Astra For President – My Platform….

“What’s my platform? Solid oak!”

— Al Lewis (“Grandpa Munster”)

When Lewis ran for mayor of New York against Giuliani, he answered the obvious question in a decidedly un-obvious manner.

I liked Lewis. He was older than Hogan’s Goat by that point, and his ability as a civic leader was somewhat-questionable, but I’m thinking he could have probably pulled it off.

I mean, we had an actor running the whole country for eight years. Why not?

That said, several of you have asked that I post my ‘Astra For President’ platform here on Multiply and 360 — and my response is the same.

“Why not?”

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The nation is more polarized today than it has been since 1860.

To resolve these issues, I would immediately move to accomplish the following:

1. Balance the Federal budget, no matter what the cost (yes; I know I’m probably talking prolonged recession here, and that it would cost me a second term – but I’ll sacrifice the second term against the knowledge that I’d left America debt-free).

2. Create a Federally-funded health care system which was not beholden to HMO’s, PPO’s or other insurance companies; which replaces Medicare, Medicaid, and other current government programs which are bloated with regulations-on-regulations and which have loopholes aplenty. (I know this would probably create massive displacement in the insurance industry, and would cost me a lot of votes. I’ll trade those second-term votes against the fact that I would have created a health-care system for 3% of our GDP which took care of the basic medical needs of all of our citizens – and it wouldn’t be making millionaires out of people who sold scooters on TV).

3. Create, using 5% of the nation’s GDP, a genuine basic pension system which would provide for the old-age needs of Americans, funded from the Treasury and paid for by tax deductions, invested to earn interest. Participation would be mandatory.

4. Limit, by law or Consitutional amendment, the participation of the nation’s military forces in any activities which are not defense-related. Reduce the nation’s military to reflect those actions and those actions alone.

5. Leave Iraq; now. In future, the American military will not be deployed unless our national security is at stake.

6. Cease any and all corporate welfare – this includes subsidies to tobacco and other agriculture, as well as any other form of corporate welfare.

7. Curtail the ‘war on drugs’, now. Replacing this with meaningful inspections of cargo entering the country (only around 10% is inspected now) would go a long way toward preventing drugs from crossing our borders; education beginning at age six regarding the dangers of drug use plus assistance for nations wishing to create economies based on something other than drug-production would go farther toward ending the cycle of drug-abuse in America than the current policies, which incarcerate more people per-capita than any other first-world nation.

8. Create, as a part of the Department of Energy at the cabinet level, an Office of Alternative Energy. This Office will be responsible for, with government subsidy, the creation, development, invention, and deployment of alternate-energy technologies such as hydrogen, geothermal, solar, and other energy-sources which may from time to time be deemed viable as replacements for oil. The goal is the complete removal of the United States as a purchaser of oil from outside our borders by the year 2050. (Yes; I know the oil-companies will want me dead. I’ve lived a good life, and if the oil-companies want to orchestrate a ‘hit’, I’ll have died for a good cause. So be it. I want my country free.)

9. Eliminate the tax-exempt status of religious organizations in America. Henceforth, there will be no further individual tax-deductions for ‘charitable donations’ (a loophole allowing people to deduct full-retail price for junk in the attic, as well as allowing for influence-peddling in Congress and the Senate under the guise of ‘faith’).

10. Cease any and all support of repressive regimes anywhere in the world (yes; this means Israel and Indonesia, alike, will be using rocks to subjugate the peoples living within their borders).

11. Ensure that every nation knows that from now on, the United States is a peaceful country unless attacked. This process will require the State Department to start building bridges and roads in countries hostile to us, and exporting food-technology instead of weapons — but the peace of the planet is more important to me than the profits at Lockheed and Boeing.

12. Encourage, by legislation, free trade with all nations. This will include a genuine exploratory committee established through the Department of Commerce for the integration of the Canadian, U.S., and Mexican economies as a North American Union (done right, this can outstrip the production of China and Europe combined, would be a ‘win’ for all parties, and would place all three nations on better economic footing than
they are, separately).

13. Get the government out of people’s bedrooms (the government will no longer be a party to, nor shall it legislate against, abortion or the restriction thereof). Same-sex unions will be legal, carrying the force of law and entitling the partners to medical care, insurance, and legal right to make decisions for each other.

14. Get the government out of the religion business (‘faith-based initiatives’ and other subsidies-by-fiat of religious organizations will cease, immediately).

15. Ban any and all contributions from private parties to people or persons running for public office. All vetted candidates, regardless of party, will henceforth be granted public monies not to exceed a given amount; these monies will be all that are permitted to be spent promoting a person’s political platform. Lobbying, PAC’s, and other influence-peddling organizations will be banned. Each candidate will be allotted an equal amount of public monies for the purposes of ‘campaining’ (limited to the positive statement of their case and position – negative advertising will not be allowed with public funds).

16. Convene a Constitutional convention to overhaul the document. (For purposes of definition, the following items will be on the table):

a. Clarificaton of Article I; Sec. 8 – Powers of Congress; I shall immediately request that a statement be added to the effect that ‘any powers specifically stated herein may not be circumvented by Executive fiat’. This will restrict future Presidents from exercising undue power by Executive Order. (This would include the declaration of war or the use of military power without the express approval of Congress; the use of power to restrict freedom and liberty, and the use of executive order to create any facility outside the borders of the United States for the detention of citizens of other nations, regardless of crime.)

b. Article II; Sec. I shall add the verbiage, “The President shall be limited to one (1) term of six (6) years. This provision may be waived by a simple majority vote of Congress in time of national emergency.” (This will eliminate the President from engaging in campaigning while he is suppo
sed to be in the service of the nation). In order to clean up the document, ratification of this change will also repeal Amendment 22.

c. Amendment 7 shall be modified to read “$10,000”.

d. Amendment 14 shall be modified to read, “All persons born in the United States, or seeking naturalization, shall be required at age eighteen (18) to complete two (2) years of national service, at which point they will be issued certification and enrollment as a Citizen of the United States. This national service may include said military and non-military service as the Congress may approve.” (This would eliminate about half of our illegal alien problem immediately).

(I’m convinced that, after reading this, most of you will have input of your own. I’ve included most of the positive suggestions in the platform at this point, because they’ve all been sound.)

I welcome yours.

Astra for President — Sort-Of….

Well, I’ve gone and done it now.

After I wrote the “Civics-101” post, and commented on some others, I was asked by someone on my friends-list, “Why don’t you run?”

“Why not?”, I thought. “There’s this cool site called ‘U4PREZ’. Everyone’s having fun with it.”

So, I signed up. I posted it as a link on my site here – and got 18 comments in 12 hours – far more than anything else I’ve written for a while.

Some good comments, too — I’d written a ‘platform’ of sorts, and it turns out some of you actually read it!

