which had been the home of the respectable family whose donation was at the core of the Arboretum.

Thom hung back a bit. At one point, he saw Annie put her hand to her mouth in front of a painting. The portrait showed a young man in a WWII Army Air Force uniform.

He thought he heard her say to Julie that she knew the man--but that was impossible, given the obvious age of the portrait. Besides, the last heir of the DeGolyers died in WWII.

“That was a good choice, Mr. Burns,” said Julie back in the limo. “ The flowers and the mansion are both very beautiful.  But from now on, we stay in the car.”

“Well, then again, any further requests?” he asked cheerfully.

Annie sat back up against the back seat while Julie sat up straight.  “We want to see your slaloms.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Julie, we don’t ever have winter sports in Dallas.  You can’t mean like snow skiing, do you?”

“No, I mean where your poor people live.”

“Ah-ah, now we get to the pervy part,” though Thom. “I guess to rich people slums must be kinky.”

“I got you,” he said. “We’ll be in Mexico in 30 minutes.”  Both Julie and Annie looked puzzled.

#

Thom went straight down Singleton Blvd.  His clients were plastered up against opposite windows, making alternating sounds of amazement and sympathy.  The ramshackle homes and dilapidated shops, with jalopies and low riders in front and in between, were within sight of the towers of downtown Dallas--but really a world away: The Third World.

Thom had refrained from any commentary, but he felt compelled to say something now. “This is where the people who do all the work, the dirty work, in Dallas live.  Folks like to run down the Mexicans, but honest to God, they need them.”

He thought about himself as a white person and added, “We need them.”

“This is really so sad,” muttered Annie.

“You don’t have slums in, uh, Luxembourg?”

Luxembourg?  Oh, no, there’s nothing like this where we come from,” said Annie.

Thom turned the limo around before they entered Grand Prairie and headed back towards the city. “I’m open again for suggestions, ladies,” he said.  “We aim to please.”

Julie leaned forward.  “We want to see something really, ahh, unique.”

Thom set his jaw.  “You want we should go up Harry Hines Blvd. into the Red Light district?”

Julie smiled a thin smile.  “Not quite. We have sex in Luxembourg, too.  No, I want to see what you call a housing addition.”

Now Thom was puzzled.  “I don’t quite get you?”

“You know, hundreds of houses all the same, long streets, little yards, packed together.” She turned to her companion.  “What am I trying to say?”

Annie piped up. “You know, what you call ticky-tack.”

“Snobs,” thought Thom. “Well, whatever floats your boat.”

“I know just the place,” he said. “Ladies, we’re heading to suburbia.”

#

The real estate developments in southwest Dallas sprawled across invisible city boundaries. The names were marketing ploys--The Woods, Mountain Creek, High Pointe--but it was all one big cancer.

Julie and Annie seemed just as appalled--if not more so--by this. “It’s so sad, the sameness and dullness,” said Annie. “I can’t believe people live out here.  They must think they have a life.”

Julie saw the expression on Thom’s face.  “I’m sorry, if we offend you.”

“Oh, heck, don’t worry.  I live in a condo on Abrams Road.  I don’t live out here.”

They stopped at the Southwest Center Mall.  The pair seemed flummoxed at the shops and noise. “They probably don’t have all this shit in Luxemburgie,” thought Tom.

They did do a little shopping.  Julie bought a sack of music CDs, while Annie found a gold necklace with an iridescent crystal.  Julie held her sack up as they left the mall. “Loot for Luxembourg!” she laughed.

The shadows were beginning to lengthen as they got back in the limo. “The temperature’s finally beginning to drop,” said Thom in the car.  “I wonder what it got up to?”

As they drove back into Dallas, Thom turned the radio on. The new record set had been at 117 degrees.

#

The culmination of the day was dinner at Sonny Bryan’s on Inwood Road--the best barbecue place in the city, if not the world, Thom declaimed.  Julie and Annie took a little time getting into the spirit of things, but after they noticed how the other patrons dealt with the ribs, they dug in and had a good old time.

“Do you ladies want to see some night life?” Thom asked as the table was cleared.

They looked at each other, and Julie spoke.  “Perhaps another day.  We have to be getting back.”

“Where are you ladies staying.  Obviously I’ll drop you off.”

Julie looked puzzled for a second.  “Oh, we’ve arranged to be picked up at your business.”

Thom thought that was strange.  “Well, the customer’s always right.”

When they got back to his office, Julie said, “I have to make a phone call.  I’m going to wait outside where the reception’s better.”

Annie came inside and paid in cash after Thom tallied up everything, and threw in a good 25% extra.  “It’s been a pleasure,” he said. “Come back tomorrow, or whenever.”

Annie looked around.  “Umm, where’s the facilities?”

“The bathroom?  Right through that door.”

Thom turned on the CD player again and the B-52s started playing again.  He walked behind the window. He saw Julie standing there, talking on a cell phone hanging off her ear, the mouthpiece in front of her mouth.  He gave her a thumbs up.

She didn’t react, and he realized the security light out front was so much brighter than the indoor light that, combined with the tinting, she couldn’t see him.

After a little more talking and a few nods, the conversation was obviously over.  Julie pushed the mouthpiece sideways. It retracted into the piece that hung on her ear.

Then it dropped onto her shoulder like a spider.  The “cellphone” grew little black legs and ran down Julie’s arm.  She opened her handbag and it jumped in.

