Virtues — science fiction regurgitated

Virtues

Chapter One

Marcus poured his breakfast into the bowl and watched in satisfaction as a cloud of green smoke rose above the table. When the smoke cleared, the lumpy concoction in the bowl simmered and hissed for a few minutes before settling. In place of the brown lumps now sat a healthful granola, chock full of grains and nuts, and topped with fresh berries.

Humming, Marcus walked to the fridge and took out a bottle of milk to pour over his breakfast. He sat down at the table and took a spoonful, savoring the taste of the cereal in his mouth. Delightful. He smiled to himself as he continued eating, enjoying the freshness and wholefood flavor of the meal. Experiment #12976 was successful.

Professor Marcus Bartholomew was an A-Grade (or F-Grade, depending on your opinion) scientist, with a passion for “outside the square” inventions. His colleagues at Harvard treated him either with cautious respect, hilarity, or outright concern. He was oblivious to the feelings and thoughts of his associates, however — Marcus’s head was too full of the “next big thing” to waste time on trying to please everyone.

Take this “Instant Breakfast” idea; most people had backed away, shaking their heads, when he’d tried to explain the concept. His idea was to convert high quality granola and fresh berries into a stable and concentrated mass, able to be stored for long periods of time in any conditions. The cereal had an extensive shelf life, could withstand extreme temperatures, and the food never grew mold or turned bad. Once the food was poured from its special foil bag and touched a bowl (ceramic, plastic, or tin) a chemical reaction occurred and the food was returned to its original state. All without losing any visual appeal or nutritional value in the process. However, no-one other than Marcus had been willing to try the reconstituted food yet. He thought perhaps they found the green smoke and few minutes of hissing and popping a little off-putting. Shrugging, he continued eating his breakfast. Delicious; they had no idea of what they were missing out on.

Teri, Marcus’s wife, sleepily joined him at the breakfast table. Yawning, she rubbed her eyes then stretched her arms above her head. “Good morning, Marcus” she said. She watched him eat his breakfast and wrinkled her nose. Marcus looked up at the expression on her face and smiled. He pushed the bowl towards her. “Try some” he smiled. “It tastes delicious and it’s very good for you.”

Teri shook her head quickly and got up from the table “No thank you, dear” she said. “I prefer toast for breakfast. She pulled two slices of toast from the bread bin, dropped them into the toaster slots and flicked the switch down. Still yawning, she poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot.

“I do have some instant toast that you may like to try” said Marcus. “Experiment #20039, but of course it’s still in its trial stage.”

Teri shuddered. “No Marcus. I prefer non-instant toast. Now, have you remembered that today is the day I travel to visit my mother? She called again last night while you were out. She has asked me to extend my trip by several more weeks. She said she is feeling very poorly and will need my care and attention. Is that alright with you, Marcus?”

She looked over at her husband as he continued to spoon his reactivated granola into his mouth. “Yes dear” he said through a mouthful of grain and nuts. “Of course I don’t mind. You know I will miss you, but we both know that your mother won’t be alive forever so it’s an excellent opportunity for the two of you to spend some time together.”

Teri nodded and picked up her toast as it popped from the toaster. “Thank you Marcus” she said “I knew you’d understand. And I guess you’re going to be very busy with your work anyway.”

After breakfast Marcus placed his bowl and spoon in the sink and collected his briefcase. He dropped a kiss on his wife’s lips and hugged her tightly. They said their goodbyes and wished each other well for the next few weeks. Marcus went out to his car, shutting the house door carefully behind him. He glanced around; he’d had the feeling lately that he was being followed and he’d begun to be ultra-careful with his security measures. Marcus was working on an amazing invention, an out of this world, one of its kind invention, an invention that had the capacity to change the direction of the entire human race. Marcus was working on a time machine. And he knew that other people would be very very pleased to get their hands on his amazing invention.

Satisfied that he was alone, Marcus climbed into his car and drove towards the campus. He had the feeling that he was on the verge of a breakthrough with his time machine. He was just inches, or moments, or heartbeats, away from success. He just knew it.

When he arrived at the campus, Marcus locked his car and looked around again. It was early morning and people were arriving for work and classes. He hurried across the campus towards the laboratory to begin his work. His invention was locked away in a special cabinet; 27 key locks and eight combination locks kept the machine safe. However, he’d not yet invented a quick way to open them all. One hour later, the machine was sitting on the floor of the lab and Marcus looked it over proudly.