This morning, I made some changes, reflecting your comments.

If you’d like to mosey over there and do a little more reading, you’ll see the majority of your commentary there. I’d welcome more.

Of course, if you really want me to run, then sign up over there and vote for me.

I mean — it’s only fair, right?

(You can find my platform – and other stuff — here:

http://www.u4prez.com/ProfileView.aspx?UserID=4171

Civics 101 – Representative Democracy

(I was prompted to write this after a blatant statement by someone that a vote for a certain candidate was actually a vote for another — as the first candidate was not ‘viable’ and ‘had no chance of winning’. That statement is just about as far from the raw truth of the matter as one can get – so I’m going to explain representative-democracy as best I can here.

As time permits and as it seems necessary, I’ll add to this series to address specific topics. Meantime – enjoy.)

No, I’m not going to go on about “America-is-in-trouble” because we can’t tell our nose from our elbow, educationally-speaking; I’ve done that enough; there are examples in prior blogs.

Today, I’m going to explain, as clearly as I know how, the concept of representative democracy. I’ll take comments below.

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Parties; Parties….

When the nation was founded, there were no political parties – people simply ran for office, and issues were the primary reason to vote for them, from mayor up to President.

People everywhere have a habit of getting together to promote common goals – and politics is probably the biggest example of this behavior. In 1828, from several groups (including the Whigs), the ‘Democratic Party’ was founded, running Andrew Jackson as its candidate, espousing Jeffersonian principles of egalitarianism and social reform.

The ‘Republican Party’ did not exist until 1854, founded mainly from antislavery and modernist groups.

Prior to this, there were several parties, each with as large a ‘voice’ as the Republicans and the Democrats (in fact, there have been over sixty separate political parties in American history – among them the “Bull Moose Party” [actually known formally as the Progressive Party] which actually beat the Republicans in the 1912 election; the “Free-Soil Party” [a group of antislavery advocates in the 1850’s], and the “States Rights Party” [active through the election of 1948; they were segregationists]).

Today, we have six parties which are vetted to put national candidates (from Congress and Senate races up to President) on all fifty ballots and in all American trust-territories (American Samoa; Guam; Puerto Rico, and the U.S. Virgin Islands) – the Republican Party; the Democratic Party; the Libertarian Party; the Socialist Party of America; the Constitution Party, and the Green Party.

All have viable candidates (definition: Candidates which are on the ballot and which may receive valid votes from any citizen).

Parties and the Constitution….

There is no mention in the U.S. Constitution of a ‘political party’. No one party is ‘more valid’ than another. Hence, the concept of the ‘two party system’ is a misnomer; the Republican and Democratic parties are no more ‘valid’ than the Socialists or the Greens.

The Libertarian candidate is just as ‘viable’ as the Republican candidate. The Green Party candidate is just as ‘viable’ as the Democratic Party candidate.

Put another way – an American citizen is not limited to two parties from which to make their choice for President.

So, Why Do We Persist In Only Looking At Two?….

People pay attention to what’s in front of them the most. The two major political parties in America have developed ‘war chests’ which enable them to put their candidates on TV, billboards, bumper-stickers, radio, and other media far beyond the other candidates run by other parties. This does not make them any more ‘legitimate’ – it just makes them more visible.

Isn’t the Electoral College Weighted Toward The Two Parties?

Again; no. The Electoral College was created by the people who founded the nation in order to ensure that populated areas (which were traditionally, then as now, liberal) did not overrule lesser-populated areas (which were then, and now, traditionally more conservative) during the election process. The addition and subtraction of electors is a weighted process by region by population – nothing more. The popular vote goes toward the selection of electors – the electors actually ‘elect’ the President.

Voting ‘For’ vs. Voting ‘Against’ – and the Lesser-Of-Two-Evils Theory…..

Much is made by some people regarding the whole concept of voting. As the candidates for the major parties are whittled down by a process
involving speeches, debates, and sometimes frivolous things like hair-color, looks, height-and-weight, the American public is presented with a pair of candidates for President.

While this decision is made by May in most cases, the political conventions are held in July and August during an election year. These ‘conventions’ take on the characteristics of a pep-rally/frat-party, but are supposed to be serious business. They usually ratify what most people know during the primary elections – that the number of delegates secured during the primaries will vote for the candidate, and that will be that. Rarely by this time are there any upsets.

Many times, this means that the American public is faced with two candidates of which they do not approve.

This is where other parties show their true value – because they enable an American citizen to vote for a candidate, and not cast a vote for one or the other major-party candidates, simply because they ‘have the best chance of winning’.

Remember – -they only have a ‘chance of winning’ if a citizen believes this. Instead of listening to the media – which is purchased by the candidate’s party in order to influence the voter – the voter has another choice: That of doing his or her own research, and making a choice to vote for a candidate based on personal values, issues, and statements.

This candidate might be a Republican, a Democrat – or a Libertarian, Socialist, Green, or member of another party.

By this measure, it’s irresponsible to vote for a candidate for which one does not approve, simply because he or she is the ‘lesser of two evils’ – because there are more than two choices.

Representative Democracy….

Since it’s a fact that any candidate (not just the candidates from the two major parties) are ‘viable’, and since it’s a fact that if enough people vote for these candidates, they have just as equal a chance of getting elected – why don’t more people consider them?

I believe the answer is simple – most Americans have been ‘taught’ that there are only two ‘real’ candidates for President. (in fact, when polled, over 30% thought that the two-party system was ‘legal’, and that other candidates were literally just protesters – and couldn’t be legally elected!)

Representative democracy is a simple concept: It means that one person equals one vote – and that vote isn’t ‘thrown away’ or ‘given to another candidate’ when it’s cast for someone. It’s cast for that candidate – period. While that candidate may not win, it’s still a vote for that candidate. Period.

Lesson: Voting for a candidate – after researching that candidates values and positions – is always preferable to voting against a candidate. Voting for a candidate is never a ‘wasted vote’ – it’s a vote which reflects your principles and beliefs.

Lux Perpetua XVI — (Lux Lucis Quod Verum)

The Light and the Truth – Conclusion

“Doctor. You need to tell me what to do here. I’m rather – out of my jurisdiction – and there’s the matter of why we came….” Knudson’s words trailed off.

“Give us a few minutes alone, will you?,” said Jamieson.

Knudson stepped from the anteroom into Kelso’s ‘office’ – which was actually a study. There were homemade instruments, crude by modern standards – but which had never been seen before that time. Knudson recognized a microscope, lovingly hand-made, plus a small telescope, some sort of circular instrument with a pointer, several small maps as well as other written documents.

In the anteroom, Jamieson and Kelso settled down for some third-century wine and bread.

“If it helps at all, I’m sorry, Jamieson.” Kelso was looking at his old friend in a new light now – one which had literally been humbled by centuries.

