Paradigm Rift: Book One of the Back to Normal Series (20 page)

Thursday, January 15, 1948

Jumper Number 6 blasted into our lives yesterday, and I do mean blasted. The lightning flash and shockwaves of thunder put all the rest of the FLaTs to shame. He was another late night/early morning apocalyptic arrival. Michael Ritenour went from June of 2006 (wow—the next millennium!) to January of 1948 in less than one second, at 1:30 a.m. on Wednesday, January 14th.

His grand entrance unintentionally created the perfect diversion. When I threw on a bathrobe and walked outside, I could see every light on in Normal. Ten minutes later, as I drove around town, there were still dozens of people out and about. He was just one among many.

In this culture of near-Cold War anxiety, I imagine most people assumed that we were under attack by the Commies. I’m afraid that the distrust that will be fomented by a McCarthy-type “Red” paranoia could hurt us Jumpers. I don’t think that Senator McCarthy will start his witch hunt for another year or so, but after that—watch out. People will start to worry about all “newcomers.” Average folks will see Communists behind every tree, and Russian-sympathizers under every rock.

Back to Michael. To make a long story short, I played a hunch that I’ve been harboring for a while now. If I found myself suddenly transported to a strange town, with no idea what happened, I would probably seek out law enforcement. So, after driving around and realizing that the number of people outside was going to make this impossible, I parked in front of the Normal police station. Sure enough, about 45 minutes later, Michael Ritenour sauntered up to the (locked) door, with a small electronic device in his hand. I walked up and said, “Let me guess, this ain’t the right WHERE, and this ain’t the right WHEN?” It took a bit, but I won him over, at least enough to head to the house.

He is tall, dark headed, and 29 years old. He is divorced, with two kids, and jumped from a suburb of Boston. He has a manufacturing background. It’s still a bit early to judge (every time-traveler has to get through some degree of what I call “Jump Shock” or “Time Trauma”), but he is somewhat guarded in his personality. More of a closed book than me, for sure. Hard to read. But I’ve only known him for less than 2 days.

Mrs. Tomlin, on the other hand, has begun to relax a little and open up. We have sat and talked for hours about her experiences growing up, especially in this time period. She was the one who first brought up the “two Marthas” problem. She said that her 22 year-old other self is living in Ohio right now with her husband Calvin. She can’t talk about him or her daughter Caroline without misting up quite a bit.

She longs to go see her husband, even from a distance, but she also knows the real and abiding dangers of that game of emotional and temporal roulette. Until we know differently, the Fourth Accord must be enforced with all our might.

Oh, I almost forgot (after re-reading this)—the device in Michael’s hand is called a cellphone. It’s like a portable telephone, a glorified walkie-talkie. I wanted to know more, but even I must follow the Second Accord.

SECURITY LEVEL: TOP SECRET

FOR: Chief Howard D. Ross, Project SATURN

FROM: Roscoe H. Hillenkoetter, Director, Central Intelligence

SUBJECT: Project SATURN

I just received authorization from HST regarding the Dreamland facility at Groom Lake, NV. Construction will commence on or about August 4. Temporary housing and storage will be installed in Phase I and Roswell Event materials should be relocated from Los Alamos immediately thereafter.

We are compiling a master list of all US residents matching the name of Phillip Nelson in the age range specified. You are authorized to utilize the FBI in the dragnet, but all interrogations must come through your department. Project SATURN personnel have been issued cover credentials through the Criminal Investigative Division of the Bureau.

END

DCI/PS

I really miss power steering.

And a good CD player.

And air conditioning.

Denver brought the dark red coupe to a jolting stop and signaled a couple of muddy kids waiting to get to the other side. He could make out a pair of grateful smiles through the crusty dirt. They wasted no time crossing. Denver glanced into the rear view mirror and examined the one remaining bandage on his forehead.

Leah pointed ahead. “Quit looking at yourself. You look fine, pretty boy. Now, make a left at the next street.”

“Hey, don’t get onto me. I’ve seen plenty of gals putting on lipstick while talking on their cellphones, and all while driving. A few of them might’ve even been smoking.”

Leah looked over at him. “Talking on their what?”

“Ms. Swan, you are so
1991
. I’m trying to enforce the Second Accord.” He slowed and turned left. “I meant to ask earlier…where is Tori today?”

“Oh, I took her over to Martha's place. Go straight,” she said. “Martha is just great with her.”