It was a structure much like a phone box, approximately seven-foot-high, windowless and with a solid door at the front. Inside the cubicle there were a wide range of knobs, dials, switches and wheels, all highlighted with different colored LED lights and numerous “Warning”, “Danger” and “Radioactive” stickers over the control panel.

“Good morning, Marcus.” Lily Owen, one of Marcus’s associates, walked into the lab. She stood beside Marcus and joined him in looking over the machine. She glanced sideways at Marcus. “So…. Marcus…. when do you think your time machine will be ready for testing?”

Marcus pulled his glasses from his lab coat pocket and placed them on the bridge of his nose, peering closely at one of the switches. He took a small screwdriver from another pocket and began to make small adjustments. “Soon, Lily, very soon” he muttered, carefully turning the screwdriver by just the tiniest of half-turns.

Lily nodded, a wry smile on her face. “Very good, Marcus. And where do you think your time machine will take you first? Ancient Egypt, the Wild West, or perhaps back to the time of the dinosaurs?”

Marcus pulled his head up quickly, banging the top of his head sharply on the control panel as he did so. He placed the screwdriver back in his pocket, rubbed at the sore spot on his head and looked at Lily over his glasses. “Lily, I know that you, and many others, think that this invention is a joke. I can assure you that it is no joke. I am very, very close to completing the time machine. And I am taking the whole thing very seriously indeed. My first trip will not be to some long ago and exotic location; that would be silly. To do such a thing I would need to be very well prepared. No, my first trip will merely take me back to the previous Monday. It will be a test run, nothing more. I’m not stupid, Lily.”

As he stopped speaking, he took the glasses from his face and placed them back in his pocket. He looked back at the switch he’d been working on and decided to make one extra small adjustment. He took the glasses from his pocket and attempted to make the adjustment with the arm of the eyeglasses. It was several moments before he realized his mistake and quickly replaced the glasses with the screwdriver.

Lily covered her mouth to hide her laughter. “No, of course not Marcus. You’re not stupid. See you in the cafeteria at lunch time.” She turned on her heel and left the lab, her giggles finally bursting out as she walked through the door. Marcus heard her laughter and shook his head. He’d show them all.

Marcus tinkered away all morning with his time machine. He knew he was so close to success. So close in fact, that he decided it was now time to take his time machine home, where he knew he could keep it under his close watch. And with Teri away it would not be an annoyance to her to have it at home. He left the building and walked to his car. He would go and hire a trailer to take the machine home today. He would feel safer if the machine was stored under lock and key at his own house.

Arriving back at the campus, Marcus backed the car and trailer up close to the lab doors. He found a trolley to lift the contraption onto, and he wheeled it carefully out to the trailer, levering it up onto the back and begin to tie it down with lengths of rope. By now a small crowd of his colleagues had gathered to watch.

“Well, well, well, the famous time machine is leaving us” said William Smith, one of the other professors. “Are you taking it to the garbage tip, Marcus?”

The others laughed and guffawed, slapping William on the back. Marcus stood up stiffly. “You will be the last one laughing, Billy” he said “When you hear of the success of my time machine.”

William looked at Marcus’s hurt expression and relented. “Sorry, Marcus. I know that you have spent a lot of time on this and that you are very proud of it. Come and have a coffee in the cafeteria with me before you leave. Friends?” He held out his hand.

Marcus looked back at the time machine, now securely strapped to the back of the trailer. It should be safe left there for 15 minutes or so. Nodding, he followed William back into the building.

Twenty minutes later, Marcus bade goodbye to his colleagues and left to drive his time machine home. He checked it over one more time, testing the security of the ropes that held it down. It seemed safe and secure enough to survive the journey back to his house.

He went to place his key in his car door. Something was wrong; the key did not slide easily into the lock. He pushed it and wiggled it, to no avail. He took the key out and put it back in again. There seemed to be something blocking the key’s entry. He bent to peer into the lock and “BOOM”!

As the car exploded, the man watching from the bushes rubbed his hands in glee. His Mafia boss, Eric De Angelo, had sent him to follow Marcus over the last few weeks, determined to have the professor assassinated. Eric De Angelo had a gripe with Marcus going way back, ever since they were kids in the playground and Marcus had stolen Eric’s girl. Eric had never gotten over that betrayal, and for years had plotted his revenge. Finally, he had decided to hire a hitman to murder his old rival and had sent the assassin to hunt Marcus down and kill him. The man ran off, eager to tell his boss that he had successfully ended Marcus’s life.

