A new take on "It's a Wonderful Life" The aerodrome was playing nothing but
celebration music observing the centennial of the Global Accords.
John Powell mostly ignored the music and just sat quietly at his
small table outside cafe sipping his coffee. His attention directed
at all his fellow travelers. The sun had just risen above the crest
of the large east-facing windows casting a warm, golden glow on the
several hundred people all waiting in the airship departure lounge.
Powell was most taken with the family groups as different children
played with each other as parents watched.
Everyone seemed content, if not
actually happy, which Powell guessed came largely from one-hundred
years of a growing world peace. John Powell, being a psychiatrist
instead of a historian or politician, didn't really think all that
much about how the Accords hadn't reached their final form until
1977. And while the Federal League was celebrating one-hundred years
of peace, most people understood that war didn't really end in 1921.
The “conflicts” that erupted in Africa and Asia in the
intervening years weren't as big or bloody as the 1914-1919 Last War,
but the deaths were just as real. Being American, he refused to think
about the Backlash Uprisings in the southern states that had occurred
in the 1980s. After one of their radical groups assassinated
President Kennedy, those neoconfederates got what they deserved.
Giant screens mounted opposite of the
eastern windows showed the departure times of airships heading out to
Europe or west to the provinces of Canada or the western states.
Powell's airship to San Francisco wasn't scheduled for another three
hours. As much as he hated reading patient files outside his office,
it was better to do it now instead of on the flight when he could
take advantage of all the airship amenities.
Powell loosen the buttons on his left
sleeve pulling it back exposing his wrist computer. The all purpose
computer was attached to his arm by two straps, one at the wrist and
the other mid-forearm. Similar devices had existed since the early
1960s taking the place of wrist watches and small radios. The
addition of wireless communication and access to the global library
network had finally made them ubiquitous to daily life. As the
technology advanced, the devices came to host thousands of different
applications from entertainment to business and health.
Most young people had long since
developed the habit of shoving their wrist computers in the pockets
of their clothes. Not Powell, his was a Rolex wrist comp and the idea
of losing it, like a lot of youngsters do with their cheaper models,
was a nightmare he didn't want to realize. Wearing it on his wrist
was cumbersome, and it made using the camera difficult but the
alternative was worse given how many times a day he had the access
the network to review and update patient files.
That morning there was one patient John
Powell was concerned with, and it was the reason he was going to San
Francisco.
***
“Good morning, Dr. Powell,” his
cabin steward said up entering after knocking on the door to make
sure he was awake. Powell had been up since his courtesan for the
night had departed and was again on his wrist comp reviewing his
files.
“Hello Ernest,” Powell replied
trying not to frown in reaction to the steward's southern accent.
Powell had no reason to believe Ernest or any of his family members
might have taken part in the Uprisings. But it was hard to forget the
videos of southern radicals screaming they wanted to Make America
Great Again as they committed terrorism.
“What would you like for breakfast
this morning?” Ernest asked as he straightened up the cabin.
“Just bacon and eggs with juice and
coffee. Are we still scheduled to land in Frisco on time?”
"Yes, sir on both,” Ernest said
imputing the food order on his own wrist comp before leaving.
Powell could tell Ernest was holding
some sort of resentment, whether it was related to the now defeated
and disorganized neoconfederate cause was impossible to tell. Most
neoconfederates had fled the country and moved down into the Central
American Federation territory. To them the area from Guatemala to
Colombia was one of the last bastions of real freedom in the world.
To the rest of the civilized world the
Central American Federation was a huge shit hole of violence,
corruption, and oppression. And neither the United States government
nor the Federal League had the will or resources to tackle that area
right now.
But all things considered Powell
realized that even though most of the world was now peaceful with
the vast majority of humans no longer worried about food or
homelessness or oppression there were still some who felt shorted.
Maybe for the time being it was best to leave the radicals down there
alone until other areas like central Africa and south Asia were more
stable.
***
Gracie Hensley was in her room laying
on her bed asleep. A small camera mounted in the corner of the
ceiling relayed video to her caregivers sitting in a nearby room.
Gracie wasn't in restraints, mainly because there was nothing in her
room that she could easily use to harm herself. But nonetheless,
orderlies were just seconds away if she showed signs of trying to
commit suicide.
Powell had read her case file dozens of
times. A normal teenager from a middle class family with no
discernible psychological or physical issues. Until a couple of
months ago when she started having dreams of an assailant coming into
a school with military assault weapons and killing anyone they
encounter. From her files, the dreams are incredibly detailed with
Gracie able to name off the people being killed. She can also
describe the location with exacting detail as well as the surrounding
area.
The dreams always resulted in her
screaming in terror and unable to leave her room. Needless to say,
they were taking a heavy toll on her emotional well being and that of
her family's.
One of the many problems with Gracie's
dreams was that the school the shootings take place isn't the one she
actually attends. The school in her dreams exists, down to every
detail she described, but in Colorado. The other problem with
Gracie's dreams is that in reality civilians cannot own those types
of weapons. The idea that a civilian could purchase anything than a
normal handgun or bolt-action rifle or shotgun is ridiculous. Owning
such weapons was difficult even before the Backlash Uprisings,
afterwards the only way the average American would even touch one was
to join the military.
