Dear Readers,
In an attempt to include more narratives in this blog, I've decided to make my weekend posts more similar to my "Day in the Life" Tuesday posts, with an extended, story-based focus. Each post will be a two-parter: one post for your Saturday, one post for your Sunday, but a connected narrative. This should allow me to develop the narrative a little bit more and give a little bit more world focus, so that you can visit a time stream in greater depth.
For the inaugural installment, inspired by the fact that I've gotten a lot of visits from a reader in Boca Raton, FL lately, I want to write about a society where a lot of travel is by boat. For anyone unfamiliar with Boca, it's famous for its waterways. The society I write about, however, is a little different: a nearly riparian lagoon created by the overflow of Manhattan's East and Hudson Rivers in the mid-21st century.
Always,
Dr. John Skylar
Chairman
Department of Anachronism
University of Constantinople
Lap, lap, lap. Sam listened to the water against the side of his boat, anchored in the mild noonday sun. She felt happy and full, for once.
She felt the boat rock as Thomas shifted next to her.
He yawned, then piped up, “Hey Sam, what day do you figure it is?”
She blinked her eyes open into the sun above the high rises. Her blonde hair filtered the worst of it. She spoke, “I reckon it’s maybe July 15th, Tommy.”
He scrunched up his face, skeptical, “Think so? Thought it was closer to August.”
“Well how should I know? It’s not like my cell works anymore. You have a copy of the Times?” Sam laughed at her own joke.
“S’pose not. It’s only a couple weeks different, anyhow. Just curious how long it’s gonna be before fall starts to come, when we’ll need to start stocking up on the fish.”
She closed her eyes again and smiled, “See, that’s what I like about ya, Tom. Always thinking ahead.”
“Well, I was an accountant before all this.”
And he looked it. Balding, dark haired, beady eyes…but wicked smart, and that mattered more to her after the Flood than anything else.
“Yeah yeah, Mr. Numbers Man. Doesn’t do much for you when there’s no office left to go to, though.”
“At least I know how fast we’ll run out of food with you sitting around all the time not catching anything.”
She jerked up, fast, to trick him into thinking she would push him off the boat for that comment. He always fell for that one. Maybe because sometimes, she actually did push him off the boat. At least the river got a lot cleaner after the Flood.
Thomas flinched back, and she laughed, “Just kidding—this time.”
He smiled, “All right. Guess I’ll have to find some other way to get a bath, then. Where to today, boss?”
“Well, like you mentioned, we’d best start stocking up on fish for the fall. Gotta catch a few, make jerky, the works. Hear any good rumors about where they’re biting?”
“Well how should I know, I’ve been on this boat with you all day.”
She laughed again, “Yes, but you’ve been awake, loverboy.”
He smiled, “All right, all right. Word on the water’s that there’s a bunch of salmon grouper and other rockfish at the base of the Columbus Circle statue.”
She rolled her eyes, “Uch it’s such a pain to get there from here. Nothing else? Astor, maybe?”
“Nothing, but you know the old familiar haunts.”
“Nah, you’re right. It’ll be slim anywhere else. In a couple more hours we’ll have enough juice from the solar collector, so we’ll leave then. It’ll be rush hour, but whatever. That’s when they bite.”
And that's all for now! Look for Part II on Sunday.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Friday, September 4, 2009
Friday Seminar Series: Dating and Temporal Management, Part I
Dear Readers,
Each week, I write a seminar for you based on my lectures for CHRN/AUG 100, my introductory Anachronism class. So far we've talked about types of sources, source criticism, emotions and anthropology, and done a couple of case studies.
This week, we tackle a sticky subject: time! Time is critical to an Anachronist. I know that statement seems ironic at first, given that it is a subject studied only by those with a vantage point outside of normal time, but it's true. We've talked before about putting sources in context, and one of those contexts is a temporal context. If you can't say when something happened, you don't know a lot about what it means.
