Wormhole Part Two

Wormhole part one left off with El clarifying that he had ended up in the past by driving through a wormhole or timewarp.

Wormhole
By Timothy Price

Part Two

“A wormhole or time warp,” he explained to the Captain. “No, sir, I’m not crazy, sir. Everything he has with him is nothing like I have ever seen before.

“Hold on a second!” El interrupted as he pulled out his wallet, took out his driver’s license, and handed it to Sergeant Prescott. “Hold on Sir!” He said as he looked at the license with furrowed brows. “Sir. He just handed me a New Mexico driver’s license that looks like nothing I have ever seen. It has a clear coating on it, it’s in color, and it shows that it was issued on 10/15/2015. It expires 10/25/2023. No Sir. I’m serious. You need to come to Building J and look at his things. He told me we should get a scientist and mathematician to come here and see these things. Yes Sir. We will be waiting, Sir.” He hung up the phone and stood up. “We will go back to the conference room and wait for Captain Fremont.”

They walked back through the gray/green hall to the conference room, which was more spacious, with natural light from several windows on one wall, a large table in the center, and chairs sitting neatly around the table except for the four chairs they had pulled away from the table on the side that faced the window wall.

Sergeant Prescott was still examining El’s driver’s license. “What does ‘Donor’ with the read heart mean?” He asked. “I’m an organ donor,” El answered. “If I was killed in an accident when I was in the future, the medics would remove my organs, kidneys, heart, etc., and transplant them into a person who had renal failure or heart disease and needed more healthy kidneys or heart.” He stared at El for a while trying to arrange his thoughts. “Are you telling me they can transplant organs from one person to another in the future?” El answered in the affirmative. “There is much greater demand for organs than there are organs available” El continued. “There is a global black market that deals in organs illegally harvested from people in the 21st Century. Sometimes people are drugged and one kidney is removed, and the person might survive, but mostly, people are murdered for their organs which are worth a lot of money on the black market.” Seargent Prescott looked at El with a puzzled shocked look in his eyes. “That is horrible. I don’t understand all your talk about the future. I can’t imagine such things.”

They stood in silence for a few minutes as Seargent Prescott tried to process the strange talk he’d heard from El. “I could sure use a cup of coffee or something stronger to clear my head listening to you talk about the future” Sergeant Prescott stated breaking the silence. El picked up his Nissan Stainless thermos and shook it. “It’s about half full. Go get that cup that’s sitting on your desk, and you can try some of my coffee.”

Prescott looked a little weary at the offer but turned back and walked through the door. Less than a minute later he walked back through the door with his coffee cup in hand. “I will probably regret this…” he said as he held out his cup, “but I’m really curious about your coffee from the future.”

El poured a little bit into his cup. “It’s very strong. You should try just a taste to see if you like it before I give you more. It’s probably only lukewarm, and since microwave ovens haven’t been invented yet, we can’t heat it.”

He rocked his cup, making the coffee swirl at the bottom of the cup while he pondered it. “Microwave ovens? I’m not going to ask, but your coffee is very dark and black. It looks thick.” He sniffed at the cup. “It smells like coffee. Here goes.” He took a sip, and his eyes widened. “Wow! That is very strong, but the taste is very good.” He held out the cup, and El filled it about half full.

“It’s Italian Roast, “ El explained. “The beans are roasted until they are very dark and oily. I grind the beans to a fine powder before brewing the coffee, which makes the coffee strong. The finer powder runs through the filter, making the coffee ‘thick’ before the sediment settles to the bottom of the cup.”

“I don’t believe I have ever seen coffee beans” the sergeant replied. “Coffee comes in a can already ground.”

“People still buy ground coffee in a can in the future, but there are all kinds of ‘designer’ coffees available as whole bean or ground. There are ’Starbucks’ coffee shops on almost every corner, with drive-through windows. Coffee is a big deal and big business in the future.”

“Coffee is rather scarce here, as most commodities with the war effort.” The sergeant explained. “I don’t understand most anything you say. Did you say ‘drive through the window’? You can drive through a window and get coffee?” The sergeant asked.

“They are really ‘drive up’ windows, where you drive your car up to a window on one side of a building, you pay the clerk for your order, and the clerk hands you the order.”

“How does the clerk know what you ordered?” Prescott asked.

