Radio Days Pt. 03

"He didn't ... we did."

"Who is we? DMH?"

"No ... that is merely the device for distribution." He paused for a few moments, looking directly at me with his dark, piercing, unblinking eyes. At last, his hands separated and he put them palms-down on the desk.

"This is going to be difficult for you to understand, Mr. Hanswatter, but I'll try to help you comprehend what this is all about."

"How much more difficult is it than a radio that broadcasts the future and has no visible power source?" I snorted.

"Quite a bit more difficult," he replied in his deep, expressionless voice.

"Well, go ahead. Let's give it a try," I volunteered.

"Very well. To begin with, I am not from here. That is, I am not from this ... planet."

"Right ... you're Emperor Ming and I'm Buck Rogers," I laughed.

"It's no laughing matter, Mr. Hanswatter," his slightly raised voice and unwavering stare emphasized. "Do you really think that little device we gave you is from this primitive technological world? You've already spent enough time with it to know it is genuine and accurate. What do you say to that, Mr. Oswald Charles Hanswatter?"

I got impression he was a bit miffed with my attitude and I readily acknowledged that the radio wasn't anything that I could imagine existed in any form in this world.

"Very well then," he continued. "Perhaps a bit of background will help. Although you think of yourselves as a highly evolved species, you are in fact, primitives. If the developmental time-line for evolved life-forms was a year long, the people of this planet would be dwelling in the first hour. Our species is further along, perhaps somewhere in the second month. That's a quantum leap for your species, but we are still a long way from reaching our potential. Possibly, in a few billion years ..."

"How come you look just like us?" I demanded.

"Isn't it easier to concentrate when we aren't in some threatening or unpleasant form? I am, in fact, a holographic projection. I'm not really here and I certainly don't take this form. It was given to me by someone who had a warped sense of humor. Your Buck Rogers analogy is closer than you realize."

"OK ... suppose I buy this story. Why are you here and why am I involved?"

"Two very good questions and deserving of answers. Our species is here to try and save you people from yourselves. If you aren't fighting self-destructive wars, you are depleting the resources that sustain your life on this planet. Your sociological and environmental recklessness is threatening not just your planet, but others as well. I won't go into all the details, but suffice it to say, the results of the uncontrolled, profligate behavior of your species can have an effect on the entire galaxy if left unchecked."

"That's a pretty big stretch, even for you, Mr. Snipe," I sneered. This was getting more unbelievable by the minute.

"Mr. Hanswatter, that little device that we gave you was able to tell the future up to several years in advance, correct?"

"Yes, as far as I could tell."

"What we gave you is an early model miniature of devices we use to monitor future events throughout our known universe. It's the origin of our more developed equipment that can tell us what to expect many centuries in the future. Can you accept that?"

"I guess so. It makes some sense," I admitted cautiously.

"Very well. Assume for a moment that the deterioration of earth has been going on for some three hundred years. Given that the device will advise what to expect a further three hundred years in the future, doesn't it seem logical that we would know what to expect and what the consequences of benign neglect by your governments will be?"

"Yes ... I suppose it would be logical. But ... if you're so powerful, why don't you just put a stop to it?"

"I think you're mistaking our ability to travel and the technology of a specific device for the ability to change the path of entire worlds. Believe me, we are not that powerful. Our mission is to find an army of people who will make those changes, one step at a time. That army must come from earth and it must be made up of people just like you. Logical thinkers with a social consciousness and a desire to make things better for future generations."

"That's a pretty tall order for a nobody like me," I said.

"On the contrary, Mr. Hanswatter, that's where we disagree. You are not a 'nobody.' You would not have been selected by your uncle and vetted by our people for this task if we did not believe you could make a difference. Remember, we are not asking you to do this all by yourself. We will give you the resources to be successful and you will know that you are not alone. Far from it. Our army is large and growing each day as we recruit people such as you."

"I'm having a lot of trouble with this, Mr. Snipe. What you are telling me is so far from what I have accepted as reality that I don't know if I can believe it, even if I believe it. Does that make any sense?"

He smiled. For the first time since I had entered the room, he smiled and showed something other than his dour expression.