Take, for example, the Japanese "surprise" attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7th, 1941. It just so happens that the Japanese also launched a surprise attack on Wake Island on December 7th, 1941 as well. But the Wake Island attack occurred on the other side of the International Date Line, and so from Washington's perspective, took place on December 8th, 1941, about a day after the Pearl Harbor assault. That problem with date confusion makes a big difference. And if the Pearl Harbor attack were delayed due to bad weather and the Wake Island assault still went off fine? Then December 8th would be the day that lives in infamy, as it is in some time streams. So to know the time of something is, in fact, quite critical.
There are other problems with time. It's a sticky issue, really. For one thing; what if I find a coin (or, via Augury, an image of one) with Abraham Lincoln's head, and the number "2035" on it. Is that the year? The serial number of the coin? Since it's probably the year, what year was zero? Was it when Jesus was born? When he died? A poor approximation that is nearly a hundred years off? An arbitrary date picked to validate his mythical existence? There's a time stream for every answer.
That's why the earlier methods of establishing continuity are the more important. I can't look at something that says December 8th, 1941 and something that says December 7th, 1941 and know that the intervening events between the two sources put them in the same time stream. I've got to establish first that they're from the same sequence of events before I can even think of putting them in order.
Relative dates, though, are still useful even before I've put them in the same time stream. Let's say I don't want to make a timeline. Let's say I want to make a time-tree. Then I can try to use relative dates to put things in order, but it's shakier. Let's say that the decision of when to put the year zero was different in two time streams. Then we have a problem.
Usually, though, you can identify certain cultural "markers" in a source that indicate it uses a specific chronology. We have entire catalogs of these markers, and they make it a lot easier to figure out context for sources. Still, they can be a trap. They need constant attention and editing, since they can lead to false assumptions. Use them with a grain of salt, and never be afraid to suggest a new marker or a change to an old one.
Next seminar, I'll write about some of the tricks and markers that work well, and work through some examples.
Always,
Dr. John Skylar
Chairman
Department of Anachronism
University of Constantinople
Each week, I write a seminar for you based on my lectures for CHRN/AUG 100, my introductory Anachronism class. So far we've talked about types of sources, source criticism, emotions and anthropology, and done a couple of case studies.
This week, we tackle a sticky subject: time! Time is critical to an Anachronist. I know that statement seems ironic at first, given that it is a subject studied only by those with a vantage point outside of normal time, but it's true. We've talked before about putting sources in context, and one of those contexts is a temporal context. If you can't say when something happened, you don't know a lot about what it means.
Take, for example, the Japanese "surprise" attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7th, 1941. It just so happens that the Japanese also launched a surprise attack on Wake Island on December 7th, 1941 as well. But the Wake Island attack occurred on the other side of the International Date Line, and so from Washington's perspective, took place on December 8th, 1941, about a day after the Pearl Harbor assault. That problem with date confusion makes a big difference. And if the Pearl Harbor attack were delayed due to bad weather and the Wake Island assault still went off fine? Then December 8th would be the day that lives in infamy, as it is in some time streams. So to know the time of something is, in fact, quite critical.
There are other problems with time. It's a sticky issue, really. For one thing; what if I find a coin (or, via Augury, an image of one) with Abraham Lincoln's head, and the number "2035" on it. Is that the year? The serial number of the coin? Since it's probably the year, what year was zero? Was it when Jesus was born? When he died? A poor approximation that is nearly a hundred years off? An arbitrary date picked to validate his mythical existence? There's a time stream for every answer.
That's why the earlier methods of establishing continuity are the more important. I can't look at something that says December 8th, 1941 and something that says December 7th, 1941 and know that the intervening events between the two sources put them in the same time stream. I've got to establish first that they're from the same sequence of events before I can even think of putting them in order.
Relative dates, though, are still useful even before I've put them in the same time stream. Let's say I don't want to make a timeline. Let's say I want to make a time-tree. Then I can try to use relative dates to put things in order, but it's shakier. Let's say that the decision of when to put the year zero was different in two time streams. Then we have a problem.