“It’s good to see you again,” said Jamieson. He meant it.

“So – I’m assuming you brought that – fellow – back here to ‘arrest’ me?”

“At the time, yes, I did. Seeing you here, though – and what you’re doing…”

“How’s your shoulder?”

“Better,” said Jamieson, slowly moving his arm around by way of proof. “There are some things I can’t do from now on, but I’ll do all right.”

“I’ve invented the telescope, you know. So far, I’ve been able to prove to them that the light from the moon doesn’t originate from there – something about seeing light and shadow for the first time which makes for a pretty convincing argument.”

“Larry – those people across town – are putting together a monstrous sort of new ‘religion’ – and they’ll come looking for people like you, because truth and light are a threat. Why stay? Why wait for the knock on the door?”, said Jamieson.

“Are there not people knocking on doors in your time, for things not terribly unrelated? How many people died a hundred years ago, relative to where we both originated, based on their ethnic background, or whether one side or another said they were ‘terrorists’?”

“Yes, but dear Doctor Kelso – do I have to remind you of the root cause of all of that nonsense? You’ll have to fly in the face of something you’ve sworn not to oppose or change! And this time, there’s no Constitution – either original, or 2018 Reformed – they’ll burn you at the stake or crucify you for opposing them. The notion of separating religion and government is a bad idea to these people!”

Kelso paused. “I don’t suppose you’ve thought that I might actually be happy here?”

“I came here to arrest you. Now, I’m considering it more of a ‘rescue’. What you’re doing here is marvelous – but how long do you think the Governor of this province can keep you safe, once their ‘Church’ levies a charge of heresy?”

“It’s a risk I’ll take to see them with running water, proper sanitation, and steam power. I’m working on giving them electricity. The collegium is fascinated with my experiments in physics. The place is dynamic again; they’re not just reciting the things they learned so many years ago. Did you know that they had an entire copy of Galen’s writings on medicine, gathering dust? Of course you didn’t – you couldn’t. My point, though, is that there’s real accomplishment going on here along with the learning.”

Jamieson reflected on his friend. His hair was wild now; the result of no ‘proper’ barbers in this time – but Kelso was as reinvested in himself as he’d ever been.

‘Rehabilitiate: To reinvest with new standards and dignity.’ Jamieson remembered that definition as he watched his friend sip some wine, eat some bread, and sit in the half-light of afternoon which was filtering through the clerestory windows.

“You can take me back, Doctor Jamieson – but you’ll have a hard time explaining all of this in court. I doubt they’ll know how to deal with it.”

“You can relax. I’m not going to take you back. But you have to answer me a question: Why Nicaea? And, while I’m at it – why did you set the machine for a fifty-year future-relative return?”

Kelso smiled. “You see, in the three years – which seems like a lifetime, depending on your point of view – -that I’ve been here, I’ve learned a few things I didn’t count on.”

He continued, “I came here to prove to the world that ‘Jesus’ was a real person. I came back in time to settle myself and make myself useful, in a position which would give me access to the council to come and go, learning what I could. Instead, I learned that what’s been going on over there for over a year is a truly a free-for-all. They can’t even agree on the name of the person who lived three-hundred-odd years ago; what he did; where he was even born. You were right – there were no contemporaneous records. What comes out of that council is going to be invention; the literal creation of a character which will then be ‘sold’ to everyone in the Western world.”

He continued, “I wanted to find proof – real proof, you see – and return, of a time when the people involved – including you – were either very, very old or dead. At the time, I’d figured my information would trump any remaining ‘charges’.”

“Crisis of faith, eh?” Jamieson smiled at the irony of it.

“You could say that. I still believe there’s a universal force – but it’s patent and clear now that no one person or group of people know what that is.”

“Welcome to agnosticism, Doctor Kelso!” Jamieson began to laugh.

Jamieson continued. “The ironic thing here is that if there was ‘rehabilitation’ to be done, you’ve done it yourself, by the passing of time and the work you’ve accomplished, even at the expense of exposing yourself to great danger. You’ve learned a lot – and so have I.”

Knudson entered the room again. “What’s it gonna be, guys?” He looked impatient.

“Doctor Kelso isn’t coming back, Detective, and I’m not going to press the issue.”

Knudson looked first at Jamieson, then at Kelso. “We’ve come to take you home, Doctor Kelso.”

Kelso paused; smiled, then spoke.

“I am home, Detective.”

_____________

Kelso and Jamieson said their good-byes; Kelso had a meeting ‘near the time they changed the guard’ (time being reckoned far differently in third-century Nicaea); he had to go, or he’d lose the light (light also being measured differently); he shook Jamieson’s hand warmly, they took each other’s measure one last time, and Kelso left; his pace dynamic and his purpose a bit of a mystery.

“Why did you let him go, Doctor?” Knudson was confused and frustrated – as well as suddenly realizing his distance from anything he could call ‘home’, himself.

“Because there are some things which should never change. I learned that in a dream – and some things which should. I learned that, here.” Jamieson pressed the first button; a grey cloud appeared in front of them. He pressed the second; the cloud turned to blue.

Together, they stepped into the light – for home

Lux Perpetua XV — (Lux Lucis Quod Verum)

The Light and the Truth

The next steps Knudson and Jamieson took were on a street in a Roman city. Knudson’s first comment was earthy, and to the point.

“Shit”, he exclaimed, gagging. “This place stinks!”

Jamieson laughed. It wasn’t quite like his dream, but close. The city smelled like several kinds of ordure; animal, human, and – other things, not quite recognized.

There were other absent smells – ozone; auto exhaust; mechanical smells were not present at all.

It wasn’t long before they were noticed – this time, it was by a late-Empire legionary.

“Salve; civis!”

To Knudsen, in a low voice, Jamieson said “You’d better let me do the talking, Detective.”

“With pleasure.”

“Salve; Centurion!” Jamieson went on to ask about lodgings for proper citizens; the centurion directed them to a domus for traveling government officials, which Jamieson and Knudson appeared to be. Jamieson proffered a carefully-forged document under the Emperor’s seal – something which a centurion wasn’t likely to question.

He didn’t. Instead, he sent them on their way.

“Where are we going, Doctor?”

“Other side of town; it appears we happened into a rather poor market-section of Nicaea. Government buildings aren’t far from the lake.”

Arriving at the government lodging, Jamieson showed the innkeeper his credentials and offered to pay up front – which was accepted. They were shown to the baths, and then to their room, by a servant who might have been eighteen on a good day.

Dinner was as Jamieson expected – but he had to apologize for his friend’s ‘rough manners’, and show him how proper Romans dined. Jamieson asked one of his couch-company about the Council.

“You must see a lot of strange types come through.”

“Do we! Odd sorts from Pannonia; hairy fellows from Gaul – all of them bent on proving one thing-religious or another. Be happy to get my trading done and get out of this place.”

