Short Story: Do Reindeer Fly In Space

I figured I would resurrect my science fiction Christmas story since I hadn't read or posted it in a while. So, in an homage to my favorite science fiction writer, Ray Bradbury, here is Do Reindeer Fly In Space?

Fun fact, the title is a shout out to Philip K Dick, another one of my favorites, who wrote Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep.

Here it is. Hope you enjoy. Merry Christmas.

Do Reindeer Fly in Space?
by Carey Torgesen
December 8, 3013

Holly Shepard gazed out of the window counting stars silently, her eyes reflecting the sparkle from a nearby sun. From behind her, the clanging of pots and pans woke her from her reverie. She blinked rapidly, then turned around and watched absentmindedly as her mom cleaned the dishes.

“There’s the automatic clean cabinet for that, dear.” Mr. Shepard wrapped his arms around Mrs. Shepard and nuzzled her neck.

“Oh, I know, but I still like doing things the old-fashioned way.” Her brown curls fell across her shoulder as she kissed him lightly on the cheek and resumed her self-mandated chore.

“Hey kiddo, whatcha doing?” Mr. Shepard scuttled over to the table where Holly sat drawing doodles on her holographic workpad with her index finger.

“Umm, trying to come up with some sort of myth to research. And I can’t find anything good. Everyone took the good ones.” Holly’s bottom lip stuck out.

“How about Zeus?”

“Taken.”

Mr. Shepard furrowed his brow. “What about the boogeyman?”

“Dad,” Holly said in a singsong voice.

“Okay? What about Isis? Hera?” His eyes widened and he snapped his fingers. “I got it! The tooth fairy!”

Holly sighed. “Dad. No. No. And Puhlease.”

“Well, sorry kiddo. Looks like you’re outta luck. Your good ol’ Dad is tapped out of ideas. I guess your thirteen-year-old mind is gonna have to go it alone.” Mr. Shepard ruffled Holly’s hair again, and headed to the sleep quarters.

“Mom? Can I head down to the data library? Maybe I can find something there.”

“Sure, hon. Just be back before the night sensors go on.”

Holly closed her pad and made her way toward the learning quarters. Why had Mr. Camden made such a big deal about this assignment? Who cared about silly old myths? After all, they were long forgotten for a reason. But still, if she was going to have to do this lame assignment, she wanted hers to be “oh my gosh I’ve never heard that myth before, it’s incredible” so her peers would be impressed. She had to be the best. She had to be noticed. Because it was always Holly who was forgotten.

When all the kids shared what they did over New Moon break, Mr. Camden skipped right over her. When everyone had to get a partner for the gravitational pull experiment in science, Holly was the one who had to go ask Ms. Cooper to assign her to a group because everyone had already paired up. Not to mention, being one of the only “One Born” kids on the entire space ship was not just mildly embarrassing, it was downright awful. So this assignment had to be good. No, scratch that. This assignment had to make miracles happen. Sadly, Holly had lost faith in miracles. To her, they were just another myth people talked fondly about.

Pressing her fingerprint into the scanner, she waited for the alarm system to disengage so the door would slide open. After the familiar whoosh of the door, Holly stepped inside, holding her breath as she made her way to the back of the room. The initial shock from the smell of the dingy past always turned her stomach. But once she got acclimated after a minute or two, the smell was tolerable. In this room, among the digital libraries and the electronic artwork displays, they held on to relics from yesteryear. She followed the smell, old wood and must, to the very back where shelves and shelves of hard backed paper bound by glue and time huddled together. Books, they had called them.

Holly stood on her tippy toes, attempting to stand as tall as she could in order to read the words in gilded gold and black ink on each of the bindings. The Pearl. Gulliver’s Travels. 1984. Frankenstein. Words she’d never heard before danced before her. What was an Othello? And why would someone spend however many pages there were talking about one?

She walked along the wall, brushing her fingers along every shelf until she found one that seemed to be different from the rest. The words, scrawled in metallic red, almost gleamed at her, as if calling out to her.

“Twas the Night Before Christmas,” she read. She turned her head to the side and examined the words, trying to glean meaning. “The night before what?” she asked herself aloud.

She pulled at the book, making sure the stacks of books on top of it didn’t collapse in a heap of destruction. The front of the book was golden with a picture of some old man in a weird red outfit. His cheeks were way too pink and he was way too close to a burning fire to be believable.

“This is a myth if I’ve ever seen one.” Holly laughed to herself. Sliding onto the floor, she crossed her legs crisscross style and opened the book, the binding cracking as she did so.

Turning the pages, she read as a poem seemed to progress from just words to a story. A man, whose sole purpose was to bring to children all over what it was they longed for most. And these kids, they asked for things and got them, just like that. It seemed absurd. And kind of ridiculous. The idea of wanting something was hard to fathom. Nobody wanted anything anymore. They all had what they needed. And if something wasn’t needed, then why would you want it?

Holly thought and thought about what she would “want” if she could ask for it. Thing was, the only thing she wanted, the only thing that mattered, was to be noticed. Ever since she could remember, she never felt like people saw her. Even her parents were too busy with their own lives to see Holly. So, if there was this guy, and he could deliver anything people wanted, how would he deliver noticing? It wasn’t exactly the kind of thing you could wrap in a tidy package presented with a shiny bow.

Holly closed the book and held it to her chest. She had found her myth.
###
 December 9, 3013

“So, I think I know what I’m doing my assignment on,” Holly mentioned while scooping up her eggs and bacon with a slice of toast.

