Chapter Twenty-Two: Soup Kitchens Still Exist

Seph and Emmit entered the shelter not long after talking to Mitch the second time. They couldn’t find him right away, but Seph noticed somebody else he was looking for. He was a stout man with thin gray hair. Standing no taller than 5 foot 7 inches, he was one of the shortest statues everyone was tracking down. He was President William McKinley.

Seph understood why Mitch wouldn’t have noticed this president at the shelter. He was working behind the counter serving food to the less fortunate than himself. Seph approached the president and asked to speak to him in private, to which McKinley immediately consented. In a back room, Seph, Emmit and McKinley explained to each other each other’s situation.

McKinley had come into the shelter yesterday some time after quietly discovering America was over a hundred years in the future than it had been last week for him. However, McKinley found some comfort in the fact that Americans were still taking care of each other and decided to help out until he figured out what to do or how to get back to his own time. He then asked if Seph and Emmit had already eaten. Before answering the question, Seph answered his ringing cell phone.

-Blair?

-Seph. Just a head’s up. We found Buchanan but…

-Hello? Hello? Blair?

-Here, let me talk to her, begged Emmit.

Seph turned over the phone and asked McKinley if he could leave on his own will. McKinley was pretty sure he could, but he wanted to take out the trash in the kitchen before leaving.

Emmit could only make out some words from Blair and so tried as best as he could to tell her he found Benjamin Harrison and had gotten him to the museum. Emmit couldn’t tell if Blair heard him or not. But he did hear the words “president” and “prison” and began to panic. He asked questions, gave advice and recalled his own prison-experience (a grade school field trip and the first season of “Prison Break”) for two or three minutes before realizing the call had been dropped.

-Blair’s in prison. We need to go now, said Emmit.

-Under what conditions is she there?

-What do you mean? She’s in prison!

-Is she in the lobby?

-Prisons don’t have lobbies. Probably. Maybe. I don’t know.

-Is Lily with her?

-I don’t know. I think some president is there, too.

-Who?

-I don’t know. JFK if it’ll make you move faster.

-Okay. We need to find Mitch.

-Blair probably just used her one phone call and you’re dragging your feet.

-Emmit. Slow down.

-Seph. Speed up. When she was my girlfriend…

-What?

Emmit didn’t want to elaborate so McKinley spoke up, saying that there were a couple of other presidents at the shelter. One of whom he knew was a time traveler. McKinley walked out of the back room, through the kitchen and into an alley behind the shelter. There, Emmit and Seph saw Mitch and President Andrew Johnson sometime after they started drinking the rum Johnson traded for from Crazy Man Tatarko.

Shortly before Emmit and Seph had shown up, a coordinator for the shelter noticed Mitch and Johnson were secretly drinking rum of some sort. As that wasn’t allowed in the building, they were asked to turn over the liquor. Having not drank any alcohol in over a hundred years, Johnson refused. Mitch, knowing that Seph and Emmit were coming to the shelter soon, did the responsible thing and left the shelter to continue drinking a hobo’s liquor in a dark alley with a former U.S. president.

In the alley, Johnson was appalled that drinking could be banned from anywhere in the future. What did people do with friends? Or when they were bored and alone? Or when they became sick, Johnson asked. Mitch wasn’t in medical school and so assumed most people just watched daytime TV when they were sick. Johnson didn’t understand any part of that answer. Mitch tried to elaborate, explaining that people wanted to be healthy nowadays. People ate different--and sometimes crazy--foods and exercised. What does Mitch do to exercise? Well usually when he’s walking somewhere, he’ll run as fast as he can for like half a block or so. He’d do that almost every week. It’s a good system, said Mitch. Johnson agreed.

It was around this time that McKinley, Emmit and Seph exited the building and found Mitch and Johnson. Seph told everybody to come with him; it was time to go back to the museum. Emmit concurred; it was time for everybody to come with him back to the museum. While walking through the shelter back to the entrance, Seph saw yet another person he recognized. Shit. It was Todd the Wizard, eating soup by himself but with his cardboard tube.

-Todd. What the hell are you doing here? How did you get away from Snow?

-I am a fucking wizard, Seph. I’ve escaped prisons indescribable by the English language. You think I can’t get away from a museum curator who thinks The Chicago Fire was a disco band from the 1970s?

-Good point. But you’re still coming with us.

-How about I just send these presidents back right now?

-No!

Seph slapped the staff away from being pointed at the presidents but Todd held on.

-I don’t want to drag two wax statues all the way across town. They’re heavy.

So Todd, McKinley, Johnson, Mitch, Emmit and Seph finally made it to the car only to then realize somebody wasn’t going to fit. Emmit suggested McKinley stay back and the guys would come back for him on a second trip. McKinley agreed with this. Seph pointed out that Emmit would be fine by himself. McKinley agreed with this. Emmit felt that he needed to stay with Seph in case Blair tried calling again. Emmit also pointed out that Todd was a fucking wizard and he could just fly to the goddamn museum. McKinley, though slightly confused, also agreed with this.

Todd was adamant that he ride in a car for the first time in years. Johnson was terrified of the concept, how could a car stop without horses? Mitch explained that there was a rubber tube underneath the car that makes the wheels stop spinning--Jobe had shown him once. McKinley was indifferent, as he had actually ridden in a car before. Tiring of McKinley’s jelly backbone, Seph suggested to the president that if the opportunity arises, he should name Theodore Roosevelt to Vice-President. The governor from New York? Sure, I’ll remember that, noted McKinley.

Mitch then volunteered himself to stay behind. Todd, the last member of their party, could take his seat. Mitch knew he was the least necessary person in getting the presidents safely to the museum.

-Congratulations, Mitch, Todd said with a smile. Fortunately for you I can just fly to the goddamn museum. I think you’ll find just a little bit more fortune to fall your way.

Todd the Wizard, without having to straddle his cardboard tube, jumped to the moon, just rising above the horizon.