Usually, though, you can identify certain cultural "markers" in a source that indicate it uses a specific chronology. We have entire catalogs of these markers, and they make it a lot easier to figure out context for sources. Still, they can be a trap. They need constant attention and editing, since they can lead to false assumptions. Use them with a grain of salt, and never be afraid to suggest a new marker or a change to an old one.
Next seminar, I'll write about some of the tricks and markers that work well, and work through some examples.
Always,
Dr. John Skylar
Chairman
Department of Anachronism
University of Constantinople
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Martian Colonies
Dear Readers,
Since the anniversary of the start of World War II in your time stream has come and gone, I've decided on a different subject for today.
In life, I was familiar with a wide range of science fiction authors from your time stream who wrote about the prospect of Martian colonization. Some of them focused on the actual practical scientific problems, while others cared little for the terraforming and more for the human problems of society on the Red Planet.
In reality, though, those will all be (were, from my perspective) problems with the Martian Colonies. A variety of different time streams involve Martian Colonization, and there are practical and important differences in all of them. Still, each colony that I have records from had to deal with scientific, agricultural, political, and many other problems. Hearken back to Jamestown to gather an idea of how it might work. Every colony, no matter how well prepared, faces its "starving time," especially in the early days of a specific form of exploration.
And the growing colonies of course faced political, technological, and economic problems. Mars is not exactly the most practical economic target for colonization. In many time streams, in fact, it's skipped over entirely for more lucrative or less difficult colonization prospects. Asteroids, Venus, Saturn's moon Titan, and others spring to mind immediately.
I have my Friday Seminar for you tomorrow, but next week and over the weekend I plan to feature some of the Martian Colonies of particular interest in my department's research. Professor Earhart, specifically, takes an interest in this sort of thing, and so she may contribute somewhat as well.
Included below is a letter from Governor Aram Sahak Hagopian, of the New Kharkov colony in a particular time stream. This colony, apparently founded by refugees from territorial and ethnic strife, is typical of many early efforts.
Always,
Dr. John Skylar
Chairman
Department of Anachronism
University of Constantinople
Since the anniversary of the start of World War II in your time stream has come and gone, I've decided on a different subject for today.
In life, I was familiar with a wide range of science fiction authors from your time stream who wrote about the prospect of Martian colonization. Some of them focused on the actual practical scientific problems, while others cared little for the terraforming and more for the human problems of society on the Red Planet.
In reality, though, those will all be (were, from my perspective) problems with the Martian Colonies. A variety of different time streams involve Martian Colonization, and there are practical and important differences in all of them. Still, each colony that I have records from had to deal with scientific, agricultural, political, and many other problems. Hearken back to Jamestown to gather an idea of how it might work. Every colony, no matter how well prepared, faces its "starving time," especially in the early days of a specific form of exploration.
And the growing colonies of course faced political, technological, and economic problems. Mars is not exactly the most practical economic target for colonization. In many time streams, in fact, it's skipped over entirely for more lucrative or less difficult colonization prospects. Asteroids, Venus, Saturn's moon Titan, and others spring to mind immediately.
I have my Friday Seminar for you tomorrow, but next week and over the weekend I plan to feature some of the Martian Colonies of particular interest in my department's research. Professor Earhart, specifically, takes an interest in this sort of thing, and so she may contribute somewhat as well.
Included below is a letter from Governor Aram Sahak Hagopian, of the New Kharkov colony in a particular time stream. This colony, apparently founded by refugees from territorial and ethnic strife, is typical of many early efforts.
Always,
Dr. John Skylar
Chairman
Department of Anachronism
University of Constantinople
The Letter:
Dear Residents of New Kharkov,
It is with heavy regret that I pen the words in this communication. We who have suffered so much do not deserve to suffer further, and it is that fact that compels me to write this, despite my deep reluctance.
