R.E.birth Page 6

  “Did I do something funny?”

  “No dear,” Agatha replies. “That’s just where my husband used to sit. No one has sat there in the ten years we’ve been adrift in time.”

  “I did not know. I will choose another seat,” I tell her.

  “No, no. It’s okay. It’s just a little new having a man in the house again and I thought it amusing that you would choose that spot,” she says while moving about the stove as a searing noise crackles from a pan.

  “Sit,” Ami urges me while disappearing from my vision briefly and returning with three glasses.

  Sitting down, I feel like I am being waited on and it is both strange and familiar at the same time. While I wonder what it means, Agatha brings me over a plate and the food on it makes my mouth water. On it lays a small round steak, a biscuit and what appears to be small cabbage.

  “Thanks Agatha,” I look up as she brings me a knife and fork.

  “You’re welcome. How was your lesson today?” She asks.

  “There is a lot to learn, but I am confident that Ami will be able to get it to stick.” I wait for them to sit before I start eating.

  Agatha brings over two more plates and more silverware while Ami pours each of us a glass of apple juice. When they have settled, Agatha is sitting to my left and Ami to my right at the table. Feeling like something should be said, I pick up my glass and raise it a bit from the table.

  “Here is to new journeys and new friends,” I feel a little cheesy saying it but I am sincere in my statement.

  “Agreed,” Agatha follows my lead and raises her glass.

  “New journeys indeed!” Ami raises her glass too.

  Though they went along with my toast I still feel self-conscious about it and I turn my head downward to the meal. Devouring the delicious meal one flavorful bite at a time, I enjoy the silent company of my hosts while we exchange glances. I find, however, that I need to comment on the food to express my appreciation.

  “You are a wonderful cook, Agatha. You certainly have a way of bringing the flavor out in things,” I pay her a compliment.

  “Thank you. I’ve had a lot of time to practice,” she replies after clearing her mouth of a bite. “I try to pass some of that on to Ami but she’s more creative with cloth.”

  “I’m not a terrible cook, Mother!” Ami proclaims.

  “I didn’t say you were, dear,” Agatha giggles a bit. “Just that you’re better as a seamstress.”

  “That reminds me. I’ll have your clothes ready fairly soon,” she looks at me while taking a bite of the biscuit.

  “I will be glad for that. I have been a little chilly,” I sit back and slouch a little in the chair, having finished my meal.

  “You should have said something. I have a sweater you can use,” Agatha mentions.

  “Oh, it was nothing terrible. I am content in waiting.”

  “Okay, just let me know if you decide otherwise.”

  I nod and stand to take my plate to the sink however I am intercepted by Ami, who has also just finished, and she steals the plate from my hand. Somewhat dismayed that she has taken the plate from me I frown and stand there with my hand midair.

  “I could have handled that,” I protest.

  “Oh, in due time I’ll have you washing them,” she winks at me.

  Agatha laughs and I cannot help but laugh too. Ami smirks at her own wit and I am left just with my glass on the table, still half full. I drink the contents down in one long gulp but when Ami comes for it I hold it up out of her reach. She tries anyway but is unable to take it from me. We spin around a bit near the table and she nearly topples me over onto the chair to get at it. But I keep it from her and she finally gives up by placing her hands on her waist. I grin and take it over to the counter where the dirty dishes from the meal have been stacked, placing it defiantly on top of the plates.

  “All right then, now that you’ve exerted your energy for the day how about you go rest on the couch and read that book some more,” Ami jests.

  “Perhaps I will,” I reply while moving to the swinging door.

  Taking a seat on the cushion, I grab the book and begin reading over the same information that Ami covered earlier. Though as I settle, I find that my energy actually had been sapped. Ami heads through the door and up the stairs with a brief glance back at me before she is out of sight.

  Finding my eyes getting heavy only a few sentences into the reading material I close my eyes, resolving only to rest them a little, but I quickly find I cannot open them back up. Instead of fighting it I let unconsciousness take me.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  A few days slip by with hardly a second thought about it, and I find that though I cannot remember anything about my former life, I experience no qualms leaving whatever life I had behind.

  Examining myself in the bathroom mirror, I look at the neatly designed clothing that Ami has given me. Out of the couple sets of clothing she had fabricated so far, I decide upon some casual cotton garments. I fuss with the buttons on the light beige, collared shirt and then the ones to close the fly of the slightly darker pants. I find that they are comfortable enough, but that the color is not to my liking. On the right shoulder I notice an orange flower embroidered in and I wonder about it.

  Ami knocks on the door, impatient to see how I look in the clothing I have chosen. When I open it she immediately begins testing different points in both the shirt and the pants to see how well they fit, humming as she does so, which lets me know she is thinking. Standing back up from playing with the cuffs at the end of the pant legs she smiles at me.

  “These look pretty good on you, I think,” she says. “How do you like them?”

  “They are nice, but I do not…don’t think that this is my color,” I correct myself to use a contraction.

  “No, but that’s okay because we’re going to have plenty of time to figure out what your color is,” she smiles and then heads out to the living room.

