The Business of Time Travel Tourism

Chapter 9: Success And Failure

"Yeah what's the meaning of this interruption of our privacy?" A pink haired man spoke from further away, his eyes wide.

"I just wanted to ask you to turn the music down a little. My buddy in another room and I need to rest we have very important business to attend to tomorrow."

The man in jacket spoke. "Listen, we have our rights, and we demand to use our right to party! Now... If you could just back off and return to your loser friend, everything would be just fine."

"Yeah, we have our rights. Now sheesh," added his friend, leaned at the wall with his back, and gestured Sally to go away. He then inhaled deeply, turned around, and rammed the wall with both hands.

The evil roommate turned back the disco music on and stared at Sally's eyes, waiting for her reaction.

"I refuse to succumb to your provocations and hope to find an agreement beneficial for both parties!"

The music turned off. "Damn it, girl. Just leave it. You can't win." The music turned on.

"Sir! You must understand, that you are—"

A hand grabbed Sally's shoulder and a silent voice spoke from behind her. It was John. "C'mon, Sally, let's leave them. They're not worth the trouble."

The host of the room stopped the stereo and gave John a very angry and sinister eye.

The long haired girl sat down, then grabbed a bottle of booze from the table nearby. She murmured, "Here we go again."

"You, you..." The flat-face pointed his finger at John, shrugging, shaking his head. "Told you never to enter this room. Do you want to get the beating again? Want another black eye don't you? Here it comes, you have been warned!" He stretched his hands to the sides like a cock and walked towards John. Sally's extended hand touching his chest prevented him from advancing further.

She said, "Sir, you will turn off the music and go to sleep. I, Sally Buckleface, time cop, badge number zero zero nine three seven order you to stop."

"You joking?" The flat-face now turned the evil eye to Sally. From the surprise on her face, it appeared that she had expected to be obeyed.

"I don't feel so good," said the pink haired guy pushing the wall and bolted out of the room falling and getting up and falling again. A sound of a door opening in the corridor was followed by a loud "waaaaah."

"Just leave them be, Hank," The thick boned girl said.

But Hank refused to. He pushed Sally to the side, approached John and hit his face with a fist. The punch was somewhat girlish, but it did a small amount of damage.

"You see what you get if you mess with me?!" shouted the punk. "Ha ha."

Sally spoke from behind his back a series of words. They poured out of her mouth quicker than Hanks ears could catch them. "Sir. According to the international and eternal time police code, paragraph 71.5. Quote, 'Any person in the face of danger has a right of protection. If the victim is not capable of protecting himself, time police officer is indulged to aid him by any non-lethal means necessary. Your assault was uncalled for. Please consider my following actions as means of protection and partial punishment for your actions. I hope after this you will become a better person.'"

"What?"

Hank was about to turn to Sally, but a bearish hug from behind caught him by surprise. For a moment, he felt his breath go away. He was flown backward and down to the ground. As he attempted to get up, a flurry objects flying at him denied the opportunity. A spinning picture of himself in school uniform hit his forehead. An empty ceramic vase struck his shoulder shattering into pieces. A couple of empty cans flew into his face. Everything that lay on the cabinet by the stereo came his way and after the stereo hit him in the ribs, he lay motionless on the ground.

"Ok, I give up," murmured Hank with the last breath and fell asleep.

Amazed, the visiting girl said, "You're good," and walked away holding a bottle of booze firmly in her hand.

The two people left standing got back to John's room and after a short conversation about the uncalled violence fell asleep, John on the ground, Sally on the bed. Snorts echoed all over the flat and no one bothered nobody that night anymore.

******

Earlier that day.

"Congratulations, I hope you're going to enjoy your life in this estate," said an elderly lady as she opened the door of a huge mansion and gave the keys to Alfonso who was still wearing the cassock and the backpack. He stepped inside followed by a dozen of men in black suits and black glasses.

A massive glass chandelier lit up above his head to reveal an empty entrance hall with long corridors on both sides and a grandiose wide stairway leading to the second floor, its handrails made of shiny polished wood. Two massive round pillars rammed the ceiling above.

He walked up a few stairs, turned around and spoke to the men, who now formed a line in front of him, "I want you all to secure this place. Anyone caught, be it a small child or an old man must be searched thoroughly and brought to me. Before my security chief arrives, you must report directly to me. Dismissed." When the men, were about to disperse he added, "And bring me that laptop thingy with the internet station. I want it set up as soon as possible."

Alfonso walked up to the massive living room upstairs. It was filled with many antique items, portraits, statues of well-fed people, and fancy furniture, in which Alfonso showed no interest. He took out a small handbook from his pocket labeled 'The Internet for newbies' and sitting on a soft leather armchair resembling a throne, legs crossed, he started to read. Soon one of the men came and began to assemble the computer with a satellite station. It took no less than a couple of hours for the man to create Alfonso's working station. More than enough time for him to finish reading the book. The remainder of his time he stared at the security guard doing his bidding. It did not ease the guard's work.

"Thank you," said Alfonso to the man and jumped to the computer. At first he pushed buttons carefully but did it faster with each passing minute as he got more and more accustomed to the device. Soon he was on the net, scrolling, searching and staring at George's advertisement. It took him two more hours to make calls and understand how he could do a similar thing: post a message to the future. He created a website of his own, named it 'Alettertomyfriendjuly.domains4ever.com', protected it from viewing without a login, and filled it in with Arial 15, bold, caps on:

'Dear July, I made it. Sadly I need your help since one of the orbs got lost. Please arrive on June 22nd, Sunday. Once you're here, sneak out of George Bottlemore's house unnoticed and check the backyard. Under three trees forming a triangle, an orb should be lying. Wait for the perfect moment, grab it and bring it me to the Pole's mansion on the suburbs of Crossroad city.'

******

After an hour, two guards brought in a small man, holding him by the elbows. The poor thing was all mangled, his clothes torn apart, marks of claws all covered his face and chest. He was wearing only a single shoe.

With a surprise and a slight feel of terror on his face Alfonso ordered, "Let this man go and leave us." Seeing the guards hesitating, he shouted, "Leave now!"

When the door closed, Alfonso approached the muddy poor thing, kneeled to hug him and said, "I'm happy that you're here."

Sobbing, the small man replied, "I'm sorry Alfonso, I failed you."