“That’s nice dear.” Mrs. Shepard relaxed in the massage chair and closed her eyes, sighing contentedly every so often.

Just then, Mr. Shepard walked into the kitchenette, folder in hand, dressed in his work uniform. “Hey there, kiddo. Morning.” He pinched her cheek and gave a quick kiss to her mom, waved to them both, then disappeared into the transporter.

When she got to school, she looked around and watched as all her classmates buzzed about their chosen myth. The best ones had been taken. And here she was, book in hand, with some obscure thing no one had ever heard of.

At lunch, she joined Jackson, her one and only friend she’d had since her First-Year class, and laid the book on the table in front of him.

“What’s this?” He mumbled with a full mouth of hash.

“It’s my myth. It’s about a thing called Christmas.” She anchored her hair behind her ear and pointed to the man on the cover, “And that guy there? His name is Saint Nick. Also called Santa Claus.”

Jackson’s blond eyebrow arched almost completely covered by his floppy bangs. “What is a who now?”

“It’s this guy,” she opened the book and shuffled to a page where it showed Saint Nick with a bag full of gifts, one in his hand which he was placing under a green tree filled with lights and baubles of all kinds. “And he delivers to people what they want. Things they’ve wished for all year long.”

Jackson’s face wrinkled, his lip curling. “What? What would a person wish for?”

“I don’t know,” Holly said innocently, “What would you wish for if you could have anything?”

Jackson’s face went blank. A few minutes later, he shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’d want some playing cards.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know,” Jackson shrugged, “I’ve seen them in some of the digital catalogs from a long time ago. People used to play games with them. They looked kinda cool. I guess if I could have anything, I’d wish for a pack of playing cards.”

Jackson stood up, and motioned for the mechanical cleanup crew to take his plate and utensils. “Well, I gotta head to Ms. Clemson’s history class. See ya later, Holly.”
###

That night, after thoroughly researching just exactly what playing cards were, Holly hunted through the surplus quarters and found a ream of paper and some wax coloring tools and stayed up half the night fashioning a set of playing cards to give to Jackson.

What if this myth, this Christmas, was resurrected? What if for her assignment, she brought it back? Holly smiled at the thought of making Jackson smile. Her heart warmed at the very idea of anonymously giving her one true friend, the thing he wished for.
 ###
 December 10, 3013

Pushing through the throng of kids, Holly peered over a shoulder to see what the commotion was about. There, on the table, wrapped in gold leaf paper, was a small box adorned with a card which read: To Jackson, From: Saint Nick.

Holly beamed. Jackson sat at his desk looking around. His eyes met Holly’s and she winked knowingly. He looked back down at the box, a goofy grin pasted on his face, picked up the gift and carefully peeled back the paper bit by bit. Holly tried to stand higher and higher on the balls of her feet with each agonizingly slow rip. She chewed on her upper lip. He was purposely going this slow just to tease her.

Opening the box, Jackson gasped as he pulled out the stack of paper, each one decorated by hand with numbers and shapes: hearts, clubs, diamonds, and spades.

“What is that?” One chubby kid asked in a high-pitched squeal.

“I don’t believe it! They’re playing cards.”

“What do you do with them?” Another kid asked.

Jackson shrugged. “You play with them, games and stuff.”

“What kind of games?” Someone else from the back asked.

“I don’t know exactly, but I guess I’ll research and find out.”

“Cool,” the chubby kid said.

In minutes, the crowd had dispersed. Holly just stood there, hands wrapped in one another, staring at her shoes. “So, you like them, then?”

“Like them? They’re awesome, Holly. Thanks.”

“Why are you thanking me? I didn’t give them to you,” Holly said matter of factly.

“What? Yes you did. The conversation we had at lunch? Now I have the thing I said I wished for? Please. I know it was you.”

“Hey, I’m just saying Saint Nick knows all. And he probably knew you wanted those. Thank him.” Holly smiled.

“Ok, yeah. Sure. Saint Nick.”
###
December 11, 3013

“Holly Shepard. You’re up.” Mr. Camden stood by his desk, his auburn hair neat and tidy, and motioned for her to stand up and head to the front of the class.

Holly nervously stood, held the book close to her heart where it had burrowed in and taken a hold, and shuffled to the front, feeling everyone’s eyes on her. She wanted to be noticed, but not in the “we’re all watching and judging you” kind of way.

She stopped, turned, and bit her upper lip; her cheeks reddened and her heart raced.

“We’re ready when you are, Holly,” said Mr. Camden.

Really? Because Holly would never be ready.

“So, my myth is about a tradition from the old days, back on a place called Earth.” She stopped, glanced over at Mr. Camden searching for some reaction. But he just stood there, aloof, stoic as always.

“Uh,” she continued, “So, the myth goes that there’s this man who lives in a place called the North Pole, and all year long he watches all the boys and girls on Earth and taking notes on if they are naughty or well behaved. Then, every year, on December 24th, he would ride in a sleigh pulled by animals called reindeer, and they would fly him all over the place. And he would bring gifts to everyone. He would give them what they wished for most. And the next morning, everyone wakes up and opens their gifts and spend time together.”

Holly looked over at Mr. Camden again hoping she’d said enough. Judging by his confused expression, she guessed she hadn’t. “Ok, then. Anyone have questions for Holly?”

Every hand in the room shot up and Holly shrunk back in fear. She didn’t quite know what to do. She pursed her lips and called on the kid in the front row, his name was Willum she remembered.