Thom staggered a few steps backward.  He heard a gasp and turned to see Annie behind him. “Oh, my God, you shouldn’t have seen that.”

She ran to the door.  “Julie!” she hissed, nodding towards the blue expanse.  “This is a window!”

Julie ran in and saw Thom’s face.  “I’m sorry, we need to leave.”  She spun around with Annie right behind.

Thom grabbed a remote off his desk. The deadbolt dropped in the door as Annie hit it.  She shook the door a few times until she realized what had happened.

“An anti-robbery device,” Thom said as calmly as he could.

The pair turned and faced him.  They looked at each other, and then Julie spoke.

“Are you going to hold us for ransom?”

“Should I?  If you’re aliens, can’t you bust out?”

Annie actually gave a little giggle.  Julie snorted. “We’re not aliens.  We’re just as human as you are.”

“OK, time travelers, then?”

Annie seemed somehow more relaxed. “There’s no such thing as time travel.”

“Well, what was that crawling down your arm?”

“A specialized communications unit in the form of a genetic construct,” said Julie.

“Wow, they must really be up to date in Luxembourg.”

Annie smiled.  “We’re not from Luxembourg.  We live here in Dallas.”

“Well, then, I’ll give you a lift home.”

“Not unless your limousine can cross dimensions as well as traffic,” Julie said curtly.

Thom clicked the remote and the door unlocked.  “I appreciate your coming clean with me.  You’re free to go, if you want.  You see, I’m not a thug.  I really would, however,” he said plopping into his chair, “love to hear your story.  But I can’t force you.”

Julie looked at Annie, who shrugged.  “Why not,” said Annie.  “Nobody would believe you, anyway.”

“I’m sure that’s true.”

“The kind of cross-dimensional travel that we’re doing is, well, kind of looked down on, where we come from,” said Annie. “They call us ‘Bummer Slummers’.”

“Our timeline had much more technological development in the 20^th century than yours,” she continued.  “One thing we have learned is that time travel is impossible.  Instead, there was the discovery and perfection of dimensional travel.”

“If that’s true, isn’t there some kind of rule against scooting around the way you do?” asked Thom.  “I mean, to avoid screwing up history?”

“Well, ordinarily, yes,” said Julie. “But you see, this timeline is considered fair game.  It could hardly be screwed up more than it is.”

Annie looked apologetic.  “I’m sorry Mr. Burns, but this timeline is close to ours, but it went seriously wrong in the last century.  t’s our guilty pleasure to see what our world managed to avoid.”

“Can you enlighten me as to went wrong?”

Julie knitted her brows. “Actually, the divergence is less than a 100 years back.  There is no difference up until the end of World War I, or as we call it, the Great War. For us, it really was the War to End All Wars.”

“Unfortunately for this timeline, after that war, a secretive group of industrialists who made a fortune from the war decided they’d insure their future profits,” Julie continued, “by managing wars and manipulating economies .

“The first thing they did was to take control of the American government behind the scenes, by eliminating key national leaders.  They poisoned both Theodore Roosevelt and Woodrow Wilson in 1919.  Roosevelt died and Wilson suffered a massive stroke.”

“In your world, the U.S. never joined the League of Nations,” said Annie. “Which is what these industrialists wanted, so that there would be no potential challenge to their control.  They heated the economy up in the 1920s, then crashed it and started the process of industrial consolidation.”

“Yes, and while everyone was suffering, the German accomplices pushed a psychopath to power who was sure to get Germany agitated enough to launch another world war,” Annie said.  “You really don’t think a crackpot like Hitler did it all himself, do you?”

“In our timeline, Wilson got the votes to join the League of Nations, but Roosevelt came back to win the White House in 1920.  e was unhappy that the U.S. had joined the League, but he couldn’t go back on it, so he made it work.

“With his energy and attitude he made the league work. Yes, he had to break the two-term tradition to do it, but it was worth it,” she continued. “We never had a Great Depression, a second great war, or that stalemate you called a Cold War.”

“Oh, heck, I forgot about that,” snorted Julie.  “Those industrialists ran than Communist scam for years. You poor people.  When that ramshackle mess finally ran out of steam, they began putting together wars one at a time like ad campaigns.  Your military-industrial complex makes up wars like ad campaigns now. Desert Storm, Iraqi Freedom, Iranian Liberation--neat little media packages.”

“Instead of fighting other nations overseas, or pitting class against class at home, our 20^th Century America turned its fight to science and technology,” said Annie.  “You landed on the moon in 1969. For us, that’s when he had our first lunar colony.

“You’re right, ordinarily this kind of excursion is prohibited,”  said Julie. “But for a large, and I mean large, fee, the DOD, Department of Dimensionality, takes money from fools like us to help defray their costs so we can visit this timeline.”

“Wait a minute, if there’s no time travel involved,” asked Thom, “why did Annie here recognize the young man in the Air Force uniform at the DeGolyer Mansion?”

Annie rocked her head back and forth as Julie raised an eyebrow.  “Hmm, you know, maybe I underestimated you.”

“There’s a simple explanation, actually,” she continued. “How old do you think we are?”

“Umm, early to mid-20s?”

“I’m 86 and Annie here is 79.”

“Jeez, you’re two old ladies on vacation!”

 “You’d be amazed at what not eating adulterated food and getting occasional telomere treatments can do for you,” said Annie.