“We’ve been afield for some weeks – how is the governor?”, asked Jamieson.

“Busy, as always. I’ll be lucky to see him in a week; meantime I just keep spending money in this place.” The trader seemed unhappy. ‘Business travel’, thought Jamieson. ‘The same, the world – and time – over.’

They learned, however, that the Governor had recently – within the past year or so – sponsored a strange fellow who was looking for a magisterial appointment – that is to say, introductions to the local collegium. Jamieson bet it was Kelso.

The trader’s description of the man – and his odd Latin – all but confirmed it.

Motioning to Knudsen, after explaining that he had no Greek or Latin, Jamieson began a low conversation with him after leaving the dining-room. “It’s Kelso, all right. He’s wangled himself a commission as an educator. Chances are he’ll also be working on things for the Governor. Time enough for that tomorrow. Tonight, let’s get some sleep.”

This was an idea of which Knudsen approved. Their room was Spartan, but clean, and the bedding didn’t smell, which was a wonderful thing, on balance.

Morning came soon – they both had a hard time sleeping, as there simply wasn’t any sound – the city, for all its importance, simply buttoned-up at night and that was that. Still sodden with sleep, Jamieson dragged himself out of bed when the light woke him. He woke Knudson shortly after.

Breakfast was simple – bread and water, with a little wine in it. Thus fortified, they went looking for the government buildings.

As in their own time, the government-c
omplex wasn’t hard to find – they just went looking for the largest group of buildings, and walked to the courtyard where they saw men en toga, milling about; obviously awaiting their time.

“So what do we do? Walk up and ask for ‘Kelso’?”, said Detective Knudson.

“In my case, that’s exactly what’s going to happen,” said Jamieson – which he proceeded to do, to the shock of the Detective.

“And what is your business with the magister?”, said the clerk behind the desk. While Jamieson thought of how to tell him that he had visitors from a very long distance, and that their business was very urgent, he said, “This man is detached from the garrison at Rome. Here is our letter of transit and introduction, under the Emperor’s seal. We are here to question magister Kelso.”

The bluff worked – clerks being clerks the world (and time) over; the greater fear was of losing their job; the ‘right’ thing, when viewed from that light, was heavily nuanced.

As Jamieson and Knudson walked behind the clerk into Kelso’s – office? – the clerk greeted Kelso, and left the two men in his office. He was gone before Kelso looked up; eyes wide, a look of terror beginning to cross his face.

Jamieson couldn’t resist.

“I’m back!”

Knudsen walked up behind him after circling him just out of vision’s range. Grasping him firmly by the arm, he said, “Doctor Kelso – come with me, please.”

Knudson’s grasp left little room for argument; he’d practiced his ‘trade’ well over the years, and it showed. He walked Doctor Kelso quickly to an anteroom, followed by Jamieson.

Kelso turned white.

“Did you think I was going to just leave you to your own devices, Kelso?”

“I – I thought I’d – killed you.” Saying it – in English – made it seem final.

“Well, you didn’t. What on earth do you think you’re doing here? You don’t speak Latin well; you don’t speak Greek – how on earth did you manage to get along?

“Magister?”

A young man, obviously a servant, had ducked his head into the anteroom. Kelso answered him in halting Latin; stating he’d be along shortly.

Jamieson’s eyes grew wide. Kelso didn’t wait for the question. He just smiled.

“I’ve convinced them that I’m a scholar. Wasn’t hard. I now have a ‘position’ of sorts with the local governor. Here, I specialize in teaching ‘natural history’ – it’s what passes for physics here – and I’ve shown them a thing or two. Sanitation will come here, one way or another; I’ve also convinced them that boiling water the drinking water is a good way to stay healthy.”

“I’m here to take you back to stand trial for–” Knudson’s words were cut off by Kelso’s voice, louder this time.

“You’re doing nothing of the kind.” His voice startled both Knudson and Jamieson.

Continuing, he said, “Here, I’m respected. Back ‘home’ – as you call it – I was this man’s glorified servant, after teaching him for years,” pointing at Jamieson as he spoke.

After that slight had soaked in, he continued. “I’ve helped these people clean up their water supply; I’ve built them a small steam-engine, and I’m thinking we’ll fit one to a ship soon – it’ll be the easiest thing to do. Think of how it’ll affect trade!”

Jamieson’s eyes grew wider.

“You see, you were right, Jamieson, but for the wrong reasons. You don’t need to alter their beliefs – just help make their lives better.”

Jamieson almost forgot where he was; for a moment, it was as if he were still in his living-room, sharing a bottle of wine.

That sounded like a good idea, actually. Jamieson asked if he could bring the servant back, and with him some bread and wine.

This accomplished, the three men sat in Kelso’s reception room and talked. It turned out that Kelso had ideas of his own.

“I’ve convinced them – some crude optics helped; I suppose I’m now the father of the microscope – that there are a lot of bad things which people can’t see. As a result, this will be the first Roman city to have a true sanitation system outside of Rome itself – and by edict, flush-toilets will wind up in every block as well as public ones in every quarter.”

He continued, “Do you know they’re arguing across town about what goes in the Bible, and what gets left out? I attended one of the meetings; it was a free-for-all. Jamieson; you were right. Religion is a problem – but you’re wrong regarding the solution.”

Jamieson listened again; it was as if he was back in class at the university; Kelso’s voice carrying the room as in the old days.

“The answer is education, Jamieson – not destruction. Destroy their religion; these people will create something else – and who knows what it will be. Give them knowledge, and – well, you know the rest of that proverb.”

Jamieson saw what Kelso had done here – and began to feel something he hadn’t felt for a while – empathy.

Lux Perpetua XIV — (Lux Lucis Quod Verum)

The Light and the Truth

(Six months later; relative)

Detective Knudson looked at Dr. Jamieson.

“You look like laundry,” he said.

Jamieson laughed. “We both do, Detective. Not to worry. Where we’re going, everyone else does, too.”

It had taken Jamieson another three months to figure out where Kelso had gone. The probes he’d sent to the actual coordinates had returned damaged, or had sent back images of destruction. Jamieson had thought Kelso might encrypt his coordinates – and it turned out he was right. They’d’ve died had they gone where the probes materialized.

Triple-encryption was not easy to break – but it didn’t take them forever, nor did they give up on it. Jamieson had ‘friends’ in places which Detective Knudson could only imagine, and they’d been more than helpful in helping Jamieson with his math.

“We’re sure of this?”

“Yes; Detective – quite sure. Dirty trick; that – but Kelso’s about to learn a few things – starting with the fact that I’m pretty smart, too.”

“Why did he go back, Doctor?” Detective Knudson was still trying to get his mind around things.

