The Event

Caleb has always come to me – not always, but it feels that way. He only substantiated some crazy equation about five years ago, but I remember his visits even from my childhood – well my youngest childhood memory.

It was exceptionally warm that summer day, which is probably why the playground was empty. I could’ve been inside, but my mama was always complaining about me not getting any fresh air. It was either listen to her or endure the extreme heat. I’d choose the fresh air anytime – it was the quieter option. And that’s how I found the park, quiet. Being loud took extra energy and that energy was bound to make you even hotter. I took solace in the breeze created by the tetherball as it whizzed past my face. Times were hard, I was only a kid and I knew that.

I don’t remember seeing where he appeared from, but I was alone when he walked up to me on the tetherball court. I remember questioning if I knew him with how confidently he strolled over to me.

“Hey Thomas, can I play with you?” He playfully hit the ball on the string in the opposite direction of my swing.

“I don’t play with strangers,” I explained, trying to hide my surprise and fear – this odd man knew my name.

“My name is Caleb. And we might feel like strangers now, but we’re really good friends in the future.”

“What’s ‘the future’?”

“It’s a concept of time. The near future could be tomorrow or this weekend, but it is not now. It is a time beyond now,” he explained.

“So, we’re friends at the end of the week, in time for the weekend?”

“Well, no,” Caleb chuckled. “We’re friends in the distant future – years and years from now.”

My eyes still questioned him. I grabbed the ball and held it at my side. His clothes did look funny and his shoes bore many colors in a way that I had never seen before. And he wore his hair in long thin chunks, matted together.

“What year is it now?” He questioned.

“1932.”

“We know each other in the year 2020.”

“That’s impossible!” I gasp, his statement shattering my naïve ability to process time. “That’s such a long time. I’ll be so old. I’ll be almost dead. And, no offense, but you would surely be dead, sir.”

“Little do you know, you’ll live long past then,” he smirked. “As for me, I will probably look the same every time you see me. I won’t be dying.”

He spoke in riddles. I wanted to question him further, but he was already making his way from the playground.

“Hey, Mister! Where you going?”

“I gotta run! See you in 10 years!” he called back.

I was 7 years old. I memorized his face, in case all his talk about the future was real. 10 years of life passed. Trying to remember the face of a stranger became more of a concept than an actual practice. And the memory of the interaction began to feel more like a lucid dream that I once had.

Perhaps it was 10 years to the date, just like Caleb said. To me, it felt like a lifetime. Upon our second encounter, he met with me at the basketball court, where I was playing alone – once again.

“It’s been a while hasn’t it, Thomas?” He asked as he walked onto the court in my direction.

I didn’t need to memorize him for the 10 years prior. The familiarity of his face made me feel like we had only met the previous day. And he was right, he hadn’t aged at all. His voice still had the same timbre and he shone the same confidence that I remembered from so many years before.

“Caleb? You look exactly the same. How is this possible?”

“I’m glad you asked that,” he responded as he stole the basketball from my hands. “And it’s kinda a lot to explain, but I think you’re old enough to understand it now.”

As we took turns shooting around, Caleb explained that he was a time traveler from the future. This explanation made more sense to me as a teenager than it could have ever in my youth, but I was still confused. Somehow, he was jumping from the year that he existed within – 2161 – and into the past for scientific research. He wasn’t not allowed to tell me anything about the future, for risk of drastically changing events of the future.

“This doesn’t really make too much sense to me,” I confessed after his spill. “What type of information are you looking for anyway? You’re from a future that I can’t even fathom exists, what could be so interesting with the past?”

“Plenty! We have so much that we can learn from the past – your present. I read an ancient quote that resonates with me, ‘Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it.’ I live in a time where we don’t know our past – once again, your present time. We don’t have access to a record of what happened right now, at this time. But we don’t want to be doomed to relive the mistakes of our past. So here I am, ready to do research and report historic events back to my time.”

“Ancient quote?” I laughed uncontrollably. “My history teacher says that to us all the time!”

“That’s all you heard? That I referred to a quote that was expressed at least two centuries before I was born as ‘ancient’?” Caleb asked seemingly exasperated. “You got a rude awakening on the way.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that unfortunately for you, it’s time to grow up,” he sighed. “I visit you when I time-travel because you are special, and I need you to start acting like it. From now on, think of yourself as a historical scholar. Witness the world and what’s happening around you. These are the moments that shape my life in the future.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“You don’t have a choice. Even if you don’t think that you want to participate, I assure you, history has already been written. Your participation has, technically, already occurred.”

He visited every 5 to 10 years of my life from that moment on. We spent most of our time alone, chatting about how the time between our visits had changed the world and how it changed me. On that first visit, I complained about missing the draft age by one lousy year. I wanted to fight in Germany – it would’ve been better than living in America, I was convinced.

When he visited in 1954 and my main concern was the racial desegregation of schools. We spent the afternoon walking through my neighborhood while I lamented about whether I should allow my kids to go to school and be bullied by white kids. How was I supposed to protect my family in a system that was built to attack us?

Caleb made sure to visit twice in the 60’s – 1965 and 1969. I could only report pure rage. The Civil Rights movement stole many innocent lives from my community. The 1960s in Chicago was not the easiest time to live through. After President Kennedy was assassinated, black people felt a sense of dread and gloom. JFK was the leader of the free world, and he was on our side.