“So, you’re saying this guy flew with animals…in the sky? And gave every person on Earth gifts?” Willum laughed uncontrollably. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

The classroom erupted in laughter.

“It is not!” Holly yelled. “It’s sweet and kind. It’s about people giving to one another because they care about them. It’s about love and hope and family. It’s about being together. And being noticed.” Holly barely felt the tears rolling down her cheek, but she knew they were there. Her mouth tightened and she glared at Mr. Camden who stood there like a statue, not doing anything.

Holly booked out of the room, ran down the hall and into the nurse’s office. Feigning illness, she asked to go home. When her parents got home, she stayed in her bed with the covers drawn. She never wanted to go back there again.
###
December 12, 3013

Holly decided to stay home from school. She remained in her bed all day long, reading ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas from cover to cover, repeatedly.
 ###

December 15, 3013

Holly woke up, and got ready for school. She got dressed in her school uniform like she did every day. She wrapped a red ribbon around her ebony locks like she did every day. And she ate breakfast—toast, eggs, and bacon—like she did every day.

But when she got to school, Holly saw something she did not see every day. As she entered Mr. Camden’s class, there, on three desks, were gifts wrapped in gold leaf paper adorned with red bows. Each had a tag labeled with someone’s name (Lily, Brutus, and Geoffrey) and all said From: Saint Nick.

Holly’s stomach tightened. Was this some kind of mean joke? Were they taunting her? Making fun of something she suddenly held so dear? And why didn’t Mr. Camden do something about it?

Red faced, Holly clenched her fists and marched to her seat and sunk down in the chair. She would not let them get to her.

But to her surprise, Lily, Brutus, and Geoffrey ran to their desks, shredding the paper and tearing into the gifts. One was a pencil set. One was a bracelet made out of odd knick knacks, and one was a set of magnets. Each child held their gift in their hands and beamed, sheepishly looking around trying to figure out who had given them the lovely surprises.

And something else was different too. When a few kids walked by Holly’s desk, they smiled at her and said “hello”.

Was the Christmas myth spreading?
###
December 16, 3013

Holly’s jaw dropped when she walked in to Mr. Camden’s class. On every single desk, including Mr. Camden’s, lay a bright red and white striped cane smelling of peppermint, ornamented with a ribbon. They all had a tag which said: From Saint Nick.
 ###
 December 17, 3013

Walking with Jackson through the halls to the lunch quarters, Holly noticed a strange smell. It was sweet with hints of cinnamon. She didn’t know quite what to make of it until they turned the corner. Right there, in the middle of the lunchroom, on a table, was the most beautiful array of gingerbread houses. It was an entire city made of gingerbread. Or at least what Holly imagined a city might look like. She’d only seen them in the history films.

Candy crusted walls, brick and mortar made of chocolate bars and icing, it was more breathtaking then Holly could have ever dreamed. It looked exactly like one of the pages in ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. A Christmas miracle was happening.

###
December 18, 3013

Holly jumped out of bed, eagerly throwing on her school uniform. Barely sweeping a brush through her hair, even forgetting the red ribbon which usually held her locks, she flew into the kitchen, stuffed the toast and eggs in her mouth, and rushed out the door. She wondered what today would bring. Each day bested the one previous. What would she see today? People dressed like elves? Mistletoe? Stockings hung by imaginary mantles?

With long strides she hurried through the hall, her head whipping from side to side waiting to be shocked and surprised by some new thrill of Christmas cheer.

But her hopes sunk lower and lower the closer she came to the classroom. Nothing was new. Nothing had changed. Her pace slowed, and her smile vanished.

“It couldn’t last forever,” she said to herself.

She reached for the scanner to open the classroom door when she heard something coming from the other side. She lowered her hand, cocked her head to the side, and leaned in, trying to identify what it was exactly. Something like…music. She leaned in closer. Singing. It was definitely singing. And it wasn’t just one person. It was a group of people. A large group of people.

She grinned as she scanned her finger and the door opened.

“Silent night. Holy night. All is calm. All is bright.” Everyone in the class was in a circle hovering around a holographic piano which played a tune. And they were all singing. Mr. Camden looked over at Holly, smiled brightly, and walked over to her, placing a piece of paper in her hand. She looked down at the paper and noticed words. Lyrics, she thought.

Holly squeezed in next to Willum, who turned and nodded, and she started singing with them.
###
December 19, 3013

Holly walked through the hallway to class with Jackson. They marveled as day by day, the space ship, once cold and gray, transformed into a living, breathing Christmas postcard. The walls were covered in gold leaf paper, bells hung intermittently from the steel rafters, and hundreds of twinkling lights raced and sparkled in random patterns reflecting off the shiny floor giving the ship a candlelit glow. Holly’s heart swelled with pride and happiness.
###
 December 22, 3013

A loud click was heard over the intercom, followed by some static and then a voice. “Good morning, fellow citizens, do we have a treat for you. Would all citizens on the C Deck come and meet in the commons. Would all people on the C Deck please report to the commons. Thank you.”

“I wonder what’s going on?” Mr. Shepard said, his work folder in his hand. He’d almost missed the announcement by being in the transporter.

“I’m not sure, but we’d better hurry up. It must be important,” Mrs. Shepard tidied her hair and put on her heels.

Holly followed her parents’ fast clip, making their way past the halls and lunch quarters to the Great Common Room. Once there, the large room was already packed with people, all crowding around the stage area, where the President and captain of the Infinity Starship stood. She tapped the clear computer screen in front of her and her image projected large and three dimensional above everyone’s heads.