“I believe he went back because he wanted to prove something. He’s trying to prove it to me, really – but I think he’s trying to prove it to himself, also. Regardless, I’ve got 80% use of my right arm for life, and that means I’m going to go back and help you get this fellow. He’s no longer my friend. I want that understood.”

Jamieson stood; walked to the panel and checked some figures on the display. “We’ve got another twenty minutes before the array is charged; did you want some coffee? Last we’ll get for a while.” Jamieson motioned to the coffee-maker at the far wall in the lab.

“Thanks, Doctor.” Knudson was still fiddling with his Roman clothing.

Returning with two cups of hot brew, Jamieson continued. “Kelso’s an odd one – but many tell me that I am, too. He doesn’t appreciate my views on nearly everything – especially this project.”

“So, what got you at odds, anyway?”

“A dog”, said Jamieson.

“I thought it was the whole morality of this – thing here.”

“In the beginning, it was. I never mentioned the dog. I sent my dog back to mediaeval France. I fetched him back a few months later. Kelso was disgusted with me.

He continued, “I’d talked about going back and actually changing the root-problem with the rest of the world – pollution; war; all of it. Kelso wasn’t having anything to do with it – so he shot me.”

“You’d actually change the past?” Knudson looked alarmed.

“Yes. I’d change the past. Look at where you are right now. You’re sitting in a lab that’s air conditioned against ozone. It’s March, but you drove your car to work today behind triple UV-protected glass – and your office has the same. Fedoras are back – because no one leaves a protected structure without a hat.”

Knudson began to see the truth of it.

“You eat hydroponically-grown vegetables, because the dirt-grown variety gave up almost eighty years ago. Tell me – when was the last time you heard a songbird?”

“I don’t remember,” said Knudson.

“My point exactly. Your children will know them only from books, video, or holography. What do you suppose caused all this?”

Knudson just shook his head, silently.

“Religion, Detective. It was religion. It’s the only force powerful enough to sustain this sort of thing.”

Jamies
on continued. “You see, Detective, while governments in Europe tried to sort themselves out, it was really the power of the Church which held sway. We were told to conquer the earth and subdue it – and we did. The religions of the western world told us to reproduce – and now there are too many of us. They told us that we were better than everyone – so we set about ‘proving’ that in countless wars. Governments simply do not hold that kind of power – because, as I explained to Doctor Kelso, while a government can order an eighteen-year-old into battle, he won’t fight – not unless he believes to a certainty that he’ll go to a ‘better place’ if he dies for that order.”

“You were – going back – to…” Knudson’s words trailed off as he contemplated the enormity of the thing.

“Yes. I’d sent the dog to prove I could. I was going to send myself to prove that I was right – because I was going to change the historical points at which we began to destroy the world. There’s only one problem with it.”

“And what’s that, Doctor?” Knudson was now enthralled with the potential of the thing; with the idea….

“Kelso was right,” said Jamieson.

Knudson tried to pick up the trail here; tried to find an angle. “So, you were going to go back – and do what? Kill the Pope, or something?”

Jamieson laughed. “No, not at all. Actually, the Pope isn’t the problem – but no matter. Kelso was right. I could change things – perhaps even solve the problem – but people have the right to be fools.”

“How did you reach that conclusion?”, said Knudson.

“It wasn’t from anything he did. It was from a dream I had while everyone was busy trying to save my life.”

“By the way,” said Knudson. “Why are we going back three years after he arrives?”

“To give him time to settle in – knowing Kelso, he’ll be pretty resourceful; besides – someone with his knowledge will find a way to get useful – and if he does that, he’ll be visible. Prevents our looking for a needle in a very strange haystack.”

Knudson’s head was spinning – perhaps from what he’d just been told; perhaps from the rarefied air in the lab, or from what they were about to do – but he quickly refocused himself.”

“Look – I don’t care what you do afterward. All I care about is that you help me bring Kelso back. That’s why I’m here.”

“I’ll help you bring him back, Detective. You can count on that.”

Almost on cue, the reminder-alarm chimed. Everything was ready.

Jamieson stood, and walked to the panel. “Detective, would you come here, please?” Knudson stood, and walked to the panel beside Jamieson.

“I’m going to press this button here, then this one. You’ll see a grey cloud form; then a blue one. Walk beside me through the blue cloud – on the other side is our destination.”

Knudson laughed. “Y’know – I’ve never asked where we were going in these get-ups.”

Jamieson pressed the second button; the cloud shifted from grey to iridescent blue.

“A place called Nicaea,” he said, as they walked back to the blue cloud, and vanished.

Lux Perpetua XIII — (Lex Legis Finium)

(Statute of Limitation)

“I’m confused, Doctor Jamieson.” Detective Knudson was standing at Jamieson’s bedside a week later, still with his notepad; still puzzled.

Jamieson awoke from a half-sleep. His shoulderblade was knitting up well, but he’d never go through a metal-detector again – and since the PDA (patient-delivered anaesthetic) hadn’t yet taken full effect that morning, he had this dull ache in his shoulder and back.

“Look”, he began. “I have a hole in my back, and my shoulderblade looks like a cowpattie after a heatwave. I’ve got a golf-ball sized hole in my chest. They both hurt like hell. So sit down tell me what’s on your mind, or shut up and get out – but do one or the other, before the morphine kicks in.”

Knudson didn’t argue. He saw the pain in the other man’s eyes.

“Doctor, my confusion stems from the fact that Doctor Kelso could also, it seems, come back any time he chose – am I right?”

“Yes – and no. Remember those coordinates in the machine?”

“Well, yes.” Knudson waited, patiently.

“They’re the only ‘absolute’ in the equation, so to speak. We know exactly when he’s coming back.”

“And that’s my other question, Doctor – I waited until now to ask you, because I thought your mind would be clearer. Why would he choose a date fifty years in the future?”

“Because he was taking the same gamble that I would have, Detective. The gamble that the machine would still be here – and that the heat would have died down. You see, he meant for me to die – not wind up here.”

“But there’s no statute of limitations on murder, Doctor Jamieson.”

“Yes – but how many cases have you seen in the news – someone escapes from prison fifty years earlier for a heinous murder – and they’re found living in a suburban neighborhood after having gone straight; married, raised a family–”

Knudson cut him off. “But they didn’t use time machines to do it!” He realized how surreal that comment sounded – but there were many things which he was struggling to absorb about this case.

“No, they didn’t. But still – how many of those cases have resulted in a commutation-of-sentence?”

“Most”, admitted Knudson, albeit reluctantly.

“Q.E.D.”, said Jamieson, his voice a bit slurred. Morphine –

“So, you’re saying that we have to wait fifty years to catch this guy?”

“No, Detective. You don’t.”

“Why is that, Doctor?”

“Because you and I are going back – to catch – -that sumbitch–”

Jamieson drifted to sleep. Knudson’s eyes were wide.

“I see”, he thought. “I see.”