“That actually happened?!” Caleb asked aghast. He sat across from me at a local diner. “I understand assassinations of important political figures but, I don’t think I ever thought that President Kennedy actually got shot in broad daylight.”

I smirked while taking a sip of my coffee. Caleb’s childlike curiosity at the loss of the country’s leader was oddly amusing – the naivety of not having the worries from this time seemed refreshing. “How’d you think it happened?”

“Assassins in my time rely on the discreet – you know, biochemical warfare or a spy planted within the closest advisors. Not something as barbaric as snipers on the roof murdering a man in front of his wife – in front of the world!”

“So?”

“So what?”

“So, how’d you think it happened?”

“I don’t know,” he pondered carefully. “It’s not like I didn’t believe he was murdered. I guess I just thought the telling of the story was more historical fiction than fact.”

“I should send you home with a US History textbook,” I chuckled.

“If only it were that easy,” he sighed solemnly but recovered and perked back up. “Besides, I can’t bring anything back, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember – can’t have you out here changing the future.”

On his later visit of the 60s, the effects of the riots from the previous year, were still ravaging the city. Dr. King’s death devastated the nation and many urban cities across the country mourned in the angriest way that they knew how. I lived on the West side of town in a neighborhood called Lawndale, so I saw most of the destruction occur. Other parts of the Westside and a smaller area on the Southside fell victim to the riots and looting of those two days in April.

“125 fires broke out. 210 buildings were damaged, including businesses – black businesses – that supported this community,” I explained as we walked our normal route of the neighborhood.

“How much damage, monetary wise, has the city suffered because of this?”

“At least $10 million, they say. I don’t know if that includes the food shortage that we had for a while. Volunteers brought food into the inner city, but it wasn’t enough to sustain us all.”

“Who would’ve thought that the death of one man would’ve resulted in all of this?”

“I mean, he was the most important man to us on Earth. He lobbied for civil rights here in Chicago when Jim Crow invaded the North. He spent a lot of time in the city – even moved in a spot right around the way from here. Can you believe that? I lived in the same neighborhood as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. He lived amongst the people because he was a man of the people. He wanted to help our race with our plight so badly that he put himself in harm’s way daily. And now he’s gone, and the world continues.”

“I see,” Caleb pondered silently for a while. “That’s why his death has been regarded as detrimental for centuries. His death changed it all…”

“But what about all the deaths that happened within those 2 days after his?” I interrupted. “The official count was 11, although there were many more civilian deaths reported. With the reputation that Chicago keeps, they were unable to determine if these deaths were a direct result of the riots. About 2000 people were arrested, some more brutally than others. This year of recovery has been long and tiresome, but the city is slowly coming back.”

“Yeah, it looks like things could start getting better soon. Look, this empty lot looks like it’s ready to be purchased and built upon. What about these moments?” Caleb asked as we stopped in front of a vacant lot. “It could be housing or a business of some sort.”

“These lots? These lots have been vacant since the bulldozers cleaned up the rubble left behind from the riots. Do you see any real estate signs? This land ain’t for sale. The apartments that used to be here are not anymore – its previous tenets might be amongst the homeless now.”

Caleb stood pensively, perhaps considering all of what I’ve said and what he’s seen. He seemed disheartened, even a little sad.

There was something else, as if constant fear for your life due to reprehensible racism wasn’t enough. “I’m not getting older. Literally and physically, I am not aging. My wife and my children get older every day, I can actually see it. But, I feel like I stopped maturing… maybe a decade ago. You think I’m crazy, huh?”

“I travel through time, I don’t think there’s too much that sounds crazy to me,” he chuckled nervously.

I stared back at him blankly. “Haven’t you noticed? I haven’t really aged since the second time we met. You’re traveling back and forth through time. I’m traveling straight through it – I should be aging.”

Caleb shifted uneasily while avoiding my direct eye-contact before slowly asking. “What are you asking, Thomas? Do you think you’re an immortal being or something?”

“Immortal being? Immortality?” I pondered. The thought of living forever never occurred to me. Immortality was the stuff of Greek mythology and cheesy vampire movies, not a condition in which someone could be afflicted. Distracted by my thoughts, I hadn’t noticed Caleb walking away from me down the sidewalk. “Where are you going?” I quickened my pace to follow him.

“You know how this goes, Thomas. I gotta get back to share my findings from this trip. I’ll be back soon.”

“But what about me… and my potential immortality?” I caught up to him in time to whisper my question to him.

He paused. It was one of the first times I saw Caleb falter, his assured demeanor faded slightly. “There’s a movie coming out very soon. Well, not very soon, but soon enough – in 1985. You need to see it – some things might start to make more sense.”

“What’s the name of the movie?”

“Aht, aht!” He wagged his finger at me, insinuating what I already knew. “You know I can’t tell you that.”

“How am I supposed to remember to see the movie if I don’t know the movie’s name?”

He smirked. “Your hunger to understand what’s truly going on between us will be enough to keep your attention. Just remember, 1985.” Caleb shook my hand and walked off into the distance – this time I didn’t follow.

