June 21, 2014. Saturday.
Even though George had emphasized in the advertisement that no guests are welcome during the weekends, he feared that his request might be ignored. So, on the Saturday morning, George woke up early to sneak into the cellar and check if anyone had arrived, he was relieved to see that no one did and the rule he wrote, held true.
Even if anyone had come, he could have safely brought them away, since, on her days off, the mother slept long and deep, snoring like a bear.
For now he wanted to keep his activities secret. Either mother's head would explode or George would die if she found out about his errands.
The weekend passed quickly with only one incident worth mentioning.
2:14 AM on Sunday night, Jim's barking awoke George. Jim rarely let out a noise, but when he did, it happened long after midnight and was as loud as emergency sirens. The barking always had more than enough decibels to wake up the whole neighborhood. The only person not to be fazed by the noise would be the mother. George's window was rather close to the barn, but it was impossible to see what was going on in the backyard because a tall ash obstructed the view.
George could hear someone running and falling, being dragged and running again. Jim wrestled what seemed to be a burglar for a long while, but when George got to the scene, no one was there besides Jim lying in his house, silently chewing a shoe. George checked the ground with a flashlight: there were foot stamps and small rag pieces scattered all over the place, ending up by the fence. At some point on the way to the fence, one of the feet began leaving shoeless imprints. As a reward for the averted burglary, George patted Jim's head and stroked his back.
Jim had a secret, which only George, the mother, and the vet knew. He was a menacing sleepwalker. Many times he had wandered around the block during the night and returned with items ranging from a cast-iron sink to a scythe. And even more times he had chased intruders away, sometimes imaginary and sometimes not.
******
When the clock struck seven AM on Monday, George was once again on his feet. There was no sound of birds outside and the morning sky was gloomy, but that did not hinder George's optimistic mood. He once again waited in the cellar and once again received a new guest.
The ceiling opened, and a tall person wearing a loose brown cassock and a foil helm came falling down. Same way as the old man he fell and hit the floor really hard, but was faster to get to his feet. The foil helm on the visitor's head did not fit well with his monk-like dress up and broad posture, but he was quick to take it off, fold it and tuck it inside a pocket. The man was in his late forties, had a sad wrinkled face, deep, almost soulless brown eyes and a thick blunt nose. His hands were worn; right one shaking, holding a shiny whitish brick, left one carrying two books: a large, thick leather bound book and a small creased journal. There was something rectangular attached to the left arm just below the elbow, a kind of concealed box, corners and edges of which were noticeable as the visitor moved his hand.
"Hello," said the man, his face straight serious.
"Hi." George got up.
"How are you today, sir?"
"Fine, and you?"
"Same, same. Wonder if you could show me the way out of this place and around the world outside." He approached, limping slightly with the stiffer right leg. With the shaking hand, he extended the brick and put it into George's hands. "I believe this is what you asked to bring. Hope it will suffice."
"Indeed it will." George inspected the brick: heavy and shiny, with smooth corners, probably made of silver. Marks stamped on the top surface said, 'Moonrise Enterprises.'
"My name is Alfonso Duval."
"George Bottlemore."
They shook hands, and George showed the way up. He excused himself for a minute and hid the brick in one of the kitchen drawers. After returning, George noticed that visitor's eyes were jumping all over the place, inspecting things as if searching for something.
"Feel free to ask anything if you feel like it."
"Ok."
They got out through the main door and into the street. George turned at Alfonso every now and then and noticed that the man was tense, too tense. Overwhelmed by the surroundings perhaps, George figured.
He decided to lighten up the mood. "A nice day isn't it?"
"Yes, very nice." The guest replied, his eyes narrow. Same as the Kakamaquans he appeared to be not used to the brightness, even though today the morning was cloudy.
"Do you get to travel a lot? In time I mean."
"No, not much. To be frank, it's my first time."
"I see... Did you come for something particular or just to have a great time?"
"For something particular." Alfonso turned towards George, but his gaze passed the guide and ended up stuck on a building on another side of the street. He asked. "What is this?"
"A gun shop."
"Does it cost a lot?"
"What?"
"To get a gun."
"Between a hundred and two I guess." George smiled warmly. "Don't worry, we're in one of the safest cities in the country and you're with me. No harm is going to come your way when I'm around." What a strange question, George thought, From what dangerous place the man must have come?
"Ok. I understand."
"Lighten, up, mister. We're going to have an awesome time."
"Nice." Alfonso let out an insincere, humble laugh and made an ugly, artificial smile.