Lux Perpetua XII — (Totus Vicis Obvius Universitas)

(All The Time In The World)

The next time Jamieson awoke, he wasn’t fighting the effects of anaesthetic. The nurse fetched a police-detective, who was just down the hall.

“Dr. Jamieson?”

“Yeah,” said Jamieson, still sodden with sleep.

“I’m Detective Knudson of the Seattle P.D.” Knudson showed Jamieson a badge, which he didn’t bother to read – it wouldn’t have been any use, anyway, and this Knudson-fellow couldn’t have gotten past the door unless he’d been secured at the front-desk, anyhow.

“I suppose you want to know why Kelso shot me.”

“That’d be a good first step. Next, I’d like you to tell me where we can find him.”

Jamieson laughed – and winced; his shoulder reminding him that a 9MM had shattered his shoulderblade a few hours before. He was still trying to recover from the dream, also.

“Kelso’s likely in plain sight. Not one to do this sort of thing – he’s probably home, waiting for you, if he’s anywhere. Maybe down by the water, watching the tugs come through the locks, or up at Seattle Center, wishing for the Future We Never Had. Have you tried his office?” Jamieson was starting to feel something else – irritation and anger.

“Dr. Jamieson, that’s the odd thing. We’ve looked everywhere – and I mean everywhere. Dr. Kelso is gone. Not just missing – gone. We were sort of wondering if you knew if he had any enemies – because his wallet, keys – everything, in fact – are right where he left them.”

“That son-of-a-bitch,” muttered Jamieson.

“Come again?’, said Knudson.

“That son-of-a-BITCH!” This time, Jamieson was forceful; shouting almost. “He went and DID it!”

The nurse was there by this time; gently restraining Jamieson, who could go nowhere in any event.

“Now, Doctor,” she said, the last word coming hard for her – she viewed Jamieson as not-really-doctors; not the kind she respected, anyway – “You’ll pull your stitches; that collarbone is held together with wire and pins, and you’ll be lucky to use your arm in six months, let alone any time soon.”

Jamieson sank back to the pillow, realizing his position was hopeless.

Knudson continued, “We spoke to one of your colleagues, a fellow named Andrew–”

“Carlson Andrew, yes”, said Jamieson, impatient now.

“Well, Dr. Andrew told me some pretty interesting things about your work over at the University,” said Knudson.

“Go on.” Jamieson’s voice was flat. Either the detective knew, in which case he’d have to explain everything (to the chagrin of his backers, who wanted the technology for themselves), or he didn’t, in which case he had a pretty good idea what his next move would be — in a day; six months; ten years – it didn’t matter….

“Yes. Andrew told me you were working on a – time machine.” Detective Knudsen could barely hold his snicker-smile from his face.

Jamieson paused. “What the hell”, he thought. “Might as well see what his face does next.”

“That’s correct, Detective.”

Knudson’s smirk froze, then turned to stone. “You are kidding, right?”

“No, Detective. I’m not.” Jamieson was equally stoic.

“Christ!”, said Knudson. “You mean that Dr. Kelso—“ he flipped through his notes, “—could have used this thing and disappeared like–” He let his words freeze in midair; colder than the turn of the conversation.

“Yes”, said Jamieson, locking eyes with Detective Knudson. “He could.”

Knudson got up and quickly walked out the door. Jamieson could hear muffled conversation between he and the nurse; voices getting louder as both sides stood their ground.

Knudson walked back in with Dr. Noyes.

“We have to find a way to get you on your feet, and quickly”, said Knudson.

Jamieson chuckled.

“What could be funny now?”, said Knudson.

“You don’t understand. At all.” Jamieson allowed the smile to ease from his face, then said, “Detective, tear a piece of paper out of your notebook there.”

Knudson did so. “What do you want me to do with it?”

“Sit.” Jamieson nodded to the seats at the side of his bed. Dr. Noyes sat beside Detective Knudson.

“What you’re holding is a graphic representation of the universal-timeline, Detective. What my ‘machine’ does is very simple – it creates two points, both in space and time. One is here-and-now; the other is then-and-there.”

He waited for Knudson and Noyes to grasp this, then continued. “Now, take your pen. Make a mark at any point on the paper. Then, make another mark at any other point.”

Knudson did so; then looked intently at Jamieson.

“Now, hold the paper together until the two points meet.”

Knudson did so, his eyes widening. “We ‘jump’ at that point, Detective. And, before you ask the question – yes – it really is that simple.”

“That explains the use of electricity by your facility,” said Knudson.

“I can see you’ve done some of your homework well, Detective. Now, I’m going to give you some very clear instructions. I want you to write these down; read them back to me, then go find Dr. Andrew to help you.” He spent the next half-hour instructing Detective Knudson in the operation of the machine.

“Now, I’m going to tell you something else. Listen carefully, because I will only say this once.” He paused to allow the words to sink in.

“There are some people who have funded this opera
tion who would be very, very disappointed in what I’ve just done. For that reason, the information I’ve just given you must never leave this room in your case, Doctor, and must never go any farther than Andrew, in your case, Detective. If you do, everyone in this room will be dead in a week, and likely your families as well. Do you understand?”

Detective Knudson froze, then nodded, slowly.

“Good. Now, go find Andrew, and come back when you have finished.”

Knudson didn’t like being told what to do by a civilian. He started to object; Jamieson cut him off.

“Detective – I can appreciate your situation – you’re usually in charge of such things. Let me quite assure you that this is far beyond your pay-grade and far beyond your scope of authority. Please just do as I’ve requested, and then come right back here. I’ll assure you’ll see then that I’m cooperating fully, and then some, with your investigation.”

Suddenly tired, Jamieson relaxed fully on his pillow. In a moment he was asleep.

About an hour later, he was nudged awake by the detective.

“Dr. Andrew and I obtained what you wanted. It’s here.” Knudson placed a piece of paper in front of Jamieson’s face to read.

“Pull that back about four inches, will you?”, said Jamieson. Focusing, he read the numbers on the page, along with some other data. He smiled.

“What is this, Doctor Jamieson?”

“It’s the proof I needed, Detective.”

“Suppose you tell me what I need to know, Doctor?”

“Detective, that information is proof that the machine was used, as I had intended to use it, although to a different location and different point in time. It’s proof that Dr. Kelso was the one who used it, and it’s proof that you will never find Dr. Kelso unless you are fully willing to wait for me to heal.”

“We don’t have that kind of time, Doctor. He could be anywhere.”

Jamieson laughed. His face told Jamieson that Knudson couldn’t see what was funny at all.

“Detective, remember my little paper-analogy about time travel?”

“Yeah, and?”

“Dear Dr. Kelso forgot one thing. He forgot to erase his coordinates. That means he intends to come back. That also means he’s left the relative equivalent of a paper-trail – because it works both ways; what he can find, we can use.”