I didn’t see Caleb in the ’70s, and I was glad that I didn’t. Dealing with trying to understand my immortality became more prominent than ever in my everyday life. Jimi Hendrix, Fred

Hampton, and Jackie Robinson all died before the mid-70s, and they were all talented beyond compare – why didn’t they have this gift of immortality, and was it really a gift? To outlive all of my children, grandchildren, and maybe even great-grandchildren seemed like more of a curse. I was left wondering, more than ever, if there was a way to break said blight…

The summer of 1985 dragged its way into my life. I had been waiting for it from the moment that Caleb told me about it. I kept my eyes open for a movie with a title that seemed like it was the film I was supposed to see. I obsessed over it so much that I brought my grown children into my search. They began to speculate that I was losing my mind due to the recent loss of their mother. They wanted to put me into a home, but couldn’t explain my youthful demeanor to any orderlies – that scared them more than my apparent diminishing mental state. I only heard from my children and grandchildren by holiday cards yearly, they no longer visited.

Sad to say, it no longer mattered to me. I had to remain alert for the movie that would explain my identity, to help me understand my immortality. I lost my family over this condition, I needed to comprehend it further.

‘Back to the Future.’ The title jumped off the marquee and slapped me in the face, almost causing me to slam my Ford Escort into a fire hydrant on the sidewalk. Back to the Future, it was so on-the-head, how could I miss that? It wouldn’t have destroyed the future of the world for Caleb to reveal a title as exact as that. I made my way to the nearest drive-thru theater – my favorite film viewing method – and determined the movie’s release date.

On July 3rd I watched the tale of Marty McFly, a high-school senior who gets swept up in an adventure in which he has to make his way back from a past that threatens his future survival based on his time-travels there. He gets a glimpse of who the neighborhood adults were, of who his parents were, and even who his pal Doc was 30 years prior. We see him alter aspects of the future by saving his father in the past – his mother even starts to fall for him romantically which jeopardizes the existence of himself and his siblings. His goal then changes from getting back to the future to ensuring his parents’ love story continues as it should. In the end, he saves the future and actually makes it better for his family with the changes that he accidentally made in the past.

I sat on the edge of my seat until the credits rolled to the end. I sat there even after the teenagers in their cars with fogged windows drove away. Caleb lied to me. This movie didn’t explain my dilemma, it only pushed his agenda further and reiterated the consequences of altering the past – my present. I was devastated. I was infuriated. And I found my solace in one of the biggest trends of the time – crack cocaine.

“So… yeah, the ’80s are all about the three Mikes – Michael Jackson, Michael Jordan, and Mike Tyson,” I explained distractedly as we sat at our normal booth in the diner. I scratched at my inner arm absentmindedly; scratched so much that I unknowingly opened the skin.

“You’re bleeding,” he noticed and expressed in monotone.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” I pulled my sleeve down past my wrist. “That’s nothing but a little scratch. Like I was saying, Michael Jackson – boy, he’s a bad muthafucka! The way he dances and that lil high voice of his, that was a good move when he dropped his brothers and went solo. They was holding him back. He ain’t been the same since that commercial for Pepsi though. His hair caught on fire! Probably all them chemicals in his hair for that jerry curl. Who would think that jerry curl juice and sparklers would be a good idea? I coulda told ‘em that.”

“Uh-huh…”

“And Mike Tyson? He’s’ the greatest, aside from Muhammad Ali, of course. He just fought this big fight – they called it Judgement Day. It was him against that ol Trevor Berbick… that nigga didn’t have a chance! Mike Tyson is the man! That KO won me a lot of loot, I’ll tell ya that.”

“Is that so?”

“Sholl did. And don’t get me started on Michael Jordan!! He’s gonna be the one to get us some championship rings, just you wait and see. Or… damn I forgot. You already know if he did or didn’t, huh? Well, I bet I’m right. Now I know you can’t tell me, but I know I’m right. He’s gonna bring us a whole slew of championships…”

“Are you on crack?” He asked matter-of-factly.

I sat back in the booth and crossed my arms. “Nah, I ain’t on that mess man. Couldn’t be me, no way.”

“When was your last fix?”

“I told you, I don’t do that shit, man!”

“So if I just left this here,” he reached in his pocket, lay his palm flat on the table, and slid over a dime bag of white powder, “You wouldn’t know what it is or what to do with it?”

I couldn’t tear my eyes from the bag in the middle of the table. It had been almost 24 hours since my last fix. I ran out the night before, shared some with a buddy, and hadn’t made it to grab anymore before Caleb showed up. Our luncheon had lasted at least 45 minutes longer than it normally has, and he hadn’t said more than 3 words to me at a time – he just kept looking at me. He was inspecting me. I hoped he felt his fault in my situation. I only fell into drugs after I found no answers in his stupid movie about the fuckin future. And besides, I couldn’t die from an overdose – I was immortal. “Ain’t that illegal?”

“I travel through time, I don’t care about laws or rules. I break the law of physics every time I visit you. Who’s gonna check me over a dime bag?”

“You seem to know more about hard rock than I do,” I responded, eyes unmoved.

“Ah, well this my friend is blow. The rock in its purest form, straight from our buddies in Colombia. Crack, yeah I don’t know too much about it. But this stuff… this stuff is good…”

“Why are you doing this? I already told you, I don’t do that shit,” my eyes darted frantically from him and back to the table.

“You ever get around to seeing that movie last year, the one that I told you about?”

I glared a hole through his face. My jaw began to tremble. “Yeah, the bullshit story that you convinced me would explain my ailment, but really was just all about your exploits.”

“Wait a minute, I did nothing of the sort,” he raised his hands in defense.

“That’s bull shit, man!” I slammed my fist down on the table, shaking our cups of coffee and the small baggie. I regained composure and began to whisper over the table. “You said… things would begin to make more sense when I saw it. I was supposed to understand my immortality after watching this movie.”