-Did he say I’m going to find a fortune, asked Mitch.

-No, corrected Emmit. Todd said you’d be more fortunate.

-Oh.

-Yeah, too bad.

-Wait. Is that a dollar?

Mitch picked up a dollar near one of the car’s tires. Emmit groaned a swear word nobody heard and everybody got into the car.

Chapter Twenty One: President Tatarko

Before Mitch got inside the shelter but after he had crossed the street, two guys from a fraternity approached him. Their names were Ethan and Trey but they never introduced themselves. Ethan wore a shirt with a slightly aggressive message printed on it. He also had cargo shorts and a backward baseball cap. Describing Trey would be redundant.

-Excuse me sir, one of them said to Mitch. My fraternity brother and I have a wager. Are you that fellow from the video we watched on the Internet?

-Yes.

-Really?

-Yes.

The one turned to the other. One of them lost twenty bucks that the other gained. Immediately after the money exchange, Mitch couldn’t remember which was which and hoped it didn’t matter. He couldn’t mentally separate the guys and only heard them speak as one, perpetually re-affirming voice.

-Did you guys want like, an autograph?

-No. Why would we want your autograph? I’m afraid nobody knows your name.

-It’s Mitch.

-Even so, I don’t see the value in marking up my shirt. Or my hat.

-But then you can prove you met me.

-I’m not particularly afraid that people won’t believe us. Me either. But thank you. We enjoy your work. Yes, very much so.

The frat guys then hopped onto their tandem bike and rode off. Feeling slightly devalued for the second time in a matter of minutes, Mitch stood on the sidewalk as if on top of a mountain. A success that nobody could see or believe. Being famous kind of sucks, he thought. But only thinking you’re famous sucks even more. It was never Mitch’s goal to be famous, but he had kind of expected, and accepted, it. At this point there wasn’t really anything to do beside light up a bowl. Coast was clear.

After clearing his head outside, Mitch made sure he was at the right place. It was a soup kitchen but was probably called something else. Something less 1890s. But unlike the 1890s, the soup kitchen served more than soup and gave some people a place to sleep, albeit temporarily. The nonprofit shelter was the size of a basketball court and actually had basketball goals that could be lowered when after-school programs occupied the place. Along one wall, a group of volunteers served food. After taking some food, the hungry people would sit at tables not unlike a school cafeteria.

Mitch entered the building with an unfocused ambition to prove he could find a president just as fast as anybody, perhaps even faster. He was also a little hungry and decided that after finding and returning an American president or two back to the museum, he would reward himself to a big burrito over at Big Burrito Place on 4th street. Probably a chicken burrito. It’d be during their busy time though. Wait. There at the table! That’s a president.

The man, maybe in his mid-forties, had grungy facial hair and a trucker baseball cap, obscuring his face. But the black suit jacket had might as well have been a neon sign nametag. Or at least a neon sign, as Mitch still couldn’t tell some of these presidents apart. The man was reading a mangled book that had been torn in half at some point. The reader didn’t know--or didn’t care--that he would never know the second half of the story. Maybe, thought Mitch, the book reader guy had the second half of the book somewhere, but that didn’t seem likely. Nor was it true.

Mitch pulled out a chair at the table across from the dignified reader and sat down. The man put down his book at looked at Mitch with eyes that had seen more than anybody in their right mind could imagine.

-Hello. I’m Mitch. Are you a president?

-Of course I am. I am President Tatarko. Or General Tatarko. Or President Tatarko.

-Did you come from the museum?

-I come from a distant war of another time. Another world. Not this one. Another.

Mitch sat back in his seat, with a glimmer of doubt emerging in his mind. He pulled out his cell phone. President Tatarko jerked back in horror. Didn’t Mitch know cordless phones are dooming humanity because the aliens can hear your conversations in space? In space. Outerspace. Tatarko kept reminding him of this fact but Mitch was skeptical. Admittedly, Mitch didn’t know much about historical presidents or aliens but he was beginning to suspect this president was an impostor. Or crazy.

Ignoring the president’s insight on alien eavesdropping, Mitch called Seph.

-Mitch? Where the hell are you?

-Seph, was there a President Tatarko?

-What?

-I found a president but his name is Tatarko. I don’t remember learning about him.

-Mitch, think about it.

-Think about what?

-What does he look like?

Mitch looked at the man from his tennis shoes to his hockey kneepads to his T-shirt promoting the 1996 Olympics.

-Well, he’s wearing a fancy black jacket.

-There was no President Tatarko.

-What if he’s a president from the future?

-Mitch, please. That would be ridiculous.

-I suppose you’re right.

-Where are you?

Mitch closed his cell phone before hearing Seph’s last question and put it back in his pocket. He then told President Tatarko that Seph doesn’t believe he’s a president. President Tatarko took this news quietly.

-I’m sorry Mr. President.

-It’s okay. It’s okay.

-Do you know any presidents?

-Of course I do. But it’s top secret information. Top secret.

-What’s top secret information?

-That this jacket came from another president. We made a top secret deal.

-Where is he?

-Over there. That’s him. He’s over there. That’s him.

Mitch looked over in the corner. A man with a big nose and crushed in face sat on the ground with his back to the wall. He was wearing a black vest that would have matched competently with President Tatarko’s jacket. Mitch then noticed this man in the corner was holding something wrapped in a T-shirt. Mitch approached this new crazy man who had been illiterate well into adulthood.

-Get away from me.

-My name is Mitch. What’s your name?

-Andrew.

Andrew, like Tatarko, said he was a president but, unlike Tatarko, claimed to be the president. He gave Mitch a little bit of his life story, though a lot of it dealt with him being confused over the last couple of days. He also told Mitch that Tatarko was just some lunatic. Andrew, though, smelled like whiskey. And he was missing a shoe. Mitch felt another inclination of suspicion and redialed Seph.