We first arrived here, in Earth Time, on March 27th, 2057. It has been approximately one Martian year since that occasion, and unfortunately, one long Martian winter. The use of Vertical Farming operations certainly helped us as our food stocks ran out, but it remains that Martian gravity is exceedingly poor at retaining any oxygen atmosphere to speak of. The magnetic, atmospheric, and geological comforts of Earth put our crops at a severe disadvantage, one which they only now catch up to.
We arrived here with 300 passengers and 30 crew members about our two ships, which we appropriated from abadoned military materiel and stocked heavily with food. Our number is now closer to 160, with four births since landfall. Obviously this means we have all lost friends and family since arrival here.
Given our high rate of death, many have voiced concern that our colony will not survive, and that we should return to Earth, to face the consequences of our flight and the persecution that we fled. Many others have maintained that this is not an option.
I have decided that my last act as Governor will be to settle this question. Our farms are now producing, we have drinking water, and the colony's oxygen levels are sustainable. This situation stands to last for the remainder of the Martian summer, and by that time we should have available a reasonable food stockpile in case we observe similar crop failures under reduced sunlight and atmospheric pressure conditions as we did during our first Martian winter.
Therefore, it is my firm belief that this colony will survive here on Mars if we can put a stop to the infighting over whether or not we will return. By the time this letter is distributed throughout the colony, I will already have exited to our rocket fuel stockpile with a small oxygen supply, limited to 20 minutes so that I do not waste our most valuable resource. The walk there is ten minutes, give or take.
In those twenty minutes, this letter will find its way to each and every threshold in New Kharkov. Its messengers do not know the content, so do not blame them. I imply that as you read this, if I have failed in my task, I shall suffocate to death. Perhaps this is cowardly of me; judge me as you will.
If I have succeeded, however, my success is likely the reason you are awake so early to read this letter. Destroying the fuel stockpile likely killed me, though I've done my best to limit the oxygen consumed in the process. There is no going back, now. You must all work together. Hopefully, one day, this colony will hail what I have done as heroic. Still, I go to my task, prepared even for history's vilification.
With respect,
Governor Aram Sahak Hagopian
New Kharkov
Dear Residents of New Kharkov,
It is with heavy regret that I pen the words in this communication. We who have suffered so much do not deserve to suffer further, and it is that fact that compels me to write this, despite my deep reluctance.
We first arrived here, in Earth Time, on March 27th, 2057. It has been approximately one Martian year since that occasion, and unfortunately, one long Martian winter. The use of Vertical Farming operations certainly helped us as our food stocks ran out, but it remains that Martian gravity is exceedingly poor at retaining any oxygen atmosphere to speak of. The magnetic, atmospheric, and geological comforts of Earth put our crops at a severe disadvantage, one which they only now catch up to.
We arrived here with 300 passengers and 30 crew members about our two ships, which we appropriated from abadoned military materiel and stocked heavily with food. Our number is now closer to 160, with four births since landfall. Obviously this means we have all lost friends and family since arrival here.
Given our high rate of death, many have voiced concern that our colony will not survive, and that we should return to Earth, to face the consequences of our flight and the persecution that we fled. Many others have maintained that this is not an option.
I have decided that my last act as Governor will be to settle this question. Our farms are now producing, we have drinking water, and the colony's oxygen levels are sustainable. This situation stands to last for the remainder of the Martian summer, and by that time we should have available a reasonable food stockpile in case we observe similar crop failures under reduced sunlight and atmospheric pressure conditions as we did during our first Martian winter.
Therefore, it is my firm belief that this colony will survive here on Mars if we can put a stop to the infighting over whether or not we will return. By the time this letter is distributed throughout the colony, I will already have exited to our rocket fuel stockpile with a small oxygen supply, limited to 20 minutes so that I do not waste our most valuable resource. The walk there is ten minutes, give or take.