“I said that it would explain things between us, not that it would explain your eternal life. The relationship between you and I would be clearer.”

“All this time, I obsessed over that fuckin movie. I lost my family, man – they think I’m crazy. Hell, I’m starting to think I’m crazy.”

“That’s the drugs talking.”

“Yo, shut your ass up, man,” I shouted as I swung at Caleb from across the table. He caught my fist in mid-swing. “Oh, I forgot! You know the fuckin future. You probably already saw that coming, huh?” I snatched my fist back and threw my face into my hands.

“Thomas, what has happened to you?” Caleb asked after a moment, with genuine concern. “I know I didn’t show up last decade, but that’s simply because…”

“You lied, Caleb. All I wanted to know was why I’m not aging, and you told me that the movie would explain it. But in actuality you just wanted me to understand your plight. You ain’t no better than the white man of this time. It’s all about you and your struggle, but what about mine, huh? I’ve lost my wife, my kids, and any future of seeing my grandkids, Caleb.”

It was his turn to sit unmoved. He just watched me as I broke down in the booth of that diner.

“What I did learn from that movie, was that you revealing anything to me about my immortality wouldn’t have changed the future, especially since I’m not present in your life there. It could’ve made my life in the future possibly better, but you were just too fuckin selfish to be honest. And I, for one, am sick of your bullshit.” I grabbed my coat and tried to slide out of the booth before Caleb grabbed my arm.

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry,” he replied, voice full of remorse. “I was just following orders that were given to me, there are rules to this whole time-traveling thing, you know?”

“Rules made by the white man, I presume.”

“Race isn’t as big of a deal in my time…”

“Well, there’s your problem right there. If you believe that load of shit in the future, that’s where humanity has gone wrong. It’s actually made the nigga believe that he’s equal to the cracka. They don’t see you as their equal, man. They sending you back here to do their dirty work, they don’t wanna risk their lives doing this shit.”

“They sent me because I’m a genius in my field,” he replied indignantly.

“They sent you ‘cause youse a damn fool, Caleb! You believe in them more than you believe in the past, the past that you’re supposed to be studying to save your present. What sense does that make?”

He quieted a while before responding. “I don’t know much about immortality. It’s not an affliction that’s widely spoken about in the future either. It’s just known that there are people like you that exist. There isn’t any prejudice against your type, we actually hold you in the highest regard. We seek out the immortal when asking philosophical questions rather than questions of logic. I’ve never actually met one until I met you.”

“Why should I believe you? You’re probably just lying again; I can’t believe a damn thing that comes out of your mouth,” I tried again to slip out of the booth but he grabbed me again.

“Ok, wait… listen, I have a proposition for you,” he began. “If you trust me, believe what I told you, and continue to work along with me, I’ll make it worth your while.” He reached into his pocket again.

“What? You’re gonna try to bribe me with more drugs?” I took the dime bag from the center of the table and tossed it at him. “No deal.”

Instead, he pulled out a case, small and flat enough to fit under the size of his hand. He removed his hand and instead of drugs, there was a player’s card shielded beneath a glass covering. There, on the table, lay Michael Jordan’s 1986-87 Fleer rookie card in mint condition. My eyes glowed brighter than an entire mound of cocaine would make them. I carefully took the case from the table and began to inspect the card. I don’t think the card was actually in circulation at the time. Michael flew up into the air headed towards the hoop for a dunk – a look of focus ingrained into his face with his tongue outside his parted lips. I was literally looking at a piece of the future.

“Aht, aht!” Caleb snatched the case from my hands.

“What’d you do that for? I thought you were giving it to me.”

“I am, but under one condition.”

I threw my hands in the air and folded them across my chest.

“We’re building trust here, right? Did you think this was a gift to bribe you into believing what I’m saying? No. This is a fair trade based on trust.”

“I’m listening.”

“You seem to have fallen on hard times due to the crack epidemic, that you’re not taking a part in… but this card, it’s Jordan’s rookie card from this year. In about 30 years it’ll be worth $150,000. How’s that for revealing the future? $150,000 if you don’t squander it on crack cocaine.”

“What’s the catch?” I asked incredulously.

“It’s yours, as long as you don’t sell it until it’s at least worth the $150,000 that I know it to be. I mean, as of right now it may be worth maybe $150. And I know that sounds like a lot, but can you fathom $150,000?”

I couldn’t. I didn’t even think I could count that high consecutively.

“Get off the crack, Thomas. I’m doing all this, saying all this, in efforts to get you off this stuff,” he raised the baggie once again, “This shit is bad, it’ll kill you.”

“According to you, I can’t die,” I retorted.

“True enough. But you can experience what death feels like. Except for you, my friend, that pain will also be never-ending.”

I considered that idea. I hadn’t thought about it in that way. What did he know? He didn’t know anything about immortals – he said so himself. But what if he was right?

I watched him slide out of the booth to leave. “What did you learn about the past on this trip?” I had never considered the question before but felt inclined to ask.

“In short, crack really is wack.”

His visit in 1992 was just in time for me to experience the social injustice that was the Rodney King beating and verdict, and Michael Jordan leading the Bulls to their second straight championship. When asked which was more influential, I hesitated. Of course, black people across the nation were outraged by the acquittal of the four police officers who used “excessive force” when taking Rodney King into custody after a high-speed pursuit. But, MJ was hot! And two championships in a row for your hometown team is kinda a big deal. Especially for me – the owner of a rare rookie card of the brightest up-and-coming basketball star.

