The Time War Ch. 15

Chapter 15: The Positronic Negro

A Continuity Service team was getting ready to go to Japan in the year 2011. There were reports of meltdowns at Japanese nuclear power plants in Fukushima, meltdowns that had never occurred in the main timeline. Luddite sabotage was suspected, and a team was preparing to check it out.

But as the team led by Major Roger Farley was about to head into the Binochi corridor, one of his men, Lieutenant Miles Ferris, started twitching uncontrollably.

"Miles, are you all right?" Sarah asked.

"The Corridor!" said Miles, pointing at it. "We can't go! We can't! The monster! The monster in the Corridor! It will get us! It will get us all!"

"Miles, get a grip on yourself," said Major Farley, grabbing him by the arms.

"No! Don't you hear it? Don't you hear it calling to us?" Miles pulled free, and with a scream, ran towards the Corridor, towards what he said he feared most. He was clearly insane.

A shot rang out, and Miles fell face down on the floor, two feet short of the gateway.

Everyone turned and saw Colonel Strayker standing there, holding a smoking compression pistol, He pointed at Miles with his weapon. "Have that man taken to sickbay." When no one moved, he said, "Well?"

People moved.

Calle had witnessed the entire scene. After the rest of Major Farley's team had gone through the Corridor, he asked Sarah about it in a low voice.

"It's temporal psychosis," said Sarah, pretending to work her console as she talked to Calle without looking at him.

"Has it happened before?"

"Sometimes," said Sarah, briefly looking up at him.

"What causes it?"

"We don't know," said Sarah. "Doctor Vladek thinks it may be a cumulative effect from going through the Binochi Corridor."

"Wonderful," said Calle.

"Afraid?" Sarah inquired.

"Why would I be afraid? It's just that I could go crazy at any moment, I suppose."

"Well, before you do that, why don't we have sex one more time, for old time's sake?"

Calle thought about it, and nodded. It made sense. "All right."

********

They both needed it. The horror of what they had experienced had unnerved them both. They both travelled through the Corridor. They realized it could happen to either of them, without warning. They needed to forget, and for an hour, as they enjoyed each others' bodies, they did.

Afterwards, when they lay side by side, Calle said, "You know, something odd happened to me today."

Sarah gave him a provocative stare. "I know. Something odd happened to me as well."

Calle said, "What?"

"You had sex with me."

Sarah laughed, and Calle tickled her for that. "Now, you've distracted my train of thought."

"Let me see if I can't help your train back on track," she said, fondling the head of his penis.

"Stop that," said Calle.

"Really?" Sarah asked.

"No," said Calle. "Anyway, where was I?"

"Your track," she said, fondling using her other hand to gently fondle his balls.

"Yes," said Calle, trying not to be distracted. "I was talking to Daniel today."

"Now that's odd."

"Quiet!" Calle grinned. "Anyway, I was talking to him about something, and somehow, the War of 1898 came up."

"I know. It comes up all the time in my conversations too," said Sarah.

"I'm being serious," said Calle. "While you're at it, can you pet my shaft, too?"

"Why not?" said Sarah, moving her hands upwards.

"Ah, like that. So nice, thank you. Anyway, I was talking to Daniel about the War of 1898, and he had never heard of it. Can you imagine that, a historian who never heard of the War of 1898?" He saw the puzzled look on Sarah's face. "The Spanish American War?"

"What war would that be, Senor?" Sarah giggled.

"Sarah, don't play games with me," said Calle, sitting up. "Are you telling me you never heard of the Spanish American War?"

"No," said Sarah. "Though 19th century American history was never my strongpoint."

"The Philippines. Cuba. Both got their independence after the war."

Sarah shook her head. "That's not what I learned in school. Spain simply let both of them go after the end of World War II."

"Are you serious?"

Sarah thought a moment. "Yes." She looked at him. "So you're remembering a war no one else does. That sounds like stage two Temporal Psychosis to me."

Calle was startled. He had never considered that possibility.

Was he crazy, or was something wrong with the world? Any answer would not be a good one.

And then he remembered what Miles had said. That he had heard voices, in the corridor. Voices of a "monster".

Calle always assumed that everyone heard the whispers from the Binochi corridor. Maybe he was the only one who could hear them.

Maybe he was the one who was going crazy.