But somehow, the assailant in Gracie's
dreams owned such weapons, as well as an ungodly amount of
ammunition.
“Dr. Powell, you've reviewed Ms.
Hensley's condition.” Dr. Linda Banks said after turning away from
the row of screens showing the inside of patients' rooms. “I'm very
interested in what you might have to add, especially since you've
flown across the country.”
“Truthfully Dr. Banks, Ms. Hensley
isn't the first time I've seen a case very much like this. In fact I
have personally encountered seven such individuals. Five of them were
of a similar age to Ms. Hensly but the other two were adults in their
thirties.”
“The violent encounters,” Powell
continued, “their dreams all took place in locations they never
actually visited but gave incredibly accurate descriptions. Also,
these homicidal assailants all possessed military grade weapons used
with the dreamers somehow certain they owned them.”
“That's all well and good, Dr.
Powell. But were you able to help these earlier patients? The stress
and fear Gracie is going through is getting worse. Gracie already
can't function outside this facility and I fear she might have a
total and permanent break with reality if it continues for much
longer.”
Powell grabbed a small tablet from a
table and began writing down a list of psychotropic drugs and their
dosage. “There medications have dampen the dreams in the other
patients.” He said to the other doctor. “But they never
completely ended the dreams, about all we can hope is that she
outgrows them in time.”
“Dr. Powell,” Banks said eyeing the
man intently, “I can read people just as well as you and I know
you're not telling me something. And I'll be damned if you'll leave
this facility before I know what you're not telling me.”
“Just how open is your mind to out of
the box thinking, Dr. Banks?” Was Powell's response.
Dr. Bank's office was a testament to
1950s extravagance. The décor and artwork were relics of that era
and was looked down upon for the most part now. Powell was even
surprised to see an ancient tabletop computer sitting on the desk.
Just for a second he wondered if the tabletop was real or if she used
a holographic interface like everyone else when working in the
office.
“Now Dr. Powell, please tell me your
secrets.” Dr. Banks said after she took her seat behind the desk
and he in the chair in front.
“Dr. Banks, how much do you know
about quantum mechanics and hyper-gravity theory?”
Powell realized it was a risk to tell
her everything but his team was almost done with the first of their
papers to be published and who knows, she might sign on to the study.
Powell began by telling her how just
ten years ago one of the particle accelerator labs in the asteroid
belt had confirmed that the force of gravity does bleed over into
other universes. That the data clearly suggests gravity isn't
something from anyone one universe but affects the entire multiverse.
“Here's where things move into the
metaphysical realm, Dr. Banks.” Powell said in a deadly serious
tone. “What if the multiverse does contain a near infinity number
of parallel universes where history can play out almost exactly to
ours or go the opposite way? And lets say that since gravity
permeates through the multiverse why can't other forces?”
“That's quite a lot to think about,
Dr. Powell,” Banks said wearily. “But what about proof, that's
where science begins.”
Powell went to explain that these
murderous dreams were not a new phenomenon. That back in the 1940s
there were numerous reports from Germany of Jews having dreams that a
totalitarian regime was systematically murdering them. That this
regime was being lead by a megalomaniac with dreams of world
domination.
“Well that's ridiculous, Dr. Powell.
The Germans have a checkered history with antisemitism in the past
but they would never systematically try to murder whole populations.”
“That's the whole point. In our
reality history and events played out differently.” Powell
explained preparing to explaining his theory. “In our world the
Spanish Flu forced and end to the Last War. So many people were dying
from the flu that both sides were forced to help each other. All
talks of victory and revenge gave way to tolerance and negotiation.
Yes, it helped that certain leaders fell victim to the Flu allowing
new voices to emerge.”
“I've pieced together a history of
this darker world from reading the journals of individuals that
suffered from these dreams,” Powell said. “Their Spanish Flu
wasn't as bad and their Last War had already ended. This allowed the
Allies to impose a harsh peace of Germany that bred a sense of
revenge among the population. So instead of the first treaties that
form the Accords, their peace set the stage for yet another, more
horrible war.”
Powell cued up his wrist computer to
transfer hundreds of files to Bank's computer.
“I still don't understand, Dr.
Powell. How are just certain individuals having these dreams and not
the entire human race?”
“I don't know,” he replied. “But
I've cross referenced hundreds of different locations where these
dreams took place and the vast majority of individuals had no idea
they existed in real life. But I've conferred with a several
physicists and we're rehashing an old theory that events can echo
from one universe to another. How the actual mechanics of this echo
works is something we're working on.”
I've talked with both Ms. Hensley and
her parents,” Banks said while looking off into the distance while
unconsciously shivering. “This alternate United States where
Gracie's dreams take place is a violent, paranoid place and it's
getting worse. Gracie has related to me insane ideas about corrupt
and incompetent politicians, corporations running roughshod over
individual rights, and a growing global environmental disaster.”
“I know,” Powell said. If this
theory is correct that world is a nightmare. Our world and nations
are far from perfect but it seems like a paradise compared to the
stories I've read and heard.”
The two doctors discussed Ms. Hensley
treatment for a few further minutes and then went their separate
ways. Dr. Banks was still doubtful on the outlandish theory of echos
of despair crossing realities. But she was thankful that she existed
on this side of that divide.
