Wish i'd brought a jay

Imagine the worst job you've ever held. The most labor intensive, with the worst boss, under the most horrid of conditions. Now imagine this job makes you work long days, up to 18 hours. Except those long days don't come with overtime, in fact they don't come with any compensation at all. In fact your only compensation is a ratty set of clothes and a sub-par housing known to breed disease. There is no upward mobility in this job, no room for advancement, in fact no ability to leave at all. If you slow down at this job you risk physical abuse if you try to leave you risk worse abuse. Now imagine that not only are you chained to this job forever, so are you're children, and their children. You are a slave. Forgotten, in the Southern perspective about the Civil War are the roughly 4 million human beings enslaved at the start of the civil war. Bought and sold like chattel. A lot of Southern apologists like to dismiss this entirely be claiming the slaves were treated well. For the sake of argument, I think that certainly some slaveowner's were better then other but they were still slaves. With no rights, no ability to get an education, no room for upward mobility in any sense. Perhaps General William Tecumseh Sherman was unduly harsh in burning Atlanta and laying waste to a large portion of the Southern Confederacy. I don't think so though. Should the states have been allowed to secede? I think there could be a strong case made for that. Should they have been allowed to continue to profit and thrive off of slave labor? Definitely not. And while it is true that maybe the North was not any kind of bastion of tolerance and acceptance that it is sometimes made out to be they were, in the end, on the right side of history. They were not fighting to defend slave labor. Another argument is that the average Confederate soldier did not own slaves, therefore slavery was not the issue. Still they were fighting for a government built upon the institution of slavery. The Southern politicians of the time were not so shy about the issue. Alexander Stephens the vice president of the Confederacy put it nicely: Our new Government is founded on exactly the opposite ideas; its foundations are laid, it cornerstone rests, upon the great truth that the negro is not equal to the white man; that slavery , subordination to the superior race, is his natural and normal condition.

Call headquarters, have you terminated.

The air was filled with wafts of smoke, and the clamor of voices, and sometimes the jostling of an unruly patron. The smell was a strange melange of tobacco, whiskey, blood, sweat, and urine. Jim took it all in as he took a long swig of his beer. He didn't mind. It was authentic, it was really, it was probably the most amazing thing he had ever experienced. Better than the birth of his first child, bad as it was to admit that to himself, better than getting his P.h.d, better than sex. It was history alive, in the flesh, walking into an old newsreel. When they had first entered through the door into the dark alley and walked toward the street he could hear the clopping of the hoofprints. 'Now this is probably going to blow your mind so be prepared.' Jim had nodded and they emerged from the alley. It was hard for Jim to identify exactly how he felt as he walked into it. There it was, New York City, 1885. Men in top hats and frock coats, ladies in hoop skirts, sometimes with a parasol. The newspaper boy's hawking the morning paper. Men doffing their cap's to one another. 'That always makes people smile.' Ben said as the had walked down the street. 'You see going back is just like going to a different country,' he said. 'Different customs, different social mores, different etiquette.' Ben was explaining this as they were walking down the street but no one seemed to notice them. 'In many ways its just like being in the city today, people pretty much ignore you.' They had mostly. The barkeep was a large Irishman with a handlebar mustache who grunted as they had ordered. Ben had given him 40 dollars in greenbacks which had been more then enough. 'The past is cheap.' Ben explained. They their journey in the 50's going to a bar on the corner populated by greasers and factory workers. Then they had tiled back a few pints in a speakeasy in Brooklyn in the 20's and Jim had watched a young Louie Armstrong play. Ben seemed to know someone in every decade. Have some kind of contact in that era. That was his asset, Jim thought as he watched him singing a having a boisterous conversations with a couples of Irish workers. Jim pondered what he would tell his colleagues who had told him about historical travel. They hadn't gone themselves but they had told him the rumors. Ben had made him sign a confidentiality agreement, and Ben wouldn't tell them anyway. If everyone found out the past would become like and old remote swimming hole discovered by the general population. A once pristine location now littered with beer cans and crowded all the time. 