Time Crossers 01: The Final Six Days Page 2

  He heads into the restroom to perform one final check, putting the final touches on his fashioning style, ensuring minimal resemblance to the images from the hologram. Hair, shirt, cleanliness, all are of importance. He observes himself in the mirror: dark hair, medium height, and a slight stubble of a beard. He looks again, staring at himself, but still unable to ascertain his name or identity. He checks his timepiece once more, it reading 20:15. Now is the moment.

  He approaches the entrance to Vyxx. A couple of very large fellows, incredibly well coordinated in their grooming and dress, guard the entryway. They both take a look, scanning his appearance, probably for confirmation to adherence to an appearance code just as he predicted. It takes a second or two, but they wave him through.

  He heads inside and is immediately blasted by rapid, ear-splitting beats thumping from the speakers in the ceiling. He quickly navigates the swarm of twentysomethings to reach the large square bar in the center of the club. This is a perfect vantage point for surveying cues he declares, fixating himself on one of the open seats dotting the outside of the bar. Within minutes, a scruffy, large man approaches toting multiple silver neck chains around his neck, and who appears to be the keeper of the bar. His skin is decorated with assorted, irregular art, some of it glimmering as if electricity runs through it.

  “Friend, what are you having?” the male barkeep demands, seemingly lacking in patience. There’s that calling again, Friend.

  “Have we met before?” he calmly replies, staring back at the barkeep in a hopeful daze.

  “Not sure. I see a million like you in here every night,” the barkeep shoots back in response, his tone deepening as his patience wears thin.

  “Fair enough. Let me have one of those.” He points to a dark, copper colored foamy beverage in a large thick, conically shaped glass, held by another visitor a few seats down.

  The barkeeper shouts a command as a protruding robotic arm then prepares the beverage by pouring it out of an iron faucet, carefully minimizing the foam. The barkeep then returns promptly, demanding payment in the form of forty dollars. He slips the barkeeper the desired currency and proceeds to sip the drink. Wow, strong! Powerful, bitter and cold. Even without a memory he cannot find any familiarity with such a beverage.

  Party goers continue to stream into the club, bringing it close to peak capacity. The music intensifies just as much as the endless rhythmic pops and bangs combined with energetic melodic lines produce sound waves that are nearly visible. The bar seating is completely full, with others clamoring for a spot. He assures himself that this fortunate seat positioning is a possible harbinger of events to come. With that, he reminds himself to stay vigilant.

  Off toward the back is a sprawled floor of color-pulsating tiles, some transitioning from luminous to reflective, allowing the large cluster of dancers to see themselves from their feet. Many sport see-through tops made of some kind of molded polymer, some with neon-like, patternized lighting. The women dance in harmonic lock-step, rubbing their barely covered breasts through their plastic tops on each other and the men. He watches with intrigue as heat and sweat emit from each other’s bodies like neutrons reaching criticality, enough to make him cringe. It must be a local custom, he wonders, orchestrated movements to high pulsing music, inducing seduction from its participants. Perhaps a sophisticated form of mate calling. This “dancing,” as they call it here, is not in any way a formidable challenge to the body’s kinetic abilities, nor a higher form of fine art that he would appreciate.

  Beginning to feel unstimulated, he turns to face the other side of the club, looking for another ritual to analyze. Suddenly, he finds himself locked into her wondrous eyes, beautiful and brown. Her lustrous, smooth and straight flowing hair is dark like the midnight sky. From her luscious lips her smile radiates like the new morning sun. She wears a dark red dress, tight enough to capture the endless curves of her body, accentuating her breasts. It’s an interesting choice to maximize her total feminine embodiment. Her face, her body, her presence, all of it is a convergence of perfection.

  She walks over and stands right next to him, giving him a moment of fluster, something rare in him. She is not the tallest woman here, perhaps just a few centimeters shorter than he, but her leaning posture puts her at eye level with him. She looks toward the barkeep with currency in hand, ordering at him something indiscriminant. A moment or two passes before she returns a second gaze at him. The intensity of their stares compels her to finally speak.