-Mitch, where the hell are you?

-The homeless shelter. And I might have found another president.

-A president or another crazy guy?

-No. I mean, maybe. Maybe both.

-We’re with Snow and Todd and will be there as soon as possible.

-But Seph, I need to know.

-Know what?

-Was Andrew Johnson one of America’s presidents?

-Yes.

Chapter Twenty: He’s Just Not Wanted

-I wonder if the presidents are going to be freaked out by modern technology, said Emmit.

-Yeah, we should take them to a 3-D movie, joked Seph.

-3-D is in the past. Now 4-D movies are the future, said Mitch.

-A 4-D movie would break the realm of time. Ends as soon as it begins.

-What?

Seph explained that a 4-D movie would be an entire three-hour story compressed into a single instant. And you’d still feel all the emotions. This confused Mitch, who originated the concept.

-You’d feel sad or happy and not know why?

-Yeah.

-And have a sore ass from sitting?

-I guess so, but it wouldn’t take so long.

-Kind of cuts down on make-out time, doesn’t it?

-Mitch, you’re an idiot.

-A 4-D idiot?

-Yes.

-Finally, the train station, said Emmit.

The three guys parked Seph’s car and walked up to the train station entrance, unsure of who they were looking for. But before long, Emmit stopped the guys and pointed to a large man with a bushy white beard on a nearby bench alternating his attention between the train schedule and a map. This man was maybe in his upper sixties and kind of looked like Santa Clause had St. Nick sold life insurance instead of giving away children’s presents.

Seph wasn’t convinced though. Not until he saw the man pull out a pocket watch. Had the man used anything but a cell phone to check the time, Seph would have been convinced; a pocket watch was overkill. Now he didn’t expect the pocket watch to work--being antique technology, or even a display prop--but apparently that’s just how time traveling worked this time.

-Are you the president of the United States?

-You are the first person to approach me and not ask for spare change--whatever that means.

-Not real surprised. I can help you though. What is your name?

-President Benjamin Harrison.

-Of course.

Harrison was appropriately suspicious of these young fellows who claimed ability to help him. The last time he took people’s help he ended up president of the United States. But when Harrison came into power, he found that the party managers had taken it all to themselves. He couldn’t name his own cabinet because they had sold out every place to pay for “election expenses”.

However, Harrison was pretty easy to convince he was in the future. There was enough electricity in the train station and surrounding stores that he had picked up on that rather quickly. He was also relieved that he didn’t have to personally turn on any electric lights, as he knew they were known to cause incredible shocks and even death. Harrison’s first question about the future though caught everybody off guard. Has polio been cured?

-No, said Mitch, we still have plenty of polio shirts.

-Are you talking about polo shirts, Mitch?

-What?

-Yes, polio has been cured, Seph explained. Polo shirts are popular.

-Polo is a disease?

-Yes.

-No. It’s not. Mitch, please, just go over there.

Mitch, frustrated that he couldn’t articulate what he was thinking, walked away from the train station and across the street. But even Mitch didn’t know why he got confused so often so stopped worrying about it. Fortunately people on the other side of road would understand Mitch; he was going to the homeless shelter.

When Mitch had left, Harrison asked Emmit how they knew he would be at the train station. Emmit then had to admit they didn’t know Harrison specifically would be at the train station. They didn’t know who was going to be anywhere. Why? Because they didn’t really know much about any of the missing presidents. People in modern day America had forty some presidents to keep track of--that was simply too many. Also there are a lot of senators and stuff.

-So there’s no reason for me to go to Washington, D.C.?

-No, not really. Most people won’t believe you.

-Or think you are an actor.

-And if they did believe you, they would be considered crazy themselves.

-Do you boys think you’re crazy?

-A little bit, but we’re not dangerous.

-Is the future a better place than my own time?

-Probably.

-So there’s really no reason to go back to my time; the world will do just fine.

Seph and Emmit looked at each other; unsure of what Harrison meant. They didn’t know he was arguably the least popular man ever elected president. Never the first choice for anybody and just one spot above the last choice for enough: he won the presidential election without the majority of votes, or even the most votes. Sometimes that’s how the system had to work though. Or at least that’s what Harrison had told himself every night for the last year.

The situation seemed unusually cruel to Harrison. Two young men from the future were telling him he was unwanted and had to go back to a time they knew he was unwanted in. He was a man without a time. He decided to appeal to the lads’ emotions before being arrested, or whatever it is they planned on doing to him. But before he could say anything, Seph was psychologically driven away by a phone ring. Why would Lily be calling?

From across town and on Lily’s phone, Blair told Seph that the girls had James Polk but weren’t heading to the museum. Seph, too distracted to offer better advice, told Blair about his own current situation. Harrison was too unmotivated to do anything.

Meanwhile Emmit followed Harrison as the round man walked up and down the mostly silent train station terminal. Emmit knew who was calling Seph. Perhaps because he knew Harrison was short-lived for this world, Emmit decided to confide in him. Harrison, always seeing himself as a confidant, allowed Emmit to talk uninterrupted.

Harrison may have felt rejected by millions of Americans, but so did Emmit. Millions of Americans stopped caring about Emmit and his friends for reasons the old man couldn’t understand in over a hundred years. But more painfully, one American had stopped caring about Emmit. Harrison asked who this American was, but Emmit wasn’t willing to go that far. Instead he elaborated that she was waiting on Seph or himself to sent Harrison back to his own time.

At this, Harrison realized what Emmit was asking and agreed. He would go back to his own time, give up all the wonders and terrors to be discovered in this new world so that Emmit could maybe, just maybe, win back the affection of the girl he cared so much about. Maybe Harrison wouldn’t become popular in the future for his limited 21st century existence, or in his own time for the brief absence, but at least one American would know, would feel, that President Benjamin Harrison made a positive difference in his life--or at least tried to.