“Good morning all, I know this is quite unprecedented. But it has come to my attention that certain things have been occurring on this ship lately. Cookie houses, carols, gifts, traditions of a generation long since passed. At first, I grew concerned with this sudden interest in traditions which really have no place here anymore. But I ignored it, hoping it would go away. But, it didn’t. Instead it became a contagion, spreading. I intended on immediately putting a stop to it because some old traditions can be dangerous. But then I noticed something. The people around me, smiled more. I heard laughing more often. And people generally seemed to be listening to each other more. Reaching out. So I let it continue. Then, the other day, my son came to me, and asked me what I would wish for if I could have anything. I told him, the only thing I wanted was more time at home with him, his sister, and their father.”

The President paused, sniffled, and patted her rosy cheeks. “And the next day, he’d arranged with the Co-President, for me to have a day off. He planned activities for us to do. For the first time in years, I spent the entire day with my family. It was a dream come true. I realized, though we have come far from the world of our ancestors, this tradition, Christmas it’s called, should be brought back. So, I’m giving to you the gift I was given. Time off from your jobs, from school, from your community responsibilities to take care of your first responsibility, your family. So, from now on, December 24th and 25th will be holidays. And you will all be given the time to spend at home. Merry Christmas.”

The image of the President dissolved and she waved from the stage and blew air kisses into the audience. Everyone around Holly cheered. She looked up at her parents, who were looking at each other, then down at her, and then they smiled and joined hands.

Holly had never felt so happy.
 ###
 December 23, 3013

Jackson nudged Holly. “You did this.”

“What do you mean?” Holly asked, concerned she was getting blamed for something.

“This.” Jackson fanned out his arms, motioning toward all the decorations and people who moved about them smiling and humming jolly holiday tunes. Adults had now gotten into the gift giving spirit. Everyone everywhere had arms filled with small packages, some clearly unwrapped and some on their way to some lucky recipient. None of the gifts were extravagant. Just simple things, given to people to in efforts to make them feel appreciated and loved. A locket here, a paper bouquet there, and sometimes even a simple handmade card. Thing was people were thinking about each other in a way they hadn’t thought about others in years. Maybe even centuries.

“All I did was research a myth.” Even though a part of her knew he was right, Holly wasn’t so bold as to take credit for such a miracle.

“You brought back Christmas. Before you, no one even knew what Christmas was. Now, look around you Holly. It’s amazing.”

Holly fought back a wide smile. “Maybe it was Saint Nick that brought it back.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Yeah, ok. Saint Nick.” He chuckled.
 ###
 December 24, 3013

Holly got up and stayed in her bed clothes. She scuttled to the kitchen and was stunned at what she saw. There, in the corner of the kitchen which adjoined to the family quarters, was a tall man-made metallic tree, complete with glass ornaments and a shiny gold star at the top. Underneath the fake branches were three gifts wrapped up and arranged neatly. Holly gasped and giggled and twirled around. From behind her she heard stifled laughter. She turned to see her parents, still holding hands and watching Holly gaze at the tree.

“Mom. Dad. Did you do this?” Holly skipped over to her parents and threw her arms around them both, attempting to hold them both in one single show of affection.

“We sure did, Holly. We wanted you to have what you wished for,” Mr. Shepard said. “Your very own Christmas. And look,” Mr. Shepard pointed to the book laying open on the table which had been Holly’s nightly read since the day she’d found it. Holly looked at the open page, a tree exactly like the one standing not two feet in front of her, and she glowed with joy.

Though it wasn’t exactly what she wished for, it was close enough for her.
 ###
 December 25, 3013

Holly jumped on her parents’ bed, plopping right in between the two sleeping mounds.

“It’s Christmas! It’s Christmas! Time to get up and open presents.”

With a wrinkled brow and a scowl, Mr. Shepard glared at Holly. “Can you give us five minutes to get up and ready before you maul us?”

Mrs. Shepard grumbled.

“Fine. Just five minutes.” Holly climbed over her dad, then hopped and skipped into the family quarters. She sat with her legs crisscrossed and stared at the presents just wondering what they could be.

Five minutes passed and as promised, her parents had come out, with robes over their bedclothes, and sat down. Holly grabbed each present and read the tag aloud.

To Beverly Shepard, From: Saint Nick. She passed the gift to her mom.

To Jeremy Shepard, From: Saint Nick. She passed the gift to her dad.

Then she finally grabbed the last gift. To Holly Shepard, From: Saint Nick. Seeing those words, with her name attached, even though she knew very well there was no Saint Nick, made her heart skip. She hugged the gift. She didn’t even need to open it. She could have held it forever just as it was and it couldn’t have been any more special. Holly was sure of that.

First Mr. Shepard opened his gift. A knitted blanket in his favorite color, crimson.

Then Mrs. Shepard opened her gift. A new dress, a black evening shift with gloves.

Holly hesitated. Whatever was inside wasn’t near as important as what she had right now; time with her family. It was all she’d ever wished for. Almost.

“Go on, Holly. Open it.” Mr. Shepard said.

Holly pulled at the paper carefully, trying to breathe in every moment, every feeling of this day, her very first Christmas ever. Inside the paper was a box. She lifted up the lid. Inside the box, was a journal. On the front, in silver scrawled etching it said: Holly Joy Shepard, our One Born. She picked it up carefully, opened it, and flipped to the first page.

July 16, 3000. Our baby girl was born today. She is the most beautiful thing we’ve ever laid eyes on. We are so lucky. I love our family.