********

The Black White Supremacists:

Ken Larson simply adored his cozy white book club.

It was one of the many things that white people did together that made them so fascinating as a race. To sit down, with other people, and discuss the merits of literature, while all of them were so... white... was just something that Larson loved to do. While followers of Laquinta were murdering each other over what kind of prayers they should do at the dinner table, while black Africans were robbing each other on dirt roads, while South Americans and many Asians were still living 500 years behind the times, White people were sitting together, sipping nuclear tea, and discussing holobooks. It was so tremendously civilized.

They were talking about Ascension, a book written by a preeminent white author named Oma DaSalla. Larson thought the author was Italian, but nationality didn't matter (as long as she was white). Ken was sitting with several of his new white friends, debating whether the themes of the novel had been articulated in a truly dramatic way. As he sipped a glass of sherry, he realized what a wonderful time he was having.

"I loved the way she described the trees and the mountains in Chapter Four," said Shari Warbutton. "I closed my eyes and practically felt like I was there."

"Didn't you just love the reunion Betsy had with her long lost child? I was in tears by the time I finished it!" said Masada Fielding.

"The book had such deep, nuanced characters," said Mark Waterston. "I haven't read anything like it in years."

Larson loved watching white people talk about books. He loved watching them have their bookgasms. It was so refreshing, so relaxing.

And then Velma had to come into the room and spoil it all. "Ken, you're late for your own meeting. Again."

Ken checked his chrono. Where had the time gone? He stood up and saved the program, and sadly watched his new white friends disappear. He turned and saw the look of disapproval in Velma's eyes. Velma didn't want to do any of this. All Velma wanted was to retire in Florida. But she stayed with him because she loved him, even if she wasn't as ideologically driven as he was.

********

Ken entered the conference room with a spring in his step, as he always did when he had been refreshed by the company of white people. "My friends, the time has come to abolish slavery!"

"We tried that already. Twice, Dad," said Jamal glumly. "Each time we try, the Continuity Service just reverses whatever we do."

"But this time we will put into play something which the Continuity Service cannot possibly counter."

"And what is that?" Jamal asked.

"Kevin, if you can do the honors?" said Ken.

Kevin Myrtle, who was the mechanical engineer of the group, pressed a button on his Pad.

They heard a whirring sound. And then, very slowly, a robot entered the room.

It was tall, nearly seven feet, and had a single glowing red eye. It had arms and legs like a man, but was clearly made of metal.

"This... this is the answer," said Ken, with a wide grin. "We are going to get plantation owners to replace their slave worker force with robots."

"Robots?" said Jamal. "They've never even seen robots in the 18th century."

"Well, we'll just explain that they're a new kind of... hoe."

"A hoe?" said Jamal, looking at the tall robot.

Mel Watts, who was their financier, spoke up. "Ken, not to be critical, but why don't we use humaniform robots? I think they would be much more easier for 17th century folk to accept."

"It's a money problem, Mel," said Ken. "We estimate we are going to need at least a fifty thousand robots to replace 600,000 slaves. You have generously funded our project here, but even you don't have the funds to try and buy 50,000 humaniform robots."

"We're getting them cheap, surplus, from the 29th century," said Kevin Myrtle.

"You're buying them from the future?" Mel asked.

Kevin nodded. "They're a lot cheaper in the 29th century."

"Why not go even farther into the future, and look for even cheaper robots? Maybe humaniform robots will be affordable then," Mel said.

Kevin shook his head. "After the 29th century, robots were phased out in favor of virtual assistants. That's why we were able to get these so cheaply. They're all surplus. We got them for scrap metal prices."

Mel looked at the tall robot with the single red glowing eye. "And you really think you can get farmers to accept this?"

"Sure," said Ken.

"What about changes to the timeline?" Velma asked. "Kenneth Larson, you're going to dump 50,000 robots into the 18th century. Don't tell me that isn't going to change the timeline a whole lot."

"So?" Ken shrugged. "It will only make America more advanced."

"And more white," said Jamal.

"And what could possibly be wrong with that?" Ken asked, with a goofy smile.

********

William Aiken ran one of the largest plantations in South Carolina, with nearly 700 slaves. He was skeptical, to say the least, about this stranger's assertion that his odd metal... thing... could replace all his slaves.

