It was 1971, four years before I would be born, and I was
being pursued by the forces of darkness. They were big men in bad ties and
cheap shoes, low men from high places with badges and budgets and guns.
They were, some of them, government agents –
from various governments. They were FBI, and CIA, and KGB, and Mossad –
operating outside and beyond the laws of their respective nations. They were
also agents of the Washington Post and the L.A. Times, and, strangely, the
Ancient Order of Oddfellows (Lodge # 237).
They were men with shotguns and dogs, and they were prepared to shotgun
the dogs as soon as they’d shotgun me if things didn’t go their way. These were
seriously bad men.
And they pursued me, all of them, for the same reason: they’d been led to believe
that I had developed the ability to make time run backwards, that I’d
progressed a step or two on the evolutionary track (even though that’s
not how evolution works), that I’d been
raised a little higher than the angels (even though the psalmist says clearly
that even though I may be crowned with glory and honor, I’m still a little lower
than the angels).
It was bunk, of course. A lie. Fake news. Unsubstantiated rumor. Baseless and
useless speculation. I can’t make time run backwards. That’s science-fiction.
Nevertheless, it
was 1971, four years
before I would be born, and I was being pursued by a grim, demonic chorus of
shouting, dangerous men. It was 1971 and I had just burgled the house of
science-fiction author, Philip K. Dick. I’d stepped through the pink light of a
time slip, leaving behind Iowa in the year 2017 and found myself in California
1971. And there I’d stolen his files and used a homemade explosive device to destroy
his safe.
But don’t call it time travel; that’s science-fiction and this is a true story
of time irreal. Or maybe it’s not a true story, but only a remembrance of time
irreal. I’d slipped through time and space (which are, in fact, two parts of the
same thing) using a technique taught to me by Horselover Fat.
I was the Tachyon Bombardment. I was the perturbation in the reality field. But this is not of
myself; I have no cause to boast.
I ran. I ran through darkened alleys and ducked down narrow passages. I scaled
buildings and dodged traffic. I ran and I ran and I ran until I was caught. An
arm out of nowhere clotheslined me. I fell and hit my head. Blackness.
Darkness. Void.
When I awoke I was shackled, feet and wrist, to a board. A heavy cloth lay over
my face. A voice spoke to me. “You’re awake. So now there will be questions.
And then there will be water.”
“Who are you?” I asked, my words dampened by the cloth that covered my mouth.
“Yes. That is a question. I am Thomas. That is all you need to know. But there
is much I would know from you. Answer me. Why do you reject the powers of this
world?”
And before I could answer, water was poured over the cloth over my face. I
could not breathe; I could only gag. I could not scream; I could only die. And then
the water stopped.
“Why do you resist? Why do you call our power injustice?” And the water came
again. Breathless, I drowned, and drowning I died until the water stopped
again.
“Who is the King of Tears?”
“I don’t kno-” I shouted before the water could wash over me again, but I was
cut off. I was cut down.
“Who is Diakanos?”
“I know…” I gasped. “I know who you are.” I waited for the water, but it was
held back for a time. “I know who you are, Thomas, called Didymus, the evil
twin. You are a murderer, part of a hellish crew, son of lust and pride. You
are Pigspurt. You are pig iron, and I am being held in the Black Iron Prison,
right? You are the suppressor of information, and the disseminator of disinformation.
You are a thought control device.You lie.”
There was only silence. I spoke again, my voice stronger now. “Christ is risen!
Get you gone!” My voice echoed in the silence of the void. Then, a clang and
clatter as my shackles fell loose, I was free. I sat up and removed the wet
cloth from my face. I had only moments to register the dungeon where I’d been
tortured before the room filled with an intense pink light.
And I was home again, Iowa 2017.