Marcus spun through the air, spinning over and over and over. The time machine, its rope ties unraveled by the force of the explosion, lifted from the trailer and spun around and around, its lights flashing and its warning sirens piercing the air.

“Noooooooooooo” Marcus cried.

Chapter Two

As Marcus flew through the air, his life played out in front of his eyes. He now understood completely what people meant by their memories flashing in front of them as they passed over into death.

In Marcus’s vision, he was now a young man again, at the bowling alley with his friends, hooting and laughing as they rolled the ball up the alley towards the pins at the end. Young Marcus, finishing his turn, called out to his friends and walked off the platform — straight into a pretty young girl who was walking past.

“Sorry!” he cried, steadying the girl. “I didn’t see you there. Are you ok?” He looked into a pair of the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen in his life, and he blushed crimson red.

The girl smiled at him. “I’m ok” she said. “I haven’t seen you here before. My name’s Teri.”

Marcus’s vision changed again, and now he was seeing himself and Teri in the church, Teri looking like the most beautiful bride in the whole entire world. He watched himself say “I do” as he placed the ring on his wife’s finger…

His vision quickly switched to their honeymoon on the delightful South Pacific Island of Fiji. Teri and he were holding hands and walking along an endless white sandy beach, warm turquoise water lapping at their feet. The sun was setting, staining the sky with rich yellows and pinks. Teri turned to him and smiled “I love you….”

His next vision was of himself and his old rival, Eric De Angelo, standing in a bar. Marcus had ducked into the bar for a drink after work and who should he run into but his old arch enemy from his school days. Eric had greeted him coolly, and he’d stood watching him as drunk his whisky, never taking his eyes from Marcus’s face. Marcus had been quite disconcerted by the encounter, hurriedly finishing his drink and leaving the bar without a backward glance.

A flash of stars obliterated the vision, and the next picture to cross Marcus’s thoughts was of him receiving his science degree, dressed in cap and gown, and proudly turning to face his parents in the audience before he left the stage. He could see his mother clapping wildly and his father nodding proudly.

A rapid succession of pictures followed: Marcus and Teri turning the key in the door of their first house; Marcus watching on proudly as Teri completed the New York marathon, crossing the finish line with her arms triumphantly held in the air above her head; Marcus and his best friend Henry playing a long-ago game of arm wrestling, Henry winning as he always did; Marcus successfully completing his very first experiment, a device for mice which, when strapped to their tiny bodies, allowed them to fly around the room like little white bats, delightedly flying to the ceiling to collect cubes of cheese which Marcus had lined up along a rafter; Marcus winning a small amount of money in the lottery and Teri and he embarking on a cruise with the winnings…

As the last picture flashed in front of his eyes, everything suddenly went dark and Marcus faded away into the blackness.

Marcus cautiously opened his eyes. His head ached. He shut his eyes quickly and rubbed his head. Ouch. Slowly, he opened his eyes again. He was lying in a bed. Was he in a hospital? He looked around — there was no sign of the usual trappings of a hospital room. But the room looked vaguely familiar all the same. He stared at a baseball poster on the wall. He used to have the same poster in his room as a boy. He looked around quickly. This was his boyhood bedroom!

He pushed the blankets off himself quickly and then gasped in shock. He was no longer adult Marcus; he was 10-year-old Marcus again. The body lying on the bed was his 10-year-old body. Had the explosion, coupled with the activation of the unfinished time machine, propelled him back in time to when he was a boy? And somehow left him with his adult brain and its accumulated knowledge, thoughts and experiences?

Marcus sat up carefully. If he was 10 years old again, his mother would still be alive. She’d died two years previously in Marcus’s adult life, the victim of a car crash. And his father, in Marcus’s adult life, was gripped with dementia. Would Marcus walk out of his bedroom and find his mother still alive and his father fit and well?

Nervously, Marcus climbed out of bed and walked out of his bedroom and down the hallway to the kitchen.

Marcus’s mother stood at the kitchen bench, preparing eggs and bacon for breakfast. She looked up at Marcus as he came through the door. “Hi honey” she said.

He stood and stared at her, tears forming in his eyes. His beautiful mother, alive and well! “Mom!” he cried, running to her and wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tightly.

Mrs. Bartholomew looked down at her son in surprise. “Marcus? What is the matter?” She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him away, looking down at him with concern.

“Oh Mom, I am just so happy to see you again” he cried, tears running down his face.

She laughed, returning to her breakfast preparation. “You only saw me last night” she said.

“Where is Dad?”

His mother looked at him strangely. “He’s at work, of course. You know that he leaves for work early. Marcus what is wrong with you today?”