'I usually only take one person back at a time.' Ben explained. 'The more people you take back the more frequent the anomalies become. The more likely they are to recognize you as an outsider.' It was hard to remember it wasn't exactly the past, it had the same characteristics but it wasn't exactly the same. Alternate universes' but damned if it wasn't close. Jim finished his beer. 'Can I get another?' Jim asked the Irishman. He noticed Ben sauntering over from the other side of the saloon. 'How you doing over there bud?' Ben asked as he approached. He had finished his fourth beer, he had had one in the 50's, two in the 20's and now 4 in 1885. 'This is really something.' Jim slurred, taking a draw of his beer. 'Yeah it is, good people here too.' Ben knew most of the regular patrons of the saloon by name, and a few more things about the. Al who liked to sit at the end was an old Civil war vet, Ben had found that out one time after he'd had a few and had started talking to Al. Al had told him about Antietam, Gettysburg, and a half dozen other battles Ben had never even heard of. It was come out all at once, as if Al had just been waiting for someone to ask him. A cannonball had taken off his leg a Frederiskburg. He had been struck by a minieball three time in the arm, hand, and chest. Tough old bastard, Ben had thought. This is my calling, Ben thought as he looked around the saloon at the various patrons. This strange niche was what I was put on earth to do. 'Shouldn't we head back soon?' Jim asked finishing the rest of his beer. It was far better then he had expected. 'Why do that Jimmy my boy? Another round for everyone at the bar!' Ben raised his glass. A few of the patrons raised their glasses in reply but most just grumbled. Ben put down the remainder of his cash on the table. It was just enough to cover it. 'Alright let's head out.' Ben motioned to Jim. Jim stumbled up, it was getting late. 'There might be a few ruffian's out there, so watch your step.' Ben said loudly as they walked out. The night was clear and cool, with a full moon. 'You see, this is what your money can get you.' They walked down the gas lit street in silence for a minute, watching the stars. 'Do you really think you should have engaged them that much?' Jim asked, breaking the silence. 'No you see, you should refrain from engaging with them. But me they know me, recognize me, and if they think that you're with me they are less likely to hone in on you. They think I am some kind of travelling peddler right now, and your'e my friend from out of town. That's usually the best thing to do. Say you're from out of town, or a foreigner, they love that.' 'So as long as I'm with you they won't see me as an outsider.' Jim said. 'Exactly.' It was more of a theory than an established fact, but so far it had proven true. The incident in 1992 had shaken his confidence slightly, but now he felt it back. He knew these people, knew the past, knew how to navigate people through the static worlds. 'Here it is.' Ben said as they approached the alley. He had placed his Handkerchief on the barrel on front of the alley to mark it. Ben led the way, stumbling slightly as he went. Ben fumbled in his pockets for a second before producing the device. A little remote control. He pressed a few buttons and the door opened. 'Well,' Ben slurred. 'Back to our shitty time.' He walked through the door. Jim paused for a second looking around. All was silent, but something didn't feel right. He could feel eyes on them the whole time they were walking out of the bar. Paranoia, maybe Jim thought. Maybe not. As Jim walked through the door he was sure someone was watching them. They didn't look much like demon's Mary thought, the two men who had passed through the wall. Or angel's or any kind of wizards she had read about. Just average people. Still she had had read that the devil would appear in different form's sometimes, to work his evil among the good people. Still the men didn't seem like devil's or evil, but there was something about them. Something off, she had heard that one of them lived nearby, a peddler of some kind. Mary had been on the street's for two years since her parents had died. She had learned to observe, to study the vast arrange of character's she ran into on the street. It was a necessary component of survival on the street. She had observed every kind of gambler, hustler, brusier, pimp, there was. That one was no peddler. Maybe he did live in the brownstone across the street but he wasn't from there. She wasn't sure where he was from. But she was going to find out. The next time they go through, I'm following them she vowed.