“Even the people in the timeline where Joe McCarthy was used to set up a fascist dictatorship aren’t as bad off as your people here,” said Julie. “Because the nationalist regime didn’t allow all its jobs to be shipped overseas. Plus the oppression there is obvious and heavy-handed.  You are all brainwashed and clueless in this timeline.”

“Thanks a lot.  OK, why me and why now?”

Julie looked at Annie.  “Be nice,” she hissed.

“Don’t be,” Thom said.  “Tell me the truth.  ou’ve come this far.”

“We picked you because you are isolated and meaningless.  We picked now because, well…”

Thom saw she was glancing over at the muted TV with the Weather Channel still on.

“Oh, jeez, this is the beginning!”

“I’m sorry.  Our projections say in a few years your Dallas will probably be uninhabitable.  We just wanted to see what Global Warming would be like.”

Julie looked down.  “I’m sorry.  We have to go now.”

They began to turn away.

“Please tell me…”

Annie stopped and turned around.  Julie tried to nudge her out the door, but she waved her off.

“Tell you what, Thom?”

“About your world.  Have you visited others, too? Please tell me.”  And for the first time that whole long damn day, Thom Burns’ façade cracked.

“Please?”

Annie leaned on his desk.  “Thom, there are beautiful places out there, worlds where humans never split into three races, worlds where Atlantis never sank beneath the waves, worlds where the laws of magic were uncovered instead of science.  Many wonderful worlds.”

“In one timeline, Athens defeated Sparta and the industrial revolution happened before Christ.  Now, in that timeline, they’re building rings around stars.  We once booked a vacation to Sirius on the Starship Theodora.”

“If you’re into pomp and circumstance, there’s a timeline where Rome never fell and the Eagle Standard rises over Trinity, which is what Dallas is called,” said Julie.

They realized Thom looked very sad.  “I think we’ve done enough damage,” Annie said softly.  They turned to leave.

Thom raised his voice to be heard above the B-52s CD. It broke.

“Did I do a good job today?”

Annie had her hand on the door.  She looked at Julie. “Thom, you were the best tour guide we’ve ever had.  I mean it.  That’s why we feel bad for you.”

She pushed the door open.  Julie was right behind her.

He raised his voice, pleading.  “Can I keep the job?”

Julie turned around and Annie followed her back in.

“That’s a very tempting offer, Thom,” Julie said. “Would you really come work for us permanently?”

“We can even take the limo. It’s paid for.”

Annie raised her eyebrows.  “Hey, you know, that thing can pass for a customized vehicle in a bunch of timelines.”

“You can never come back.  We’ll be paying an enormous fine because of you,” Julie said.

“I really don’t have anyone I care about, and I don’t have any close family.  Nobody will miss me.  Besides, I’d be rather be anywhere than here watching Dallas dry up and blow away.”

Annie suddenly frowned.  “Juliana, wouldn’t we have a doppelganger problem?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you I noticed something when I was researching this trip.  There is no Thom Burns in our Dallas, or any other of the 1,142 immediately adjacent timelines, for that matter.”

“Sorry Tom, although this timeline sucks, it’s the only one you exist in.  Your grandfather met your grandmother while he was stationed in England during World War II.”

“OK, then, no holdups,” he said hopefully.  “Let’s go.”

Julie looked at Annie and set her jaw.  “You’re right. Let’s go.”

She opened her handbag and reached into it.  The “cellphone” ran up her arm like a ferret, hung off her ear and swung its “tail” out.

“Cheddar, it’s time. Yes, open the gate, and maximum aperture. W e’ll be taking a vehicle through.”

Just to show off, Julie held her handbag out in front of her.  The “cellphone” leaped in like a seal.

“Who’s Cheddar?”

“Oh, that’s our mook.  He’s the personification of our AI.  You have to call it something.”

As they stepped out into the steaming early evening air, Thom automatically turned to lock the door.  “Oh shit, who cares!”  He threw the office keys through the door. They hit the CD player in the corner and it stopped.

“Do you have the B-52s in your Dallas?”

“My goodness, funny that you mention that.  We went to their concert just a few weeks ago,” said Annie. “They never broke up.”

“But they have a different name,” corrected Julie. “Since we never had a World War II, we never had a bomber called the B-52.  In our world, they’re called the Flaming Scorpion Bowlers.”

Thom threw back his head and laughed.  “Oh, that is so in keeping with them!  Named after a goofy Chinese restaurant drink!”

Once inside the limo, Thom turned around.  “Well, ladies, where to now?”

“Just pull onto Reunion Blvd.  You’ll see it.” Said Julie.

He gave a little cry when he realized all the traffic and motion had stopped around him.

“Don’t worry, we need a slight temporal stasis so people don’t see us go through the gate,” said Annie.  “Go straight ahead,”

At first he thought he saw a gap in the skyline, but then he realized there was a rectangular star field directly ahead in the roadway.  He slowly braked.

“Are you sure about this?” Julie asked.

“Yeah, I am,” he said quietly.

Annie leaned over the seat and smiled at him.  “Think about where you want to go next.  There’s a whole wide multiverse out there.”

Thom thought.  “For grins, how about that eternal Rome?  Like you said, it must be impressive.”

“Hey, big fella, no problem,” she said.  “We can go to Rome, if you want to.”

Thom set both hands on the steering wheel and hit the gas.  “Goodbye, Big D,” he said.

The stars came towards him.  “What was it that kid said?” he thought.  Oh yeah.”