"Strangely, it does. You are not unique, and I can assure you the largest hurdle we face in this task is to convince the people we recruit that it is not some elaborate hoax or a confidence game. Once we supply them with the training and the resources they need, they are almost always convinced."

"How many people are in this 'army' of yours?"

"Currently, almost one million. Our goal is to double that in the next ten years. To you, that must seem like a very large number and quite a long time, but remember, we are talking about a global army and event consequences centuries in the future."

I found myself lost in thought. This was overwhelming. It was surreal, crazy for me to believe what I was being told. But ... the radio ... it was real. And somehow, it was how they knew something really horrible was going to happen to earth if we didn't do something. But if they were so smart ... how come they couldn't fix it with some kind of ray gun or something? And ... what if I said no? Thanks, but no thanks?

"Mr. Snipe, what would happen if I declined your offer?"

"Nothing. Your life would go on as if we had never met unless ... unless you became obsessed with trying to convince others of what you learned here today. I think you can imagine what your friends and associates would say if you tried to explain it."

"But, I've got the radio. That would be some proof."

"I'm sorry, but you will find that we have disabled the device. It will no longer function," he said in a level, non-threatening voice.

I sat silently for a while as Snipe watched me with a fixed stare.

"Why me?" I finally asked.

"We've had our eye on you for some time, Mr. Hanswatter. We recruit optimists for our army. It's essential to expect success, and that's how optimists think. Also, you have overcome adversity and improved your life. You might have given up when your wife left you, but you didn't. In addition, the people around you like, trust, and respect you. When you begin trying to influence their behavior, that is going to be essential."

"So ... what will change in my life if I join this army?" I asked tentatively.

"Not so much that you won't be able to cope. You will continue to live in Little River. We don't plan anything extraordinary that will set you apart from your friends and neighbors. This is a war of attrition and patience, Mr. Hanswatter. We will grind down the resistance to change one bit at a time and we will win. The victory will be the survival and thriving of the people of this planet."

"Very noble," I mumbled. I was beginning to feel a headache coming on. I wanted to get out and get some fresh air before I had to face the long drive home.

"What happens next?" I asked.

"You will meet your teammate if you choose to accept this challenge. Moral, emotional, and intellectual support is very important in a life-long endeavor."

"Life-long?"

"Yes. You will be part of our army for the rest of your long and happy life, I expect."

He was smiling again. Where did that come from? Was he that confident in me?

"Who is my partner?" I realized I had just asked a question that implied I had agreed to join this army.

"All in good time, Mr. Hanswatter. All in good time. No need to worry about that now. Can I assume you have agreed to join us?"

"Is there something I don't know? Some surprise that's going to knock me off my feet? Something I've forgotten to ask?"

"No. No surprises. Well ... perhaps one or two. But ... there is no trick and you are not in any danger. We would never have been able to recruit all the people we now have if it had been a deception. After all, you can change your mind and leave at any time if you aren't happy or satisfied. It isn't like the military," he smiled again.

"Then I guess ... I guess I'm in," I said, almost in wonder at my own voice.

"Excellent, Mr. Hanswatter! I know you'll make a difference. We have confidence in you."

"Thanks. I wish I felt the same way, but ... I guess I'll take a chance. See what I can do," I said vaguely.

I don't remember leaving Bindle's office, nor do I remember getting into my car and beginning the long drive back to Little River. I was in no fit mental state to drive, if truth be known, but drive I did. I "came to" somewhere about an hour out of Paramount with an acute awareness of hunger. My watch read almost 1:00 pm and I pulled off the road at the first diner I saw.

I bought a ham and swiss on rye, a bag of chips and a cola to go. Six dollars worth of heartburn. As I drove I ate and tried to make sense of my thoughts. Fat chance! My head felt twice its size and had about twenty ping pong balls rattling off the insides on a continuing basis.

The best I could make of it, I had willingly agreed to join an army of unknown people whose single mission was to save the world and the whole show was being run by a bunch of aliens, one of whom recruited me. Yeah, right! Which one of us was the sane one? Then again, there was that damn radio.