Seph got off the phone and was startled to discover that Harrison no longer wanted to do nothing or sneak aboard the next train heading for Washington, D.C. but rather wanted to be sent back to his own time. Harrison seemed so logical in Seph’s eyes that he hoped all of the remaining presidents would be this easy to convince.

The three of them got into Seph’s car, with Harrison incessantly marveling at the contraption. Seph suspected that Tyler hadn’t cared so much for cars because the concept was so beyond him; whereas Harrison had a vague idea of horse-less carriages and thus understood enough to question everything possible. This would result in a very long car ride back to the museum. Despite, or possibly because of, the annoying questions and observations, neither Seph nor Emmit remembered they had originally traveled with Mitch.

Mitch was left at the homeless shelter but was not alone. And had Mitch been a former president, he still wouldn’t have been alone.

Chapter Nineteen: Antebellum

Since there was little danger of the group being picked off by a serial killer, zombies, velociraptors or the like, they decided to split up. Knowing that Presidents Arthur and Tyler had wanted to go to Washington, D.C., the guys would go to the nearest train station. Lily pointed out that Arthur had been interested in modern events so the girls should go to the newspaper factory, or whatever. Blair elaborated on the plan a little bit and suggested the public library was closer, so maybe they should check that instead.

The city library was one of those libraries that had remained unchanged in the last couple of decades. Like the bridge, a couple streets, and the city itself, the library was named after the town founder: Jonathan Mainville. A building with so much history and dignity was likely easy to spot for outsiders, thought Blair when she and Lily arrived. There it is. Right in between a tattoo parlor and a sports bar. Also there was a sports bar across the street.

Lily and Blair walked into the entrance and looked in opposite directions. Their gazes went upwards to the three visible levels and around 180 degrees; so many books, so few people. Blair suggested they split up, if one of them sees a suspicious guy, call the other.

Blair would walk all the way to the periodicals before she remembered she didn’t have a phone. Dammit. And just like that, Blair felt more alone in the world than she ever had since she quit writing poetry in high school. She wasn’t necessarily afraid, just unconnected. Not having a phone had been liberating over the last couple of days, but now the vacation was over. Blair turned around and went back to the entryway. When she couldn’t see Lily, Blair figured out they should have formed a plan. Aside from not being able to find each other, they could end up checking the same places twice. Okay, thought Blair, I went to that side so Lily must have just gone to the other side. That was the only direction that made sense.

Unfortunately Lily had gone up to the second floor. As Blair had stayed on the first floor, it only made sense to go up to the next floor, thought Lily. Blair didn’t have a cell phone, but apparently she didn’t care. Being alone gave Lily time to think about other things. I wonder what Mitch and them are doing right now. I could call them, see if they found any presidents. Maybe the other presidents are all together. Some of them are probably friends. They might even be like Blair and me, she thought. Except they’d be guys. And old. And dead. Well, kind of. Lily knew that splitting up in the library was more efficient but had kind of hoped Blair and her could have done this search together. Lily also doubted these books were in any real order. Wait. Wait. Wait.

Lily saw an old guy kind of dressed like John Tyler had been. Except this guy reading a book on the ground had thin, mangy hair down to his ears. Not willing to be so crazy as to ask strangers if they’ve ever been President of the United States, Lily went back the way she came to find Blair. Maybe ten minutes later, Blair and Lily approached the man.

His name was James Polk and he was reading about the Mexican-American War. Just days ago he had received word that Mexico refused to meet the American diplomat. Was this grounds for war? Probably not, but the issue weighed heavily on his mind. That was probably why he was dreaming right now. A surprisingly real dream that he couldn’t wake up from. The book open in front of him, like the dozen other books on the ground surrounding him, claimed Mexican soldiers would cross the Rio Grande days later and kill American troops on American soil. Polk wasn’t a mystic man so wasn’t ready to take advice from a dream, but also didn’t want to turn away a sign. Things got a little bit more confusing for him when two young ladies approached him and asked a question he had never been asked before. Yes, yes he was the President of the United States of America.

In Polk’s mind, Blair and Lily were dressed liked a boy and hooker, respectively. But Polk also knew they couldn’t help it. They were just characters in his dream so he didn’t scold them. Blair and Lily explained the situation to Polk but apparently couldn’t get him to understand the urgency. They didn’t know who was missing or where the possibly missing people possibly were. Lily mentioned they already sent back John Tyler, which made Polk laugh. John Tyler?

-Yeah. Was he from your time?

-Indeed he was. But how can I know you’re truthful?

-How can we prove it?

-What was he like?

-Easily the most cantankerous man I’ve ever met.

-Aw, so you have met him.

Lily added, yeah, and he was kind of a jerk. Figuring they had proven themselves as president caretakers, Lily thought about how to be as inspirational as Seph. She got real animated real fast.

-Come on, come on! We have to go! Or the universe will explode!

-Why, asked Polk.

-Because you traveled in time! We only have a few minutes!

-Why?

-Tyler and Arthur started running.

-Why?

-Because--the universe…it’ll explode.

-That doesn’t seem likely.

Polk walked away from the girls, hoping they’d let him think in peace. This was just like the Van Buren problem in ’44. Play two moves ahead. Think. Sure I’m not dreaming?

-Yeah, you are awake. Over a hundred years in the future.

-Maybe two hundred years in the future, added Lily.

-I don’t think it’s two hundred, corrected Blair.

-Do you not know what year it is, asked Polk.

-No. We just don’t know exactly when you were president.

Odd, thought Polk. I would have figured women would be allowed an education by my lifetime. Or at least the century mark. That was beside the point though. These ladies had at least a basic understanding of their world and had friends who probably knew more. But Polk knew he was the only one who could think like a very, very confused time traveler--or a slightly confused president.

-Are you missing President George Washington?

-No. Not him.

-Thomas Jefferson?

-No, I don’t think so.

-Andrew Jackson?

-Don’t know.

-Okay. Forget searching by people. Think of places.