George found it difficult to keep the conversation going, but he did not give up and continued questioning. "So, from when do you come from?"
"2794."
"That's far. And how's the world doing there?"
"Bad I guess." Glancing at the concealed rectangular object attached to the hand, he elaborated, "You see, when we got to the moon, everything changed for the worse. We have the technology, but we lack the brain or will to change."
"Huh?"
"Colonization of the moon caused energy revolution, and then... Then we lost our way." Alfonso refrained from giving a longer explanation.
They entered the mall, and George gave the speech he had prepared for the place. He tried to make it as natural as he could but failed miserably, sounding almost like a robot in the end. "We find ourselves at the Milltown's shopping mall, the largest place to do shopping in Milltown. Many people of different habits and age come here every day to eat, play table games, socialize and participate in weekly events. I, for example, like to visit the coffee shop and the electronics store on the second floor. Now, tell me, what interests do you have?"
"Well, I like books. I also heard you had places to bet on sports events. I would like to visit such place. We don't have one in the future and I have a dream to open one someday."
George found Alfonso's interests odd, but who was he to judge someone for strangeness?
He led the guest to the second floor. There, he bought coffee for himself and Alfonso, but the visitor found the drink distasteful and decided to stick with the lemonade. Two cups were a bit too much for George, but he finished them anyways. He then walked with his eyes open, his hands finding no rest, energy surging inside him, no place where to put it. He mustered all his will to walk slowly and keep silent, act the same way Alfonso did. He endured and soon started feeling a taste of achievement. He understood that he was a true discreet man, not afraid to sacrifice his need to socialize for the convenience of others. If the man preferred silence, so be it. Alfonso seemed to be a bit off, but he was much less annoying than the old man a few days ago. George did his best not to ruin their slowly growing friendship.
After George pointed to the betting center, the bulky man ran to the place. All excited, Alfonso moved around the room, talking to the betters, figuring the process of betting, understanding the meaning of numbers and ratios written in the books and on the walls. The guest dug into the thing so much that George decided not to interfere and spent about a half of hour on a bench outside toying with his phone.
Later George showed his guest the electronics store, but Alfonso found nothing special about it. George figured, that the man must have felt the same way he felt when he went to a museum and saw a rotary dial phone, a gramophone, or a telegraph. Sure those things were old, but there was no 'wow' moment about them.
When they got to the bookstore, the guest seemed to be mostly interested in different maps and books on space exploration. He even asked George to buy the road map of the country and a book about NASA. George, being kindhearted, gave two hundred dollars for the visitor as pocket money; the change was to remain a souvenir. With the money Alonso bought the map, and the book, and a large rectangular backpack that, George imagined, could only be worn by unpopular school children. It looked awful on Alfonso's back, and now the man was being followed by stares everywhere he went. Perhaps rectangular shapes were Alfonso's thing, George thought, because he wore some huge bracelet shaped as a box, which had yet to be revealed.
An idea shot in George's head. He thought of a place to visit, which would lighten up Alfonso's mood and give him the most joyful memories. He led the man to the swimming suit shop and bought two swimming trunks and towels. He told Alfonso about the water park, about all the fun attractions it had, and the man unwillingly, after a long persuasion, accepted the proposal to visit the place
The tour to the mall ended with a dinner in a traditional American food restaurant. They ordered pancakes with strawberry sauce and two cokes.
When Alfonso received eating tools, surprised, he asked, "What do I do with this?" He pointed at the knife.
"You cut the food with it."
"You mean the food is not prepared? I heard strange things about the past, but this..."
"This, what? You kind of need to eat food in small pieces or you'll choke."
"Yes." The man shook his head. "That's why it should be always cut in pieces. Why would anyone ever serve food in large chunks when you can do it in smaller?"
"Well, we're not Chinese," George replied and after a long awkward pause asked, "What's that box on your arm under the hood?"
"Nothing."
"Ok."
Never did the face of the visitor change during the time inside the place. Always straight, always wrinkled, never fazed by George's jokes, which today seemed to strike from the best angles and at the right times. George had no clue what went on in visitor's head.
If he went on the trip to the past, it would be to have fun. And that was the thing the man seemed to be the least interested into. Even small problems seemed to anger and bother him. Annoyed, scratching the plate viciously with the knife, Alfonso dissected the pancakes and then calmly consumed them piece by piece as if willing to show George how it is done properly.