In those twenty minutes, this letter will find its way to each and every threshold in New Kharkov. Its messengers do not know the content, so do not blame them. I imply that as you read this, if I have failed in my task, I shall suffocate to death. Perhaps this is cowardly of me; judge me as you will.
If I have succeeded, however, my success is likely the reason you are awake so early to read this letter. Destroying the fuel stockpile likely killed me, though I've done my best to limit the oxygen consumed in the process. There is no going back, now. You must all work together. Hopefully, one day, this colony will hail what I have done as heroic. Still, I go to my task, prepared even for history's vilification.
With respect,
Governor Aram Sahak Hagopian
New Kharkov
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Primary Source: Balanced Powers
Dear Readers,
The story that I posted yesterday is something that I dredged from the depths of my old graduate work, and it is from a time stream that our intellectual community here considers a curiosity, but a solved one.
I imagine, though, that it's something new to all of you and so I will give it at least a little more attention. One of the first works I translated, actually, was a release from the Reich Ministry for Public Enlightenment and Propaganda (Reichsministerium für Volksaufklärung und Propaganda), shortly after the moon mission that is featured in yesterday's story.
I must mention, however, that I do not in any way wish to glorify the Reich of that or any other time stream. I have yet to find a time stream where they were led by anything other than genocidal megalomaniacs, and I doubt I will ever find such a place. Across the many time streams, there are many variations. Hitler's evil is not something that changes much, though the targets of his madness do change. He and his compatriots were deeply troubled men.
Still, below, you will find something as deeply chilling as any of his works in your time stream. Be glad your lives were spared the menace of an enduring Nazi German Empire:
The story that I posted yesterday is something that I dredged from the depths of my old graduate work, and it is from a time stream that our intellectual community here considers a curiosity, but a solved one.
I imagine, though, that it's something new to all of you and so I will give it at least a little more attention. One of the first works I translated, actually, was a release from the Reich Ministry for Public Enlightenment and Propaganda (Reichsministerium für Volksaufklärung und Propaganda), shortly after the moon mission that is featured in yesterday's story.
I must mention, however, that I do not in any way wish to glorify the Reich of that or any other time stream. I have yet to find a time stream where they were led by anything other than genocidal megalomaniacs, and I doubt I will ever find such a place. Across the many time streams, there are many variations. Hitler's evil is not something that changes much, though the targets of his madness do change. He and his compatriots were deeply troubled men.
Still, below, you will find something as deeply chilling as any of his works in your time stream. Be glad your lives were spared the menace of an enduring Nazi German Empire:
A PROCLAMATION
TO THE VARIOUS PEOPLES OF THE WORLD
FROM JOSEPH GOEBBELS
MINISTER FOR PUBLIC ENLIGHTENMENT
ON THIS MOMENTOUS OCCASION
8 NOVEMBER 1963
PEOPLE OF GREATER GERMANY AND THE WORLD AT LARGE, The Reich has this day spread its glory to the very heavens. As part of the greater mission to spread the enlightenment of NSDAP's vision for the planet, the successful Ministry for Wunderwaffen mission to Earth's Moon has just been completed.
NO MISSION LIKE THIS was ever attempted before. FOR THE GLORY OF THE THOUSAND YEAR REICH, we have TURNED THE VERY SKY into the flag of our Great Empire. Our Allies, the Great and Noble Empire of Japan, claim the Rising Sun as their emblem, and so at each sunrise, we see their red sun on its field of white. Now, all people of Earth can see the great symbol of the Reich at both dawn and dusk: The Swastika of the Aryan People, in a white circle, on the orange background of the sky. It is our gift to the world.
TO THE VARIOUS PEOPLES OF THE WORLD
FROM JOSEPH GOEBBELS
MINISTER FOR PUBLIC ENLIGHTENMENT
ON THIS MOMENTOUS OCCASION
8 NOVEMBER 1963
PEOPLE OF GREATER GERMANY AND THE WORLD AT LARGE, The Reich has this day spread its glory to the very heavens. As part of the greater mission to spread the enlightenment of NSDAP's vision for the planet, the successful Ministry for Wunderwaffen mission to Earth's Moon has just been completed.
