Thursday, March 14, 2013

Day 73 - Reisender Story

Reisender Story
Matthew Ryan Fischer

The girl sitting at the bar wore pants there were far too tight.  Russ didn’t want to stare, but it was hard not to notice.  She was young enough and fit enough to probably want that sort of attention.  He didn’t know.  The rules were always changing with things like that.  Sometimes you were supposed to pretend not to notice.  Sometimes it was an insult not to notice.  Social etiquette seemed like it was changing too often and too fast for Russ to keep up.  Slang and nicknames were like that too.  The world was politically correct.  Then it was vulgar.  Then it was politically correct part of the time and vulgar the rest of the time.  Some people were scared.  Some people were willing to do anything.  It was very hard to keep up and far too confusing for an old man like Russ.  Russ wasn’t that old, but he playfully liked to consider himself an old man.  He was in his fifties after all.  He had learned to appreciate afternoon naps again and big meals early in the day.  Russ preferred to save his late in the day caloric intake for beer and ale.  Russ would have preferred to use his early morning and mid-day calories on beer and ale as well, but you had to have some restraint.  If he started drinking at dawn, he might not ever get anything done, not that he had much he really wanted to accomplish.  If he started drinking in the afternoon, he might not make it to the night, and the night was one of the only times where everyone else was out and about and ready to drink.
Reisender meant traveler in German.  The Reisender made dark and delicious brews that helped Russ live a happier life and forget momentarily everything that he knew about life that usually made him miserable.  The misery always came back because that was how life worked.  An extra percentage or two of alcohol wasn’t going to change that.
“Always with the Reisender.  The name isn’t that ironic.”
Larry sat down across from Russ.
“Shut up and drink your drink.”
“It’s gonna be that sort of night, is it?”
“I was hoping it would be the sort of night that ended with the girl sitting at the bar.”
Larry glanced towards the bar and began to laugh.
“In your dreams pal.  Way too young and way too good for you.”
“That’s not very nice of you.  She might not know that.”
“She knew that from the minute she was born.”
“Twist the knife much?”
“I’m just sayin’”
“You’re a dick.”
“Yes I am.  And so are you.”
Larry ordered a drink and Russ ordered an extra for them both.  It really was going to be that sort of night.
“What are we drinking to remember?”
“You mean forget?”
“I forget all the time.  Drinking like this must have some other purpose.  And I don’t mean building up the courage to go talk to the minx at the bar.”
“I believe that’s sexist.”
“I believe that you’re not the type to care.”
They both chuckled and drank more drink.
“I want to go home.”
“You can’t.”
“I know, but I want to.”
“There is no home.  Not anyway.  This was a one way ticket.”
Russ sighed, resigned.  “I know.  I know.”
After a moment he continued, “I think I’m aging faster than I’m supposed to.  We all might be, but I know I am.”
“I’m not, you’re not, we’re all not.”
“I’m too old.  I’m fifty-five now.  I’m not going to make it.”
“You’ll make it.”
“No.”
“The brainiacs knew what they were doing.”
“We are guinea pigs.  We’re space monkeys.  They had no idea what they were doing.  We’re tachyon charged time bombs.  None of us knows what will happen.”
“You’re going to make it.  We have to.  We all have too.”
“We signed up and all of thought there was a good chance we were gonna die.  And we should.  We are supercharged neuron machines bending backwards through relativity past the speed of light.  No one should be able to survive that.  I don’t know what they did to us, but none of us should be alive.  And I’m okay with that.  Truly I am.  I got no problem with that.  I signed on the dotted line.”
“We’ll make it and I swear it.  They… They showed me proof.”
“What proof?”
“There are fossil records… records we will create to leave a message to the future.  Our past, but the future future.  You know what I mean.”
“Bull.”
“I’ve seen the records.”
“Still doesn’t mean I make it.”
“No I guess you’re right.  What do you want to do about it?  Have another drink?  Cry in your beer?”
“I wanna go ask the girl out.”
“Good luck.”
“Luck?  I don’t need luck.  I slept with her three days ago.  Or three days from now for her.  Three days ago for me.  You know what I mean.”
“Amazing.”
“Imagine my surprise when three days ago this woman not only knew me, but wanted to take me home for another go.  I’ve been wondering when I would meet her.”
“What are you going to say to her?”
“I don’t know, but I know it will work.”
Russ smiled and went off to meet his future’s past.

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