A Collision In Time

The man who can fight to heaven’s own height is the man who can fight when he’s losing.

– Robert Service

May 15, 2289, Sandon, Texas Federation, Northern District

As he did every morning, Emerson Wright departed on his walk precisely at 7:00 a.m. to register his first five thousand steps of the day. A clear sky overnight brought an early morning chill to the air, just a few degrees above freezing. The night frost left a hint of dew on the grass that reflected the morning sun peeking over the pine-covered mountains. Emerson rubbed his hands, zipped up his military green fleece vest, and hiked downstream, following Carpenter Creek. Along the fast-moving water, four modest-sized hydropower plants generated electricity and power used by over a million people who lived in the Texas Kootenays.

Emerson turned left and crossed the creek over the rebuilt bridge, heading past the main street and up the hill that led him away from the town center. He walked past estates with expansive yards, breathtaking views of the valley, and plenty of automated security. Many of the residents had lived in the region for centuries, almost as long as the Wright family had.

He waved to a friend of his dad, one of the local physicians, who was just leaving his home to walk his collie. “Good morning, George,” he called out.

“Morning, Emerson,” the old man said over the barking of his dog. “Enjoy your walk.”

Emerson ascended farther, leaving behind any evidence of the town. The road became steeper and rougher until it morphed into an old logging road, climbing as switchbacks ever upward. Finally Emerson stopped at the top and studied the town below him.

Sandon was located in New Texas, previously known as the Northern District of Old Canada, as his father frequently reminded him. The Wright family had lived in the region for over three hundred years. Their ancestors had seen the town grow from a struggling ghost town to its rebirth over the last half century as a safe harbor for refugees fleeing autocracy, disease, and drought, from both the south and east. The Kootenay region had ballooned to millions of residents with the immigrant population, though no one knew exactly how many people the area contained.

Sandon provided the region with hydropower and raw minerals such as silver, gold, and iron ore. It became the political capital due to its representation in governance, trade agreements, banking services, and a local modern hospital. Not coincidentally, it was home to a high percentage of the wealth in the region.

Hearing the approach of military and industrial drones from the south bringing trade supplies and a fresh squadron of soldiers, Emerson settled on a stump and watched transfixed as the black aircraft passed overhead. Armed with missiles and cannons, the drones were designed to intimidate, ready to attack anything or anyone threatening.

The drones landed and the soldiers disembarked. Dressed in black and fully armed, the disciplined team rapidly unloaded weapons and gear, then jogged for cover as the helicopter drones launched and headed back south.

Emerson sighed and smiled, thankful for the might and discipline of the men who’d arrived. The teams provided a counterbalance to the danger that surrounded Sandon. Crowded on the shores of Slocan Lake, newly landed climate refugees struggled to survive day to day. They lived in tattered tents and multifamily prefabricated homes. Food was scarce and luxury was nonexistent. Bands of desperate men would make the short journey up Highway 31A, creeping around barriers and checkpoints at Three Forks to sneak into Sandon. The paid soldiers had arrived from South Denver for just this reason.

Emerson stood and headed back down the hill. He again encountered George and his collie. “Hey again, George.” He bent down to pet his dog, “Hi Timmy. You’re a good boy, aren’t you.”

“Hi again, Emerson.” George reached out to shake his hand. “I’m a little worried about the new soldiers coming into town this morning. They look more dangerous each time.”

“It’s in response to the growing number of raids.”

“I hear there’s a delegation heading into Silverton for a meeting about that.”

“There is; in fact, I’ll be in that delegation,” Emerson said, grinning.

“You will?” George sounded surprised. “Well, you should be careful now, okay?” He called Timmy. “Best be going—late for breakfast.”

George must have talked to his dad recently. Like every Wright before him, Emerson was destined to operate the Sandon power plants. Power engineering was what the Wrights did, and had done, for as long as the residents could remember. When Emerson showed more interest in politics and improving local economies, or voiced his concern for the state of citizen democracy, he met resistance. He felt it from his parents, but also from the townspeople, who had tradition running through their veins.