Holly’s breathing hitched. It was a book. About her.

She flipped through more pages.

Today Holly lost her first tooth and Today Holly went to her First Year class. It is very lonely around here. I miss her. Pages and pages of events, both major and minor were all chronicled almost daily. Holly flipped to the one of the last completed pages.

December 8th Today Holly went down to the old data library to do some research. She seemed kind of sad. I wish I could take away all her unhappy thoughts. I know I don’t say it much, but Holly is the best thing that ever happened to me. And I love her so much.

A tear welled up in Holly’s eye and her throat tightened. She clenched her jaw and stole a look at her parents. Her mother and father had taken turns writing in the book. Some entries showcased the rounded bubble script of her mom, some the harder, straighter lines from her dad.

She turned to the final entry. It was dated December 24, 3013. Last night. One sentence was all that was written. One sentence that said so much.

Our amazing Holly singlehandedly brought back Christmas.

It was at that moment, Holly realized she’d gotten exactly what she wished for so many weeks ago. Undeniably, her parents had noticed her. All these years. Every single day.

It was a very, Merry Christmas indeed.

The Memory Project: The Conclusion by Carey Torgesen

Well, it's been fun folks. I really have enjoyed sharing the fabulous work from my friends. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have. It really was fantastic how things just seemed to all fit together, like some puzzle meant to be from the greatest writers I know.

So, I know you're all wondering how it ends. To be honest, for a while, I wondered myself. But then, like most things that are worth anything, the idea came to me. And of course, the man who started it all, my bestie Josh, was the inspiration for the perfect conclusion.

Oh, and by the way, many of these pictures were taken by one of my dearest friends, Jodie Andrefski. I want to thank her for allowing me to use them. She's not only a very talented writer, but an amazing photographer as well. Thanks J. I love you~ sent from my iHeart.

So here it is. Hope you like it as much I do. It's been fun. Love you all.

The Memory Project: The Conclusion 

By Carey Torgesen

I looked at the man standing before me. He wore a black brimmed hat, his hair was salt and pepper, with just fringes of bangs peeking out from under the dark fabric. He also donned a crisp, black suit, with the white shirt contrasting against the lapel and cuffs. It was a strange outfit to be wearing at this time of night, in the summer, in the middle of a small town like ours. I was sure he must be roasting like a ham on Easter Sunday.

Jesse stretched his arm around my waist, holding me so my back was close to his chest. I felt safe.

“D? What’s that for?” I asked.

“Donald. Agent Donald. Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand. I leaned forward, and took his hand firmly in mine. The moment our hands touched, a shock of electricity zapped me. I snapped my hand back. “Did you feel that?” With his arm still around me, Jesse held me tighter.

“Yes. Of course I did. It’s the same feeling I get when I hold the suitcase. Pardon me, but can I come in and sit down? I’ve traveled far searching for you, and I’d like to sit down with you and talk.”

Part of me hesitated. If I invited this…Agent Donald in, I would have to explain to my mom who he was and why he was here. I’d have to explain the suitcase, where we found it, the fact that we entered a house we should have never entered. I’d have to tell her about the scrapbook and pictures and what happened to me, and the fact was I could hardly understand it myself let alone explain it to another person. But, the other part of me, the one that was eager to invite him in, wanted answers. Relief washed over me because at his admission of the shock while we touched, I understood at once I wasn’t crazy. There were reasons for all these strange occurrences. And I was only an invite away to having all my questions answered.

I smiled and nodded. “Certainly, sir. Please, come in.” I stepped aside, Jesse mirroring my movements.

Before getting to the top of the porch, Agent Donald turned around toward a black car he parked down a ways in the driveway. The window was down halfway, enough for me to see someone was in there, observing this entire exchange. The man in the car nodded and the window rolled up.

“Who’s that?” Jesse asked.

“Oh, that’s Dr. Canterbury. He’s an old friend. We go way back.” Agent Donald smirked, then walked past us into the house.

###

Tonight, I was thankful that my sister had gone over to her friend’s house. We’d always been very different, Sam and I. Where I thought about books, swimming, and school, she’d be off having manis, shopping, and gossip. So she never would’ve listened to any of this with any real sense of belief. The four of us, my mom, Jesse, Agent Donald and I, sat at the round kitchen table, four glasses of sweet tea in front of us. I ran my finger around the rim of my glass, stopping only every so often to meet Agent Donald’s eyes as I explained everything that had happened this afternoon to my mother.

Her eyes bounced back and forth from Agent Donald to Jesse and then to me. She hunched over the table, her shoulders tense, and played with the end of one of the red and white gingham cloth napkins.

“So, this suitcase…this is what you’ve come for?” my mom asked.

“Yes,” Agent Donald replied, “ and no.” He gave me the strangest look, a mix of sorrow and fascination filled his eyes.

“What do you mean 'yes and no'? What kind of doublespeak answer is that?” Jesse said, glaring at Agent Donald.

“Well, that’s what I need to talk to you about.” Agent Donald picked up his tea, swirled it around and took a large gulp. “This is fantastic tea, Ms. Hamilton.”

My mom pressed her lips in a forced smile.

I sat quietly, listening to Agent Donald’s soft voice, the occasional tinkling of the ice against the glasses as people sipped from them, and my own heartbeat which thudded in anxiety.

“Well, the suitcase is part of what I’ve come for. About sixty years or so ago, I worked for the government. Top secret. I was a part of the administration that began the CIA. We created a new division, the NSA. I worked with an elite group of people, scientists,engineers, mathematicians. We were all working together on some high level assignments. Things that, to this day, I still can’t really talk about. Suffice it to say, some of that work had to do with time manipulation.” He paused and looked straight at me.