“Second star to the right, and straight on ‘til morning.”

-The End -

The Girl Who Couldn't Fly

Originally published in "Unconventional Fantasy: A Celebration of Forty Years of the World Fantasy Convention", Nov. 6-9, 2014 - Washington, D.C.

---

The sound of wood chippers and chainsaws intermingled with the chatter of the cleanup volunteers.  The school secretary, Mrs. Owen, looked at Marianne with concern.
“Are you sure you can do this?” she asked.
"I'm approved to do light chores," she said.  "I'm almost fully recovered."
"Still, at your age, to have a heart attack…" said the teacher
"I was eight when I had rheumatic fever," said the teenager.  "It was nine years before I had my first heart-related incident.”
Mrs. Owen looked around the city park.  "Well, we need every hand possible," she said.
The hurricane that came inland knocked down acres of limbs across the small city. All the high school students had been let out to pitch in with the cleanup. Mrs. Owen gave her a look of concern.  “I know you don’t want to be left out,” he said.
"I'll be careful," said Marianne.
A once majestic 200-year-old oak tree had been so devastated by the storm that it was obvious it would have to be razed.  The pale dark-haired girl spent 15 minutes picking up and carrying small limbs to deposit in the large pile of brush at its base.
Mr. Branson, the social studies teacher, stood there in overalls and thick gloves, collecting the limbs from the students.
He smiled at Marianne. "Thanks for pitching in," he said.
"I want to help," she said.  "Even if just a little bit."
He smiled.  "Just take it slow, young lady," he said.
Suddenly, they both looked up at the sound of a loud crack.  The teacher instinctively jumped back, but Marianne was still looking up as a large limb of the tree broke loose and came crashing down towards her.  She was frozen in horror, and as it filled her vision, she felt a stabbing pain in her chest.
#
Someone was patting her cheek and speaking to her in obvious tones of concern.  She slowly opened her eyes and realized she was at the base of the tree, nestled among its large roots.  The brush had all been cleared away, and she was on the cold damp ground.
As her mind cleared, she was puzzled how she had survived the limb falling on her.  A man was kneeling beside her, a look of obvious concern on his face, and he was rubbing the back of her hand.
"Now my child," he said.  "What is wrong with you?  Where did you come from?"
She heard the voices of a small crowd that was standing around her.  "I don't recognize her," said one man. “Where did she come from?”
“There was a loud crashing sound, and when we looked over, she just appeared under the tree,” said another.
A gray-haired woman bent over her.  "She's obviously had some kind of severe shock," she said.
Marianne slowly opened her eyes.  "That was a close call,” she said weakly.  "I was sure that branch was going to crush me."
The man kneeling beside her look up and around.  "What branch?"
Marianne looked up and focused her eyes.  The tree was intact and green again.
She propped both hands on the ground.  "Help me set up please," she said.
The gray-haired lady and the man did so.
"What is your name, child?" asked the woman.
"Marianne DiFelice," said the teenager.
"When you live?" asked the woman.
"On Strasser Street," said Marianne.  "In the Southfield subdivision."
Marianne gave the people around her a good, clear look.  They looked like actors in a Renaissance Faire who couldn't afford to have their costumes dry-cleaned.
The man and the woman looked at each other.  The man shook his head.   "I've never heard of any of that," he said.  "You are babbling, young lady."
"Where is Mr. Branson?" asked Marianne.
The gray-haired woman placed a cold damp cloth on her forehead.  "Don't ask any questions, young lady," she said.  "We'll take you to the longhouse until you feel well enough to speak clearly and tell us what we need to know so we can take you to your home and parents."
Marianne began to fidget.  "I need my cell phone."
The gray-haired lady placed both hands on Marianne's forehead.  "Peace, my child, sleep now."
And Marianne did.
#
When Marianne woke up, she was much more clear-headed.  She sniffed a few times and smelled acrid wood smoke.
"They've take me to a bonfire?"
She rolled her head and saw she was lying on a low platform in a rough wooden- hewn pavilion-type structure -- open on all four sides -- with a great fire blazing in a central pit.
She heard a voice.  "The young lady is awake," said a young man.  She looked over to where the voice came from.  The speaker was a handsome young man who looked like a refugee from a Viking-period movie.
The gray-haired woman who'd been there when she woke up under the tree came to Marianne’s side.
"Are you feeling any better, child?" she asked.
"Yes, I am," said Marianne.  "And I'm not a child.  I'm 17."
Marianne propped herself up on one elbow.  "Where am I, and who you?"
The older woman looked at the young woman with an expression of concern.
"We're in Litchfield, child," said the woman.
"I've lived here all my life, and I've never seen you before,” said Marianne.
The man who'd been with Marianne at the base of the tree walked up to the pair. "Altund is coming," he said.
The teen Viking smirked. "Perhaps he can parse the maiden," he said.
A tall man with a long white beard dressed in long robes and carrying an elaborately carved staff walked up.
"Is this the girl?" he asked.
Marianne had set up, and swung her legs over the edge of the low platform.   She was about to stand up but stopped as she gazed upon the impressive figure.
"Oh wow," she thought. "Gandalf has come to town."
The man walked over to her and leaned down somewhat; he was very tall and would've loomed over her even if she was standing up.  "You have a story to tell me?"
He sat down beside her and laid his staff across both their laps.  For some reason Marianne felt gesture was one of sympathy.
She explained about how the hurricane had come inland from Long Island Sound and devastated Southern New England, and how the teachers and students had gathered to help with the community clean up.
She also talked about her damaged heart and how much she resented having to curtail her activities because of it.  She spoke at great length but the old man was patient and listened well.