"But just let me demonstrate it. Please, sir," Ken Larson pleaded.

Aiken had to admit that he was curious. He gave a curt nod.

Ken Larson whispered into his hidden collar mike.

The red eyed robot stomped forward. "Greetings sir. My name is Robby, and I will be your cotton picking slave. Where is the cotton you would like me to pick?"

Aiken pointed wordlessly to the field. Robby the slave robot stomped into the field, stepping on some cotton plants in the process. But when he got to the first row, he stopped. His red eye assessed the situation.

And then he started picking! He worked so fast, that his metal hands were a blur. Within a minute, he had picked the cotton from an entire row of crops.

"Amazing," said Aiken, his jaw dropping.

"So you like it? I can have 50 units ready for-"

"No," said Aiken.

"No?" said Ken.

"Your mechanical beast is certainly a curiosity. Perhaps suited for the circus or the freak show. But not my cotton fields," said Aiken, turning his back on Ken.

********

"I don't understand what went wrong," said Ken. "We clearly demonstrated that Robby was more efficient than slaves in picking cotton by an order of magnitude."

Ken looked so sad. Even Velma felt sorry for him.

Thelma Kendricks, who had four degrees in medicine, including one in psychiatry, spoke up. "I don't think functionality was the problem, Ken."

"Then what was?"

Thelma sighed. "Ken, these people are used to having black slaves pick their cotton. You can't just dump a robot on people who have never even seen a robot before and expect them to accept it. They have no frame of reference to even evaluate it."

Ken thought for a moment. "Perhaps you're right."

"So, you're going to give up on this crazy scheme?" Velma asked hopefully.

"No," said Ken. "We're just going to retool the concept a bit."

********

A few days later, Ken was back in the Deep South in the early 1700's, making a new presentation to a group of plantation owners.

"Gentlemen... I give you... Rufus!"

"Pleased to meet you, surs," said the robot, bowing slightly.

The robot had changed. It was still made of metal and seven feet tall with one giant red eye, but now it was wearing faded jean overalls, a ripped white shirt, a scruffy straw hat, and its metal skin... it's metal skin had been laser painted black.

The plantation owners looked at Rufus, frowning, not sure what to make of him.

"Rufus, why don't you show these lovely men how you go about picking some cotton?" Ken asked.

"Sho' thing boss. Someone's got to pick da cotton!" said Rufus. Humming cheerfully, Rufus made his way to the fields.

The plantation owners followed.

When Rufus got to the first row of cotton, he started to pick it. But Rufus didn't just pick the cotton; he also started to sing.

"I got big tin arms and big tin hands. Gonna pick the cotton, all over these lands."

The plantation owners looked startled. Even as Rufus continued to pick the cotton, he repeated the line, and kept singing.

"I got big tin arms and big tin hands. Gonna pick the cotton, all over these lands. "

"I got a nice straw hat on my big tin head"

"I got a nice straw hat on my big tin head"

"Gonna keep the sun out, so mah skin don't red."

One of the plantation owners started to clap. After some hesitation, a second one joined in.

"I got big tin arms and big tin hands. Gonna pick the cotton, all over these lands."

"I got a big tin body, and a big tin head."

"I got a big tin body, and a big tin head."

"Gonna pick the cotton, before I goes to bed."

Now they were all clapping and smiling.

The voice was Doctor Kevin Myrtle's. In addition to being a great engineer, he was also an incredible baritone.

By the time Rufus had finished picking the row of cotton, Ken could see that he had sold the concept, to all of it. All he had needed was a little cultural relevance to get them to accept technology from 1100 years in the future.

********

Sharice Robinson shaded her eyes from the harsh late afternoon sun. She had been set to guarding some of the areas where the robots were working, to keep an eye out for potential CS interference. But the robots were on so many plantations now, that it was impossible to watch them all. This was likely just keep-busy work designed to keep Ken from feeling-

"Don't move," said a deep man's voice, and Sharice felt a pistol muzzle in her back.

Sharice didn't move.

She felt herself being turned around. She broke out into a smile.

"Hey, you," Sharice said.

"Hey, you," said Calle, but his face was serious.

"Come to pay me a visit?" said Sharice hopefully.

"My standing orders are to capture enemy temporal agents and submit them to interrogation," said Calle. "And for once, I have my gun out first."