When he finished his portion, he asked where the bathroom was. After being told that it was located in the restaurant, Alfonso looked displeased and chose to visit one located outside instead. He then vanished for good fifteen minutes and returned panting, giving strange excuses. He said he had to stay in the line for a long time and then wait a minute before the toilet was charged up. But lies did not bother George. He was happy to see that his tourist was safe and had not disappeared.
It was an hour past midday when they set towards the water park. The Sun was at the highest point pushing the last cloud away into the horizon, mercilessly baking those who dared to step out of the shadows. Even the voice at the mall had said that it was foolish to walk without a hat on. It was hot, hotter than George could remember it ever being. Yet Alfonso with his brown cassock and the ugly backpack did not break a sweat, least one bit.
"Warm, isn't it?" George asked.
"Reminds me the middle of spring back at home, I'd say."
"Really? The more I hear about your world the less I like it. "
As if some switch had turned in Alfonso's head, he angrily said, "I don't like it too. Those skinny, pale bureaucrats, hiding in their skyscrapers, in their virtual realities, never stepping out, those drones who live in the ivory cities with artificial skies and don't give a crap about the world. Damn them all." Alfonso spit the last words with disgust. He looked up and in the corner of horizon saw a glimpse of the moon. He told it, "And damn you too." and angered turned away.
"C'mon, man, try to relax. You're in a nice place now. Let's make the best out of your time in here."
Alfonso was not touched by George's words. Sad and thoughtful, he walked for a while not saying a word. And when they got to the water park, he mumbled, "You're right, I have no time to waste, enough of this game, the world is not going to change from us taking a bath." He lifted the hand with the rectangular bracelet and rolled its sleeve up. It was not an ornament but a sophisticated looking device George had never seen in his life. It was painted in white, had a tiny keyboard and a screen. As Alfonso pushed buttons on the hand, George glanced over his shoulder and noticed a map of the world appear at the screen, and as the stranger kept on inputting various numbers and symbols the map quickly zoomed in on George's house. A buzzing sound came out of the box, followed by a strange of space-distorting sphere spreading out of it to all directions. In a second, it covered Alfonso and George. For the short moment George was in the sphere, he could feel his breath taken away. After a blink of an eye, he found himself and the time traveler standing at the door to George's house.
While George was figuring out what had just happened, Alfonso stepped back and dragged out a gun out of his pocket.
"What the hell was that?" George asked in awe, not noticing the barrel of the gun staring at his forehead.
"Oh, it's a space traveling prototype." Alfonso glanced at the device. "Keeps me stable in time while I pierce space."
"A kind of dizzaperator?"
"What? No time for jokes. Listen, there is a gun pointed at your face. It is you who should be giving answers."
As George came to his senses he understood that indeed, there was a gun pointed at him. Not some futuristic shiny pistol but an ordinary, lethal gun, perhaps even loaded with real bullets. He asked, "Where did you get it?"
"In the toilet, you fool. Ha ha." He laughed evilly. "Now, would you kindly tell me where I could find the two gray stones? I dropped them about a week ago in your cellar."
The question took George by surprise. He did not imagine a possible relation between Alfonso and the rocks. "I hid them."
"Show them to me." Alfonso wiggled the gun indicating George to open the door.
George brought the man to his room. "One is here," he said, picking up the stone from beneath the bed. Then, leading Alfonso to the back of the house and opening the door he said, "And another one is"— long pause went by — "gone."
"You must be joking." Alfonso pushed George outside. "Where was it?"
"Under the tree." George pointed at the apple tree closest to him.
"Just like that? Under the tree?"
"Yeah."
"Didn't you read my stickers?"
"I did."
Alfonso scratched his head and spoke through his teeth, "Any ideas who could have taken it?"
"A burglar perhaps. Jim over there,"— he pointed at the dog,—"chased him away last night."
"When did you put it there?"
"Last Wednesday."
"Have you checked the cellar on the weekend? You do know that no one is using the machine on weekends right?"
"I checked it on Saturday, and no one came."
"What about Sunday?"
"I slept long on Sunday, even such hard working people as I need to rest."
"Ok, I guess you are too stupid to lie aren't you?" Alfonso poked George with a gun.
"I never lie."
"That's what I said," spit the devious visitor. He picked the stone from George's hand and walked backward.
"Where are you going?"
"Not your business." Alfonso turned around and ran away, the ugly backpack shaking on his back.
Having no clue what had just happened, dizzy from the heat, George got back to the house and prayed that not all who came through the portal were going to be weirdoes. He grabbed the silver brick and went to cash it out at Hill's pawnshop.
The strange series of events that day had not yet come to an end.