  “Enjoying the night?” she asks, smiling at his boyish charm.

  “I’m not entirely sure,” he replies, feeling too stunned to come up with something witty.

  She laughs at the unusual reply, not part of the small talk norm. She feels a spark, a strange attraction to him every time she looks at his smile. Perhaps he is someone familiar, from a past life maybe, but she’s not sure. He has a spiritual glow; something she feels is uncommon in most men she meets.

  “So do you have a name?” she inquires.

  His mind freezes in the moment realizing he doesn’t know who he is. He is a stranger to even himself. If he has a name he better come up with it quick, but that won’t happen. Instantly, the perfect name pops into his mind. It’s not an accident he’s heard it uttered all day long. There’s a uniqueness to it, possibly silly, but it captures his spirit. He may not know who he is, but he knows what he is.

  “Friend,” he confidently responds.

  “Friend? Your name is Friend?” She confusingly asks, hoping not to offend but intrigued by such an unusual name, then extending out her hand. “I’m Cassandra. People call me Cassie most of the time.”

  He hopes he can continue this conversation enough not to scare her away. She is beautiful… intensely, stunningly beautiful. It’s not just her appearance alone, but her voice, her demeanor, her sense of esteem.

  “We have a table over there.” She points toward a sequence of chair and small table arrangements. “If you don’t find the enjoyment you seek, come join us,” she says, walking away, gracing him with a final smile.

  An invitation to join her? This must be some sort of test, to see how interested he is in her. He doesn’t care; he can barely contain his glee. He is gladly willing to give up this great bar seat that others are increasingly coveting. He follows her, unable to ignore her intoxicating vibe. His thoughts are racing as frantically as his heartbeat.

  Most of his peripheral vision momentarily blurs as he approaches her table. She stands up and introduces her friends. Alaina, shorter, more slender, blonde hair with gold streaks, cute and quirky. And then Alaina’s boyfriend Wyatt, tall, muscular, seemingly self-absorbed. He gives Friend a slight nod. Alaina and Wyatt soon excuse themselves and make way for the dance floor, leaving him and Cassie alone.

  “So where you from?” she opens up, wanting to know more from the handsome stranger.

  This is their culture, endless inquisitions into one’s origins, a depth first traversal of a person’s identity. What can I say? he wonders. Even if he knows the names of places, he wouldn’t be able to describe them. Creating a well of deceit to bury himself in is not a custom for which he is aware, nor willing to partake. He has to fess up: he honestly has no clue.

  “Can I tell you something?” Friend attempts to explain, “I honestly don’t know.”

  She emits a quiet gaze, as if to be engaged in a battle of wits. He is charming, she feels, but is unwilling to tip her hand to his desire for a response, so she presses the silence, forcing him to divulge more.

  “I woke up this morning with amnesia of some sort. I took a train here. Bought these new clothes. I tried looking for clues, only finding this foldable enclosure with this money. Later on the train, I observed a message saying I can find myself here, so here I am.”

  She briefly widens her eyes at his wallet, helping him look through it, seeing no form of identification, no credit cards, no anything to speak of, then urges him to put it away and hide it.

  Over the next two hours
or so they talk, mostly her. She is twenty-four years old. Her ancestry is a mix of Asian; Filipino and Chinese on her mother’s side, and various Caucasian ancestries on her father’s side. She comes from a land called California, a city named Los Angeles. She has the next week off from her work as a bartender, another word for barkeep as he now understands it. She loves her occupation, meeting people, earning good money, but yearns for more. She arrived today, her and her two friends, and plan on staying until the New Year holiday. They have reserved a hotel room at this Metropolitan hotel, a room high up with a view of the Strip.