“Time manipulation? So, you’re telling me you studied time travel.” There was no way this guy was legit. He had to be some nut job.

“Not exactly. What I worked on did indeed have a time traveling element, but not exactly as you know it to be.”

Jesse balled his hand into a fist, and tapped his knuckles on the table. His mouth tightened.

“So explain it then.”

“Like I said, I can’t explain everything. Some of it would get me into deep trouble, some of it you wouldn't understand.”

“Try us,” Jesse insisted.

“Ok. Here goes,” Agent Donald adjusted his tie, and settled in his chair, folding his hands gently on the table. “A long time ago, as I said, a little girl went missing. I won’t get into the specifics of the case, but what I will say is that no one heard from her for a long time. Five years to be exact. Then she was found.” He paused and glanced around at all of us, probably trying to gauge our reactions.

“And,” Jesse said, pushing Agent Donald to finish.

“And the crazy thing was, she was the same age as when she had gone missing. Ten years old. We gathered some of the best minds in the world, gave them the case files, and working together we figured out what happened. How she could be missing for five years, yet be sitting there before us, unchanged. To put it simply, she was from another dimension. It’s called String Theory.”

“I know about that. It’s quantum physics stuff. Carl Sagan and Hawking shit.”

“Jesse! Watch your mouth, young man,” my mom scolded.

“Sorry, Ms. Hamilton.”

“Yeah, except it had been discovered before Hawking. He just popularized it, made it known. Now it's fodder for every science fiction story written. But they don’t have it quite right. The thing is, this girl was switched with the other one. Except, when we sent the girl back to her own dimension, the one from this one…never came back. So, since then I’ve been searching for her. Because, I think somehow, her disappearance was my fault. I made a grave error back then.” He lowered his eyes, and his brows furrowed. “I did something I shouldn’t have.”

“What?” I insisted.

“Part of the investigation, part of why the girl went missing, was somehow linked to a suitcase. THE suitcase. The one you have.”

“I don’t understand. How's the suitcase and the girl connected?”

“The girl was an anomaly. When her father was researching the time space continuum, he sent the suitcase into alternate dimensions. Somehow, the girl accidentally went with it.”

“Okay, I may be missing something, but the suitcase is here, we found it and brought it home. The girl is not with the suitcase.” I shook my head. This made no sense. Even though Agent Donald was speaking, nothing he was saying was making any sense. The more he talked, the less I understood. How did this have anything to do with all the weird things that happened since we found the suitcase and the scrapbook?

Agent Donald sat straight up. The color suddenly drained from his face, and his dropped his hands to his side. “I told you I did something. After the investigation into the girl’s disappearance closed, I took the suitcase home. I was supposed to leave it in the care of the Truman administration, and instead, I felt I needed to protect it. And I knew somehow that I can’t explain, that eventually, the girl and the suitcase would find each other. But when the NSA found out I kept it, I ran. I buried the suitcase in random locations. But then at times, I would come back to the location I'd buried it, and it would be missing. I’d go back to the location daily, and eventually, sometimes after days, sometimes months, one time a year, it would be back, in the same location. Almost the same as I’d left it.

“After the third or fourth time this happened, I started to notice a pattern. Intense electric storms. Strange weather patterns. All would occur right before the suitcase went missing, then again right before it would reappear. It was as if the very fabric of time and space was opening up.

“When I would look in the suitcase, there'd be objects inside that weren't there before. Then, I noticed the scrapbook. And the pictures. And as it jumped back and forth through varying dimensions, new pictures would appear. I started to catalog them. Organize them by some sort of system.”

“Things they loved. Things they lost. Things from other places.” The air in my lungs thinned. I inhaled deeply. The titles from the pages.

“Right. That’s them.” Agent Donald leaned his elbows on the table, settling his chin on his hands. “Thing was, it was like the suitcase was…looking for this girl. Trying to get through to the places and strings of time, the alternate realities, to find the girl it left with.”

I leaned back and tucked a few strands of hair behind my ear. “Okay, so let me get this straight. The suitcase came from another reality--you call it. And it took the girl with it. Now it wants to find the girl. Why? Why would it care?”

“Because, it wants to go back.”

“It wants to go back where?”

“To the reality it belongs in. But to get there, it must go back with the girl.”

“I'm so confused.” I put my head in my hands, and whimpered. “I don’t know why you even bothered telling this whole story. You could have just asked for the suitcase, I would've given it to you, and three hours of our lives wouldn't have been lost. Tell you what, sir, I’ll go get the stupid suitcase, give it to you, you can bury it or what the hell ever, and it can find the girl and everyone will be happy.”

“You aren’t understanding, Miss Hamilton. It has found the girl.”

It was as if the air had been sucked out of the kitchen. The tension was palpable.

“What the hell?” Jesse asked.

Agent Donald pulled out a picture from inside his jacket and slid it across the table, in front of me. Picking the picture up, I gasped when I saw the image. It looked exactly like me as a child. Maybe ten years old. Except it was in black and white, and the clothes I, the girl, wore, a light colored frilly dress, looked like something out of JC Penney circa 1950.

“It looks like me, but it isn’t me.” I shook my head.

My mom took the picture and examined it. “This, looks like you. But it can’t be.” She flipped the photo over. “A date stamp. April 14, 1950. This isn’t you.” She tossed the photo back on the table.