NO MISSION LIKE THIS was ever attempted before. FOR THE GLORY OF THE THOUSAND YEAR REICH, we have TURNED THE VERY SKY into the flag of our Great Empire. Our Allies, the Great and Noble Empire of Japan, claim the Rising Sun as their emblem, and so at each sunrise, we see their red sun on its field of white. Now, all people of Earth can see the great symbol of the Reich at both dawn and dusk: The Swastika of the Aryan People, in a white circle, on the orange background of the sky. It is our gift to the world.
...And so you can imagine why Major Lovell, in my story, would be so terrified to bring a child into the world. The very sky of his time stream flies a Nazi flag.
Always,
Dr. John Skylar
Chairman
Department of Anachronism
University of Constantinople
Always,
Dr. John Skylar
Chairman
Department of Anachronism
University of Constantinople
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
A Day in the Life: Nonaggression
Dear Readers,
Augury suggests that this week, the 1939 Germany-USSR nonaggression pact is in your news again. World War II is one of those points in history which seriously fragmented a lot of time streams. When millions of people can die, it creates a lot of uncertainty in how events unfold from that specific point.
Many, many writers consider worlds where one decision path was not followed and the war utterly changed. It's interesting, because sometimes these writers get certain time streams right, sometimes they do not. That's what happens in the absence of Augury technology.
Still, scenarios where the Nazis win or other strange circumstances occur have been done to death. Instead, I want to focus on a different scenario, one that not a lot of people think about: What if the war had never started at all? For today's Day in the Life, I decided to profile a time stream where the USSR-Germany nonaggression pact never occurred, and a very different outcome arose.
So here it is, as usual: my weekly fictional "slice of life" from a very real time stream.
Always,
Dr. John Skylar
Chairman
Department of Anachronism
University of Constantinople
The morning paper skidded to a halt on Jim's astroturf welcome mat right as he opened the door to receive it. General Firestone's kid, Billy, on time as ever, waved as he passed by to continue his paper route. Jim looked at the date: November 24th, 1969. Then he scanned the headlines. No war today, at least. Lately, the Reich took to more saber-rattling than usual, and the entirety of Edwards AFB was on alert. Most of the world went on alert when Goebbels felt aggressive.
Jim sighed and went back inside with the paper. He smelled Linda cooking breakfast, and he would need it.
"Honey, what's in the news?" his wife asked. She kept her eyes on the frying pan, though. She never let eggs overcook at all.
"Not much, thank God. Goebbels is still making noise, though. I'm sure we'll have our work cut out for us today."
"Yeah, I guess that missile test last week has you working hard."
Jim grinned, "I wouldn't know anything about that, sweetie." She knew when he could not tell her about his work, but still probed anyway. The V-26 test the previous week did have the brass worried, though. If there were a warhead aboard, then the North Pole might be a memory.
Sometimes he cursed Einstein for what he did in 1941. Jim was only 10 at the time, but he remembered how his father threw the paper across the room, screaming,"Bastards! It'll be just like 1939 all over again!"
At the time, the outburst frightened Jim, but now when he thought back on it, Dad had good reason to yell. The Soviets managed to stop Hitler in 1939 with their solid line of iron across the border, but in the two years that followed, everyone expected war to start eventually, and in 1941, it looked like it might.
And then Einstein, Oppenheimer, and Fermi did it. Somehow, they sat down at negotiation tables in secret with all seven major powers. Italy and Germany agreed to release all of their surviving Jews and gypsies into his custody. Russia, Britain, and the US said they would give him land in Palestine for them to live on. Japan and Italy would provide their navies to move these refugees. And all for one thing: Atomics.