-Wait. Are you helping us?

-Yes. The responsibility of a president doesn’t stop at the Constitution.

Blair considered calling Seph with a phone she didn’t have but then realized his answer wouldn’t matter even if she got a message to him by way of carrier pigeon. Searching the city with a former president was more exciting than searching the city without a former president. And Polk didn’t seem too crazy, though he wanted to take several of the Mexican-American War books, now convinced they were accurate windows into his, and the country’s, future. Lily stopped him, saying that they couldn’t afford all these books.

Polk was fairly convinced the books were free, but Lily assured him that nothing in the world was free. Polk dropped the books and the matter. Like Polk, Blair didn’t know if Lily was joking, lying or confused, but also didn’t feel the attention was worth the effort. Moving along discussion, Polk suggested they think in the worst case scenarios. A president unfamiliar with where (and when) he was would almost certainly act like a lunatic. An undignified idiot.

-Mr. President, did you even have idiots in your time?

-You mean, did we mock people?

-Yeah.

Polk thought about the 1844 campaign.

-No, we didn’t call our opponents idiots. But we did say they were from Kentucky.

Blair smiled. Presidents were too sane to be crazy. But they could be jerks. She knew where they were going next.

Chapter Eighteen: Is the Universe Destroyed?

Snow dropped Todd to the ground, allowing Todd to get back on his feet and point his cardboard tube at John Tyler and Chester Arthur.

-I have a lot of questions for you, Snow, said Seph.

With a bursting energy wave shooting from the cardboard staff, Todd de-animated both presidents back into their original, wax, life-size, forms. Mitch poked Arthur in the eye just to be sure. Yep. They’re statues.

-Okay, continued Seph with a sigh. I have a few less questions now.

-Great, screamed Emmit in a panic. That crazy guy wearing a bathrobe brought the presidents to life and he can send them back! We need to find the other presidents!

-Who are you, asked Seph to Todd.

-Now! Screamed Emmit. The universe is going to explode!

-Yeah Seph, we can ask questions later!

-Where the hell are the others?

-How much time do we have left?

-Seph!

-Everybody shut up! I made all that up so that we could get those presidents here faster.

-WHAT!?!

Blair and Emmit jumped back started swinging their fists in the air in a mutual blind fury of terror and full-hearted attempt to punch away their adrenaline. Lily walked over to a bench and sat down to catch her breath. Mitch laughed.

Todd the Wizard introduced himself and admitted he was very much responsible for bringing the presidents back to life. Snow had figured out this much herself moments earlier when she went outside to smoke her first cigarette since quitting two days ago and overheard Todd bragging to other bums about how he got revenge on the museum employees. Snow had seen Todd before but this was the first time was he wasn’t waving his staff or doodle at people. She finished her cigarette, grabbed the wizard and pulled him inside the museum to learn more. This is when the others showed up.

At hearing Todd’s confession, everybody turned to Mitch and Seph, who defended they had done nothing; which was exactly what the accusation was. Todd had been in trouble last week and Mitch and Seph had done nothing. Mitch pled ignorance and Seph said he didn’t think Todd really needed help, or at least not the help Seph could offer. But even the boys realized these were weak points.

The two guys were told they don’t notice or care about people they don’t know--a harshly accurate observation. Mitch felt alone but Seph didn’t and asked if they could go in a back room and not have to hold this conversation with everybody else around. Todd denied them the privilege of privacy.

Lily thought about the dunce hats she heard public schools used to humiliate students. She was also aware of their similarly to hats worn by the KKK but didn’t know if those hats were related. But she did realize Seph couldn’t be punished more than being thrown into an unwanted spotlight. Conversely, she thought, Mitch probably wouldn’t have cared, or doesn’t care now. Perhaps he was even too smart to know what a dunce hat was. Maybe.

Emmit was still reeling from the fear of the universe collapsing moments earlier. He was happy that this didn’t seem to be a fear anymore, but was annoyed that Seph hadn’t told him the truth earlier. Yes, the presidents were tricked, but so was everybody else, including Emmit. He wondered about how long Seph would have kept up the lie had something gone wrong, if people had gotten lost or broke a foot. Seph might have lied for the greater good, but what if the greater good was worse? Emmit didn’t like the idea that the world could move too fast for him to make a decision.

Snow poked Todd in the chest and demanded more answers, to which Todd made a book on wizardry history rules appear. But Snow wasn’t going to read some book. Her ass was on the line because the museum could only be closed a couple of days before people would start asking questions--questions she didn’t want to answer with, “A wizard did it.” So Todd made a DVD documentary appear that would explain the wizard rules on history.

Oh no, countered Blair. Nobody was going to watch a stupid educational film about wizards or history.

-Are you really a wizard, asked Mitch.

-Yes.

-So you could make a hundred dollars appear?

-Yes.

-So why do you have duct tape wrapped around your boots?

-Yes, most wizards become billionaires; that is, most billionaires are wizards, but not me.

-Obviously. So why?

-I just keep it real, son.

Lily then asked Todd if there was anything he wanted. He was a wizard, but wizards are people, too. Or at least close enough to people. Lily didn’t really know the rules on wizards. Yes, Todd confirmed, wizards are people. And there was something he wanted. He wanted friends. And a sandwich. He made a sandwich appear then, but said he couldn’t do the same for friends. Wrong, corrected Lily. It just takes time to see them. Todd smiled and Lily would have hugged him but Todd the Wizard still smelled like raccoon pee.

Only lightly touched by the sentiments, Seph decided to move things along. True or false, you made all twelve presidents come back to life: True. You, Todd the Wizard, know where they all are: False. The presidents are human and can die: True. If they die in our time, they die in their time: True. You can send them back to their right time right now: False. You have to be within eyesight of them: True. Anybody can use your staff to send them back in time: False. This is all bad news, thought Seph. True.

Just then, Mitch had a moment of clarity. Well, he said, lets go get a drink.