Jamieson continued, as if in a classroom. “You see, it’s all relative. He could be gone half a lifetime – but the absolutes are still in the machine. We can go find him, right where he materialized, a moment after he does so. We can even show up five minutes beforehand and have the handcuffs ready, or whatever you folks do nowadays.”

He finished, half-laughing, “No, Detective – we don’t have to rush. If this shoulder takes six months to heal properly, we have six months.”

“We have all the time in the world.”

Lux Perpetua XI – Si Nos Satis Orbis Terrarum Quod Vicis

Si Nos Satis Orbis Terrarum Quod Vicis

(Had We But World Enough, and Time)

Jamieson’s face froze. He asked the question that had been on his mind since arrival: “What about personal freedom?”

His two hosts looked confused. “What?”, said the older man.

The younger one, who’d done a bit more study in philosophy, said “Freedom, as you call it, is allowed only to the extent that it does not interfere with the common good. So said Aurelius; so we live today.” That last statement sounded like rote.

“I see.”, said Jamieson. He turned to walk with the two men, signaling that this conversation was over.

“Here we are.”, said the older man. “We will see you on the morrow. Sleep as late as you’d like.”

Jamieson walked through an expansive doorway. He was greeted immediately by another man; almost a carbon-copy of Old Titus, as Jamieson was starting to call him mentally. “We’ve been expecting you! Come this way.”

Jamieson walked with the man. “You’ll get your registration-cell tomorrow,” said the Caretaker, tapping a slight bump on his wrist. “I’ll check you in and out here myself tonight. Breakfast is at the third hour. Don’t be late.” He showed Jamieson to the lift; a noiseless apparatus which appeared not unlike the elevators he’d used in his old life.

“Old life,” thought Jamieson.

He had much to learn.

____________________________________

Breakfast was a rather bland porridge-concoction; he’d inquired about meat, and was told that it was not available during breakfast for medical reasons. Somehow, the building’s Caretaker’s tone was much like that of a principal scolding a schoolboy.

Jamieson learned more that morning and into the afternoon.

Population was strictly controlled. Permits – exhaustive amounts of paper – had to be generated before a couple could have a child. Asia had overpopulated itself, and was suffering from the inevitable after effects – in fact, the Imperium was considering invading China to bring Asia into its orbit, and put an end to their resource-consumption.

Food was rationed – no one was hungry; no one was fat. There was no such thing as food prepared in the home, save for that for very young children – literally, homes and apartments didn’t have extensive kitchens – save for a very handful of people who were wealthy. “Wealth” was a relative term, also – there weren’t the new-reality versions of Gates or Buffet running around.

On balance, Jamieson felt better than he had in a long time – everyone walked everywhere, and when the weather turned bad, there was the Underground – a subterranean version of the GravTrain (that term still made him laugh) he’d seen earlier.

The train-in-the-sky was a marvel, really – each car was brought down to the platform, loaded, then reelevated and connected to the powered-engine. The procedure was reversed when it got where it was going – and it went everywhere in this “New Seattle” (as Jamieson called it to himself). It was certainly better than the old Monorail.

Later that afternoon, he walked with Lucas, the younger man, in an expansive park which was roughly where downtown Seattle would have been.

The first thing he noticed were the songbirds.

They were everywhere; in the trees; on the expansive lawns; congregating near the ponds. Having not logged the forests, and having not introduced pollution into the environment, the park was alive with birds. Hummingbirds darted everywhere, looking for flowers; Grosbeaks and Orioles took wing from tree to tree; species which were extinct in Jamieson’s other reality.

They continued walking, and discussing the way things were. There was, for instance, no slavery in the Imperium – they’d abolished it centuries ago as their technology improved. Assimilating the slaves as productive wage-earners was the impetus for the hybrid socialist/monetarist system they now ‘enjoyed’.

Every city had its own amphitheatre (most had several, actually), and while gladiatorial games were an embarassment of the past, they now hosted everything from music and theatre to a form of football.

There was much to like about this new, clean place. But a few things were missing.

“Know what I miss?”, said Jamieson. “A burger.”

“A what?”, said Lucas.

“A burger. Meat. Onions. Tomatoes.”

“I can’t imagine that would be good
for you, sir.” Lucas was a bit appalled.

“I also miss potato chips. More than I thought I would.”

“I have never heard of such things, Sir. How are they made?”

Jamieson began by telling Lucas about the concept of a burger-stand, when they reached the western end of the park. What got Jamieson’s attention was the screaming.

He looked to his left, and saw a man in a set of stocks; his head and hands protruding through the holes in the thick wood.

He was being flogged.

Jamieson froze. “What is all this?”

Lucas began to explain. “You must understand. From what you’ve told us about your own reality, and from what we experienced as an Imperium in the Early Days, the Law was a convoluted mess. Appeals, endless arguments, other such. Now, we have three punishments for any crime save murder, rape, or treason. There aren’t many real crimes – we leave interpersonal relationships alone unless they involve money. This man likely either stole something or defrauded someone. He’s getting ten lashes.”

Almost on cue, the man in the stocks gargled his next scream, then vomited copiously. This explained why there was a fence in front of the stocks to keep the crowd at a distance.

Parents had their children with them – as an object-lesson and behavioral influence, no doubt. Other people either gasped or cheered at the man’s loss of both control and personal dignity.

“We find that allowing the public to witness corporal punishment has a deterrent effect,” said Lucas. Jamieson continued to walk; the sunset beckoned, and what would have been called Puget Sound in his time was beautiful on a late summer day, as this was.

Lucas continued, “A second offence of any sort is met by a sentence of twenty-five lashes.”

“What do they do for a third? Kill him?” Jamieson was incredulous.

“Oh, no, sir! We abolished the death penalty back in 2200. That we found had no deterrent effect. The final sentence is Transportation.”

“Transportation?” Jamieson was envisioning prison ships to Australia – or whatever they called it now.

“Yes. There are several colonies, in the center of NovaRoma, where the land is nice and flat. They’re guarded by the trackless wastes; we don’t even really need legions to guard them, although there’s a garrison near each one.”

“And what do these ‘colonies’ do?”

“They house troublemakers,” said Lucas. “The inmates run the colonies. The average newcomer lives about a month, unless they have a special skill that can be used to support the colony – metalworking, gardening, farming, and the like. Most city-dwellers don’t last long there.”

“How long do these sentences last?”, asked Jamieson, fearing the worst.

“For as long as they live.”, said Lucas. “We’ve determined that changing people’s behavior is usually not possible. The best way to deal with such is to isolate people from society who have exhibited a lack of either ability or desire to live within it.”

“I wonder what they do with the physically or mentally challenged,” thought Jamieson.

_______________________________________

Later, in his room, Jamieson reflected on what he’d learned.