When she finally ran out of steam, he patted her hand, and asked some simple questions.  They made her realize she was not what she had been before.
He then returned to the events of that morning and asked her to very exactly recall what happened before she became unconscious.
When she finished, he leaned over and hugged her very paternally.  "My child," he said.  "You have embarked on a great and special journey."  He stood up and faced her.  "For you have died and been reborn"
"This is the afterlife?" Marion asked.
"No, this is another life." He half turned to the small crowd that stood behind him. He knew they were listening.  He turned back to face Marianne.
"As maimed as your heart was, it failed you because of the small exertion you did," he said.  "You had, as you would put it, ‘a heart attack’ at the exact same moment the remnants of the damaged oak fell down upon you."
"As a great prophet once said, ‘It is appointed for a man to die but once and then comes the judgment’,” he continued.  “But if death should strike down a man--or in your case, woman--twice at the same time, the fates decree that one should have a second life. You are reborn; in another world instead of the afterlife."
"You mean I had a fatal heart attack at the exact same moment the tree branch crashed down and killed me?" asked Marianne.
"Yes." He took her hand.  "You can never go back to your old world, but I welcome you to mine."
He turned and gestured for the old gray-haired woman to step forward.  "I will explain all to Marla here, and she can take you in her home.”
He gestured to the old woman and spoke to her for a minute. When they were done, she came over to Marianne and extended a hand.  Marianne looked up at her in confusion.
"I know this is a lot to accept," said Marla, "but I will help you find your way in this second life."
Marianne rose unsteadily and slowly shook her head.  "This is hard to believe,” she said.
"Come with me to your new home," said Marla.  "And you will rest."
Marianne did.
#
Life in her new world wasn't as strange as one would think, although its history was very different.  In this world great nation states such as Rome and Egypt had never arisen and society had always been organized around small kingdoms, tribes and principalities.
The great religions of Marianne’s world such as Christianity, Islam, Buddhism and such had never expanded outside their original founding provinces. The people who settled her village were Druids as were their ancestors in Britain.
It was after a week that Marla needed to go into the village -- the village that was what Litchfield had been in the other world -- when Marianne learned of one major difference between the two worlds.
Marla took a small solid wheeled cart.  After they joined the road to the village, Marianne saw a shadow pass over them and ahead along the path. Marianne looked up and realized someone was flying past them just above the treetops.
She gasped.  "What is it?" asked Marla.
"You people can fly?"
"At my age, my flight is unstable, and so I stay earthbound.  I'm sure as you have recovered, you will soon be able to fly again yourself."
Marianne saw as they traveled to the village that people could levitate as easily as walk if they wished.  While most of the adults were earthbound because of carrying supplies and goods--either on horseback or wagons--almost all the unencumbered young people, those the same age as herself, soared just above treetops level; many chatted as they did.
By the time they arrived at the village and its market, she was feeling very much like she did in high school when she was stuck on the sidelines because of her infirmity.  Now, as they entered the market, which was bustling -- for it was trades day -- Marianne’s sense of alienation grew in proportion the size of the crowd.
Marla hopped off the wagon and engaged a vendor in loud haggling.  Marianne sat in the wagon and nervously looked around the busy market.
She snapped out of her thoughts as she heard a familiar voice.
"Well, if it isn't the reborn maiden," said the young man whom she had first seen in the longhouse.  She looked up at him and he could tell she was unhappy.
"What is the trouble?" he asked in a surprisingly genuine way for teenage boy of any world.
“None of your business,” she snapped.
A man walked up to them and put a hand on the shoulder of the young man.
"Get my horse ready, son," he said.  “We are ready to go,” he said.
The young man looked at Marianne with some concern but did as he was told and left.
Marianne realized the father was the man whom she had first seen at the base of the tree when she woke up after her doubled death.
He looked at her sympathetically. "I know how difficult it is for you to accept the great change in your life, but think of the great gift you've been given. You died, but yet was given a second life.  In time you will be as happy in our world as you were in yours."
"It would be difficult for me not to be happier" she said. "But I still don't fit in.”
The man looked at her sympathetically.
Marianne looked up and saw young people levitating as they entered and left the market. The father’s gaze followed hers, and as he saw nothing remarkable he was puzzled.
There was a whistle and the father saw his son had the horse prepared. “Be at peace,” he said. ”May your God be with you.”
When Marla returned to the wagon with sack of goods she pried loose from the vendor at a good price, she sat down heavily and exhaled deeply.
One look at Marianne told her there was a problem.
“What is it?” she asked. “It is obvious something has made you unhappy.”
Marianne’s first reaction was to give her brush-off like she had the young man, but Marla had been good and kind to her.  It all began to gush out.
Marla hugged her and at the end grabbed her by the shoulders in a reassuring way and said, “I felt this visit to town today would be a good opportunity for you to counsel with Altund. You met him on your first day here.  He is the head priest of our grove.”
Marla picked up the reins and they left the market. “I can finish later,” she said. “Now is a good time for you to speak with Altund.”
They returned to the longhouse where Marianne had been brought from the city park the day of her rebirth. It was there the elderly druid priest presided.