Marcus shook his head. “Nothing” he said. “I’ll just go to back to my room for a while. I think I have a bit of a headache.”

Hi mother pushed his hair back from his forehead. “Hmmmm” she said “You feel a little hot. Perhaps you should take the day off school today, Marcus.”

He walked back up the familiar hallway to his childhood bedroom, past the line of family photographs on the wall. He turned into the doorway of his bedroom and took in the familiar sights and smells once again. His old cat, Monty, was curled up its regular spot on his bed. Monty had died years ago.

“Monty!” he sat on the bed and patted the cat. The animal opened its eyes and stared at him for several minutes before putting its head down and going back to sleep. He rose from the bed and pulled open his drawers, looking for his favorite baseball jersey and jeans. Delighted to find them, he dressed in his boyhood clothes. He scrambled in the wardrobe for his shoes and laced them up. He glanced in the mirror; it was uncanny to see himself as a boy again.

Marcus walked back out to the living room and looked at the old TV. It seemed so old-fashioned, as did the phone on the desk. He walked back into the kitchen and sat at the table as his Mom placed a plate of breakfast in front of him. “I see your headache hasn’t interfered with your appetite” she laughed.

Marcus took a bite of his breakfast and shook his head. “No, I’m really hungry” he mumbled through a mouthful of food. “Can I have some orange juice too please Mom?”

His Mom placed the glass of juice on the table and sat down opposite him. She looked at her son lovingly. “Maybe you just felt like a day off school?” she kidded him.

Marcus shook his head, not answering. His head was spinning. He was a boy, enrolled in the local school, living with his Mom and Dad. And just a short time ago he’d been an adult, placing his key in the door of his car and preparing to drive home. He struggled to sort out his thoughts.

Hanging around the kitchen for most of the morning until his mother grew tired of him and shooed him outside to get some fresh air, Marcus rediscovered things about his mother and his childhood experiences that he’d long forgotten. His old favorite cookies, his mother’s way of ruffling his hair as she walked past him, his father’s Nikes on the rack by the door. It was bittersweet to experience it all again.

After lunch Marcus threw himself down on the sofa and switched on the TV. His thoughts were all over the place. He was now back in a time when his parents were healthy and happy, and where he was a young boy about to embark on his life. However, he still retained his adult memory and thoughts. It was all quite mind-blowing and he found he could not think on it for too long. Instead he focused on his favorite TV shows from his youth, laughing loudly as he watched and letting more serious thoughts drift from his mind.

“Hey Marcus, move over.” Marcus awoke from his sleep on the sofa to see his father leaning over him, pushing his legs out of the way. “Dad!” he cried.

“Marcus, move your feet off the sofa.” His father sunk down heavily beside him and looked at the television. “What are you watching?”

Marcus stared at his father, unable to believe it. His father still looked youthful and well, with no sign of the dementia which would blight his later years. He shoved his face into a sofa cushion to hide the tears welling up in his eyes.

His father suddenly looked over at the window and frowned. “What is that John Stevens up to now? He better not be attacking that hedge again with those over-zealous shears of his. I’ve had enough! I’m going to go and have a word with him right this minute.”

Angrily, Marcus’s dad pushed himself up off the couch. His mother ran in from the kitchen. “Ken! Watch your temper! I’m not sure why you and John have such a disagreement going on about that hedge. Can’t you come to some kind of truce about the dratted thing?”

Too late, Mr. Bartholomew had disappeared out the door and Marcus could hear him shouting at the neighbor. A memory triggered…. Marcus remembered the Big Hedge Argument of 2000 between Ken Bartholomew and John Stevens. The local paper had even run a small piece about it. The eventual outcome had been to remove the hedge and build a paling fence between the two properties, an outcome which had satisfied both parties. All of which meant that Marcus had traveled back in time to the year 2000…..

Chapter Three

Marcus was quiet over dinner. He was enjoying his mother’s food very much indeed as he had missed her cooking, but he had so much to think about. Somehow his time machine had transported him back to the year 2000 and he was a 10-year-old boy again, but he still retained his adult memories and thoughts.

He carefully recalled events from 2000. There was the Big Hedge Argument, of course. And George Hannah had split his lip during a playground fight in the schoolyard. And Marcus had stolen Eric De Angelo’s girl, Lucy, causing a huge rift between the two boys. His team had won at baseball…. but these were all small events, events that would feature highly in the memories of a small boy. What about world events?

“Mom?” he said suddenly “Can I be excused? I want to go and Google something. Where’s the laptop?”