“Well, actually, it is, Ms. Hamilton. You see, your daughter, this one here, is not Natalie Hamilton. Her real name is Anna Robinson. That’s the name of the little girl in the picture. The little girl who went missing.”

“That’s insane!” Jesse stood up, bumping into the table, making my tea slop over the edge of my glass. “I think it’s time for you to leave.” He pushed his chest out, taking a step toward Agent Donald.

“Now just wait. Let me explain.”

“I think you’ve done enough explaining for the evening. I think you should go.” Jesse crossed his arms.

Agent Donald got up, but his manner remained calm. “Please son.”

“Jesse, let him finish. We’ve listened this long. We can entertain his silly story a little bit longer.” Jesse shot me a look, nodded his head, and looked back at Agent Donald, letting his arms fall back to his sides.

“Fine, finish.” Jesse sat back down, scooted his chair back from the table and leaned back in his chair, his long legs stretched out and crossed in front of him.

“Just hear me out and open your minds. What I’m going to say is, well, it’s damn hard to believe, but it’s true. Say every decision we make, spawns a new dimension. A new reality. Every one leads to a new "you" who made that decision and lives with the outcome. Turn left at the stop sign or turn right. In that moment, time splits and you actually live out both decisions. One in which you turn left and one in which you turn right. One makes you late to work, so you get fired. One puts you on a collision course with a truck. You get severely injured. But with string theory and alternate universes, both are true."

"It's like Schrodinger's Cat," Jesse said.

Agent Donald's jaw dropped.

"What? I read science fiction?" Jesse shrugged.

Agent Donald nodded and continued. "See, the thing is Natalie, this picture is you. You are Anna. And you went missing a long time ago, you never returned. But here's the part that's going to test your beliefs. Anna Robinson in this dimension is here. But she’s seventy-three. It’s YOU who doesn't belong here. You belong back in 1956. Where you'd be Anna Robinson from the case in 1950. The one that never came back.”

I narrowed my eyes, glaring at the man in the suit across from me. “But then how come I’m not ten? You said Anna before didn’t age?”

“There’s a lot I still have to ask you. A lot we need to talk about. And a lot I still don’t know. All I can tell you is you did two things I never expected. One, you jumped time. Which means so did the suitcase. And two, you aged. Although I would guess you came into this reality when you were ten, took on Natalie’s identity, and lived her six years here, all the while the suitcase has been trying to find you.”

“Wouldn’t I know she wasn’t my daughter? Where is Natalie then? And why does she look just like her?” My mom sat stiffly at the table, her face pinched in disbelief.

“This is bullshit,” Jesse muttered under his breath. He ran a hand through his hair, shook his head, then slammed his hand palm down on the table. My mom and I flinched at the noise.

Agent Donald sat calmly. He leaned over, reaching into his brown satchel on the floor. He pulled some papers from inside, unfolded them, and handed them to my mother.

My mother’s face fell as she scanned the papers. Tears welled in her eyes. “What the hell is this?”

“It’s a death certificate. And an autopsy report. Your youngest daughter died six years ago. In a tragic car accident. Along with your husband. It was just Sam and you left. Then you found Anna. Or should I say, Anna found you. You needed her. She needed you. The mind is an incredible thing. And it deals with loss differently. No one can say how one will handle a traumatic event such as losing both child and husband. But you replaced your Natalie with Anna.”

“And Sam?” I asked. “How would Sam not know?”

“I can’t tell you. Maybe your mom convinced her. Maybe at first, she was trying to make sense of it herself and the more your mom believed it, the more Sam did too. This whole thing has no easy answers. Like I said, I don’t even know all the details yet.”

“You’re some kind of con-man and asshole. You really should get out of here.” Jesse fumed. His face reddened and his jaw clenched.

But the more Agent Donald talked, the more I believed what he was saying. It wasn’t possible, but at the same time, when I tried to recall my life before the age of ten, it just wasn’t there. I had no real memory of it. I pushed myself from the table and I bolted upstairs. I kicked open the door so it bounced off my bedroom wall and closed behind me.

I put my hand on the suitcase, and a tidal wave of memories flooded me. I was on a doorstep. There was a flash of light. I felt lost. A Truman speech on the radio. My mom and my dad and I, at a church sermon with my uncle. It all came back. That was me. That was my life.

“My name is Anna Robinson,” I whispered.

###

Another hour was spent with Agent Donald explaining how this all happened. He found old family photos of the real Natalie. Agent Donald called her my doppelganger--someone unrelated who looked almost identical to me. And from what I saw of Natalie, her and I at ten, were practically identical twins.

My mother’s memories came back too. She sobbed hysterically. I imagined having to confront and accept your child’s death would have to be the single worst thing that could happen to a woman.

We all sat in the living room. I sat right next to Jesse. With my head resting on is shoulder, he held my hand. My mom and Agent Donald sat across from us, each in their own wing-back chair.

“So now what?” I asked.

“Now, we let the suitcase take us back.”

Taking my head from Jesse’s shoulder, I asked, “But what if I don’t want to go back?”

“You have to, Anna. You don’t belong here.”

I gripped Jesse’s hand harder. I didn’t want to leave. I loved Jesse. I loved my mom. And even if she wasn’t really my mom, she was the only one I knew. Although, along with the flood of memories came the emotions I had for my family back home. And I knew as much as I would miss my mom here, I missed my mom and dad back home, too.

“Can’t I stay, just a little bit longer?”