Some say that the ’96 acquittal of OJ Simpson was vindication. The difference between random-nobody Rodney King and OJ Simpson’s high-speed pursuits was the fact that everybody loved The Juice – black and white men alike. How could they pin a murder that they couldn’t prove on an innocent black man – especiallyy when he was a Pro Football Hall of Famer? We were finally able to demonstrate the explanation of The White Man doing everything that he could to keep us down – even by stooping so low as to try and accuse you of murder. I was happy that the verdict came back acquitting OJ. I’m not sure I could survive another set of riots.

It was during the winter of ’94 that I got clean. The news outlet kept saying that temperatures would be at a historic low - I’m talking -14 degrees! Even as a crackhead, I was responsible enough to know that I needed to plan. I rushed out with the rest of the city to buy food, wood to cover the windows of my shabby apartment, and I even spent a little extra on a small room heater. By the time I got home that night, the temperatures had plummeted. I felt like I barely made it home with all of my extremities. I also made it home without stopping to pick up any blow.

The cold was numbing that night and the subsequent days. And the electricity went out in my building, so the outside began to seep in. That’s pretty much all it took for me – shaking violently not only because my body needed a fix, but also because the city of Chicago was leaving us to freeze to death. I felt like I couldn’t get up for days. I remember later the news saying that some spots in the city were without power until the end of the week – that seems about right. After that week of the ’94 winter storm, I understood the pain that felt never-ending and I couldn’t imagine having to detox ever again.

Caleb’s visits became more frequent after that. Maybe it was to make sure that I kept my promise or maybe it had more to do with what was going on in my time in history. I began to spend more time scrutinizing the past than living in the present. Instead of wondering when Caleb’s next visit would be, simply for his company, I feared what event his next arrival would bring along with it.

In the winter of 2001, Caleb caught me traveling for the holiday season – literally one of the worst holiday seasons to date for airline travel in my opinion. I figured after my depressive stint in the ’90s, and no real reason to stay in one place for my family, I should travel the world. Caleb would appear regardless since the future had already been written – he would always find me.

“So what was the whole Y2K thing really about?” He asked as we shuffled forward a few steps in one of many TSA lines.

“Truthfully, I couldn’t tell you. It didn’t feel like anything changed. It still doesn’t feel like anything has changed.” Feeling as though my conclusion was inadequate, I considered further, “I think it was more of an issue for the computer whiz guys. For your everyday people, we’re more bummed that we don’t live in a more Jetson-esque period. You know, flying cars and maid robots, and all.”

“In due time, my friend” Caleb chuckled before his tone turned more serious. “And all of this?”

“The scene before us was manic. After the terrorist attacks of September 11th on the World Trade Center, the airline companies along with TSA were no longer playin’ about airline travel. The extra identification checks, the additional carry-on searches with the new regulations on what’s allowed in them, and even bomb-sniffing dogs all became too much. Although the families of the victims of that tragedy probably didn’t think so.

“9/11,” I responded grimly. It had already become a moment stripped down to a simple date of reference. We swore to never forget, but that didn’t mean we wanted to talk about it.

“Cheer up, pal – there are brighter days ahead. Things that you never thought imaginable are headed your way.”

“Your existence to me is unimaginable, and yet here you are,” I joked. “And isn’t that time-secret information? Don’t get yourself in trouble with your bosses.”

He rolled his eyes as we lurched forward again in the line. “How have you been? Where are you headed anyway – and why would you chose to do it in this chaos?”

“I’ve decided to travel the world a bit. I have nothing holding me back here anymore. I’m clean and healthy, I have so many more decades to live – I’ve come to terms with that – so why not actually live?”

“Why has it taken you this long to realize this?”

I pondered. “I guess, being born a black man is the real reason. I’ve lived through Jim Crow and segregation, the Civil Rights Movement and desegregation, the poverty of Chicago’s south side, the crack epidemic – I’ve seen a lot, and I’ve seen a lot of change. I gotta get used to this new world, daily. But now, in this part of time, I feel like I can truly experience what life is supposed to be.”

He looked pleased but eyeballed me incredulously.

I patted the side of my carry-on bag. “I still got the card. I got like 20 more years, remember?” We herded forward once again “I had some money saved up, that’s how I’m able to leave. I knew I would blow all of my money back then… I also knew that if I were to live forever, I would always need access to money. On a panicked junkie trip one day, I set up a brokerage account. They sent my annual statement the other day, and I decided that it was time.”

“When are you coming back?”

“Why? Will our visits end now that I’m an international jet-setter?” I joked.

“I don’t know… I would imagine that they wouldn’t, but who’s to know for sure?”

“And if I choose to never return?”

He smiled, and gingerly held up his pointed finger as if to begin a list, “Number one, the future has already been written. Number two, 2008 is gonna blow your mind. See ya.” He turned his listing fingers into a peace sign and wandered out of line, leaving me stunned and more curious than ever.

I spent much of my time abroad in the UK. It felt like a completely different world, but I still felt close enough to my homeland. And just because I was away, it doesn’t mean that I didn’t keep tabs on what was going on in America. Watching it from across the pond was a bizarre experience. The anthrax scare, the war on Iraq for weapons of mass destruction that killed thousands of soldiers and ended with no nuclear weapons found, and Bush demanding that the troops remain in Iraq even after all was said and done – it was madness! By the time the Bin Laden tape was released, I began to think that I was watching scripted television. Hurricane Katrina left me yearning for home. I wanted more than anything to be able to help the people of New Orleans. And the Virginia Tech mass shooting left me wondering if I wanted to make my way back to America in time to see what this next mind-blowing year had in store.