During Emerson’s twenty-third birthday dinner last month, surrounded by family and friends, he’d announced his desire to volunteer and provide his services in support of the town council. He began by researching and writing town security reports in between his shifts at the power plant. Today marked the first day he would miss his shift at the power plants for reasons other than sickness or vacation.

At home, Emerson prepared for the meeting after coffee with his mom, who was polite enough to listen to him as he discussed the delegation’s objectives. He showered and shaved, then selected his best blue jeans, a white button-up shirt, a gray woolen vest, and polished black leather oxfords. He combed his hair, then examined himself in the mirror.

“You look good, Em,” his mom said, admiring him from across the room. “Be careful, be smart—you hear me?”

“I promise, Mom.” He glanced at his watch; it read 9:19 a.m., and 5345 steps. It was time to go.

The small delegation of three women and two men made the hour-long trip to Silverton through New Denver in an armed electric vehicle, accompanied by a handful of soldiers and a flock of drones that surveyed the trails ahead. Because of the recent increases in violence, Emerson appreciated the show of force deemed necessary by the Sandon council.

Despite the calm ride he found himself becoming increasingly anxious as they neared the meeting. “How will I know when I should bring up a point, or even debate an item?” he asked his colleague, Jeannie Smith, who led the delegation and was a long-time mentor for Emerson. He remembered her family arriving as refugees when he was a child. They were the first of hundreds of families to migrate from the Southern United States, all members of the First Baptist Church from Selma, Alabama. They brought their African American faith, traditions, and a strong sense of perseverance and optimism. It was no coincidence that as the new community worked hard and prospered, so did Sandon.

“Follow your instincts, my friend.” She smiled. “Don’t overthink your reactions. You will do just fine.”

He grimaced, then smiled when she touched his forearm. “You will do just fine,” she repeated.

The vehicle pulled into the parking lot. “Something’s not right,” said Jeannie. She hesitated leaving the car.

Emerson felt his heart speed up, and wiped the perspiration on his forehead. “What is it? This is unusual?”

“Yeah, very. It’s too bad this is your first meeting. I have never seen this many armed local militiamen before. Usually the greeting is very cordial.” She touched his arm again, and indicated the car door. “Come on. We’d better get inside so they don’t think we’re scheming.” Jeannie exited, followed by Emerson and the rest of the Sandon delegates.

Emerson followed Jeannie, who strode confidently into the hall. They passed armed men in a variety of homegrown military outfits, each looking serious bordering on angry. He whispered, “It’s very somber in here, like a courtroom or something.”

“Yeah, I don’t have a good feeling about this. Very strange indeed.”

The Sandon team shuffled into the main meeting room to meet the New Denver and Silverton delegations already sitting there.

Jeannie whispered in Emerson’s ear, “I don’t recognize who that man is, or the women who flank him.” She placed her handbag on the table and draped her dark gray coat on the back of the chair. She frowned and muttered,. “Usually we’re briefed on who’s attending these. We certainly provided our team names ahead of time.”

Emerson studied the strange gentleman at the opposite head of the table. The man was dressed impeccably in a three-piece, dark blue suit. Beside him sat two young women in identical short, tight-fitting red dresses. The tall man pulled out a cigarette and waited. On cue, the blond-haired woman on his right brandished a gold lighter and with flair lit the cigarette. The man caught his eye and winked. Emerson looked away.

“What the fuck, Em?” Jeannie whispered to Emerson. “Who does he think he is?”

The remaining members of the delegations assembled and waited for the agenda call. Eventually, a calm permeated the room.

“Can we now begin?” Jeannie asked. “I’m afraid I haven’t met everyone here today.” She frowned at the man at the end of the table. “As a point of order, be aware that this is a closed-door, invite-only meeting. So if you aren’t participating, you will have to leave.”

“They will be participating,” the new man said, touching the young women’s arms, “so they stay.”

“Fine,’ said Jeannie. “I assume that means you are staying as well?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Then let’s begin. Again, with introductions. Starting at the head of the table, opposite me.”

The man stood to introduce himself. “My name is Asmodi, but please call me Modi. I represent Salt Lake City’s interest, and I am here advocating for the citizens of Kootenays. I arrived earlier in the week, along with my legal team,” Modi gave a nod toward the two women in red. “Meet Elinda and Lexus, who will help facilitate. Further, the members of this council kindly allowed me to represent them and accordingly delegated me the veto power to facilitate and speak on their behalf.”

