Chapter 2

The Adventures of a Time Travel Watch

That the interior hideaway of the trunk held the watch wasn't the cause of my surprise. No. The surprise was that the watch was ticking.

That was shocking.

In an experiential mood, I placed the watch on the mantel and promptly forgot about it. Days later, in an unaccustomed spate of cleaning, I discovered it ... it was still ticking.

This life I led had been full of surprises. A life long attraction to the reality of books, the love of woodsmoke, a disdain for the morals and affectations of my neighbors had made me a local curiosity and boogyman.

I was an oddity in a world of 'no waves' inhabitants. My Blog had been for years the only sign of dissent against the heavy-handedness of an ever encroaching government. It wasn't against the law to complain but complaining certainly focused attention on the complainer. Yearly tax auditing and difficulty of abstaining certain previously paid for benefits were only two.

I had seen the deliberate alterations of what passed as the truth. The truth to ninety-nine point nine nine percent of the population of the Fed-A was the Realnet presentation of 'real.' Since the Realnet operated with the express consent of Fed-A, I had suggested ... no ... STATED ... that profit drove the position and the Fed-A was in control of who gained the profit.

A German political figure ... Germany? Germany was once an individual country in an imaginary collection of countries in Fed-E. Got it?

This Adolph fellow said that a Lie repeated often enough will be believed as the truth. It works. It worked so well that the Fed-E became the Third Reich and came a hairs breadth from making it last. It was only the mind of Adolph that prevented that from happening.

"Political Correctness is the proposition that one can pick up a fresh turd by the clean end and not get shit on ones fingers."

My not so very tidy mind suggested that I, 'Clean up your mess, old fart.'

My very tidy but normally losing mind said, 'Right... '

My other brain ... the one that writes my vitriolic blog ... my so called cyberspace newsletter ... said... 'Hey it's cold ... that shit will burn."

The other part, the one I call me, but probably isn't, said, 'What shit?'

I took a look.

If I'd spent more time reading the diary and less time screwing around with the watch, I might have read about stuffing the lining with old money, but I hadn't...

Wait!

Run that through again.

No ... not that part ... fuck a bunch of watches ... the part about old money ... yeah ... that part.

Huh?

I said, 'It's probably no good ... but you could check ... No dummy ... not here ... and shut that thing down ... you know THEY'RE listening ... reading ... scanning.'

'Which I of me are you?'

'The paranoid one, ' I said.

'Ah, yes ... the one that's ALWAYS right, ' I said to me. 'I do wish you'd stay out of my dreams.'

My rather ancient electric car decided not to run. The weather was so bad, the snow so deep, the charging cord unplugged from the weight of the snow. I plugged it back in, went to the carriage house and strapped on my cross country skis. It's mostly level ground to the State Trans but the snow was too deep and they never plow. Plow? Picture a huge Vee shape on the front of a truck ... Truck? You know ... ah ... never mind.

I skied to the Trans, used my card and rode to Capital City. It used to be called Lansing but it grew faster than anyone had imagined. In the hundred years since the Princessapality won the last war, the name has changed so often that the Powers that Be decided that it was Capital City and that stuck. As long as people remember that Michigan is divided and the bottom half is Fed-A and the top half is Princessapality everything is fine. Highway 57 is the border crossing.

The Trans goes right past the Repository. With a suitable bribe I was able to secure a stop and skied to the main doors.

Strip searched, fingerprinted, retina scanned and voice confirmed, I was deemed admissible and made my way to the Information desk. I opened my wallet, flashed my ID at the scanner and asked my question.

"Are British Pounds valid currency?"

British Pound Notes: Scan Please.