In Britain, it just felt different. The population of black people was minuscule in comparison to black presence back at home, which led to the mystery of the black man in my new home. Of course, prejudice exists everywhere, but many more were on our side here – more than willing to defend our equality. To be honest, other than the whole royal family, it felt like being home, with a little less of the inadvertent racism and prejudice. And I guess Caleb didn’t want to know anything about life in Britain for those 5 years, I didn’t see him once.

Upon arriving back to Chicago, I was met with the face of Barack Obama plastered on every storefront, in every yard and apartment window, and on the lips of every Chicago native. ‘They’re gonna elect a black man as president’ was all the gossip. And I realized that if this was the mind-blowing event, I needed to keep my mouth shut – because more than anything in the world, I did not want to ruin that piece of history.

On the evening of November 4, 2008, I dressed in my nicest suit and took to one of the many bars that were filling up. People piled inside to grab a drink and watch election results. I wanted to get a seat at the bar – I wanted the best seat to watch history occur.

“Well, don’t you look slick?” A familiar voice asked from behind.

“I had to put on my best,” I responded, swinging around on the barstool to see Caleb dressed quite dashingly himself. “As have you! Glad you could join me.”

“I could only assume you would be in the city when it happened. I didn’t wanna miss this opportunity, living this moment firsthand, I’ve always imagined its significance.”

I looked at Caleb, his gaze was distant and his face was at peace. I never thought about what an event this major would mean for someone from the future. Seeing such radical change was startling and exciting for me because I’ve lived through the opposite for so long. But, to be present for the first time something of this magnitude occurred is inconceivable.

“So what time does it happen?” I asked, shaking myself from thought.

“Can’t you be at least slightly surprised?” He laughed. “We got here nice and early, let’s enjoy the night.” He lifted his glass to tap mine.

We spent the rest of the night drinking and talking about our lives, not how history impacted them, but simply about what our lives consisted of. I learned that Caleb had a wife and two sons. His mother lived with them after his father died a few years prior. They all lived in Massachusetts. He learned that my dad had been in and out of my life from an early age and how it drove my mother ragged. That night, I realized that in this life of mortality, Caleb was my oldest friend – my best friend.

“And CNN can now project that Barack Obama, 47 years old, will become the president-elect of the United States,” the TVs around the perimeter of the bar announced. The entire establishment erupted with cheers. Whoops and hollered of laughter and joy shook the building to its foundation. Women hugging strangers, grown men moved to tears, and liquor freely flowing encouraged by the thought of it – America’s first black president.

“You ready to go?” I asked Caleb, grabbing my coat and finishing my drink.

“Where are we going?”

“We gotta go celebrate, the city is alive! You think I dressed this way for nothing? Let’s go, man!”

“I don’t know,” he faltered. “The more I do here, the more of a chance I have for screwing something up back at home.”

“I won’t let that happen. And besides, you’re experiencing history in real-time! You know you wanna tell your boys about this night. Your time machine don’t turn into a pumpkin after midnight, do it?”

“What’s gotten into you?” He chuckled, clearly considering my offer.

“I don’t know… it’s just like…it’s taken me until right now to understand that I’m invincible. This has just made me feel eternal in every sense of the word.”

“Let’s live it up.”

That night was the most fun I’d ever had in my life. It was the most fun that I had for a while afterward as well. Life was better on the home front. Obama was in office trying to do the best he could, with a Congress that rejected him and his concerns on every turn. More school shootings, more innocent black men and children being killed with no repercussions, and time continued.

What was more surprising was that Caleb hadn’t visited. I became concerned – it was about 7 years and counting since I last saw him. What if we did something that night that changed the future? What if we did something that changed my present? The latter theory never seemed more accurate than when we elected Donald Trump as the 46th president of the United States – I knew we must’ve fucked up. I waited every day for Caleb to return so that we could figure out how to fix whatever it was that we did. But the years carried on, and he never resurfaced.

If I thought Bush’s presidency was bizarre while watching it internationally, I was downright terrified living through the Trump years domestically. We hired a guy with no experience to run the free world. Donald Trump, the man who paid off a prostitute and allegedly raped multiple women. The man who implemented a Muslim travel ban, born out of sheer ignorance and bigotry. He tossed paper towels at hurricane survivors in Puerto Rico as a fix for their troubles. He got impeached for trying to collude with Ukraine to rig the next set of elections. This man almost started World War III with Iran! And Caleb still hadn’t shown back up.

And although the year 2020 held COVID-19, the end of the craziest presidency to date and the most organized social justice movement since the 60’s – Black Lives Matter, 2021 came in with a fury.

Trump’s first 2 years left me yearning to be apart of the politics that challenged our country’s status quo. And so, on a whim, I ran for a seat on the United States House of Representatives in 2018. I was elected to represent Illinois’s 7th congressional district because I ran on a platform that respected and listened to the people of the district. My charisma of 93 years, along with my empathy for their everyday struggles, won the citizens over – and got me re-elected for a second term, in 2020.

