Moonliner: No Stone Unturned (22 page)

Then he sees it; the perfect case to leave beneath a stone.  It’s a small, durable, black, plastic box with a rubber-ringed rim to ensure a tight seal.  It’s perfect.  Better yet, it’s on sale for $3.95.  Beau grabs one and proceeds to the checkout counter.

Driving away from the store, he turns the radio on.

“Obama has announced sanctions on Russian officials over the heightening Crimean Crisis,” the news reporter announces. 

Beau shakes his head, having completely forgotten about this prediction in the wave of forewarnings.

Minutes later, Beau stands in a trophy shop.

              “How much is laser engraving?” he asks the shop assistant.

              “We charge seventy-five cents per line and have twenty-seven fonts you can choose from,” the young woman working behind the counter tells him, having obviously learned the selling points of the job.

              “How much are these metal plates?” Beau asks.

              “The brushed-metal plates vary by size and thickness,” she answers. 

Beau looks through an assortment of thin metal plates designed for various awards.  He takes the black box he just bought out of his pocket to compare sizes.  He finds a bluish-purple, square plate that fits perfectly in the box.  He shows it to the assistant and tells her he wants it laser engraved, then takes a handwritten note out of his pocket to show what he wants engraved on the plate.

              “So what is this for?” the young salesclerk asks, trying to be sociable.

              “It’s a prop for a play,” Beau answers.

              “Nice,” she replies while punching numbers into a calculator to determine a cost.  “The total comes to $14.90 including the plate and sales tax,” she tells Beau.

              “How much would it cost for two of them?” Beau asks.

              “That would come to $29.80, but would qualify you for our 10% sale, dropping your price to $26.82,” she tells him.

              “Sounds good.  Let’s do it,” Beau tells her, handing her his debit card.

He selects his font and opts for black inlay, then types his message into their computer.  He double checks it for errors and hits enter.  It should work perfectly, he thinks.  Even if it rusts over time it will be readable with the deep laser cuts.

              “Great,” the sales assistant says; “they’ll be ready in about twenty minutes if you’d like to wait around, or you could come back.  It’s up to you.”

Beau steps out of the shop.  Across the street, he spots a post box.  He gets a letter addressed to himself, from himself, out of his car.  He walks over to the crosswalk, across the street, and mails the letter. 

With a little time to kill, he steps into a coffee shop on the corner.  Inside, he orders a latte and sits by the window watching cars roll down Leary.  The rain is still around but far weaker today than yesterday.  The clouds are thinner and the day is noticeably brighter.  Beau is excited beyond words to be in the position he’s in; the only guy in the world to get a message from the future.  He no longer fears any attached responsibility, or feels overwhelmed by his fate, just pleased; he has the world in the palm of his hand.  He smiles to himself in the coffee shop, almost to the point of laughter, then looks around to make sure no one thinks that he’s gone mad.

Beau takes a look at his watch; twenty minutes have lapsed.  He walks back over to the engraving shop and picks his plates up.  The woman pulls one out of its packaging to show him the results.  He’s thrilled with it.

              “Well thank you so much for your business and keep us in mind if you need to say make any awards for your play, or for any of your engraving or key-cutting needs,” she adds.

              “Will do,” Beau says taking the bag.  He leaves the shop satisfied.

Moonliner
4:08

              “If you think about it,” Kendra tells Beau as they walk over train tracks across the Helix Pedestrian Bridge and into the Olympic Sculpture Park; “you and I are the first to know, or essentially discover that asteroids can have rings.”

              “I guess that’s true,” Beau answers looking down at a freight train parked beneath the bridge; “reported to us from the future but making us the first in history to discover it.  It’s simply a different mode of discovery.”

              “We should have placed some kind of bet on the asteroid,” Kendra regrettably suggests.

              “I don’t think we could have,” Beau tells her; “you can bet on about anything in this world, but I don’t think there’s a casino for asteroids,” he says; “at least not yet!” he adds to prevent the comment from being taken as an insult.

It has now been a few weeks since the second message was received.  Kendra has come around and is completely convinced that the messages were indeed sent from the future.  Just the same, they’ve agreed to wait out the final prediction, the discovery of a ringed asteroid, before returning to Vancouver to leave one of the two engraved plates beneath the stone in Stanley Park.  The other plate is merely a souvenir or tangible keepsake by which to remember their adventure.

              “Don’t you think it might be dangerous leaving a message for this guy with our names on it?” Kendra asks Beau.

              “What do you mean?” Beau asks in return; “You’re the one who wanted me to do this in the first place.”

              “That’s before I bought into it,” Kendra says; “before I thought it was real.”