  From his demeanor she realizes he is being forthcoming and honest about what he’s telling her. She prides herself on her keen ability to read people, a skill she learned from tending bars in the past few years. She finds it attractive, a man with a strong intellect, but lost and in need of her help. It is a secret fetish, and to her detriment, has caused her to enter into some bad relationships with men who are beyond saving. Her friends tell her she has Nightingale syndrome. But trying to “find himself,” because of an advertisement, is cute. She finds herself being drawn into his world, this charming and curious Friend, as he calls himself.

  Eventually her friends return and sit along the table. Exhausted from dancing, drinking, and more dancing, they desire some relaxation. It doesn’t take long before they also inquire into Friend’s origin. Before he can answer, Cassie interjects, telling her he is from San Diego, throwing him a smile. Not entirely comfortable with the idea of her being a proxy of deceit, he nevertheless decides to play along. She has a sharp wit, and that impresses him deeply.

  The time crosses well past midnight, and Cassie and her friends suggest a late night breakfast. The café on the other side of the hotel complex becomes the consensus choice. It’s a short walk across the casino floor. As they walk in that direction, Friend soaks in the mystique of the games of chance that people play with their money. Something for him to explore, but he would need to solve the riddles of the game, breaking down the seemingly randomness they call luck into an analyzed pattern that he can exploit. Otherwise there is no point.

  After they are seated the conversation starts out light-hearted, before the topic turns toward the asteroid. Alaina expresses her views to the group. “I saw on the news… some critics of NASA are calling them liars, saying that they cannot stop the asteroid. They are telling everyone to take cover in Mexico, or further south.”

  Wyatt enjoys Alaina’s worries, responding calmly, “Baby, don’t you think they’ve thought of all this? Not just NASA, but China, the GSC? Don’t you think with all these asteroid mining companies they have safeguards in place? There’s bad people out there, trying to profit from any crisis. These lies are being spread by the real estate industrial complex, all to try to get you to invest in timeshares in Mexico.”

  Everyone laughs. Friend, not quite understanding the humor, laughs more at Alaina’s whimsical concerns, and at witnessing Wyatt’s ability to trivialize them in few words.

  “Friend, where are you staying?” Cassie wonders, unable to resist the notion she can help him, despite the potential awkwardness. She assumes that if he is experiencing some sort of amnesia, he probably doesn’t have a place to stay.

  He smiles. “I haven’t thought of that yet.”

  Realizing the gravity of the situation, the fact that it is a wintry cold outside that he already experienced, and that he hasn’t seen any public sleeping areas, his smile retracts. She bites her tongue, but cannot resist the temptation to save him from his plight any longer.

  “Friend, you can stay with us for tonight,” she suggests.

  Despite some subtle reservations from her friends, there is no debate. It’s clear she is in charge of this trip. After all it was her idea, she arranged the hotel, and it’s her car they drove down here. Alaina does make an expression of concern, but Wyatt is more than pleased to have someone capture Cassie’s attention, having Alaina more to himself.

  After the meal he offers to pay. Cassie initially rebuffs him, but he insists. He is, after all, rooming with them for the night. He senses his upbringing is one of giving, and so it feels natural to reciprocate any generous gesture. They leave the restaurant, make their way for the elevator, and retire for the night.

  2

  Day 2 – December 27

  He awakes to a cold, rough carpeted floor, but nonetheless it is such an upgrade from the cold dirty sand he is actually grateful. Lying near the window he witnesses the sun emerge above the mountains, piercing through the curtains, reminding him that the day has already started. He enjoys the view of the colorful buildings in daylight, the view being much more magnified from the mountainous distance of yesterday. He looks on as the others sleep, probably much needed for them due to their travels yesterday.

  The room is spacious, decorated in similar dark tones as the hotel main floor, and divided into two parts separated by a guard rail. The upper part contains a large bed where Alaina and Wyatt sleep, and the lower part contains a slightly smaller bed where Cassie sleeps. Her section is adjacent to the large window, encompassing the entire wall, overlooking the Strip as well as the entrance to the hotel. It’s a breathtaking view for sure.