Here's the thing-can you come in?

Carl took a long pull of the joint and slowly exhaled the smoke billowing across the room. He had that thoughtful look that he sometimes had, of contemplating some puzzle. 'So the old man grilled the client and told him to get out of town, and then the whole town went after you?' Ben nodded,'Yeah basically. I've never seen anything like it before. I've run into problems sure but nothing that bad. I've been in there before plenty of times and never had any problems.' Ben took another toke and passed it back to Carl. 'But they know you there, they've gotten used to you. Each time you go back there are variations, usually subtle, but sometimes something more.' Carl had explained to him when he first created the technology that it wasn't exactly time travel. The world was authentic in that everything in it would be identical to the time, but it wasn't exactly in the space-time continuum. Carl called them 'static world's', parallel universes that were simply on a tape loop. The same year,over and over. After the year was over the year would reset and begin anew. With each visit to the static worlds different variation would occur. Some subtle like the color of a woman's dress, some more extreme. 'I can probably find a way to reset it, but it's hard to say what will happen. Most likely it will be fine but be prepared to make a quick exit. Carl passed the joint back to Ben and Ben finished it. Carl was the kind of person who could do calculus baked out of his mind. He loved puzzles, deciphering codes, in some ways Ben thought that he had developed the technology to go back only to solve that puzzle. Once he had created it he seldom used it, save for a few times. Carl loved the challenge, working on something most thought impossible. 'This guy's already paid me the money, and now he's threatening a lawsuit.' Carl laughed. 'Who would believe him? I had a bad experience going back in time? 'Still we need more customers, its been slow lately.' Carl was silent for a moment. 'It should be back to normal the next time you go back. I know you use the technology alot and I don't mind but you need to be more careful. The variations will continue each time.' 'I know.' Ben said. 'It magic, going back there. It's better than sex, a good movie, food, anything. Like stepping into an old painting.' The room was dark even though it was midday, and a waft of smoke hung in the air. Carl had never been one for interacting with people, which was why he had Ben be the face of the company. He could never endure having to make conversation with random strangers, plus going back had always seemed creepy to him. The furthest had had gone with the 1930's and when he had seen a little boy on the street playing hoops with his friends and realized that that boy was unquestionably dead it had hit him-all of them, they are all dead. He was visiting the land of the dead. After that he never went back. Even if they were alternate universes, it was too much. 'I know, and I can understand. But don't go too far back, because at a certain point the variations become out of my control.' Ben rose, 'Well I'm going to talk to his guy again. Do you think it will work this time?' Carl took a second to respond. He had clicked a few icons on his computer which may or may not have had anything to do with what they were talking about, and Ben marveled at this enigmatic person he had known for so long. Despite having known him for most of his life he had no idea what made him tick. 'Most likely.' Ben nodded, realized that that was probably the most concise answer he would get. 