His mother frowned across the table at Ken and looked back to Marcus. “What did you say, Marcus? I’m not sure what you mean.”

Marcus remembered which year he was in. “Oh I mean I want to search something on the internet. Where’s the computer, is it still in the same place?”

“Marcus” said his father, putting down his cutlery “Are you feeling ok?”

“Uh, sure, I’m feeling fine. May I be excused?” Marcus ducked his head and hurried away from the table. He needed to watch his vocabulary and remember which decade he was in, and he also needed to remember where everything was so that he didn’t ask foolish questions.

Marcus stood in front of the large family computer in the study, it’s pale grey box-shaped monitor, computer stand and accompanying modem taking up most of the desk space. He sighed. He’d grown used to the state-of-the art technology available in the future and it was going to be hard to go back to this antiquated arrangement.

He booted up the computer and waited. And waited. When the screen was finally live he opened a current affairs page and began to scan the contents. Now he recalled what happened in 2000. George Bosh was elected as President, which started a chain of events culminating in the downfall of the United Stardom of Nations. Which in turn changed everyone’s lives for the worse.

He sat back and stared into space for a few minutes. If people here, in the year 2000, knew of the events ahead of them through the election of George Bosh, Marcus was sure that he would never have been elected. But how could Marcus, in his 10-year old boy incarnation, warn everyone of this? No-one would ever believe that he had travelled back from the future in a time machine and was here to warn them to change the course of history before it was too late.

Since George Bosh’s election, the country had begun to be ruled by a “Big Brother” mentality, where the power system in the USN was measured by Virtue bombs which were created by the amount of gratitude generated by good deeds done unto others. Every good deed was recorded by a dense network of CCTV cameras, placed everywhere throughout the nation, and which recorded events 24 hours a day. Each measure of gratitude was recorded by a super-computer, and each tiny good deed added to the enormous power of the Virtue bombs. The nation’s people had begun to live in fear of the Virtue bombs and had started to stop performing kindnesses and good deeds in attempt to halt the growth of the bombs. Which in turn had led to a very unhappy state of the nation; a country where very few good deeds were performed was a very unhappy place to be.

Amongst other restrictions and regulations, George Bosh had also placed an embargo on the country’s borders, limiting the passage of people in and out of the country. The citizens were unable to leave the country to get away from the strict rules placed around good deeds, and instead were trapped inside the borders of their own increasingly depressed nation. Everything added up to the overall feeling of despair that began to seep through the cities and towns. Many people tried to make the best of the situation, the people who Marcus had worked with on campus, for example, and Marcus and his wife Teri, but it was hard to live a normal life while being hyper-aware of committing good deeds all day long.

Marcus switched off the computer and returned to his boyhood room. He pulled out a notebook from his desk drawer and began to make some notes. If he was to do things differently now, how would it change things for himself and his family in years to come? He knew already that he would avoid some of the small playground events; nothing had been gained from his fight with George, and Eric De Angelo’s girlfriend Lucy had been more trouble than she was worth. Marcus and Lucy’s short relationship had ended abruptly when he caught her planting a kiss on Ricky Watson during recess. If he knew of these events in advance, and also of their outcomes, and he could choose to avoid them, what about bigger events? Such as his mother’s death in a car crash? And could there possibly be some way to sabotage the nation’s election and thus avoid George Bosh coming to power? He had the appearance and size of a 10-year-old boy, but he had grown into a very smart adult and he still retained his adult knowledge and brainpower.

Putting the notebook aside, Marcus collected up Monty the cat and snuggled his face into the animal’s soft fur. Monty purred happily. Marcus already knew that the cat would die within two years after running across the road in front of an oncoming car, but Marcus had no idea on how to prevent that particular accident. Cats never listened at the best of times; how could you warn a cat not to run in front of a car? It would run regardless — that’s just what cats do.

“Marcus?” His father stood in the doorway. “Is everything all right, son? Mom and I are going to take a drive and get some ice cream. Do you want to come along?”

Marcus nodded eagerly, putting Monty back down on the bed. The chance to spend extra moments with his parents was precious and he was not about to let a moment pass by.

During the car journey Marcus looked eagerly out the window, refreshing his memory with buildings and places now long gone. He watched the old cars pass by with amusement — the vehicles of the future were so much shinier and more streamlined. His father pulled into a gas station to pump some gas and Marcus looked at the price per liter nostalgically.