Marla greeted him, and spoke into his ear.  He nodded and gestured for Marianne to come over to him.  Marla went outside, leaving the pair together.
"I trust Marla has been a good mother to you," he said.
"She is sweet and has been very kind to me," said Marianne. "I couldn't ask for anything more."
"But?"
"Well, the strangeness is wearing off, but today is the first day I have been in the village and I have learned something that means I will never be able to fit in."
"Marla has told me," he said. "The people in your world cannot fly.”
“We call it levitate,” said Marianne. "But yes, we don't know how."
"With time and patience you may learn.  If this is not possible, no matter. There are many who cannot fly for different reasons."
"Yes but I see all the young people do," and Marianne. "Now I am an outsider again."
The wise man nodded.  "It is natural for young people to want to, how would you say… spread your wings?”
He put his hands lightly on her shoulders.  "I have the ability to sense many things. I sense great contentment will come to you in this second life.  Be patient little one. If in time you cannot fly, I am sure you will find an even better reason for great happiness."
"I wish I could be as sure of a happy ending as you are," she said.
"The great spirit is neither capricious nor arbitrary.  "You were given the great gift of a second life for a reason, and I'm sure that reason will be revealed in its own time."
He straightened up to his full height.
"The one thing you need now is the one thing that all young people lack, in this world as well as others," he said. "And that is patience."
He walked them outside, where Marla sat patiently.
"I trust you have been a wise counsel for my young charge," she said.
"There are some things you could have just as well said," said Altund. "And then, there are some things that it is my role to know and sense."
With the final blessing, he sent the pair on their way.
As they traveled back to their home, Marla asked "What you think about what he said?"
“I don’t know,” said Marianne. “I really don’t know.”
#
Marianne began to know the people of the village as the weeks went by, and they also came to know her. The people of the district all knew of the circumstances of her unusual arrival, and considered it a blessing upon them-- although they considered it an unfortunate infirmity that she couldn't fly.
She traveled to the village every other day to take a treatment of natural medicine from Altund to strengthen her heart.  She felt better than ever, also thinking to herself the lack of stress in the non-technological world surely was helping her recovery.
It was a much quieter world, where spirituality and white magic was the basis of society instead of organized religion and technology. But the sense of exclusion she suffered from being unable to fly became like the dull pain of a nagging toothache.
Marla attempted to give her some rudimentary instruction, but it was obvious Marianne had no innate ability and it was quickly dropped.
The young man -- the Viking-like boy who caught her attention, Cedric was his name -- had offered to give her some lessons "just to be helpful," he said.  Any bystander could tell he was somewhat interested in the young lady.  But she rebuffed him; she was much too self-conscious.
 Rather than lay about Marla's home, where really there wasn't enough to do to keep her occupied, Marianne accepted an offer from a baker in the village whose wife had complained vociferously that she needed more help. And so she began a new routine of traveling to the village and working as an apprentice pastry maker with the baker's wife.
One day while she was making cookies in the shape of a man -- very much like the gingerbread men that she'd known as a child -- the baker’s wife called out to her.
 "Please take the muffins from the oven" she said.
Marianne did so, and set them down on a board next to the gingerbread men. The juxtaposition brought a childhood nursery rhyme to mind
"Do you know the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man? Do you know the muffin man who lives in Drury Lane?"
There were a number of people in the bakery that day, and as Marianne came to the end of her nursery rhyme she realized there was complete silence in the shop.  She turned and saw everyone was looking at her.
"What is it?" she sputtered.
They all stared at her pop-eyed.  "Did I do something wrong?" she asked.
The baker rushed in from an adjacent room "What was that?  This sounds you are making? They are beautiful!"
Marianne had a sudden realization that struck her as unexpectedly as that old oak tree limb had.  All during the time she'd been in the new world, she had never heard a song.  Music, yes -- but no singing.
The Baker's wife gasped. "You sound like a sweet bird who can talk."
For in this world they had reeds and flutes and pipes and whistles, but for some reason this society had never evolved stringed instruments, and so words and music had never been joined.
Until now.
"Do that again," asked the baker's wife.
Marianne remained somewhat puzzled, but complied.
"Twinkle, twinkle, little star how I wonder what you are…"
People began to gather in the street to listen through the window.
Word quickly reached the longhouse, and when Altund heard of the new blessing the young woman from another world had brought to them, he smiled.
#
They built a pavilion for Marianne in the center of the village and cleared away around it, pushing back the market stalls, so people could sit on the ground and listen as she taught young and old alike.
It was a few years later, as Altund neared the end of his life, that he came to Marianne in her pavilion one day.  She sat cross legged, her blonde haired little child sitting beside her -- for she had married Cedric -- and plucked out a tune on a small stringed instrument she fashioned by hand.
Altund was quite frail now, but he bent down. She smiled up at him. He leaned heavily on his staff and whispered by her ear.
“Is this a happy ending?”
"Yes,” she said.  “They all lived happily ever after.”
 The old man smiled as he turned to walk away and go to the longhouse one last time.
Marianne faced the people around her and taught them how to sing.