Now Jim lived in a world of shadows. Every day, he heard new things from the Axis powers on their advances. Everyone heard about them. The scientists, led by a pacifist, created the greatest stalemate in history. And Major James Lovell had to police that stalemate, along with everyone under him at the base. He sighed again.
Linda hummed while she transferred the eggs to their plates, with bacon and toast ready to meet them. She smiled as she put it in front of him. At least his wife looked beautiful today, if nothing else did.
They ate for a while in silence, but Jim knew that would not last. Linda knew how to time conversation during a meal. At breakfast especially, she brought up things of serious import, to let him think it over during the day.
Right when only a few bites remained on his plate, she said, "Jim, honey, I didn't feel so great this morning."
Jim could not be sure where she would take this, so he raised an eyebrow, "Oh? Do you want to see Dr. Perkins?"
"Maybe. I don't think he can give me anything, though."
"Well, it's worth-" Jim cut himself off as he figured it out, "Wait, you think you're pregnant?" Jim agreed to try, but so far, in the chaotic world, he felt pretty happy after five years of no luck. Especially after his reluctance ruined his first marriage.
"Well, I can't be sure, sweetie. But it's three weeks now. I'll see the doctor today." Linda glowed.
Jim tried not to scowl, "Well, that's...that could be wonderful, honey. I'm eager to know what he says." Eager like a man about to brush a grizzly bear's teeth. "It'll be nice news to share at Christmas. I have to get to work, though. Call me if you hear anything."
He rushed out the door, and into his day. Work distracted him, for hours, from the idea that they might bring an innocent little thing into a terrible, big place. He worked until 5, but in the winter, that meant he had to drive home in the dark. No call from Linda. Jim wondered what that could mean during the whole walk back from his office.
When he got to the doorstep, Jim found the door unlocked, and the house dark. He wandered inside. It smelled like dinner, but when he flipped the lights on, he saw nothing out on the table.
"Linda?" he called for her, a little worried.
"Out here!" she answered from their back concrete "terrace."
Jim felt relieved, and wandered out to her. He saw her, stretched out on one of their lounge chairs, looking up at the moon in the cool desert sky. Next to her chair sat his, and between them, on a table, he saw two plates with steak and potatoes. And two wine glasses.
"What're you doing out here?"
"Looking at the moon, silly. Isn't it beautiful tonight?"
He looked up. Aside from the hateful dark spots, he liked it just fine. "Sure, I suppose."
"Think we'll ever get there?"
"I dunno, Linda. Maybe? Sure hope we do, though. I've been sick of that goddamn swastika Hilter's boys burned into it ever since 1963."
Augury suggests that this week, the 1939 Germany-USSR nonaggression pact is in your news again. World War II is one of those points in history which seriously fragmented a lot of time streams. When millions of people can die, it creates a lot of uncertainty in how events unfold from that specific point.
Many, many writers consider worlds where one decision path was not followed and the war utterly changed. It's interesting, because sometimes these writers get certain time streams right, sometimes they do not. That's what happens in the absence of Augury technology.
Still, scenarios where the Nazis win or other strange circumstances occur have been done to death. Instead, I want to focus on a different scenario, one that not a lot of people think about: What if the war had never started at all? For today's Day in the Life, I decided to profile a time stream where the USSR-Germany nonaggression pact never occurred, and a very different outcome arose.
So here it is, as usual: my weekly fictional "slice of life" from a very real time stream.
Always,
Dr. John Skylar
Chairman
Department of Anachronism
University of Constantinople
The morning paper skidded to a halt on Jim's astroturf welcome mat right as he opened the door to receive it. General Firestone's kid, Billy, on time as ever, waved as he passed by to continue his paper route. Jim looked at the date: November 24th, 1969. Then he scanned the headlines. No war today, at least. Lately, the Reich took to more saber-rattling than usual, and the entirety of Edwards AFB was on alert. Most of the world went on alert when Goebbels felt aggressive.
Jim sighed and went back inside with the paper. He smelled Linda cooking breakfast, and he would need it.
