September 6, 2077 (Detroit, MI)
“Being in a rush is why you’re always out of time.”
“That almost makes sense, sweetheart.”
Rebekah wiped blueberry residue off their daughter’s lips. The chaos unfolding around the Colter kitchen island was typical for a Tuesday. “You need to learn to slow down and savor life’s little moments. You’re going to give yourself a stroke.”
Eryn walked through the granulated Channel 4 morning newscast. Debbie Flanagan’s hologram didn’t flinch. “Oh, would you just shut up and help me find my phone, Confucius.”
Madison got down off her stool and made a beeline for the hallway bathroom.
The girl came back five seconds later with the hidden treasure hoisted overhead.
“You always leave it next to the sink,” she said.
“Do you need Maddie to walk you to your bus stop, as well?”
Eryn was swiping pixelated emails across her left palm. “You know I take the Loop.”
Rebekah couldn’t tell if her wife was just absent-minded or an actual idiot.
It would remain an ongoing debate in their household for decades.
The legal eagle grabbed breakfast to go and headed for the door.
“I’ll check in on Neena at lunch. Love you two.”
Bekah bellowed. “Umm, excuse me. Are we forgetting something?”
“What?” The sound was muffled due to the crumbly muffin in her mouth. Eryn kept chewing like a troglodyte while she stared back at her wife.
Rebekah guided her by hand from behind the kitchen island.
Madison was ready for school.
“Honey, I have court.” It was a pathetic plea.
“I don’t care,” Rebekah replied. “I’ve seen you conduct hearings in Crocs.”
“I still have to be in my office.”
Rebekah wanted to throttle the woman. “I’m staying home with Neena, nitwit. Remember? The one who’s projectile vomiting pizza bites into the porcelain god upstairs. Sorry, did you want to trade places? You were the one who felt the need to feed the Mogwai after midnight. Would serve you right. Pepperoni pusher.”
Eryn waved off the suggestion. Dealing with people in crippling debt all day suddenly sounded like a delight. “I’ll walk her to school.”
“You’re required to be there when she gets out this afternoon as well,” Rebekah reminded her. “I’m not sure how much of this process I need to explain to you.”
“Madison, let’s go before I murder your mother.”
***
Eryn and her daughter were gliding down Jefferson Avenue. The boulevard was bustling with thousands of Detroiters floating on air. Both Colter women entered the blinking green queue lane at Bellevue Street in single file. Their foot speed was magnetically reduced to a more languid pace as they curved off the exit ramp onto actual pavement.
The sidewalk was stuffed with people packing heat.
“Mom, why don’t you open carry?”
“I don’t believe in it. It’s made mommy a minority for the third time in her life.”
Madison’s attention shifted to the pixelated mannequins desperately trying to acquire shoppers from every storefront. Electric City’s display case was filled with holographic talking heads debating a federal prohibition on time travel.
Her mother shook her head in disgust. “The Free Press has a daily spree-killing section and Congress is worried about outlawing wizardry. Might as well build a prison for Peter Pan while we’re at it.”
Little Maddie was already plugged into the Stream. “Are you a Time Truther?”
Mrs. Colter looked daggers at her daughter. “Listen to me, kiddo. Choosing not to blindly embrace mythology as a matter of fact doesn’t make your mommy a miscreant. When they show me proof of concept, then we’ll talk turkey. Until that time, I’m out on alteration. What’s past is past, pipsqueak. Trust me, there’s a big chunk of mommy’s childhood she wishes she could rewrite. It doesn’t work like that. Our actions in this life have to count for something.”
Madison was befuddled given her mother’s backstory. “If time travel actually works, you could save grandma and grandpa. You wouldn’t have to grow up alone.”
Eryn issued a correction as they crossed the street. “Madness, I was alone when my mom and dad were alive. If a butterfly flaps its wings in Ferndale, it causes an earthquake in Fresno. Allowing everyone to go back to the beginning would be the end of us all. That’s why time travel tech has to be off limits. Assuming it’s not magic. I don’t think the federal government should be playing with that fire, but they’re all a bunch of cavemen. It would only be basic instinct on their part.”
A DPD SkyDrive screamed overhead with sirens blazing. Air gusting forth from its undercarriage unsettled Eryn’s carefully coiffed hair. The disturbance annoyed her to no end.
“You still look like a million bucks, Mom.”
“Thanks, babe.”
“Do you have a trial today?”
Kids of attorneys all thought their parents were Clarence Darrow.
“No, honey. I strictly go to the gallows and argue on behalf of the soon-to-be-hanged. We used to execute murderers in America. Now only their victims require representation. It’s a totally sensible state of affairs.”
Her sarcasm sailed over Madison’s head.
The monolithic black underbelly of a floating L-Tram matched suit.
Maddie’s school was still two blocks away.
“Mom, can I come in with you this weekend? I’ll work for free.”
Eryn was taken aback. “Honey, I think you may have built up the majesty of my law office a bit too much. I assure you it’s not a glamorous life, Sheila E.”
Her mother’s archaic musical references never registered.
Madison continued to argue her case. She considered it practice. “I don’t care about that. I want to do what you do one day. I want to help people. You have to start at the bottom and work your way up.”
Eryn S. Colter, Esq. pinched her cheek. “Okay, kid. You want to shuffle papers and run synthetic coffee to mommy all morning, be my guest. I’ll show you the ropes.”
The Colter ladies only had eyes for each other.
Neither of them saw it coming.
History is the new fascism.
Time imperialists would imprison us within our past.
We no longer recognize their authority.
A campaign of correction will be waged.
The scales will be balanced.
Let this be their autumn.
R-A-F 4 (/s/ Samus 1 of 5)