At the ice cream parlor, the family sat around the table and ate their sundaes. Marcus looked around at the clothes people were wearing, at their hairstyles and their shoes. It all seemed so old-fashioned but also familiar and vaguely comforting. Life had certainly been different back here, and in so many ways it was a shame that it had all changed so much. If it was at all possible to freeze this moment in time, Marcus was sure that he would do so.

After dessert the family walked along the boardwalk towards the small river that flowed through the township. It was a lovely evening, with a small breeze blowing and the temperature still warm. “Dad?” asked Marcus “Do you think you will vote for George Bosh in the election?”

Ken Bartholomew looked at his son in surprise. Marcus had never shown the slightest interest in politics before, but then again the boy was growing older and it was only to be expected that his interests would start to change and develop. Ken thought carefully before answering “I don’t agree with all of George Bosh’s policies” he said “And in fact I think that some of his suggestions are downright dangerous. But everyone has the right to stand for President and everyone has the right to vote for the person they believe should govern the nation, so I think that if he does win good luck to the man. But as to whether I’ll vote for him myself? No, Marcus, I won’t. I believe that there are better candidates to choose from.”

Marcus listened carefully and nodded at his father’s reply. A good balanced answer. His father was a smart man.

Chapter Four

Marcus got himself ready for school the next morning and collected his lunch bag from the kitchen counter. “Thanks Mom” he said, kissing her cheek and hugging her tightly. She looked at him in surprise but said nothing.

He walked out the door and down the sidewalk towards school. He was quite excited to be seeing his old friends and enemies again after all these years. And he already knew that he’d find the schoolwork incredibly easy with the advanced knowledge that his adult brain now held, but to see his friends again was an enormous bonus.

“Hey Marcus” Joey Grigson called his name as he stepped through the school gates. Marcus looked over at the chubby boy, a stream of memories triggering. Throughout his early school years and into high school, Joey would continue to eat and grow, getting larger and larger and fatter and fatter each month. In his early twenties, at an all-time gargantuan size, he would devise his own diet using products from the food sold at a well-known burger chain. He would successfully lose a huge amount of weight through eating a diet made up solely of their foods, and the burger chain would employ him as their spokesperson. He would make a huge amount of money and travel the world promoting the chain’s food products, but he would never be happy with the lifestyle. Instead he would often say that he wished he’d lived a normal-sized life as a normal-sized person and never achieved the fame that he did.

Marcus glanced at the bag of potato chips in Joey’s hand. Should he suggest that Joey exchange the salty and fatty snack for an apple? Should he encourage Joey to eat properly now and thus avoid the pathway that was set out in front of him?

Joey looked at him meanly, and hid the chips behind his back. “What are you staring at, Bartholomew? Go and get your own food!”

Marcus walked away. No, he would not tell him. Joey could find out for himself.

“Hi Marcus.” Pretty little Lucy sidled up beside him. “Do you want to sit with me at lunchtime today?”

Marcus looked at the young girl. He already knew the outcome of the relationship between the two of them. “No thanks, Luce. How about you sit with Eric or Ricky?” He flashed a bright smile in her direction and continued on his way. The girl looked at him in astonishment as he walked away, a pout marring her pretty features. None of the boys ever said no thanks to her invitations.

Putting his bag in his locker, Marcus went to find his best friend, Henry. He and Henry had known each other since kindergarten and would remain friends until their adulthood. Henry, a true daredevil, would meet his untimely death in a paragliding accident in the Andes when he was 22 years old. Marcus still missed him after all these years and he was looking forward to seeing his old friend again, even in his 10-year-old form.

Henry was hanging upside down from the large tree behind the gym, dangling dangerously from the branches. “Marcus” he waved at his friend and swung himself down. Marcus resisted the urge to hug him; 10-year-old boys did not hug each other, even if one of them only had 12 more years to live.

Henry and Marcus walked companionably back towards the school building. “Henry” said Marcus slowly “What do you think you want to do with your life?”

Henry jumped ahead in big leaps, pretending he was jumping over crocodiles in the Amazon. “I want to go to Australia and swim with sharks and I want to go to Africa and shoot lions, and I want to fly through the sky like a bird” he said. He put his arms out like wings and spun around in circles. Marcus looked at him sadly. Yes, he would go on to do all these things, but attempting to fly like a bird would lead to his death. Even if Marcus could warn him, would he want to stop his friend from enjoying all the adventures that lay ahead of him? Should Marcus start to persuade him now to choose a stable and boring career such as an accountant or a car salesman, which would eventuate in Henry living a long and safe life where he’d always be feeling as though he had never really lived?