"Custodes"

"Custodes" was originally published in the Sept. 2013 issue of The Fifth Dimension:

---

Sergius rubbed his chin as he read the placard on the exterior of the Roma Locomotive Terminus.  It was blatant but effective.

     “Do You Have a Hot Tip?

     “CHRIST-STOPPERS offers a reward for information leading to the arrest and execution of ANY CHRISTIAN

     “30 pieces of silver!

     “You will remain anonymous.

     “Telephone today I-DCCC-DLV-MCCXII”

     The businessman smiled.  “Someone must have a sly sense of humor,” he thought, “using hot tip on a poster printed after the Great Fire.”

     As he rubbed his chin, he realized he needed a shave. “Damn, it is a long train ride from Mediolanum,” he thought.

     He snapped his fingers as he got into the taxi.  “The Coliseum Plaza, and quickly.”

#

     Advotius grabbed a herring.  “You told Chiesus he could come over?”

     “Yes, pater.  He hasn’t seen the rainbow teleceptor yet.”

     Berenice slid a small cup of garum in front of her husband.  “We don’t mind, do we, Advo?”

     Advotius plopped a herring in the bowl.  “Why doesn’t his family get their own rainbow teleceptor?”

     The teenager shrugged and picked up a quail drumstick. “I guess they’re poor.  His father only runs a little votive shop in the Forum.”

     Advotius wagged the sloppy herring at the boy.  “Just so long as he’s quiet. I want both of you to stifle while we watch ‘Custodes’”

     “I understand, pate!”

     The doorbell rang.  Amnius jumped up to let his friend in.

     “Good evening, Master and Mistress Alverarium.”

     “Evening, Chiesus.”  Advotius turned to his wife.  “Honey, how close is ‘Custodes’ to starting?”

     Berenice looked at her wristwatch.  “Just two or three minutes.”

     “Damn, I got home late tonight.  The Via Hades was running especially slow.”

     He wiped his fingers on a linen cloth.  “Let’s all retire to the grotto.”

     The Alverariums and Chiesus went into the large dark room where the teleceptor sat. “Amni, turn it on before you sit down,” said Advotius. “So it can warm up.”

     In a little over a minute, the color picture appeared. Chiesus squirmed in his seat as Advotius smiled.

     “You haven’t seen one of these yet, have you?”

The teenager smiled nervously. “No, sir.  You have the first one on the block.”

     In a moment, the Eagle and Fasces insignia of the Imperial Broadcasting Service appeared as the drums and bagpipes of regimental music swelled.  Then the theme song began:

     “Custodes! Custodes!  What would you do?  When the magisterium comes for you!”

     A very official-sounding voice declaimed, “All miscreants are guilty once detained and will be appropriately executed.”

      Chiesus turned to Amnius. “Zeus, I wish they’d show the executions, too!”

     Advotius gave the pair a stern look. The boys clammed up and sat back in their seats.

     The picture tube showed a pair of custodes in a large autochariot patrolling the Tarpian District.  The one at the wheel spoke to the camera.

     “We’ve received a Christ-stoppers tip that there were Christians meeting in a grove atop the Tarpian Rock. They’ve broken up, but we hope to catch some of them as they head home. Here we go!”

     The shrill bagpipe-like drone of the siren began as the chariot pulled to the curb behind two men dressed in simple cloaks.

     Both custodes jumped from the chariot.  “Halt!  Don’t attempt to flee!”

     Rather than run, the two men stopped and turned towards the lawmen, hands together in supplication.

     “Good evening, officers,” said the foremost, a white-haired men.  “What seems to be the problem?”

     “We have a report of a secret Christian meeting this evening,” said one. “Do you know anything about that?”

     The camera was now behind the two men.  “No sir, I don’t know anything about a secret Christian meeting.”

     “Well, forget about secret,” said a custodes.  “Are you Christians?”

     “No, I can’t say we’re Christians,” said the younger man.

     “Enough of your double-talk,” said the second custodes.  “Put your hands on your head,”

     He began to aggressively pat down the older man.  In a moment, he pulled something shiny out and held it up for the camera.

     “A chalice.  Christians use these in their rituals to drink blood!”

     The other custodes stabbed a finger at the unseen side of the cup.  “Look, the pisces symbol!”

     The custodes holding the chalice turned it around and held it up again for the camera.  “The secret Christian symbol!”

     The other custodes brought a heavy mace down on the head of the younger man, who crumpled without a sound.

     The camera tilted as the older man fell to his knees and started praying.  The chalice was thrown into the street, and the custodes began kicking the man with their heavy boots.

     “This is going to be good,” piped Amnius.

     “Not another sound out of either of you!” snarled Advotius.

#

     The teleceptor programming director steepled his fingers.

     “Honestly, Sergius, did you expect to buy another season of ‘Custodes’ at the same price?  With ratings so high?”

     The Northerner sighed.  “No, Tamianius, but I didn’t expect a 200 per centum hike!”

     Tamianius spun around in his chair and looked across the Roman skyline. “I admire your persistence, though, taking the red eye locomotive from Mediolanum.”

     Sergius lowered his voice. “I didn’t come here to kiss your ass, you know.  I had something I wanted to tell you, in person.”

     He rose from his chair.  “But as long as we’re not even talking…”

     Tamianius spun around again.  “Who said we’re not talking?”

     He laid his forearms on his desk.  “What could be so important you would not want to risk Nero’s Praetorians overhearing it on the telephone?”

     Sergius closed the office door and sat down again.  “I have learned something that might be a reason for the Imperium not to renew your license.”

     Tamianius laughed.  “That’s ridiculous.  ‘Custodes’ not only enforces respect for Imperial Law, it’s been one of the most useful tools in the Christian crackdown.”