Agent Donald shook his head. “It’s just going to make it harder. And those episodes you’ve been having, they’re going to get worse, the longer you stay. You’re breaking down. If you stayed, eventually…you’d fade away. It’s basic physics. Matter can’t occupy the same place at the same time. And you and this reality’s Anna Robinson are occupying both the same space and time. I can give you a week, but no more. And if any more fainting episodes occur, you need to call me.” He pulled out a card from his satchel and gave it to my mom. “It’s imperative we don’t let anything happen to you, got it?”

I nodded. Jesse placed his arm around my shoulders, his thumb caressing the curve of my neck.

###

Jesse and I were inseparable the next few days. I wanted to spend as much time as I could with him. When I wasn’t down at the swimming hole or at his house, I was with Sam and my mom, just trying to squeeze what little time out of the week as I could.

The world around me cascaded in black and white almost half of the time, now. I hardly noticed the constant pulses of electricity that coursed through me on a regular basis. Memories would come to me through dreams, sometimes nightmares.

Two lives merged in my sleep. One with the people I loved dearly, and one with phantoms of people I knew existed, but seemed so detached from.

###

Agent Donald stood on the front porch, black suit still impeccably crisp, manner still completely formal, as if he hadn’t just singlehandedly ripped my life to shreds. “You ready, Anna?”

The name still made me shudder. Although it was my name, it didn’t feel right. I suppose that was something I’d get used to. I hoped. I nodded and turned around to face my mom, Jesse and Sam. Tears filled my eyes.

“Mom,” I wrapped my arms around her waist, and held my head to her chest, the thumping of her heart echoing my own. She kissed me on the top of my head.

“I have something for you. Something to remind you of me.” From the front pocket of her dress, she pulled out a string of pearls. It was the necklace she always wore on special occasions. It had come from her mother. “This is for you. Keep it. I love you, honey.” And she tipped my head up and kissed me gently on the cheek. I hugged her again.

I took a step toward Sam. My sister of six years. We’d fought and called each other names. We’d laugh about it all later and talk about how we’d be when we were older. She too, had tears in her eyes. She’d taken the news pretty hard, harder than I’d expected. But she also was incredibly strong about it. Armed with the same evidence Agent Donald had given her, my mom had explained everything to Sam.

“Hey sis, I’m gonna miss you.” She took my hands in hers and squeezed, then let them go.

I wiped away a stray tear which rolled down my cheek and pursed my lips. “I’m gonna miss you too. Take care of everyone.” I looked over at Jesse, who met my eyes then turned away.

“I will. Take care, you,” Sam said and she embraced me.

I stood in front of Jesse. This one would be the hardest. None of these people could be replaced, but Jesse most of all. He was my best friend. The one I told everything to. He knew everything about me, sometimes even more than I knew about myself.

“Jess,” I whispered. I could barely look at him. I’d never seen him so quiet, so crumbled.

His mouth quivered, jaw muscles tense. He took a deep breath and looked at me, his red rimmed eyes, still so brown and beautiful, broke my heart.

“I love you, Jesse. I always will.” I barely got the words out before I started to sob. He folded me in his arms, and swayed with me back and forth, his face buried in my hair. From his shaking, I could tell he was crying.

He pulled his face away, tipped my chin so for one last time could gaze into each other’s eyes. “I love you. Natalie Hamilton.” Saying my name, the one I had worn for so long like a favorite pair of jeans, felt comfortable and right. It was as if he defied all time and space, announcing to the universe that no matter what it said, I was his Natalie. And that would never change.

We kissed in that moment. Our lips were frenzied, his hands holding me ever closer to him. The taste of salt from our tears lingered on our tongues. I clasped the back of his neck, never wanting the kiss to end. My whole life with him was in that kiss: the way Jesse made me laugh, the playful teasing back and forth, the walks in the grass with him, swaying together on his hammock under the shade of the old oak tree, kicking knees under the card table as our moms gossiped, racing to the swimming hole, the endless summers catching fireflies and toasting marshmallows over a camp fire, and our first kiss on the day we found the suitcase. All those memories colliding in one cataclysmic kiss.

As we parted, our breathing heavy, we became all too aware we were not alone. I glanced around, and noticed Agent Donald was down by the graveled driveway, my mom and Sam sitting off to the side on the porch swing. I smiled and looked back up at Jesse.

“I don’t have anything to give you,” Jesse said, his lips turned down.

“You’ve given me everything I need.” I brushed his cheek with my hand and managed a smile. “Bye, Jesse.” I had to make it quick. I couldn’t stay there any longer. If I did, I may just stay forever. And if I did that, I’d be dead anyway. Better to leave a good memory, even if it wasn’t exactly a happy one.

I stepped slowly down each stair, closer to Agent Donald. Closer to the suitcase. I gripped my mom’s pearls in my hand.

It was true what she said. Memories are like pearls. Delicate, lovely, and lasting. And though to others, it may well be that the imperfections decrease their value, but to me, it’s what makes them unique and gives them character. In fact, those imperfections helped to shape and mold that single pearl, and therefore, the pearl would not even be there if not for them.

I walked up to Agent Donald. With one hand holding the suitcase, he held out the other to me. I took one look back. Jesse stood at the top of the stairs, hands at his sides, face blank, tears falling down his cheeks. My mom and Sam were still on the swing, hugging each other. My mom waved.

Large rain drops began to fall. A charge of electricity filled the air. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled.

I turned back to Agent Donald and nodded. I took his hand. Energy and heat shot through me for the last time. There was a flash of light. And then we were gone.

 The End