It took me a couple of hours to calm down and get my thinking to something resembling rational. The radio was real. I'd heard it. Mandrake, or whoever the hell he was, claimed it wouldn't work any more. Well, we'll see about that. It was locked in my safe, so no one was going to be able to tamper with it in there.

The really weird part was that I could forget the whole deal. I didn't have to join. Even if I did, I could quit any time. What was the catch? He was right about one thing though. I wasn't going to be telling anyone about this anytime soon unless I could prove it. The only proof I had was the radio. I'd be hanging onto that for dear life.

There's was one benefit for all this mental turmoil and that was that the long drive home seemed to pass a lot more quickly than last time. The other side of the coin was the headache I had developed with all the ping pong balls bouncing off the inside of my skull. My brain was full! No room at the inn!

I arrived home just before seven that evening, having driven non-stop after my quick lunch break. My first move was to head for the safe and check the radio. Within two minutes, I knew My Favorite Martian wasn't kidding. The radio no longer worked. Not even any static. Nothing! Shit! I grabbed the CD's and slipped them into my computer. Nothing! All that work ... nothing! Just my notes left for me to ponder.

I sat in my office chair for several minutes, contemplating my navel and accumulated frustrations. At length, I got up and went to the kitchen to make something to eat. I flicked on the TV absently as I gazed into the refrigerator looking for some inspiration. I wasn't concentrating. I was looking but not seeing. This was futile. I went to the washroom, splashed some cold water on my face, picked up my keys and headed out the door.

I ended up at Dorsey's, of course. I liked the place and although it wasn't as busy as it would be on a weekend, it was pretty lively for a Thursday night. A beer and burger later, I was feeling better and a little more relaxed about my predicament. I didn't have any new ideas about what I had experienced this morning. It looked like I should just wait and see. Snipe said something about a partner and training, so I might as well hang tough until one or the other showed up.

I had been sitting at the bar, as I usually did when on my own. After a bit, the attractive dark-haired female bartender wandered down toward me during a quiet spell.

"So where's the babe tonight?" she grinned.

"Huh?" I'm full of snappy rejoinders.

"You know, the blonde that you've been bringing in here ever since she gave you the evil eye a couple of weeks ago. Don't tell me she dumped you already?"

"No ... oh you mean Tish. No ... no ... nothing like that. I just got back into town after a long drive and I couldn't find the energy to make dinner."

"So you two ... you still get together?" She was giving me the once-over as she lazily chewed her gum.

"Yeah ... I'm taking it slow. She's had a rough time from some guy or other, I think. Don't want to rush things," I explained.

"Smart move. Too bad though. If she didn't snap you up, I would have," she snickered.

"Huh? You?" I told you I had a gift of the gab.

"Sure. Why not. You look good, you dress good and you're polite. You don't swear, don't smoke and don't drink yourself stupid. What's not to like," she said offhandedly.

I had to admit, I was surprised. I don't ever recall being approached this directly by a woman. Not ever.

"Thanks for the compliment. If it weren't for Tish, I'd be interested as well as flattered," I finally managed. At least I didn't sound like a complete idiot.

"Well, keep it in mind if Blondie doesn't work out," she said with an arched eyebrow. She drifted up toward the other end of the bar as I sat there with my mouth open. As if my life didn't have enough complications.

I had downed the burger, passed on the fries and had a salad and a second beer. I was still nursing the last of that beer when the bartender caught my attention. She nodded toward the door and I turned on my stool to see what she was indicating. I guess I did a classic double-take. It was Tish. By herself, looking at me but not smiling.

"Hi," I said as she approached.

"Hi, I hoped you'd be here," she said with a look of what I thought was relief.

I had slipped off the stool and held my hands out to her. She grasped them gratefully and moved into my body, wrapping her arms around me. I responded with my own wrap, and we hugged for a few moments.

"Are you OK? You look worried. Is something wrong?" I said as I held her.

"I'm so glad I found you. I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't," she said into my chest.

"Come on, let's find a booth where we can talk," I suggested, leading toward the back of the dining area. It was as far away from the dance floor as we could get. The band would be starting soon and conversation would be difficult.