Asmodi sat down. “Of course, I don’t know the Sandon delegation—sorry, I must correct myself. Emerson Wright, nice to finally meet you.”

Emerson glanced at Jeannie and rolled his eyes, ensuring that Jeannie noticed. She nodded to him, then regarded Modi.

“Modi—and your last name?” asked Jeannie. “Did you consult the citizen assembly regarding the delegation of power and the authority to represent? You can’t just —”

“I have a list of grievances and conditions to bring to your attention.” Modi interrupted. “Let me begin, as I don’t see the point in more introductions; I find them tedious. Elinda, please pass me the documents.” Elinda opened a briefcase and handed him a binder that he placed with a thud on the desk. He casually opened it, licked his lips, and placed his hands on Lexus’s thigh as she moved to sit on his lap.

Emerson again glanced at Jeannie, unsure how to react. Jeannie glared across the table. All eyes now focused on Modi, who proceeded like a skilled performer. It was clear to Emerson that this man knew exactly how to manipulate events. He instinctively sensed danger. Slipping his hands under the table, he nervously played with his ring, a habit he’d developed as a teenager.

Modi cleared his throat and read deliberately, articulating each word. “Here, I present the full set of demands given to me by the citizens of Kootenay. First, the citizens of Kootenay, as the original and rightful owners of the land, will assume ownership of the natural and geological resources that surround and include Sandon, of course understanding that you will be fairly compensated for your labor and time to produce those. Second, all checkpoints and barriers will be dismantled immediately, as they are illegal and represent theft of natural inheritance. Third—”

“Is this a fucking joke?” Emerson blurted, unable to hold his tongue. He understood that his outburst jeopardized his status as an observer, but he would rather ask for forgiveness than for permission.

“Indeed, this is insane,” Jeannie said.

“Third,” Modi continued, showing little interest in either Jeannie or Emerson, “actually—Lexus, would you mind reading the list for me?”

The woman on Modi’s lap took the binder and waited while Elinda walked around to stand behind Emerson.

Emerson sensed Elinda’s presence inches away from him and turned around to confront her. “Why are you standing…” His voice faded as she caught his eye. He relaxed.

“I only need to stand,” she replied. “Do you mind?”

“No, I suppose not,” Emerson said in a weak voice. He avoided looking at Jeannie.

Elinda leaned forward and pressed her body against the back of his head. Overwhelming desire flowed through Emerson. He tilted back in his chair to better consume the feminine body standing behind him. She wrapped her arms around his chest. Emerson did not notice the shock in his delegation as they watched Emerson surrender his composure and reputation. He was transfixed and increasingly unfocused.

Lexus began to read, her voice soft and intoxicating. “Three, you will surrender all weapons of terror to us, including a transfer of authority of all of the military contracts. And lastly, four—”

“We’re done.” Jeannie stood up. “Em, Roger, y’all, let’s get the fuck out of here.” Jennie walked over and grabbed Emerson’s shoulder, jolting him back to the present. “Take your demands and shove them up to your fucking ass. Come on, team, it’s time to go.”

Emerson stood and studied Modi, who beamed. He turned around and caught Elinda’s eye as he prepared to follow Jeannie. He wanted nothing more than to be back in Elinda’s arms but somehow he forced his legs to move forward and carry him out the door.

“Em, what happened to you?” asked Jeannie once they had left the room. “You seemed drugged or something.”

Emerson shivered. He felt a strong force pulling him back toward the meeting room. “I don’t know, Jeannie. I don’t feel like myself.”

“That was weird behavior, Em, I have to be honest. I mean she was attractive, but really…”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know…”

On the way home, the delegation spoke little. Emerson stared aimlessly out the window. He thought about Elinda, about kissing her. Once inside Sandon’s security perimeter, Emerson asked the driver to stop. He turned to the delegation. “I feel like walking home from here. I need to finish getting my steps in. I feel terrible about that meeting. I promise to do much better at the next one. I will catch y’all back home.”

“Be careful, Em,” said Jeannie.