I had the honor of being apart of the members of Congress who got to confirm President Joseph Biden as the president of the United States. It was more of a ceremonial occasion than anything else, but I had to be there and it was a big deal. Trump planned a rally of his own in the nation’s capital that day as well. It drew crowds of Trump supporters from all over the country – lining up to listen to a sore loser.

Trying to get through the city was pure anarchy – so many streets closed to redirect traffic for security protocols. Trumpers sauntering through the streets decrying their president’s victory. And there I was, stuck with them. Every Congress member needed to check into the Capitol building before 1:00 pm. At that time, I was at least 45 minutes out. By the time I made it into the building, I knew that the proceedings had started.

After what seemed like endless security checks and COVID screenings, I made my way towards the hallways to the chamber. I glanced down at my wrist to check my watch – 2:03. When I looked back up, I was running right into Caleb.

“Whoa, hey! What are you doing here man? Where have you been? Actually, maybe we can chat later – I’m running late,” I rambled as I collected myself.

“No. come with me,” he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me into a side room. After closing the door behind him, he went rushed over to the office desk and began to push it towards the door – barricading us in.

“What’s going on?”

“Help me block the door,” he was panting.

I jumped into action and helped him push the desk into position. Caleb then rushed over to the only window in the room and looked through it frantically.

“What’s going on?” I repeated myself. “And where the hell have you been?”

“Not right now, Thomas. Something is about to happen, right here in the Capitol building because of the very proceedings you’re headed to. I’m just here to help…”

“How would you know the exact time that this something was gonna happen? You said you barely have historical records of this time.”

His eyes never shifted from the window. He didn’t speak a word.

“Also, I thought you were dead or got in trouble for your last trip here. I haven’t seen you since 2008. It’s been over 10 years, the least you could’ve done was leave a note for me somewhere – you were foul for not telling me.

“I am sorry for worrying you for so long, but it was out of my hands. My bosses didn’t know if the past 12 years were significant enough to study…” the lie awkwardly stumbled off his tongue.

“That’s bull shit. You’ve shown up in my life around some of the most historical moments I’ve ever experienced – that the world has experienced!” I shouted. “You’ve been lying to me my entire life. You have some sort of historical timeline or record. I’ve been tracking every time you visit, it’s always around a historical time stamp.”

Caleb moved from the window and pressed his ear up against the door.

“And yet so many events have transpired since the last time you’ve been here – important events. I’ve never pressed the issue, but I’m starting to wonder why you’re really traveling through time. How could you and your bosses not know what we’ve been going through when you knew everything else?”

I stepped into his face and shoved his shoulder to get his attention, “Why do you keep visiting me, Caleb? What is this project in the future that you’re working on? I deserve to know what I’ve been contributing to.”

“I’m here to figure out what you people did wrong!” He spat at me.

“Us people?”

“Yes, you people from this era.” You think this is bad?” He paced the floor, rubbing his head. “I time travel because we need to figure out where it all went wrong. In the future, we want to know all the mistakes that your people have made that put us in the predicament that we are in today. We wanna know the pivotal moment that sent history over the edge and resulted in our lives. We plan to target that moment, and prevent it from happening, altering our present time.”

“But you always said that you couldn’t tell me the future because it would alter everything. This is the exact opposite of everything you’ve said – it’s breaking the rules.

“We can’t alter the future until we know what moment needs to be changed. That’s the point of my research – to determine when and what to change about where history is headed.”

I paused. Out of almost ninety years of knowing Caleb, this was the first time that I felt that he was being completely honest with me. But, even after everything that we’ve been through, what he was saying sounded ridiculous.

“You really wanna know why I travel through time? Honestly, coming into the past is not only thrilling, but it’s a bit of a paradise from my current time. I know you say that I show up at the worst times – when there’s some sort of historical time stamp – and that’s 100% true. But, even in your present’s worst moments, it’s a vacation from our future.”

“Our future?”

“I’ve said too much,” he crossed the room hastily as if to exit, before realizing that he had trapped us inside.

“No, you said our future. What do you mean? The least you could do is tell me. After all these years and everything I’ve told you – you owe me that much.”

“What do you think, Thomas? You’re immortal! It hasn’t changed in the past hundred years, it’s not gonna change anytime soon.

“So I’m in this future that you speak of… this horrible time that you call the present?” Anxiety seized me by the throat and I could barely continue to speak. “Do… do I outlive you as well? In the future, is there a time where I’m still alive and you’re no longer there?”

“Logically speaking, that will probably happen. But I’m not certain. I only just met you in the future.” He paused before he spoke again, “You’re finally an old man, not so much in features or physique, but in your stature and your eyes – your eyes have seen many of the atrocities that got us where we are in the future. My friend, I’m doing this so that when we meet again, I don’t have to greet that old man – but you as you are now.”

My head was slowly beginning to spin at the information I was digesting when I heard the yelling echo down the halls. Both of ur heads jerked in the direction of the sound. Many voices blended, cycling through their choice of chants from: ‘U-S-A!’ to ‘Hang Mike Pence!’ This was a crowd of people, I began to realize it was a mob.

“They’re attacking the Capitol?” I asked as I locked eyes with Caleb. “They planned and organized an attack against us?!”

“They have weapons and they’re planning on taking hostages,” Caleb rambled quickly as if he was spilling top secret information that would save my life. “They’re busting windows and moving in through any side they can. President Trump is not going to send the National Guard. And some of the city police are working alongside the rioters.”