              “Nothing happens overnight remember,” Beau says.  “Besides, we only left our first names on the plate.”

              “Do you think we’ll still be around in 2069?” Kendra asks.

              “I hope so,” he answers; “we have some real incentive now.  Who knows, maybe we can compare metal plates with future guy,” he suggests.

They walk into Olympic Sculpture Park and along the bike path looking for a dry place to sit down.  At last, they come up on a bench not far from
Split
, a stainless steel tree.  They have a seat and take a moment to rest after their walk from lower Queen Anne, where Kendra works.  The day is damp and cool, on the verge of cold.  Ferries cross the silver surface of Elliott Bay.  Beau watches two of them appear to collide from his distant vantage point as they pass each other pointed in opposite directions.  Time stands still in moments of reflection for each of them as various distractions in the panoramic landscape draw their attention.  It’s relaxing for them to be here, despite the cool, wet weather.

Kendra searches her IPAD and Beau his phone for news of the ringed asteroid.

              “What if it doesn’t happen?” Kendra asks; “if we can’t find any news of an asteroid?  Would that change your outlook?  Would you still believe he’s from the future?”

              “Yes,” Beau answers; “though it would throw a monkey wrench into the equation.  If the guy is truly from the future, why get that wrong?  Again, my first assumption would be that history somehow mistook the event.”

              “So you would assume he’s from the future and telling the truth,” Kendra says.

              “Yes,” Beau answers; “at least as far as he knows.”

A train rolls slowly down the track beneath the footbridge, carrying three huge, green fuselages to be used in new airliners.  It’s a sight unique to few parts of the world, to see these massive bodies of soon to be airplanes being hauled on flatbed train cars, off to the Boeing plant.

              “I wonder what this place will be like in 2069,” Beau says looking around.

              “He hasn’t told us anything about his time,” Kendra says.

              “That’s probably wise on his part,” Beau answers.

A ferry’s horn echoes across the bay as it nears the downtown pier for docking.

“There it is!” Kendra announces while using her fingers to expand a news story on her tablet, now seemingly happy to see one of the predictions come true.  She taps open a video and they both watch a news report of the discovery.

“The first-known ringed asteroid has been discovered; 10199 Chariklo circles the sun between the orbits of Saturn and Uranus,” the first headline video reports.

“Three US Secret Service members have been sent home from the Netherlands just prior to President Obama’s arrival due to what has been described as a ‘drunken incident’

“North Korea has fired two mid-range ballistic missiles as the US, Japan, and South Korea meet to discuss security threats in the region.”

Beau and Kendra stare over the water, once again deep in thought. 

              “It’s time to go,” Beau tells Kendra; “back to Vancouver.”

              “I know,” she responds.  “What if we miss a message from him?” Kendra asks.

              “When I was working with my radios last night, I set up a system using my shortwave and my memo recorder,” Beau answers.  “If I leave the radio on at the frequency we received his first two messages, and my memo reorder next to it in voice activated mode, it should pick up any new signal that comes across the radio while we’re away.”

              “Are you sure it will work?” Kendra asks.

              “I’ve tested it and it worked last night,” Beau answers.

              “He could be leaving a message right now,” Kendra suggests.

              “From the sound of his voice on the last message,” Beau says; “I doubt he’ll send another one without first hearing back from us.”

Pacified by their surroundings, Kendra and Beau enjoy their afternoon watching ships roll by.  The stress of Beau’s unemployment has all but faded under the limelight of their new friend from the future; the future guy.  Sure, money remains an issue for them but their discovery has presented them with a greater opportunity to be a part of something larger than their careers, larger than themselves, even larger than life.  A lot is resting on the delivery of the engraved plate.

              “It blows my mind that we’re sitting here knowing that this guy’s messages traveled back in time and he still doesn’t even know it,” Kendra says.

              “We’ve gotta get that plate under the stone,” Beau tells her.

              “You know, I’ve got a three day weekend and you’re still jobless,” Kendra says; “Why not this weekend?” she asks.

              “Sounds good to me,” Beau answers.

Kendra feels a raindrop hit her scalp, then another her hand.

              “We should go, it’s starting to rain,” she tells Beau.

              “It is?” he asks just before feeling a drop on the back of the neck. 

Kendra pulls an umbrella from her handbag and they begin walking back toward the city.  The rain picks up as they make their way, quickly turning into a light shower.  They share the umbrella as they walk.  The rain only gets worse as they cross the Helix again.  Fortunately, there’s an available yellow cab stopped at the light just beyond the bridge.  They flag the cab down and have the driver take them their car, parked at Kendra’s office about a mile away.