He’d been right – and wrong. Just how that could be was beyond him, but he was living in a reality which flogged people in public for stealing grapes, and sent them to a – penal colony? – for a third offense, no matter how small.

There was, on balance, very little crime – in fact, NovaRoma (what in his world had been the United States, Canada, and the northern part of Mexico) hadn’t seen a murder in over a year, and lesser crimes were not all that common – not with the stocks or a trip to the center of the continent awaiting anyone who fell out of line. There was no graffiti, no littering, no broken windows, no theft.

You ate what was available in the communal dining rooms – and, Jamieson had to admit – it was good – but while everyone was clean, healthy, and well-fed, there was no freedom of choice. No drug-abuse; cholesterol; tobacco – no alcohol save wine and beer.

No one smoked. There were no butts on the sidewalks; no ‘smoking or non smoking’ – and virtually no lung disease. Cancer was 1/10^th of what it had been in his world.

Everyone had a piece of the pie; the Imperium had discovered long ago that this – and not repression – was the best way to guara
ntee order. Give everyone what they need, and trouble vanishes.

In truth, if this wasn’t the best way to live in harmony with nature and the environment – and to care for large groups of people the best way possible – it was close. Creativity was encouraged – indeed; it thrived here and in all of the other corners of the Empire (the inevitable result of not having to worry about your next meal); Roman commerce brought goods from all over the known world to this little corner of what had been North America- and life was good, indeed.

There was something missing, though.

The freedom to be a fool.

There were no street-performers. No mad preachers with ‘the end is near’ on a sandwich-board. No fool-kids on skateboards with Moms telling them that they’d ‘break their necks, someday’. Even entertainment was prescribed (or proscribed) by the Imperium.

“Not everyone is an intellectual,” thought Jamieson. “Not everyone wants order.”

That, as he analyzed it, was the other thing he missed.

The delightful chaos of life.

“What have I done?”, he thought. “What have I done?”

Lux Perpetua X — Viator Reverto (The Traveler Returns)

After dinner, Jamieson returned to his room to reflect on what he had experienced and accomplished.

The Roman Empire ran the known world. By embracing other cultures – and everyone’s gods (rather than trying to replace them), there was now a crude form of steam-power running ships (there were even Roman explorers considering a trip across the Atlantic); optics had made it possible to see the outer planets (ironically, an Arabic invention); the development of mathematics and medical science had advanced, due to the fact that there was no Dark Age.

“Imagine,” Jamieson said to himself, “what I’ll find when I get home.”

Home.

That was somehow a scary and exciting thought. It was the word “home” which he considered as he fell asleep.

_________________________________

Morning.

“No time like the present,” he thought. He took the handheld from his satchel, and pressed the first button.

Pressing the last one, he stepped through.

He materialized, not in his lab, but in a rather strange-looking building. It was more like a – warehouse? – than a laboratory; his machine, a little the worse for what appeared to be age, was sitting in a corner. He marveled that the power was still on; the floor was dusty, and the control-panel had a cover over it.

Within a few seconds, two men walked into the room. Their clothing was somewhat-different than what he’d considered ‘modern’, but not terribly so.

The first one spoke. “Where did you come from?”

Jamieson looked at their hands and belts. No weapons – at least, none that he could identify.

“From the past,” he said. It was only then that he realized that the conversation had begun and was continuing in Latin.

The elder of the two grew wide-eyed. “You are – the Viator?”

Jamieson smiled. “I could be considered thus. I built this machine in the Common Era year of 2045.”

“We reckon time differently here. It is now the year 2,798, from the founding of the Republic. My name is Titus. My associate’s name is Lucas. We are from the Collegium Boreooccidentalis. We – and those for two generations before us – have kept your machine running constantly in anticipation of your return.”

Rome ruled the world.

“Come with us,” said the older man.

Jamieson walked with the two out into the sunlight. His first suspicions were correct. This was a warehouse; actually an archeological repository. They were in a large courtyard, with expansive walking-paths and large white buildings, devoid of the ornamentation from the earlier eras of his travels.

Overhead, what appeared to be a train moved silently – there was no motive power present, and no support mechanism. Jamieson’s mouth must have been open, because the younger man said, “It’s our main means of transportation. It’s called a GravTrain.”

Jamieson snickered. He thought it sounded far too much like a dog-food that was popular when he was young.

“Is something funny?” The older man looked puzzled.

“No, not at all. It’s just that there are many things which don’t translate well from my prior language.”

“There are many who will want to study your memories; your knowledge of What Was, and especially your language.”

Jamieson smiled. True research.

“There is much I’d like to know in return. For example, you must have kept my machine running from the time you discovered it. When was that?”

“This part of NovaRoma was explored in the Year 1873. The learned men who accompanied the journey down the NovaTiber journeyed north, and discovered your machine quite by accident.

It was fortunate that the building remained intact – the fact that it was in a basement certainly helped. They realized immediately that it had some value to a former civilization, and it was preserved first by the decree of the Governor, and then by the Emperor himself.”

The eld
er man continued, “We could not adequately translate the language – and although we believed it to be a hybridized form of the languages spoken by the Allemeni, the Britons, and the Saxons, those languages died out some 1,800 years ago, and there were no records.”

Jamieson sucked wind. He was here by blind luck.

“So, when did you figure out what it was?”, said Jamieson.

“As time went on, our technology improved. We were capable of understanding the physics of the thing only recently – within the past two hundred years. It took another hundred to develop a power-source which would operate it. Did you really run everything on hydrocarbon-based electricity?”

“Well, yes – we did.” Jamieson looked more and more incredulous. “What is your main power source here?”

“We operate most things from methane and hydrogen. We discovered back about 1,000 years ago that hydrocarbons were destroying our breathable air, so hydrocarbons as fuel were banned, along with fireplaces, as we were beginning to denude our forests. It just made sense to look for something else.”

They arrived at a building where there were long tables and staff scurrying about, carrying trays of food. A communal dining-room, much like the one at the Institute. “Some things never change,” Jamieson thought.

Over a lunch which was decidedly Mediterranean, Jamieson learned that the Imperium had developed over the years into a benevolent-dictatorship of sorts; that electrically-generated hydrogen or biomass-methane powered nearly everything – but that the native peoples of North America had been exterminated by the legions and smallpox. There were remnants of artifacts in some of the museums, but that was it. Rome and resistant cultures never got along; cultures which could be assimilated, were.

“Some things never change,” Jamieson thought.

After registering as a citizen of NovaRoma (anyone living within their borders were citizens; it was true in his world courtesy of Caracalla, and it was true here, also), he was shown to temporary quarters. He’d be assigned a home later.

“Assigned?”

“Yes. The Imperium determines where everyone will live.”

(Next – Si Nos Satis Orbis Terrarum Quod Vicis (Had We But World Enough, and Time)