-What?

-What-what? Let’s get a drink. This is only a problem for the museum.

Dammit Mitch, muttered Snow, who then offered the jobs back to the two guys less than an hour after firing them. Todd asked for a job, too, but Snow said no. However, Todd needed to stay close to her so he could send the presidents back in time as timely as possible. If they came back to work for the museum, Seph and Mitch would be sent off to find the damn presidents and bring them back ASAP.

The half-brothers looked at each other. For the first time in either of their lives, a sense of duty entered their minds--however each still very much needed the other. They accepted the jobs, with pay raises. Stupid presidents better get found quickly, reiterated Snow.

Blair knew this was Seph and Mitch’s responsibility. Their mess. She also knew they knew this and they couldn’t ask for help. That’s why she volunteered to help them. Seph was weary and reminded Blair that searching for several missing people in a big city could be dangerous work. Completely understanding, Blair then also volunteered Lily and Emmit to help.

The five friends headed to the exit, each forming a plan, when Mitch stopped and turned back to Todd the Wizard. Mitch admitted he had never personally time traveled but had seen a number of movies on the matter. Are we in any danger of changing history, he asked. Like, where everybody in the future--I mean the present--starts wearing underpants on the outside because we accidentally kill a president?

-Son, said the thousand-year old Todd, the only history you know is the history you create.

Damn wizards.

Chapter Seventeen: Two Presidents

Seph called back Mitch and suggested everybody take John Tyler and Chester A. Arthur back to the museum. Both presidents were told they had traveled into the future and needed to go back to the museum. At first, Arthur was suspicious of Mitch, Emmit and Lily. He didn’t know who they were or why he should be listening to them. Arthur quizzed them on the news articles he had been reading for some time but grew frustrated when they couldn’t recall information about their own time period that even he knew. They didn’t know who had been nominated to be the new Secretary of Transportation. They didn’t know who the Prime Minister of France was. No, Arthur figured he’d have to find some other people to help him get back to his own time. Maybe some Stalwarts would help him.

Meanwhile, less than a mile away, Seph and Blair explained to Tyler that he needed to come with them to go back to the museum and prove he hadn’t been stolen. But if Arthur was difficult to push, Tyler was a goddamn glacier. Tyler accused Seph and Blair of being in league with Henry Clay—a name that meant nothing to them but a lot to Tyler. Apparently Tyler was having enough problems uniting the country under his leadership that he didn’t need to be a part of this crazy time-traveling prisoner business. The country could be up in flames back in the 1840s. Already pockets of the population were predicted the end of times, and now President Tyler knew he was missing. All the more reason to come with us, Blair argued. But Tyler had rage coming out of his ears and couldn’t hear Blair. And if he even did get back, how was anybody ever going to take him seriously? Tyler’s American society was on the verge of collapsing. His country now has no president. They don’t even have a vice-president. Everything was completely, inarguably and irrevocably fucked.

The more Arthur thought about his problem though, the less severe the problem seemed. Here he was, in the future; he could do anything. As Arthur considered the uncountable possibilities, Mitch got a call from Seph again. Arthur realized he could meet the president! Who cares if she was a woman, he had to meet the president! Which way to the Executive Mansion?

-What? No, said Lily. You stay here!

-I cordially disagree.

-Don’t leave!

-G’bye.

-Guys, they’re having trouble with John Tyler.

-John Tyler?

President John Tyler? Arthur couldn’t believe it. Tyler had died an old man when Arthur was still fighting in the Civil War. Okay, said Arthur. I don’t care who of you are Stalwarts and who aren’t, let’s go!

-Who’s stalling warts?

Arthur asked for the location of President Tyler and immediately started walking with a contagious sense of excitement. Emmit, Mitch and Lily followed—partially inspired by the man’s leadership, partially afraid that they couldn’t stop him physically. The man who stood at an easy 6’ 2” walked to Big Burger Place like a kid in the school hallway, speed walking to recess. Can’t run, that wasn’t allowed, but had to get there fast.

Mere minutes later.

-Sweet Jefferson’s ghost, it really is President John Tyler.

-Who in God’s name are you people?

-I’m President Chester A. Arthur, from the year 188—

-I don’t care.

Tyler was in the future; that much he was beginning to accept. Now maybe, he thought, there is a way to get back at the bastards in his own time. He had the biggest political advantage of all time: time itself. Every political battle, every war, could be won with unprecedented ease. But then Arthur interrupted Tyler’s planning.

-Mister President, you were a huge influence. You set the precedent for succession in the event of the president’s death. Because of you, vice-presidents become the president. You and I went through the same thing!

-The next thing you’re going through is that wall if you—

Tyler made it only that far through his own threat before the restaurant manager had everybody kicked out by the three largest employees and a half-hearted threat of “calling the cops.” In the parking lot, the friends were still confused, Tyler was offended by the commotion and Arthur felt burned by a man he respected. Tyler walked away from the group, unknowingly closer to the restaurant’s dumpster.

-It smells like rotten feta cheese out here, remarked Emmit.

-I think it’s vomit, said Mitch.

-It is vomit. They don’t sell feta cheese here, said Seph.

-Thanks guys, said Blair.

A strong whiff of the trash got President Tyler’s attention and turned him back towards the group. President Arthur began to ask Tyler what he last remember but was cut off.

-Let me figure out my own situation, suggested Tyler, and just go back to your own time and wife.

-I can’t. Nell died.

Tyler dropped his head, ashamed. Things were too out of hand. There was no political advantage here. Seph and Blair looked at each other and cringed. Awkward. Emmit tired to make eye contact with Blair but she never noticed him.

-I’m sorry.

-It’s okay, Mr. President.

-We have been through the same thing.

-I’m sorry president guys, said Emmit, but you’re a hundred years in the future. Your wives would be dead anyway. Everybody from back then is dead.