     “Well, yes, insofar as the Christians have been framed for the Great Fire,” spat Sergius. “Don’t look at me that way. Come on! Everyone knows it was really set by developers who wanted to clear out the central city for urban renewal.”

     “You had better watch your tongue.  You’re far from Mediolanum.”

     “That may be so, but what if I told you that I recently had a local businessman renew his very large advertising contract--he’s a used autochariot salesman--on condition that ‘Custodes’ be picked up for another year by my station--a man who I know is secretly a Christian?”

     “That’s ridiculous.  Why would a Christian support ‘Custodes’”?

     “Have you ever watched how the Christians behave when they’re caught?  Do you ever feel a glimmer of sympathy?”

     “No.  Not in the least.”

     “Yes, well we know you’re not normal.  After I received this unusual request, I asked some people whose opinions I trust what they thought of the brutality on ‘Custodes’ against Christians. You know what they said?”

     Tamianius shook his head.

     “They said seeing this kind of bloodshed in the arena is one thing, but having it brought into your home at night is too much”

     “Do you mean that ‘Custodes’ may be creating sympathy for the Christians?”

     “Why would a crypto-Christian pledge thousands of denari on its renewal?”

     “I don’t know. You tell me.”

     “Thirty-five years ago, when their ‘god’ the Galilean roamed Palestine, there was no teleceptor, but we had sound newskinos.  Have you ever seen the speech he made on that hill outside Jerusalem?”

   “Of course not.  I’ve heard of it, though.  Silly shit.  ‘Blessed are you, and blessed are they, and blessed are every-fucking-body!”

     “I saw it years ago when I was at the Academy, before it was banned.  It’s very effective.  The fact remains, though, that few people have seen an admitted Christian up close and personal--until you put them on the picture tube,” said Sergius. “Have you ever seen a Christian fight back?”

     “No.  Not even in outtakes.”

     “Sounds like an effective strategy to get sympathy, to me.”

#

     “That’s wonderful.  Does Chiesus know?”

     “Not at all. It will be a big surprise.”

     The teenager ran in the front door and skidded to a halt in front of his parents.

     “Mate! Pate!  Is it true?  Arbrogastus said the man at the shop said they’re delivering a rainbow teleceptor to our house!”

     Mistress Narbonesium smiled at her husband.  “Big secret, eh?”

     Juventus Narbonesium nodded to his son.  “It’s true.  A Senator who was cured at the Vestal Temple came to my shop and bought the entire stock, in gratitude,” he said. “So I ordered the rainbow teleceptor. In fact, the delivery men are right behind you.”

     Outside a delivery chariot with the familiar insignia of the Emperor and Stag had pulled into the driveway

     Chiesus turned and quickly grabbed the door for the two men carrying the large wooden crate.  He let the door slam and followed then into the grotto.  “Hot hades!”

     The men from the Caesar & Roebuck emporium quickly installed the set and turned it on.  In a minute, the color picture appeared

     “That’s wonderful,” said Juventus as he slipped the men a tip. “Let’s all sit down.”

     “Not me, not yet,” said Chiesus.  “I’m going to tell Amnius!”

     That night, Amnius sat down with the Narbonesiums to watch what was billed as a “Custodes Special”.

     After the intro, that same authoritative voice declaimed, “Tonight on Custodes, justice for a Christian ringleader!”  The highlights indicated what the upcoming show promised.

     Chiesus turned to Amnius. “Great! They’re finally going to show a crucifixion!”

     Mistress Narbonesium grimaced.  “Wonderful.  Right here in our living room.”

#

     Sergius snapped the suitcase shut.  He grabbed the handle as the hotel telephone rang.

     “Sergius?  It’s Tamianius.  Did you see the episode last night?”

     “Yes, of course. They crucified that Hebrew live on the air.  Upside down, too.  Nice piece of business.”

     “Hey, that was the producer’s idea--it was decided weeks ago. That Simon Peter fellow was picked up almost a month ago.”

     “So I guess they’ll nail that Paul fellow next week? The other guy who was picked up at the same time?”

     “That’s why I’m calling.  Yes, that’s what they planned, and then he pulled a legal tablet out of his sleeve.  He was born a citizen in Tarsus--and he’s demanding a trial.”

     “Zeus!”

     “Yes, I found that out when I called the producer after the broadcast to congratulate him.  But he said ‘no problem’--they’ll give him a fair trial, and then crucify him.”

     “All of this live, huh?”

     “It should be great for ratings, but from what you said yesterday--do you think it could backfire?”

     “Possibly, but who cares?  You finally cut me a good deal, so we’ll still be on the air in Mediolanum.  I got what I wanted.  I’m sure your ratings will skyrocket.”

     After he hung up, Sergius lifted the suitcase and smiled to himself as he looked across to the blank teleceptor tube.  “I’d wager that if Archimedes was alive today, he’d be cursing all that came from his elektrik motor.”

#

     The trial of Paul--the magistrate used his legal Roman name, Saul, throughout the trial--dragged out for a full month.  The cleverness, honesty and openness of the Christian failed to save him from the death sentence, but his example aroused a great deal of sympathy--which erupted into action when the slaves and freemen stormed the Mamertine Prison.

     Sergius was correct--the trial was a ratings triumph, in more ways than one.

     The coronation of Emperor Saul following the insurrection remained the most-viewed broadcast for decades, until the presentation of that epic rainbow kino of the Civil War itself, “By Aeolus Tossed”.