  Following behind her, we return to the living room and I move over to the window to peer out into the calm woods. Though there are clouds hiding the sun, there is still enough light to see a fair distance into the thicket; not a living creature can be seen. Something calls me, however, an urge to step out into them and look about. Looking back, Ami is thumbing through the language book, no doubt planning the next lesson and I find that I need a little fresh air.

  When I pull the door open Ami’s attention is caught. She closes the book and sets it on the table, accompanying me out onto the porch. Stepping down into the grass I slowly make my way toward the edge of the property, feeling the cool grass tickle the underside of my feet.

  “Where are you going?” Ami asks from the steps.

  “I just want to take a look at something,” I look over my shoulder and tell her.

  Standing near the definitive border where lush green grass meets the brown forest ground, I look at that area where I had fallen and it is unrecognizable now, matted with a few sporadic leaves. As I am about to take a step out from the perimeter of the house a quake shakes from underneath us and I am startled by a bizarre phenomenon in the air. As if painted blue with a paintbrush, the air around the house begins to kick up and swirl around.

  Ami yells out for me, but I cannot hear what she is saying. Concentrating on keeping my footing steady proves useless as the quake launches me into the vibrant blue vortex that has surrounded us. As I connect with the vortex I feel a shock through my entire body and I am launched backward through the air, landing hard onto my back. I am forced to exhale all of the air from my lungs and my vision goes completely white for a moment. My body cringes in pain both because of the impact and jarring my freshly-healed wound.

  When my vision and breath return I cough and sputter, finding Ami kneeling by my side. She speaks, but my ears ring and I cannot hear what she is saying. I lie there dazed, but out of the corner of my eye, I watch the surrounding area change through the visible, blue swirling air currents, morp
hing our surroundings to something new and unseen by my eyes before.

  “Ami, is this a shift through time?” I find myself able to speak.

  “Yes, it is. Welcome to our world.”

  Monstrosities have surrounded us; unnatural and eerie, gigantic and blinding structures that tower far into the sky. I feel a little light-headed as it sinks in that I am now in this for good. I realize I have begun hyperventilating and I cannot slow my breathing down. My eyes dart around as the noise of this enormous city begins to overwhelm me, my brain trying to take in everything.

  “Shh, calm down.” Ami places her hand on my chest.

  “I am…trying…” I huff.

  While I had not doubted their story of spontaneous travel through time the strange reality of it actually hitting me, showing that it was true, seems a bit much to take in all at once. I have left a place that I cannot remember to a place I am completely sure I have never been to before.

  “That was the grip that pulls you back if you’re outside when the time shift happens. I tried to warn you but I saw the quake knock your footing loose,” she stares off at the changed surroundings.

  “What are all of those towers?” I point at the structures beyond the more open field where the trees have thinned to near non-existence and people wander through the grass around the house openly.

  “Buildings,” her voice is slowed and she looks around also somewhat in shock. “We appear to have been thrown into the future.”

  2 DEDICATION

  The woods have disappeared and the sky is now cluttered with these tall buildings. The majority of them have a multitude of windows on each face and they reach high into the sky. In between each building I can see something bridging them together, however I cannot make out what it is or what it is for.

  My mind reels at the view in front of me. There are strange noises coming from all around the house. As I bring my gaze down from the buildings to the ground slowly, noting the additional changes, the first being that the trees have thinned out so significantly that there are no woods anymore. It is replaced by a giant clearing in the center of these massive towers. The second is that a number of people have appeared outside of the invisible perimeter that is the barrier to the house. Some stand in amazement and begin talking excitedly while others scatter. The only thing I can think is that they saw what I had seen when I was about to die, and we have just appeared out of nowhere to them.

  “We should go inside,” Ami whispers and helps me to my feet.

  The pain has mostly worn off, so I stand and stumble to the front door with Ami’s help. We enter the house to find Agatha standing in the living room looking out the front window.

  “Are you okay?” Agatha asks.

  “He got a little jolt as he touched the wall,” Ami answers for me.

  “I will be fine,” I tell her.

  “I would like it if you two stayed inside until I can shoo the people who have gathered around and find out a little about this time,” Agatha smiles at us.

  “I think we can manage that,” I state.

  “Good.” She smiles while retrieving a light jacket, as well as a closed small hand basket from a coat rack on the wall. She leaves through the door we just came through.

  Ami lets me go as I stand up on my own now that the pain is only a dull ache and she slumps down on the couch with a loud sigh.

  “Finally, she’s gone. I only get a few of these days every once in a while to just relax and lounge about. She’ll be gone for hours establishing contacts and people to trade with.”

  “What do you normally do in that time?”

  “Normally? I read. We try to pick up a few books from each era. But when I don’t have any new books I just sew.”

  “What should I do then?”

  “You know how to wash dishes?” She grins from her slouched position on the couch.

  “Surely you jest.”

  “You can clean the dishes from breakfast.”