-Even the world’s oldest man nowadays would have been like only a baby, added Mitch.

Everybody thought about this, or a related matter, for a moment. Everyone had died but the world survived, maybe even improved. Tyler then asked Seph if he could visit his wife’s gravesite, if the future still had cemeteries. Arthur wanted to do likewise. What’s the best way to get to Albany, if the future still had Albany. Seph had been planning something since Arthur first showed up at the burger place but still didn’t have a plan until he started speaking.

-I’m sorry Mr. Presidents, but…the universe, the entire universe is in danger. If we don’t get you back to the museum in twenty minutes everything will be destroyed and you’ll never get back!

-Holy shit, said Mitch.

-Good God Man! Why didn’t you say this earlier, demanded Tyler.

-It doesn’t matter! Let’s go!

So all seven people started running to the museum in a mad panic. Mitch and Lily urged on Chester Arthur, who had a harder time running than his time-traveling counterpart of almost the same age. Seph kept yelling at everybody that they needed to run faster and they kept yelling at him that they were running as fast as possible. We know! Some black magic or higher power will destroy the universe! Motorists and bystanders watched the unusual race as it passed by. Emmit ran faster than anybody and got to the front steps first but didn’t know what to do after that. He ended up just clapping and yelling at the entrance. He also opened the front door to let everybody in when they finally caught up.

Everybody ran into the museum and came to a sudden stop in the entryway. There, Snow, the museum curator, stood over a collapsed and cowering Todd the Wizard. Snow was holding up Todd by the lapels of his mangy jacket with a surprising strength. Uselessly trying to shield himself moments earlier, Todd joined Snow in turning his head toward the group of friends and presidents who all interrupted his own bafflement and beating.

-Okay, said Snow. I can explain this.

-But, said Todd the Wizard. I can explain it better!

Chapter Sixteen: Heaven and New Jersey

-What about me?

-Yes Mitch, you too. You’re both fired.

Seph stormed out of the museum and Blair went after him. Mitch went into the back room to get his roughed up traveler’s bag. Emmit and Lily walked outside to wait for him. Emmit saw Blair and Seph walking down the sidewalk and started to follow them but was forcibly stopped by Lily. We should stay with Mitch, she told him.

Emmit watched them go. He decided he wanted them to go. Seph was pissed, that was for sure. Blair would also be angry. They just never seemed like a couple. Were they ever happy together? They were probably going to break up. Emmit didn’t want to seem hopeful, or pessimistic, he was just speculating. And like anyone who speculates, he thought he was pretty good at it.

-I wouldn’t worry about them, said Lily.

-What do you mean?

-What? Do you want them to break up?

-No. But.

Lily stopped watching Blair and Seph walk farther away and turned to Emmit for the first time. She saw someone who was confused and probably should only play poker online. Emmit was hurt by Seph and Blair. Seph and Emmit were good friends, now Seph was with Blair. Lily could see that Emmit missed his friend.

-Are you jealous, Emmit?

-About what?

-It’s okay.

-Am I jealous?

-Yeah.

-Fine. I guess so. Nobody knows though.

-I know.

-Yeah.

Emmit felt exposed. Mitch knew Emmit didn’t like him. Blair knew Emmit bought Bogart because of her. This meant that Seph would also know. Now Lily knew Emmit still liked Blair, his ex-girlfriend, her friend and his best friend’s girlfriend. One person, four reasons to like her. Emmit found pocket-sized solace in that people, or at least Lily, wouldn’t think he romantically liked Lily after their pointlessly awkward re-introduction. But she knew more truth now. And because everybody is a friend of one another, they’ll all talk and everybody will know everything about Emmit. However, this anxiety was misplaced.

In reality, nobody talked about anything to anybody because nobody knew how little or how much anybody else knew. Lily incorrectly thought Emmit was jealous of Blair for stealing away Seph. Everybody who saw the re-introduction of Emmit-Lily had forgotten about it long ago, except for Emmit. Continuing, Blair didn’t know about the Bogart thing but rather thought Emmit goes around telling people that she and Emmit are still together. But because Blair didn’t want to breakup her boyfriend’s shaky friendship, she didn’t tell Seph. And Mitch not only hadn’t picked up that Emmit didn’t like him, but considered the two of them good friends.

Related to all that, Lily had actually been talking to Emmit about her own romantic frustrations but Emmit snapped back into the moment far too late to know what she was talking about. He tried to catch up without revealing how little he knew, once again. He managed to figure out she liked some guy but doesn’t like that she likes him because she’s a girl who likes tangled emotions, or something like that.

Unfortunately Emmit’s hidden embarrassment was bested when Lily turned around and saw Mitch standing behind her, watching something nobody else saw. Lily then noticed Mitch had an iPod ear piece in one ear, but she didn’t hear any music coming from his headphones. Did he hear her? Should she ask? Does he know now? Does Emmit think Mitch knows that Lily might like him? If everybody is almost thirty and still acting like teenagers, thought Lily, is it reasonable to think someday we’ll all be fifty and still be confused who likes who? This is all stupid. We should just all be able to talk to each other.

-Uh, Mitch.

-Yeah, Lily?

-You--

-Yeah?

-You should probably hide your valuables until we get out of this area.

-Okay, but I don’t see anybody scary.

-They don’t need to look scary—

-Hey! That guy has muttonchops!

Mitch pointed across the street and down a sidewalk alley in between the two sandwich places. A portly man in a dirty suit was reading a newspaper while eating a plain foot-long loaf of bread. Mitch couldn’t take his eyes off the dignified man in his early fifties. That man looked familiar. Muttonchops.

Mitch knew that muttonchops are just a specific kind of sideburn wherein the facial hair extends from the ear down the cheek but does not connect at the chin. Friendly Muttonchops are when the facial hair connects above the upper lip. Mitch didn’t know that this is actually the facial hair look once sported by General Ambrose Burnside--origin of the term “sideburn.” However Mitch had seen a Friendly Muttonchop somewhere else before; it was a rarity. One of the president statues. But that was impossible. Or was it so crazy that it was possible?