“I gotta go see about my friends,” I moved towards the door to push the desk away.”

“They are fine. They were removed from the chamber and placed in a safe area. You just… wouldn’t have made it. So I came to grab you,” he finally confessed.

“This is insane, there has to be something that we can do,” I paced around the room.

“Everything is going to be fine. I think if anyone would know, it would be me.”

“Yeah, you’ve been so right about everything else so far,” I rolled my eyes as I began to think about all the tragedies that Caleb probably knew of in advance that he never stopped. He and his bosses were manipulating time, like some sort of gods, but being selfish enough to do nothing to help. For once, I knew the future and I refused to cowardly save myself.

Caleb was at the window not the other side of the room. I violently shoved the desk, angling it enough for me to crack the door and squeeze out. I heard Caleb on my tail, but I had no other choice. And who knows, maybe my act of defiance could be what saves everyone in the future. Perhaps this was my purpose all along – the thing that connected Caleb and me.

The scene that lay before me after I exited the room was the stuff that Hollywood movies were made of. Below, on the ground level, crowds of people shuffling their way through the Capitol Rotunda – some taking pictures, some ransacking the place. Confederate flags waved through the sky behind billows of smoke. Was the building on fire? I began to run down the corridor to get to the Senate chambers.

“Tom, come back!” I heard Caleb scream from behind.

I ran faster, trying to lose him and to get to my colleagues before the mob did. I ran so fast that I almost slid right into a group of insurrectionists who appeared before me. They were dressed in camouflage, Wrangler’s, and MAGA hats – as if their attack and wardrobe were coordinated.

“Where you going, boy?” One of them asked in a slow southern drawl. “Take us to the chambers.”

I didn’t respond, just stood quietly. And slowly raising my hands in surrender as I watched another man lift a rifle into sight.

“You can’t talk, boy?” The same man asked.

“I’m not your boy!” I lowered my hands and took a step towards the group, “And hell nah, I’m not taking you nowhere.” The chaos in the background ensued. I began to back away from the group, but the terrorist-with-rifle lifted and pointed the gun at my head.

“Your loss,” was all I heard before the distinct sound of close-range gunshot rang my ears.

It all happened so fast – I couldn’t say what happened for sure. The gunshot rang out and at the same time, I was knocked to the ground. It wasn’t a bullet that floored me, I was shoved away. Caleb! The group of men stormed past us and continued, in hopes of finding the Senate floor. I was left to crawl over to my friend’s bleeding body. `

The bullet caught him in his side – I applied pressure to the spot. He winced and grabbed the same hand.

“HELP!” I screamed into the surrounding havoc before looking back down at Caleb, “You’re gonna be alright, man. I’ll get help.”

He simply looked up and smiled. I couldn’t understand how he could look so peaceful at a time like this.

“Why did you do that, huh? You know I can’t die. You didn’t have to save me,” I shook his shoulders to pull him back from his final journey for a little longer.

“Instinct, I suppose,” he managed to get out between wheezing breaths, “When you see your friend in danger.”

I held him there in that hallway long after he passed away. I sat there with him like that until help finally arrived. I think I expected his body to just disappear into a ray of light, or maybe he would disintegrate. I didn’t know for sure – he wasn’t of this time. But he lay lifelessly with me at his side. He was always such an untouchable force to me until that moment – then, I understood that he was a mere man.

THE YEAR 2243

Sometimes I play our conversations over and over in my head. His are the only ones that I can remember word for word. Maybe it’s because there was such a limited amount of time that we spent together, and because of that, I took to the time to appreciate them more. I buried Caleb next to my wife in Chicago, I had no way of getting him back home. I never encountered another time traveler – no one ever came looking for Caleb. I often wish I was able to show Caleb the lack of concern exhibited by his bosses. Maybe if he saw his importance now, he’d rethink some of his decisions.

Since Caleb never made it back to the future, one can only assume his mission was incomplete, the moment that needed to be changed in history was never altered, and history was well on its way to its dismal future. Initially, I decided to stick around to see if what Caleb said was true. The world was already going to hell, could it actually get any worse?

Monthly mass shootings, natural disasters untypical to their locations, and mass famine all seemed to illuminate a terrifying future to come. Everyone spoke about how bad things were but they continued to take life in stride – believing that things would eventually change. I knew better.

Now, I harvest the land wherever it allows. I spend most of my time reading the books from centuries prior that I brought along. Mount Mitchell is where I’ve decided will be my final home. All concepts of natural reservoirs and national parks have been long forgotten, and so living in the mountain range provides me with total isolation. I remained plugged into current events with a television for a while until the news became too much for me to bear. Watching society erode before your very eyes proved too difficult.

I’m not sure what goes on with them any longer. If my calculations are correct, I’m living in the year 2200 or so – which is about 40 years after Caleb’s time. If it was bad then, I can only assume it’s worse now. Sometimes on my hikes, I look over the land below – I see smoke rising from firearms on certain days and I hear distant cries from my home on certain nights. I stay to myself though – who knows what kind of atrocities would await me if I lowered my defenses.

Caleb’s last conversation runs through my head often – We wanna know the pivotal moment that sent history over the edge. There was probably no way of telling what that “moment” was – if it existed. In my brief time on this planet, so many heinous things have happened that paved the way for the next. Learning your past to avoid repeating its mistakes works in theory, but never in practice. That should be the one thing that I made sure Caleb took back on all of those trips – action is what changes the world.