“Is she, you know,
slow
?”

Leah faced him. “Technically, she has autism. It's really rare in girls. I learned a lot about it from Doc. You know, us
1991-types
are still in the medical dark ages.” She winked.

“But, wasn’t he breaking the Second Accord by sharing that with you?”

“Fair question,” she replied. “But since it was kind of a medical emergency, we made an exception. My world knew about autism, we just were immature and lumped it all together with a lot of other disorders. It’s way more complicated than that. It covers a huge spectrum of issues.” She motioned. “Make a right. It’s difficult to generalize about autism, but there are—
strategies
that can help. For one thing, avoid using exaggerated expressions.”

“
Like
?”

“Like saying something like ‘I will just shoot myself if I ever have to do that again’, or ‘go jump in a lake’, you know, non-literal expressions.”

He smiled. “Well, I have noticed that you eat like a bird.”

“Yep. Those kinds of expressions require a more complex level of processing, and many people with autism have real difficulty separating fact from fiction. But that’s just one thing, I mean, some struggle to even communicate at all, or struggle to just convey normal emotions.”

“I have a nephew like that. He is, kinda, in his own world. We can't seem to break through the shell. No one can. Even specialists. Pretty sad.”

“Sounds like he is at the severe end of the spectrum. Does he scream a lot, and hate loud noises?”

He nodded.

“It’s heartbreaking, I’m sure,” she replied.

“Well, speaking of heart—you’ve got a pretty big one in my book,” Denver said. “I think it’s really great how you look after Tori, and all. I mean, she’s not your responsibility.”

Leah grew quiet for a moment, and gazed out her window. “She is not a burden, Mr. Jackson. She’s a
gift
. She’s an amazing person, with so much to offer, so much to share. We just have to help her let it out. She’s a butterfly that needs a little more time than the rest of us to break free.”

Denver couldn’t have been more impressed. “You have a rare gift, Ms. Swan. A rare gift, indeed. Even in the twenty-first century, we don’t see too many folks like you.”

“Think about your daughter, Jasmine,” Leah began. “If she were lost, and surrounded by strangers, what would you be willing to give to make sure that someone good and kind took her in and treated her well?”

He didn’t have to think very hard. “I would give everything I had.”

Leah smiled. “
Exactly
. I try to remember that when I look at Tori. She means the world to somebody, and I need to be that person that they are praying for.”

He shook his head. “Like I said, you are one special person.”

“Just trying to take care of the least of these, Mr. Jackson. You, uh, you can park anywhere uptown, but not too close to the diner.”

Denver found a few open spots with generous amounts of shade beneath a hulking, lopsided oak tree. He imagined that it would’ve taken a lightning bolt or severe ice storm to have crippled the towering giant. He killed the engine and deposited the keys into her waiting hand.

“Thanks,” she said. “Ready for your first official public test?”

He blushed a little and tapped on the shiny steering wheel. “C'mon Leah, do you really have to chaperone me while I eat lunch?”

She wagged a delicate finger at him. “Protocols are protocols, Trailer Jackson. No new Jumpers are allowed to be unsupervised in public for their first thirty days.”

He rolled his eyes. “I know all that.”

“Well then, you also need to know that it's not
lunch
, it's usually called
dinner
. Midday meals in the Midwest are called
dinner
, well, most of the time.”

Denver was uneasy. This whole arrangement was just—
wrong
, like being watched by your parents on a first date. “So, what, are you going to get out a notebook and grade me or something? Lemme guess, observe and report?”

“Observe and
rescue
,” she corrected.

“
Rescue
?” He couldn’t believe that she was serious.

She was.

Leah squinted at him. “Mr. Jackson, who is the current candidate for president on the Democratic ticket?”

Denver’s eyes shot around and he rubbed his forehead. “Wait, hold on—I know this, it’s—”

“Too slow.” She pursed her lips. “Too slow. Slip ups like this can be disastrous, Denver.”

He blushed and took a deep breath.

“I observe,” she said, “and if you get into trouble...I, uh,
rescue
. Give me a few minutes lead, then come in the restaurant. Sit near me, but don't look at me or talk to me. Do you have your money?”

He dug into his shirt pocket. “Ten vintage bucks.”

She double checked the cash and pointed at his wedding ring. “Have you thought any more about what we talked about?” she asked. “About your
ring
?”

He stuffed the money away and held his hand up, twisting the golden band.