"Honey, what's in the news?" his wife asked. She kept her eyes on the frying pan, though. She never let eggs overcook at all.
"Not much, thank God. Goebbels is still making noise, though. I'm sure we'll have our work cut out for us today."
"Yeah, I guess that missile test last week has you working hard."
Jim grinned, "I wouldn't know anything about that, sweetie." She knew when he could not tell her about his work, but still probed anyway. The V-26 test the previous week did have the brass worried, though. If there were a warhead aboard, then the North Pole might be a memory.
Sometimes he cursed Einstein for what he did in 1941. Jim was only 10 at the time, but he remembered how his father threw the paper across the room, screaming,"Bastards! It'll be just like 1939 all over again!"
At the time, the outburst frightened Jim, but now when he thought back on it, Dad had good reason to yell. The Soviets managed to stop Hitler in 1939 with their solid line of iron across the border, but in the two years that followed, everyone expected war to start eventually, and in 1941, it looked like it might.
And then Einstein, Oppenheimer, and Fermi did it. Somehow, they sat down at negotiation tables in secret with all seven major powers. Italy and Germany agreed to release all of their surviving Jews and gypsies into his custody. Russia, Britain, and the US said they would give him land in Palestine for them to live on. Japan and Italy would provide their navies to move these refugees. And all for one thing: Atomics.
Now Jim lived in a world of shadows. Every day, he heard new things from the Axis powers on their advances. Everyone heard about them. The scientists, led by a pacifist, created the greatest stalemate in history. And Major James Lovell had to police that stalemate, along with everyone under him at the base. He sighed again.
Linda hummed while she transferred the eggs to their plates, with bacon and toast ready to meet them. She smiled as she put it in front of him. At least his wife looked beautiful today, if nothing else did.
They ate for a while in silence, but Jim knew that would not last. Linda knew how to time conversation during a meal. At breakfast especially, she brought up things of serious import, to let him think it over during the day.
Right when only a few bites remained on his plate, she said, "Jim, honey, I didn't feel so great this morning."
Jim could not be sure where she would take this, so he raised an eyebrow, "Oh? Do you want to see Dr. Perkins?"
"Maybe. I don't think he can give me anything, though."
"Well, it's worth-" Jim cut himself off as he figured it out, "Wait, you think you're pregnant?" Jim agreed to try, but so far, in the chaotic world, he felt pretty happy after five years of no luck. Especially after his reluctance ruined his first marriage.
"Well, I can't be sure, sweetie. But it's three weeks now. I'll see the doctor today." Linda glowed.
Jim tried not to scowl, "Well, that's...that could be wonderful, honey. I'm eager to know what he says." Eager like a man about to brush a grizzly bear's teeth. "It'll be nice news to share at Christmas. I have to get to work, though. Call me if you hear anything."
He rushed out the door, and into his day. Work distracted him, for hours, from the idea that they might bring an innocent little thing into a terrible, big place. He worked until 5, but in the winter, that meant he had to drive home in the dark. No call from Linda. Jim wondered what that could mean during the whole walk back from his office.
When he got to the doorstep, Jim found the door unlocked, and the house dark. He wandered inside. It smelled like dinner, but when he flipped the lights on, he saw nothing out on the table.
"Linda?" he called for her, a little worried.
"Out here!" she answered from their back concrete "terrace."
Jim felt relieved, and wandered out to her. He saw her, stretched out on one of their lounge chairs, looking up at the moon in the cool desert sky. Next to her chair sat his, and between them, on a table, he saw two plates with steak and potatoes. And two wine glasses.
"What're you doing out here?"
"Looking at the moon, silly. Isn't it beautiful tonight?"
He looked up. Aside from the hateful dark spots, he liked it just fine. "Sure, I suppose."
"Think we'll ever get there?"
"I dunno, Linda. Maybe? Sure hope we do, though. I've been sick of that goddamn swastika Hilter's boys burned into it ever since 1963."
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