  My heart sinks as I see that she is serious, and though I understand the concept, I am not sure I know how to do it effectively. Seeing her face twist and contort I surmise she is attempting to hold back a laugh watching my face twitch. Holding my arm out toward the kitchen, Ami jumps up and leads me in to the sink. She sets me up by filling one half of the sink with warm, bubbly water.

  “Soak, scrub, rinse and then place it into the dish holder.” She demonstrates with one dish. “It’s easy.”

  I fold my sleeves several times in on themselves so I do not get them wet and dip my hands into the water with a plate. I pick up the coarse round scrubbing pad that she showed me. Washing my first dish I make sure I do well to clean it completely off and Ami smugly stands there overseeing my work. Following the flow she set out I rinse and then set it in the drying rack.

  “Oh, I could get used to you doing my chores,” she laughs.

  Looking over my shoulder, I watch Ami disappear back through the kitchen door and hear her climb the creaky stairs. I continue washing the dishes while looking out the large window into the yard and I see Agatha move beyond the edge of the yard that we are in, talking to random people who stand about. As she finishes a conversation with a woman dressed in strangely thin and revealing clothing, they walk together toward the skyscraping towers.

  Looking in all directions that I can see from here, I wonder if this is a town square, just with grass instead of cobblestone. Past the grass and random trees I see a border of trees. A barrier exists between this park and a deep gray ground area followed by the large buildings.

  “I hope none of those fall over,” I mumble to myself.

  When I finish up the dishes, I dry my hands off on a nearby towel and look around the kitchen, noticing a big pot with a lid on sitting on the fireless stove. I am curious if it is vegetable soup again. When I get close I can feel heat emanating from it and grab the towel I dried my hands off on to lift the lid. It appears to have the same color as the previous vegetable soup but it looks as though it might have rice in it.

  A little hungry, I wonder if a single spoonful would be missed as I take up the wooden spoon that lies next to the pot and begin to sample the soup. Dipping the spoon in and swirling it around I see that I was correct that it has both vegetables and rice but I find that it also has meat, poultry from the texture of it. I blow on it heavily and put a huge bite into my mouth, but to my surprise my cooling method has proven useless and my mouth is now being seared.

  “Ah! Hot, hot!” My mouth goes numb with pain and I open my mouth, emptying the contents onto the clean floor.

  The spoon follows to the floor in my haste to turn the cold water on and stick my mouth under the faucet. Hearing Ami burst in the door causes me to look back briefly before dousing my tongue with water again.

  “What’s wrong?!” She asks frantically.

  “I buwnt mah mouf!” I attempt to talk through the water and over my swelling tongue.

  Ami surveys the scene and puts the pieces together, bursting into a fit of laughter. When I am done gulping at the water I return to an upright stance and she reaches down to grab the spoon, thumping me on the forehead with it.

  “It huwts!” I blurt out with everything inside my mouth feeling like I drank molten metal.

  “Well then you won’t do that again will you?” Ami snorts with laughter. “There’s nothing I can do about it.”

  Ami replaces the lid on the soup and washes the spoon off, setting it in the dish rack. She hands me the towel and I wipe up the mess I made on the floor. When I am done she takes the towel, places it on the counter and grabs my hand, leading me out into the living room. She removes her hand and waves it at the couch. I find my way over there to sit down and she begins showing me different colors of cloth that are laid out across the table.

  “Okay, I need input if you want more clothes,” she says

  “All right.”

  She starts with the darker colors, holding a few pieces of cloth up for me. I shake my head and point at the white c
loths.

  “I would like to see those ones please.”

  “How about this one?” She picks up and holds out a white piece for me.

  I take it and rub the material between my fingers. It is not silk, but the texture almost gives the illusion that it is. I close my eyes and rub it against my cheek, picturing myself in a cloth like this.

  Hard to wrinkle, flows well and seems airy. I would definitely wear a shirt made out of this material, but the occasion for it would have to be formal. It is too nice that it could not be an everyday occurrence and to treat a material as such would be wrong.

  I realize my line of thinking is quite odd, as though I am familiar with different thread types and what they should be worn for. Opening my eyes reveals Ami waiting patiently for my answer. Handing her back that piece, I pick up something similar to the cotton base that I am wearing now. It seems almost as soft, but a little bit more durable and less formal from the pile.

  “This white material should work for me,” I hold up the square for her.

  “Good, now you need to choose some material for pants.”

  Again I am given a selection of cloth to pick from. There are quite a few choices and some I am not quite familiar with. I pick up a very thick material that is a blend of blue and white. It is stiff and seems very durable. It almost seems like it was dyed blue and then began to lose its color from use.

  Could it be that this is recycled material from other clothing?

  “What is this material?” I look at Ami inquisitively.

  “That? It’s a cotton-based material, specially treated to make it useful for a lot of different occasions. It’s commonly used to make pants.”

  “Why is it faded like it has been used before?”

  “I’m not sure why. When its inventor first started making the material it was a fashion statement to fade ones clothing to look well worn.”

  “How strange. Why would someone want something that looks worn out?”

  “No idea, but it was popular in my time.”