'Well I'm going to see if I can talk to this guy.' Jim felt cold. The whole experience had been so..creepy. It was the only word he would use to describe it, wrong, something off. As if he was dabbling with something that simply should not be dabbled with. That was meant to be left where it belonged, in the past. Sitting in his dark apartment with a bottle of bourbon by his side he took a long swig. He remembered the look of the old man at the store, of the mob advancing toward him. Toward me, Jim thought, they seemed to all be honed in on me. And something about the world was off, the sky was too blue, the sun was too bright, everything was exaggerated somehow, overblown. He might have guessed that maybe Ben had simply built a set and paid actors to do everything but it was too real. And then they had turned against them. The angry mob. Perhaps the most terrifying thing in the world. Carl had remembered in college reading about the New York draft riots of 1863, of the mob taking control of the City for several days. He had seen that same thing in that mob gathering back there. Maybe this whole thing had been a mistake. A loud knock on the door woke Jim from his revelry. 'Who is it?' Jim barked. 'It's Ben!' he heard in reply. Jim rose slowly and headed to the door. 'What do you want? 'Only to explain, and I can give you some of your money back.' 'Only some?' Jim asked. 'We were almost killed.' 'You were almost killed.' Ben said as he walked into Jim's apartment. 'They know me there. Let's just say there were some kinks but we've got them ironed out.' Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out 6 hundred dollar bills placing them on the counter. 'Here's half.' 'Just half?' Jim asked as he picked up the bills. 'I still took you to an alternate world.' 'So it's not exactly like going back in time?' 'It's called a static world. A tape loop, the same year, over and over. But it's still authentic, and nothing done in those worlds can effect what happens today.' Jim nodded, he had had a strong feeling that something was wrong. 'Still I'm not interested. It was a mistake.' Jim rose and took another swig of his whiskey. 'I know you want to see it.' Ben answered. 'You've wanted your whole career to see it. Everything. The entire body of your work, real, in the flesh. No reenactor's, no Hollywood bullshit, just history, real in the flesh.' Jim paused a moment. Remembering the time when he was 10 and he was passed an old house that had one of those placards on it about its history. How it had been there for a couple hundreds of years, served as headquarters to a general or two, how he had become fascinated about its history. Had wanted to see its history, to witness it firsthand. 'Ok. I'll give it a shot again. But no trouble.' 'Absolutely. You want to go time hopping?' 'Time hopping?' Jim asked. 'It's like barhopping but through time. You got to one bar have a drink and then go back maybe 50 years and hit another one. First though we go back to where we started.' Jim nodded. 1992 seemed slightly brighter this time around. 'This is just a test run.' Ben said as they walked down the main street. 'To make sure the calibrations were correct. Everything seemed nice. The sun was shining, the bird's were chirping and everything seemed perfect. Too perfect in fact. Jim was noticing that now everyone seemed overly friendly. 'Hey guys!' the girls with the perm said as they passed. The man in the suspenders gave them a hearty, ' 'Good morning!' 'This is kind of creepy.' Jim remarked. Ben couldn't agree more. It was all exaggerated, wrong somehow. 'It's ok, we won't be here for long.' The citgo station was still there but the sign moved slightly, payphone was further to the end of the parking lot. Subtle variations, Ben thought. Ben led the way into the store, Jim followed. 'Howdy folks?' the old man at the register said with a beaming grin. 'Hi.' Jim muttered. He grabbed his coke, gum, and paper and headed to the register. 'Will that be all?' the clerk asked. 'No I'm all set.' Jim replied and handed him another 5. The clerk gave him the change, 'You folks have a nice day.' He said as they left. 'I think something is off about this place again.' 'It's always going to be off, like I said. Variations. Ready to see the 50's? 'Ok.' Jim said.

Third grade was actually a really good year for me.