“Generally, several car links before the window, there is a two-way speaker or screen on a kiosk where you place your order. “Key-osk?” Prescott interrupted. “You have the strangest words for things. What does a ‘key-osk” look like?” El thought for a few seconds. “I don’t really know how to describe it. They are like the posts that have the speakers on them at drive-in movie theaters or a TV on a pole” El looked at Prescott to see if any of his explanations made sense. “I’m trying to imagine it,” Prescott answered El’s look. “Continue with ordering coffee.” “Where was I?” El continued. “Oh yes. I think people can order coffee using apps on their mobile phones, also. Since I make my own coffee, I don’t know all the ins and outs of the coffee culture.”

“Can you get other things like food from a window in your future?” Prescott asked.

“Yes. Almost all fast-food restaurants have drive-up windows. You can get hamburgers, French fries, burritos, chicken fillets, and soft drinks from all kinds of fast-food restaurants without getting out of your car. Although, I don’t believe anything like it has been introduced yet. What year did you say it was?”

“1943!” answered Prescott. “You just listed off more words describing foods that I have never heard of. I hear you speak English, but I don’t understand much of what you say?”

Dawn was pretty in pink this morning.

The Dreaded DST

When the time changed to Daylight Savings Time, Marina at Marina Kanavaki — Art Towards a Happy Day, made a comment about “the dreaded DST!” I told her that was a good song title. I had intended to write and record the song a couple of weeks ago, but DST got in the way. It seems I’m always coming up an hour short. I did the calculations to answer the question about how much daylight we save each year, and address them in the song.

The Dreaded DST
Lyrics and Music by Timothy Price
Inspired by Marina Kanavaki

Daylight blinds fools who have no skills
They create silly rules they are so unreal
Daylight’s scarce, why don’t we care?
We save it eight months out of… every year

Bedtime at ten feels like nine
Don’t feel sleepy? Have more wine
It’s midnight damn, the bottle’s empty
I’m still awake… I’m feeling pretty cranky

Now we’re on the dreaded DST
Body clocks are broken why can’t we see
That hour we save every single day
Is two-hundred forty hours of daylight that we have… stashed away

Alarm at five it feels like four
Like a zombie, I hit the door
Preparation-H on the old toothbrush
Toothpaste up my… Whew! What a rush

No time to shower, sleepin’ on the job,
Stinkin’ up the office, what a slob
Head bobs up and down, fishing at the screen
My boss is cranky… making quite a scene

Now we’re on the dreaded DST
Body clocks are broken why can’t we see
We can look forward to falling back
We get one-hundred twenty hours of daylight from… our stash

We’ve changed to DST for 56 years
That’s six-thousand seven-hundred hours, my dear
Of daylight, we’ve been banking away
So let’s go spend it on our… sanity

Now we’re on the dreaded DST
Body clocks are broken why can’t we see
That hour we save every single day
Is two-hundred forty hours of daylight that we have… stashed away

Marina’s Incognito Pear Tree

Morning contrails

Mama Owl was sowing her head last night. The Owlets might have hatched.

Afternoon clouds

8-Track

Cary drove his Lincoln land barge to the house tonight. Laurie said “You know how your memories of most things are larger than what they really are? That Lincoln is larger than I remember!” Her grandmother drove Lincoln Continentals. Either way, it’s one big car, and what I found amazing is it has a working 8-track tape deck and, even more amazing, Cary has 8-track tapes. I had an 8-track tape deck in the first car I bought in 1975, a 1966 Rambler American. I hated 8-track tapes because if I forgot to eject the tape cartridge before I turned on to our rough dirt road, the tape deck would eat the tape. I had an 8-track recorder at home in the 70s, and I used to record my favorite songs onto 8-track tapes from records (playlists today) to play in the car. At least when a tape got eaten by the tape deck, I could record another one.

Dawn At Work

7:00 am (formerly known as 6:00 am) at the office. The sky was wild.

5:00 pm (formerly known as 4:00 pm) when I got home from work. The sky was wild.

6:20 pm (formerly known as 5:20 pm), the almost full March Moon, AKA Worm Moon, would have been rising over the mountains. No moon, but the sky was wild.

Tangle Heart Tree pinching March Clouds.

A wild sky over the Rio Grande and Sandias. The cranes are gone.

When I walked out to Fourth of July Point where I took the above photo, I didn’t see or hear D Wowl. On my way back I heard D Wowl hoot from one of his trees between the clearwater ditch and the irrigation ditch. I couldn’t see him in the darkness, so I called out “Where are you Daddy Owl?” He flew out of the tree and landed on a branch next to me. He didn’t say a word, simply posed. I told him that I had posted photos of him two nights in a row and that everyone was going to get tired of seeing him. I don’t think he believed me.

I continued walking north, and I made a side trip to Beaver Point. D Wowl flew to one of his favorite perches near Beaver Point as I walked by.