Chapter One: 2005

“There you are, Grandpa! Hi!” Archie roused from his doze at the sound of the young woman’s voice. Stiffly, he shifted on the bench of the gazebo where he was taking a mid-constitutional rest after lunch, looked around until he found the source of the voice, and then turned away to stare back toward the small artificial lake on the flank of the complex. He found the splashing of the tacky fountain soothing.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said, finally. “What are you doing here, Haley?” The woman, identifying herself as Haley by the fact that she responded to this comment, stepped up onto the gazebo, briefly blocking Archie’s view before taking a seat beside him. She was not particularly short or tall, with short brown hair drooping around a rounded, pale, bespectacled face. Her lack of makeup wasn’t doing her any favors, either. She was wearing blue jeans, a black T-shirt under a leather jacket, and hiking boots, and had a backpack slung over her right shoulder. Archie, in his chinos, cotton button-down, and Velcro-strapped sneakers thought she must be very warm in that getup.

“It’s the first of the month, Grandpa. You remember I come to visit every month, right?”

Without turning his head, Archie replied, “I’m old, not daft. Of course I remember. How could I forget? You’re the only one in this damn family I ever see anymore.” He followed this with an unintelligible mumble.

Haley leaned toward him. “What was that, Grandpa?”

“I said… I forgot what day it was.” He suddenly (well, sort of) sat up, looked at her, and shook his finger. “Nothing strange about that, kiddo. Lots of folks who aren’t in old age homes can’t remember what day it is half the time. My average is still better than that, so you just watch it.”

“Oh, Grandpa,” Haley said indulgently, “This isn’t an old age home. It’s a retirement community.”

Archie waved his hand dismissively at her. “Bah. Call it what you want. There’s a live-in medical staff and a list of local mortuaries delivered with the new phone books. This is where old people come to die. Why do you think your mother picked it for me?”

Haley crossed her arms and turned away from Archie. “Ooh, don’t mention Mom to me right now. I don’t want to talk about her.”

“Who was talking about her?” Archie looked around, searching for this mysterious person who had suggested they converse about the inestimable Margaret “Peggy” Grant. “I just said her name. Not even her name, really, if you want to get technical.”

“I am so mad at her right now,” Haley plowed ahead, ignoring her grandfather. “I told her I was switching my major from Psychology to Women’s Studies, and she flipped out. She said she wouldn’t pay my tuition if I wasn’t going to get anything useful out of it. Can you believe that? I explained to her that I would have plenty of use for women’s studies in my life, but she forbade me – forbade me! – to do it. It’s my life! God! I can’t stand that woman.”

Archie stared out at what passed for water on the lake and let Haley’s tirade flow over him as if he were one of the specially designed, mass produced, ergo-aesthetically rock-like lakebed substitutes laying at its bottom. This place spared every expense. Occasionally, he would toss out an “Mm hmm” or an “Uh huh” just to be polite, but he had discovered long ago that actually listening to her gave him headaches.

Eventually, he realized she had wound down to silence, which was quickly becoming awkward. Grasping for the first topic that came to mind, he blurted, “So, how’s your motorcycle?”

“Pardon me,” came a voice from behind Archie. It was thin and a bit reedy. Archie, with some difficulty, pivoted, and was unsurprised to see that the owner of the voice matched it perfectly.

Speaking loudly, Archie said, “The cafeteria’s the third building to your left.” He pointed that direction. “You’d better hurry before they run out of pudding.”

“Grandpa!” Haley admonished.

“Please, you must help us,” the old man in the strange pajamas began. “We’re suffering terribly.”

“I know. I’ve had the pudding.”

The newcomer started walking around the gazebo toward the stairs, talking as he went. “Our world is being oppressed most cruelly.”

Archie whispered to Haley, “Must be a Democrat.”

“A cruel and heartless horror of an emperor has conquered everyone, everywhere. He kills for pleasure. He destroys for entertainment. None may do or say anything he does not approve, under penalty of death. The weak suffer. The strong take unfair advantage. Good men starve while base villains gorge.”

Reaching the steps, the old man climbed up into the gazebo. “But there is hope. It is said a Child of Destiny will rise up against the evil gripping our existence, free the people, and right the wrongs.” Holding his arms out expansively, he headed for the big finish. “You are that Child of Destiny. Will you help us?”

Archie and Haley’s eyes shifted back and forth between the strange man and each other. Finally, Haley broke the silence.

Talking out of the side of her mouth, she asked, “Is he talking about you or me?”

Archie replied the same way. “Does it matter?” Archie stood, brushed the wrinkles out of his shirt, and subtly placed himself between Haley and the crazy old man. It wasn’t that he was afraid for Haley’s safety. If it came down to it, the odds were in favor of Haley protecting herself better than he could anyway. He did it instinctively.

Archie smiled unconvincingly and asked, “So, are you a resident here at Shady Estates?”

“Please,” the old man responded, “We haven’t much time. The longer we wait, the greater our chance of being discovered.”

“Oh, well, we wouldn’t want that, now, would we? I’ll tell you what. My schedule is pretty full today. As you can see, my granddaughter is here visiting.” Archie gestured toward Haley as he said this. “But, I’m free tomorrow, between lunch and bingo. How about we save the world then?”

The visitor looked pained. Haley stood up beside Archie and asked, “What are you doing? Why are you encouraging him?”

Archie turned to face Haley fully. “Two reasons. One: I try never to upset the crazy ones. They might turn violent and wind up hurting me or themselves. If he killed me, I couldn’t live with myself. Two: I really don’t have much to do tomorrow, and listening to him rave is bound to be better than playing damn cards all afternoon.”

During this exchange, both Archie and Haley failed to notice that the visitor with the strange story was becoming increasingly agitated. He was fidgeting and sweating. His hands clenched and unclenched. He kept scratching at phantom itches and adjusting the collar of his pajama top.

Eventually, it became too much for him. “I’m sorry,” he exclaimed suddenly. “I didn’t want to do it like this, but I have no choice.” As Archie and Haley returned their attention to him, he rolled up his sleeve. Strapped to his arm, from his wrist to halfway up his forearm, was a curved metal plate covered in flashing lights, a tangle of wires, and one large button. They barely had time to register this bizarre device when the old man wearing it took a step forward so that he was almost touching each of them with one of his shoulders. “I’ll explain when we get there!” he cried, and pushed the button.

Around them, the world dissolved into static.