1992 really wasnt't that much different from today, Jim thought as he walked down main street, a spring breeze in the air. Sure the cars we're older, a few of the stores were different then the ones he knew but by and large the town hadn't changed much. After Jim had showed up at 8AM, with the check for 1200 Ben had asked for he had taken him into the same office they had met the day before. He had produced a small device, about the size of a wallet, and pressed a few digits and aimed it at the back wall. A opening the size of the door had appeared on the wall, like a closet. Jim had been expecting something like a wormhole, gleaming a shining, but it was only blackness. Like a closet. 'After you,' Ben said and he had entered. It was something every instinctual part of him told him was a bad idea. Don't walk into the dark void, but he had gone. Through the blackness they had emerged into an alley, behind a store that had gone out of business. 'Point's of entry.' Ben explained. They tried to pick a spot as isolated as possible to prevent being seen, poring over old maps of cities to determine the best spot. It was tricky and sometimes a derelict or a hobo would see them, but they usually pulled it off, Ben explained. Was this really worth 1200 bucks? Jim thought as they strolled down the street. As if reading his thought's Ben remarked 'I know this doesn't seem like much but it makes for a good starting point. Also its so see if the people from the past notice you.' They had passed a few people on the street, a few teenage girls with perms, a man with in a business suit with suspenders, neither had seemed to take much notice. 'That's something you'll run into from time to time as you go back-the stare. I still don't entirely understand it but sometimes, they know. They don't exactly know why but they know you're not from here. That's there's something out of place with you. It can range from merely courteous to downright hostile. The further back you go the worse it gets. It's part of the reason we only take people back in period costume, but even then they can tell.' Ben had even attempted learning the language and slang of the eras he visited to fit in, still it persisted. The worse had been in a tavern in Boston in 1785, when the locals had been grilling him all night. He had consumed a few too many ales that night and had proceeded to rant about the future, how the very tavern they were in right now would be a parking lot in 300 years, how they were in fact, all dead men. They had called him a heretic, and had barely escaped unscathed. 'So far they don't seem to take much notice of you which is good.' Jim nodded, attempting to recall where he had been at this stage of his life in 1992. Working on his thesis, most likely, studying tenement conditions of the immigrant poor. 'Want to grab a few souvenirs?' Ben asked as they approached a gas station. 'Sure.' Jim said mildly. Jim's awe in seeing the past had been restrained but when he looked up at the sign and saw that gas was .95 cents it hit him, this guys actually done this. I am visiting the past. Throughout all of his years of work as a historian he had dreamed of seeing it, and now it was actually here. True it wasn't witnessing the Gettysburg Address or the signing of the declaration of independence, it was something. The gas station they walked up to was still there, in fact Jim had gone there the day before, but it had switched hands several times. 'You'd be surprised what you can buy here with not much money.' Ben said as they walked in. 'In fact if it was possible I'd move here.' He smiled to himself. In fact he did have an apartment here, and one in the 50's, the 20's even in 1890. He usually told the landlord he was some kind of peddler or traveling salesman, and they tended to believe him, as long as he paid on time. Jim could feel the hostile eyes on him as he entered the store. The stare. The clerk was an older man, slightly stooped. His look was cold, piercing. The store was small and Ben could walked over and whispered, 'Don't worry just stay cool.' Jim attempting to, but he could feel the clerks cold gaze following him as he moved. As if he was thought Jim was going to pull out a revolver any moment and hold the place up. Jim decided on just a pack of gum, a coke, and a newspaper. Ben had thought of cautioning him against it but decided not too. No one would believe him if he told them. It was part of the reason Ben had been able to keep his business under wraps. Jim walked up to the register placing his items on the counter. The old man's steely gaze had not faltered. 'Will that be all sir?' Jim nodded. The old man said something and he handed the man a five. The old man snatched the note with contempt and gave him his change. Things are cheaper here, Jim thought. 'You from out of town?' The old man said as he walked to the door. 'Yeah,' Jim replied nervously. 'Well why don't you stay that way? We don't care for outsiders here.' 'Sorry.'Jim replied as he walked out the door. Ben came out of the store hastily, 'Something's wrong, we might need to get out of here soon.' 'What the hell was that?' Jim asked. 'An anomaly, something's off. I need to talk to my tech guy to see if we can sort it out.' Ben was looking around to see it anyone was watching them. 'For now though I can't take you any further back, it just get's worse.' They walked back down the street toward the alley. 'How did he know?'Jim said as they walked. 'It's hard to say, I've taken people to that same store with that same clerk dozen's of times and that's never happened.' Someone was following them now, a man, the one with the suspenders. 'Alright this is getting weird.' Ben said. The alleyway was only a couple blocks now, but they couldn't be seen, especially not after the incident in the store. The man was closing in, something is off about this, Jim thought, finally they came upon the alley. Ben went quickly down the alley, as Jim followed him he looked over his shoulder, several others had joined the man, a mob. Fuck, Jim thought. Ben pressed a button on the device opening the door, 'Hurry!' he urged, and Jim descended back into the darkness.