"Julia and Gil are out at a meeting. I went to the mall to do some shopping and to kill some time and ... and ... he was there." She was clearly upset.

"Who was there?"

"My ... my ... husband," she finally managed.

"Oh shit," I blurted. "Sorry, I didn't mean to ... your husband?"

"Yes. It's something I've been trying to find a way to tell you. I'm married, but separated and I've filed for divorce. But, he's ... he's fighting it. He said he'll never let me go. He threatened me," she moaned tearfully.

"Threatened you? How? What did he say?" I asked, my blood pressure beginning to rise.

"Ozzie ... I left him because ... because he hit me. He would lose his temper and he would hit me. I couldn't take it anymore. The lawyer that helped me with the harassment suit got a restraining order against him, but now, he's followed me here. I don't know what to do." She broke down and the tears flowed.

I slid around the other side of the booth and held her in my arms. I didn't know exactly what I could do, but my first instinct was to protect her. One thing for certain, I wasn't a fighter. I hoped it wouldn't come to that, but if he hit a defenseless woman, what would stop him from hitting someone else? Namely me.

As I soothed and held her, I tried to think of a strategy to help her. I had lots of friends in city hall and the sheriff's department. It looked like we were going to need them.

"Tish ... does he know where you are staying?"

"I don't know. When I saw him I ran back to Julia and Gil's. I thought I saw a car sitting outside at the curb, so I snuck out the back door and ran over to your house. You weren't home. I didn't know what to do, so I came here, hoping I'd find someone I knew. When I saw you, I was so relieved." She had spewed all this out in a stream, the occasional hiccup and gasp between words. She was on the edge of hyperventilating.

"OK, calm down. Everything's going to be OK. I promise. We'll deal with your husband tomorrow. I can fix it so that he won't bother you again." Boy, was I sticking my neck out. A restraining order, yes. As guarantee of safety ... maybe not.

"Here's what we're going to do. You're coming home with me. We'll phone Julia and Gil and let them know what's going on. I don't think they're in any danger. In the meantime, I'll call the sheriff's office in the morning and we'll look after this guy," I said with more confidence than I felt.

She looked up at me with the biggest, saddest eyes I had ever seen.

"Thank you, Ozzie. Thank you," she said as she nestled her head into my chest. I knew there would be a reward for being a good guy. I think the trust thing was going to be resolved if my friend, the sheriff, could come through for us.

We sat in the booth for quite while, just talking as I held her in my arms. Her husband, one Terry Parmeter, was a nasty character. Any guy who would hit a woman, much less his wife, didn't rate very highly in my books. Tish had met him not long after she graduated from college and found the job in Blanchford. He was a smooth-talking dude with a job selling farm equipment. It didn't take him long to get in deep with the naïve Leticia Darling, and not four months later, they were married.

It took a year before he started smacking Tish around. She blamed it on his job. He wasn't making his quota of sales and his boss was always on his case. He had been threatened with being let go more than once, but so far had dodged the bullet. He took his frustration out on Tish. If she said something he didn't like, or had the temerity to complain, he would lash out. At first it was verbal, but not long afterward, it became physical.

Tish took it for a few months before the marks became visible and she couldn't pretend to her friends that they were just household accidents. Again, her friends at work rallied around her and pushed her into seeing her lawyer. It took very little to get a restraining order against Terry and at the same time, she filed for divorce. Unfortunately, it enraged him even further and he threatened her with serious harm if she went through with it.

With the history of the false harassment suit and now an abusive husband, Tish knew it was time to move on. She sent out résumés to a number of county offices in Washington, Oregon, Idaho and Montana. When the response from Little River arrived, it was a godsend. She had friends in Little River. It was a place to escape Terry and start a new life. She wanted this job more than anything she had ever wanted.

The new job and the renewed friendship with the Timelys and the Hashimotos was the tonic she needed. My showing up early in the equation was a slightly uncomfortable complication. She couldn't tell me she was (still) married. She didn't want to color the potential for a good friend. But she had been badly burned, twice. It was the reason for her caution and wariness with me. Now I understood.