"Can't we do best out of three?" Sharice asked.

"I'm sorry, but I have to do this," said Calle, with real regret in his voice.

********

An hour later, the interrogation began.

Sharice was stripped completely naked.

She was lying on her back.

Her legs had been bent and spread.

And John Calle was thrusting avidly between them.

"Where is your base of operations?" he demanded.

"I can't tell you," said Sharice, giving an angelic smile as she wrapped her hands around Calle's naked back. It felt so good to touch him like that, in that way, feeling the vibrations of this strong, vibrant white man as he thrust inside of her.

"Tell me, Sharice!" Calle commanded, as he thrust into her. She was tight, and wet, and he knew he wasn't going to last much longer. Her thick dark triangle of pubic hair reminded him of Marion's, and only excited him more. "Tell me!" he repeated.

"Or what? You'll give me an orgasm?" Sharice said.

"Yesss...." Calle hissed, in a very sexy way.

"It's an empty threat, and we both know it. You're incapable of making me come," said Sharice dismissively.

Calle roared and started thrusting into her aggressively. He kissed her with primal energy and Sharice squealed with joy. She felt that special tingling in her clitoris, the tingling that said she was about to, about to....

"Oh... oh... ooooh.....!" she cried out.

Calle joined her a few seconds later, and the interrogation abruptly came to an end.

********

"Why won't you tell me?" he asked, playing with her breasts.

"Sugar, if I wasn't going to tell you while we were having sex, I'm certainly not going to tell you now," said Sharice.

"I didn't turn you in," said Calle.

"And I didn't shoot you. Twice," said Sharice. "I'd call that more than even." She hugged him and shivered. "Has anyone ever told you that you have an incredibly sexy white man's body?"

"Only you," said Calle.

"Oh, I just loooove white men," said Sharice.

"I like them too," Calle admitted. "So since we have that in common, can't you help me out?"

"I told you, Sugar, I'm not going to give you the location of our main base," said Sharice, running a finger down his chest.

"Give me something, then."

Sharice sighed, and her breasts heaved. "All right. I know they got these robots... from the 29th century, or something."

"We know. We've taken one of the robots for analysis. How many are there?"

"About... 50,000. Not all delivered yet. About half still in the pipeline," said Sharice. She played with his shrunken white penis. It was so deliciously small now! It was probably no bigger than an adolescent black boy's. The thought excited her.

"Where are the delivery points?"

"Uh uh uh. I'm not gonna make it that easy, Sugar," said Sharice, smiling at him. She patted his cute white ass. It was so nice and flat!

"These robots... do they... coordinate with each other... communicate with each other?"

"Well, I suppose they do," said Sharice. She thought about it. "Yes, I'm sure of it. Doctor Myrtle mentioned something 'bout that." She saw a gleam in his eye. "Does that give you an idea, sexy white boy?"

"I... I think it does," said Calle.

"Am I gonna return to my home base to find my ancestors all in chains again?"

"You... you might," Calle admitted.

"Then I guess I have to shoot you," said Sharice. And suddenly, there was a compression pistol in her hand. And it was pointed at his chest!

And then Sharice looked him in the eye, and gave him a passionate kiss. "Next time," she said, giving him another, for good measure. "Next time, for sure."

********

"A computer virus," said Calle, feeling terrible.

"A computer virus?" said Doctor Vladek. "To disable the robots? Hmmm...."

"Will it work?" Colonel Strayker asked.

"Well, we'll have to calibrate it to the robot's wavelength. And then we'll have to-"

"Never mind the technobabble," Strayker snapped, his blue eyes blazing. "Can you get it to work?"

Vladek nodded. "Yes, I think so."

********

And so, two weeks later, in subjective base time, black people were once again returned to present day America, and America once again had a shameful legacy of slavery. After the robots had been disabled, slave owners had been forced to start importing slaves again. And so all was well at the Continuity Service, even if a few key individuals were not quite so happy.

"I'm getting so tired of this," Major Reynolds complained. "Every time they fuck with the timeline, Sue-Ann keeps disappearing. I should have married a white woman. I knew it."

Calle certainly wasn't happy either. This was now the third time he had been instrumental in helping restore slavery to the United States. The stress was beginning to wear on him. He wondered if at some point he might simply go crazy like Miles Ferris did.

Those glowing orange eyes.