“Thanks, I will. Have a good evening.”

He watched the vehicle leave in a trail of dust that settled on the gravel road. A full moon illuminated Carpenter Creek, brightening the colorful fall leaves. The soothing sound of the flowing water drew Emerson to walk along the bank, where he regained his composure, his confidence returning as his body loosened and he increased his pace to a slow jog.

As he approached town, Emerson slowed down as something unusual drew his attention. He stopped to try to resolve the shape he saw on the path ahead, torn between turning around and curiosity. As he cautiously approached, he realized it was a person. Now highlighted in a moonbeam, there she stood—Elinda. Clad in a loose white-flowered dress, she silently watched Emerson approach. Giggling, she pulled his body close and they embraced. She led him toward the creek and into the cold mountain water for a swim.

“Em?” a faraway voice interrupted. He ignored it.

He watched her in the water as she took off her dress, the moon illuminating her naked body.

“Em?” the same voice called, louder. He ignored it again.

He took off his shirt and flung it carelessly aside, then his jeans, and boldly waded into the creek to join her. Elinda was the most beautiful girl he could imagine. He needed to touch her.

“Em, what’s happened to you?” The voice was direct. “Em, answer me.”

Elinda faded from view. He snapped back to reality, groggy and disoriented. “I’m sorry, Jeannie.” He shook his head. “I was dreaming.” He slowly realized he was still in the vehicle returning from New Denver.

“No, no you weren’t, Em. Your eyes were open, and you were looking outside.”

“I was deep in a daydream, I guess.”

“Em, you have to take care of yourself. You must be overworking. Anyway, I’ve arranged to have a meeting when we get back. We need to plan. Can you make it or do you need to get back to the power plant for your shift?”

“Let me find out when we reach the net and I can message Dad. I’d like to be there, though Dad will be pissed.”

“I can also talk to him, Em, explain the situation. Let’s confirm before the meeting, maybe at five o’clock?”

“Sure. Thanks.” Emerson turned away.

Their vehicle slowed to a stop at the Three Forks junction. An armed border guard conversed with four strangers, two women and two men, who were far too well dressed to be from nearby. A second guard approached the EV and spoke to the driver. “Is Emerson here? Some people are asking about him. We weren’t sure whether to let them into Sandon or wait for y’all to return.”

Jeannie spoke up. “Who are they?” She eyed Emerson and her eyes narrowed. “Be careful, Em.”

“They have strange names. Wait one sec.” The guard conversed with the four strangers, then returned. “Dov, Cara, Ariel, and Uriel.”

“I’ve never heard of them,” said Emerson. “They look harmless. I’ll see what they want.” He glanced at Jeannie. “I’ll be careful.” He exited the vehicle and approached the strangers.

“Hi, I hear y’all are looking for Emerson?”

“Yes,” said a woman with dark hair and olive-toned skin. “My name is Dov, and we are looking to speak to Emerson Wright. I understand he lives in a town six kilometers from here called Sandon.”

“Y’all aren’t from around here, are you?” Emerson could detect an accent, though he couldn’t place it.

“No, we have traveled a long way to get here.”

“So where’s your vehicle at?”

“It broke down a few miles from here,” the other woman said promptly, “and we were forced to walk the rest of the way.”

“What a strange day this is,” Jeanie said to Emerson, standing now beside him. “What do you wish to discuss with him?”

One of the men replied. He focused on Jeannie. “I’m going to be straight up with you, ma’am,” he said in a recognizable southern drawl. “I can tell you are an honest woman, and I’m guessing this is Emerson beside you. Well, he…” he directed his attention to Emerson “…you may be in some trouble, Emerson. A dishonorable man seeks to take advantage of y’all. We need to talk.”

Jeannie and Emerson exchanged a glance. Emerson stepped forward. “I’m indeed Emerson. We can talk in town, at the Tea House on the upper road, but first I have some things to attend to.” He turned to Jeannie. “I have two favors to ask. Can you please call Dad for me about our meeting, and would you mind if we sent an EV to pick these folks up? They look tired.”

Emerson addressed Dov. “Let’s meet at four-thirty at the Tea House. We will send a truck to get y’all.”