It was a lot harder than Marcus had ever imagined to know what the future contained. Sighing, he followed Henry into math class. Mr. Anderson took math; Marcus now knew that Mr. Anderson would leave the school in five years’ time after a huge scandal involving himself and the new young English teacher. But even if Mr. Anderson would listen to 10-year-old Marcus’s tale of what the future held for him, would he choose not to live the events which would eventually lead to his expulsion from the school under a cloud of disapproval?

At lunchtime Marcus joined his friends for a game of basketball on the school courts. He watched Tony Evans carefully. Tony would go on to play for the Glovetrotters, and he would make millions in advertising contracts and deals. However, soon after leaving the team he would become involved heavily in drugs and die from an overdose. Marcus watched Tony’s amazing leaps and moves, able to see how the boy evolved into the champion that he would become, with some sadness. How could he warn him of what lay ahead? And would Tony change anything?

After the game the boys sat under the shade of the trees and ate their lunch. “So Marcus” said Henry, his mouth full of sandwich “Do you think your Dad will become Mayor?’

Another memory triggered. Marcus shook his head “I don’t know” he said. He recalled that his father, a hardworking and honest man who worked as an engineer at the town’s gas plant, had run for the position of Mayor in 2000. He had lost by a small margin, much to everyone’s dismay, as they had all believed that he would make an excellent town leader and they thought that he would surely win the election.

The person who did win, Glen Appleton, was a sly and corrupt man who had eventually lost the town a lot of money through bad investments and crooked deals. He was also the Pastor of the local church, and much of the church funds had also disappeared under suspicious circumstances.

Twenty years later, and Marcus recalled this well, his wife Teri had saved a man’s life by pushing him out of the way of an out of control car. The man had broken his leg during the mishap, and Teri and Marcus had visited him in hospital. The man had paled when he saw Marcus. He told Teri that he was eternally grateful for her quick thinking, which had no doubt saved his life, and then he had nodded his head towards Marcus. Hesitantly, he had explained that he recognized Marcus and knew that he was Ken Bartholomew’s son. He explained that he had been the vote counter at the 2000 elections, but he had been bribed by Glen Appleton and his cronies to change the results. He had corrupted the electronic file results, switching the number of votes received for Ken Bartholomew and listing them as votes received for Glen Appleton.

The man had stammered and stuttered as he told his story, looking shamefaced. He told Marcus that he had regretted his decision to take the bribe ever since, but at the time he was struggling to support his young family and he felt that it was an option that he had to take. Marcus had thanked the man for finally telling his story even though he did not condone the dishonesty, and he had wished him well in his recovery. He had left the hospital feeling sad for both his father and his home town, which had lost the opportunity to have an honest Mayor lead them. But perhaps this was one event which Marcus could now change the results of …

“Marcus!” Marcus shook himself out of his memories. Henry was standing above him. “Come on, what are you doing? The bell has rung; we’re going to be late. Race you back to class!”

The boys sprinted across the field, bursting through the school doors simultaneously, and receiving a scolding from Miss Palmer, the school’s English teacher. They looked at each other and sniggered before walking to their class. Marcus glanced back at Miss Palmer. Within 10 years she would shock everyone by disappearing from sight, only to turn up a year later as Mr. Palmer and he would go on to found and run a very successful international acrobatics academy. Marcus smiled to himself. If only his schoolmates knew what he knew!

After school Marcus joined his friends at the baseball oval for practice. Mr. Kenworth, the heavily muscled and testosterone-filled coach, put the boys through their warmups, Henry and Marcus jostling each other until they were scolded by the coach and told to pay attention to the task at hand. Marcus glanced across at the coach. He knew that Mr. Kenworth would shortly leave the school and embark on a life of travel and adventure. He would eventually join a commune in India and shave his head and wear orange robes, and he would live his life happily eating wholefoods and chanting, his muscle-filled body gradually slimming down and becoming healthy as the years of steroid abuse drained away.

After a robust game of baseball, the boys said goodbye to their teammates and Henry and Marcus walked homewards together. Henry lived only a few blocks from Marcus’s house with his widowed father, who Marcus now knew would re-marry in five years’ time to a young lady he’d known for only six weeks. The marriage would not last, and Henry’s father would be left feeling like a foolish old man, but this event was still in the future and Marcus saw no value in telling Henry of what was to come.

The boys said goodbye at the corner of Henry’s street and Marcus ran the rest of the way home, looking forward to seeing his mother and father again. This time was such a blessing and a privilege and he was going to make the most of it.