  By the time Cassie awakes, Friend is fully clothed and ready to depart. Cassie briefly greets him, feeling a bit embarrassed for him seeing her like this. She makes haste, grabbing some things and heading into the bathroom area.

  She debates to herself about what to do with Friend. Her friends had several things planned today. Should she ditch them and show Friend around? Should she take Friend with them? Should she just wish him well and send him on his way?

  She emerges several minutes later, fully changed after taking a shower and freshening up. She returns to the room area, revealing herself in her raw state, but just as attractive and lovely in Friend’s eyes. He greets her with a smile of adoration, one that she undoubtedly confirms as his feelings for her. The answer then becomes clear to her.

  “Guys, I’m going to show Friend around,” she authoritatively declares. “Help him shop for some more clothes. He’s never been to Las Vegas before.”

  She encounters little resistance from Wyatt. Alaina is a bit more perturbed, but once she witnesses Cassie’s newfound happiness, her selfish desires to spend time with her friend give way to her joy for her.

  “You two have fun, we’ll be fine,” Alaina reluctantly replies.

  Cassie and friend embark on their journey. First, a new and different shopping center from yesterday. It’s an outdoor one called the Sparq, featuring a large towering wheel, and a large amusement park behind it containing mechanical rides designed for thrill. The open space is dotted by various fountains with laser projected colors highlighting the water. Multiple adjacent windowed buildings house the different shops, with holographic billboards playing messages, luring shoppers with messages of their wares. Lush green landscaping make the place feel more inviting, away from the barren desert that surrounds the city.

  She escorts him into different clothing shops, using her sense of style to help him acquire more fashionable clothing. Afterwards they have lunch. A peculiar style of food, fresh caught fish, rolled by some hardened leafy vegetable and covered with a discolored grain called rice. Cassie calls it sushi. He cannot recall eating fish, although it feels familiar. Whatever… it is delicious.

  Throughout the early afternoon their conversations have yet to slow. She speaks of her mother, whom she barely communicates with and hasn’t spoken to in a couple of years. Her younger brother protects her mother, and thus she feels alienated from him as well. She talks about her future plans, her hope to one day return to college. She draws inspiration from her friend Lila, who recently graduated from Caltech with a degree in physics and now works at a laboratory there for NASA. She explains how Lila has always been her rock, someone who pushed her to excel in high school through friendly competition. Lila emerged victorious in their battle to become valedictorian, the highest honor bestowed for academic
excellence at their school.

  Through these conversations he detects an underlying swell of intelligence within her. But strange to Friend, she seems to disguise her mental prowess under this party girl façade. This social mask is possibly for survival in this complex society.

  They continue to enjoy each other’s company into nightfall. If Friend can speed down time or relive this day over and over again, he would. After a brief check in to the hotel room, they set on a quest for dinner. As she’s been acting as his guide of sorts throughout the day, he defers to her choice that she enthusiastically suggests: Italian cuisine.

  They find themselves in a dimly lit restaurant, themed with red and brown accents. The table is finely prepared, the candle in the middle providing a personal light for the two of them. As he enjoys this reshaped wheat product they call pasta, he just can’t stop himself from staring in her eyes, noticing the perfect reflection of the flickering candle. Unable to resist the urge anymore, he grabs her hand. It’s soft and silky, gripped magnetically to his.

  “Cassie, I want to thank you for this amazing day,” he passionately explains, grabbing her other hand, holding it firmly.

  “What will you do once you remember who you are?” Cassie wonders with a playful concern, enjoying this day but unable to help wondering what the future holds.

  “When that time comes we’ll share it together. Because of you, I’ve been able to find myself today.”

  She smiles, feeling the same spark, no, make that a sustained current, a boundless flow, a force of attraction that cannot be slowed or turned off. It was fate, she believes, that brought him into her life at that moment, a stunningly handsome man in need of her help. The feeling is likewise for him. He questions it somewhat, figuring he had more control over his emotions in his past life, but like gravity, you can only fight it for so long. There is little doubt between them, they have fallen in love.