She put her hand on his shoulder. “Not wearing it doesn't mean that you don't love someone.” She looked into his distant eyes. “It's just that it...it
complicates
things around here. It will create questions about where your wife is and such. If we don't have to deal with those questions, it would be better.”

It was a strange warfare that raged inside of this displaced soldier. In his logical mind, he absolutely knew that Leah was right. But every time he even tried to slide the ring off, something deep inside groaned. He tried to drown out the shame with a flood of his own rationalizations.

It’s not that big a deal. It’s just a piece of metal. A lot of professions can’t even wear rings. It’s a safety or health issue. It’s okay. It’s what’s in your heart that matters, not what’s on your finger.

Denver settled the decision in his head, though his chest was still languishing. He slid the precious token off of his finger (it was only the third time he had ever done so since they were married) and stowed it away in his pants pocket.

Leah rubbed his arm and leaned closer. “I'll see you inside, Mr. Jackson.” She checked her makeup in the visor, and hopped out, but then grabbed the door frame and smiled at him.

“Oh, yeah,” she said, “the answer is Stevenson. Adlai Stevenson.”

Wednesday, January 21, 1948

I have finally begun crafting a formal curriculum for our “New Jumper” training program. I am thrilled that my background as a high school teacher can finally come into play. My TOC (Temporal Orientation Classes) will start with the Big 4 (the Four Accords). After that I am breaking it down into:

1. Recent History—our history, more than anything else, shapes who we are. There is a lot of history that hasn’t happened, yet we will have Jumpers whose lives are molded by un-happened history. No Vietnam War, no Korean War, no Civil Rights movement, no Moon landing, no hippies, no satellites, and no Kennedy assassination.

2. Politics—orienting Jumpers to the current leadership landscape, from the White House to the local courthouse. Also, it’s not the 50 United States…there are only 48 states now. Hawaii and Alaska come into statehood in the late 1950s. That’s a tough one to remember. Also Interstates—there won’t be a Federal Interstate system until the mid to late 1950s. And America doesn’t even have zip codes yet. Apparently that’s still a long way off (Mrs. Tomlin is great for these subtle details).

3. Entertainment—that’s sports, movies, television, music. Television is still brand new (we won’t even see color TV for about 6 or 7 years, I think) and is not really a household staple yet. We have to be careful about TV and television terms, like rerun, soap opera (I think they have these on radio though), cable TV,
etc.
Movies (if you forget radio) are a huge part of the culture. Current movie stars are THE stars, more so than musicians and singers.

The problem is that most of the Jumpers will have heard of most of the big stars and even some of the musicians, but we have to be careful about WHAT movies and WHAT songs that we associate with them (especially Elvis—we are almost 10 years too early for him).

No Godzilla, no Star Wars, no Beatles, no Michael Jackson, Disney-yes, Disneyland-no, no Six Million Dollar Man, no Charlie’s Angels, no Gilligan’s Island, and no Brady Bunch. Ouch.

4. Technology—there are no microwave ovens, no CELLPHONES (thanks Michael), no color TVs, no home computers, no space program, no calculators, no seatbelts, the word “digital” isn’t even in common use yet. Also, most people do not have washing machines or dryers. But I’m very thankful that window-unit air conditioners were recently invented though!

5. Language—nothing can get a person into trouble quicker than their tongue. As one observed: “Thy speech betrayeth thee.” Language has both a positive aspect and a negative aspect. On the negative side, Jumpers have words, phrases, and quotes that don’t exist yet in the late 1940s, and therefore must be SUBTRACTED. On the positive side, there are words and phrases that must be ADDED to their conversational lingo to make them authentic.

Of course there are other areas to learn such as social etiquette, acceptable behaviors, and such. Many of these will come organically, not formally. And then there are more personal, sensitive issues—like relationships. Should a Jumper go on a date with a Local? The entire goal of our Jumper community is to stay below the radar until we find the technological breakthrough to send us all back home.

Should we get involved with a Local, as a boyfriend, girlfriend, or husband/wife? Isn’t that too risky and selfish—knowing we are going to be leaving? If we get too involved, and then leave (disappear), won’t that create problems/questions and therefore violate The First Accord? Won’t relationships leave too many well-established footprints?

A Jumper too entangled may NOT WANT to return. I can’t even imagine what kind of a problem that would create with the future time-stream!

Oh well, enough school…time for a recess.