At dinner that evening, Marcus waited for the opportunity to speak to his father. His Dad was busy telling his Mom about some small events that had happened that day at the gas plant, and Marcus was impatient for him to stop speaking so that Marcus could question him about his campaign for Mayor. Finally, his father finished his story.

“Dad” he said quickly, before he could resume talking. “We were talking at school today about the election. What do you think your chances are of winning and becoming Mayor?”

His father glanced at his mother before replying. He placed his knife and fork down on the table and looked at Marcus. “Well” he said slowly “I think I have a good chance. The townsfolk seem to think that I would make a good Mayor and I certainly have a lot of support. But Mr. Appleton also has a lot of supporters.”

“Pffffft” snorted Marcus’s mother. “That Glen Appleton, don’t get me started…”

“Wendy” Ken Bartholomew cautioned his wife. He looked back to Marcus. “Don’t listen to gossip, Marcus, not ever. I think it will be a fair race, and the best person for the job will win on the day.” He picked up his knife and fork and resumed eating, the conversation clearly over.

Marcus helped his mother stack the dishwasher after dinner. “Mom” he said “Why don’t you like Mr. Appleton?”

His mother glanced quickly towards the lounge room where they could hear the sound of the News on the TV. “I don’t think he is as honest a man as your father, that is all, dear” she said. “We both know that your Dad would make an excellent Mayor, and for that reason I hope that he wins. Now, I’ll finish up here, off you go.” She flicked the dishcloth at him playfully.

Marcus went to his room, deep in thought. He already knew that Glen Appleton would win the race to the Mayoralty through devious and underhand ways, and his appointment would lead to a lot of heartbreak for the town. Clearly events were already in place; he expected that the vote counter had already been bribed by now and that the election results would be switched on the night. But what if the electronic counting system was disabled and the votes had to be counted manually? Surely then, with many people involved in the counting, the results could not be falsified? Marcus’s grown-up brain knew enough about technology and computers to be able to disable an electronic counting system. What if he switched off the lights in the town hall where the votes were being recorded, and undercover of the sudden chaos and darkness he disabled the counting system? When the lights came back on, no one would be any the wiser — certainly they would not blame a 10-year old boy — and they would assume the malfunction was due to the power cut.

They would then have to commence with manual counting of the paper votes, as everyone would be clamoring for a result. Marcus smiled. His plan may just work….

Over the next few weeks, Marcus continued to enjoy the valuable time he shared with his parents. With the benefit of hindsight, and an adult’s knowledge of the challenges that parents face, Marcus was able to approach his relationship with them from a new perspective. Ken and Wendy Bartholomew looked at their son in confusion on many occasions, unable to pinpoint his seemingly new-found maturity, but enjoying the way their relationship had apparently advanced. Marcus realized that if he had met his parents as an unrelated adult and on an equal footing he would’ve liked them very much indeed and they would no doubt have become very good friends of his.

Marcus continued to attend school, reveling in the time he spent with Henry. He could see so many of the attributes in his friend that would develop as the boy grew older, most especially his daredevil and fearless approach to life. This characteristic both gladdened and saddened Marcus. He knew it would lead to the boy’s early death but he also knew it would show him a life that most people only dreamed of.

Continuing to avoid Lucy in the playground, Marcus watched the young girl gravitate back to Eric De Angelo’s side. Eric had shot Marcus a triumphant look, thinking that he had won the girl’s heart, but Marcus knew better. Soon she’d cheat on Eric by kissing Ricky behind the gym, and Marcus was glad that he had no involvement in the matter.

He walked around the playground, seeing old friends and acquaintances and remembering what had become of each and every one of them. Many had gone on to live sedate and sedentary lives, stable but boring; some had died young; some had chosen a life of crime and ended up in prison; and some had lived adventures such as Henry would. It was interesting to see all their young faces, all quite unaware of what lay ahead of them.

Marcus accompanied his father on the campaign trail on several occasions, watching with pride as Ken Bartholomew presented inspiring and encouraging speeches to the crowds. In Marcus’s mind, his father was the right man to lead the people, and it appeared that many of the townsfolk agreed, judging from the large audiences his father’s political presentations attracted. Marcus also attended several of Glen Appleton’s rallies, his parents looking on in amusement at their son’s seemingly sudden interest in politics. Marcus did not agree with Glen Appleton’s policies, and he decided that he did not like the man at all. He wondered why others around him seemed so unaware of the man’s sly and unpleasant nature.

Chapter 5 Available on NewBbay.com