Emmit and Lily followed Mitch as he approached the man. Their questions to Mitch were halted by the stranger’s question: Who are you people?

-I’m Mitch. That’s Emmit and that’s Lily.

-Are we all dead?

-No, we’re all alive.

-Please don’t kill us, added Lily.

-For a while I thought I was dead, said Muttonchops. But I couldn’t find Nell anywhere. Then I got hungry and realized that I couldn’t be in Heaven if I was hungry. So then I feared I was with the damned but this place doesn’t look like New Jersey.

So he’s from New York, concluded Emmit correctly.

-My name is Chester A. Arthur.

-Just a second.

Mitch pulled Emmit and Lily away from Arthur and held a three-person conference. Mitch thought he was one of the missing presidents. Lily agreed but Emmit didn’t. Most statues couldn’t talk, and even the ones that could certainly didn’t get hungry. Besides, was Chester Arthur even a real president? He might be a crazy person.

-Are you a president, they asked the man.

-Yes, of the United States of America.

-Um. Can you prove it, asked Mitch.

-How?

-What is something only a president would know?

-If there is such a thing, I probably shouldn’t tell you, should I?

Mitch looked at Lily and Emmit for help, but both were too smart to fully grasp what was going on. Mitch continued the spontaneous and ill-conceived interrogation.

-Who won the Civil War?

-Why the Union, of course. Are you mad?

-I’m asking the questions here.

-So you are mad?

-No, but maybe going crazy.

-What?

-Ask him another question, Mitch.

The four people struggled to move past this point for sometime until Mitch gave up and said he’d call Seph and admit he didn’t study that president book thing Snow gave them.

-So? It doesn’t matter any more, said Seph on the other line.

-Well, actually, it might.

-What are you talking about?

-Was there a President Chester A. Arthur?

Mitch listened into the phone, smiled at everybody and relayed the confirmation. Emmit found himself frustrated that Mitch was acting as mediator between the two groups. Everything would just be easier, thought Emmit, if I was talking to Seph. Emmit stayed silent.

-Seph. I think we found him.

-You found Chester Arthur?

-Yeah, here he is.

Mitch put the cell phone up to Arthur’s muttonchops. Arthur withdrew at first but Mitch told him to talk into the phone. Arthur was confused by Mitch but even more confused when he heard a voice through the cell phone. Arthur had heard of Alexander Bell’s demonstrations, but this was completely different. This was quite simply magic. The voice asked for Mitch and he put the phone back to his own ear. Seph?

-Mitch?

-Yeah.

-What’s going on?

-Did that sound like him?

-Sound like who?

-Chester A. Arthur!

There was a silence on the other end. Mitch hoped Seph didn’t think anybody was crazy. This was all kind of weird for everybody. Lily held her own hand, afraid to take anyone else’s.

-Mitch. I’m going to have to call you back.

-Wait!

Mitch put away the phone with a little disappointment. The three friends talked about going back to the museum or trying to find Seph and Blair. But then Arthur started asking questions about the news he had been reading from future newspapers he found--though by “future” he meant “old.” He asked questions about the world the friends were living in. He asked about his purpose and duty. He kept asking questions. Questions that the friends weren’t qualified to answer. Questions that would make it hard to prove to Arthur that America didn’t need him again.

Chapter Fifteen: The Thieves are History

After ten minutes of making sure the presidents were indeed missing from their displays, Mitch started to tell Snow the news. While Mitch tried explaining the situation in his usual convoluted way, Blair told Seph, Seph checked the displays himself and, reaching the same conclusion, told Snow before Mitch had finished his version of what happened. Not that she didn’t believe Seph and Mitch, Snow nevertheless left her office and went over to the displays herself and saw what everybody else had. All 12 presidents were missing.

Snow had noticed the doors were unlocked when she opened the museum earlier that day but had chalked it up to her own indifference from the night before. Nothing else was missing from the museum. Nothing was even damaged. No signs of forced entry. Why would somebody steal the presidents? They were worthless to anybody but the museum. Ransom? There was no ransom note. Inside job? No. Impossible. No. Wait. No. No, no, no, no.

Snow approached the group of friends standing around in the lobby. Mitch, Seph: You’re fired.

-What?

-I don’t care that you guys don’t care about history. I don’t care if you’re high, jerks or lazy. I don’t care if you’re five minutes late to work, leave five minutes early or fight each other with broomsticks in the break room. And I don’t care if you drive away every museum patron; perhaps knowing that we can just stay afloat thanks to state funding or perhaps in some inane attempt to stave off boredom for yet another wasteful ten years of life. But I do care, I care very much, that I can’t trust you. And since you two are the only guys who could have stolen in the presidents, baffling the mind that you’re even that competent, you are both out of here right after you tell me where they are.

Stunned. Afraid. Disappointed. Embarrassed.

-What?

-Tell me where the presidents are.

-We don’t know.

-You’re fired.

-What about me?

-Yes Mitch, you too. You’re both fired.

Seph stormed out of the museum and Blair went after him. The perfect weather outside insulted Seph even more as he walked down the sidewalk to no place in particular. Blair struggled to keep up, but managed it. Seph didn’t do anything with the damn presidents. He knew that. Blair knew that.

-I knew this would happen, vented Seph.

-Knew what would happen?

-Something bad. Something stupid.

-Something good could still happen.

-No. That chapter of my life is done.

-Come on. Let’s go somewhere.

Blair looked around for a suitable “somewhere” within walking distance. There were two sandwich places back by the museum. But down the road further there was a Big Burger Place. Yeah, fine. Whatever. Big Burger Place. Seph didn’t care, or at least didn’t say anything when they were sitting in the fast food diner just drinking and splitting an order of fries. The place smelled like ambivalent grease. It was just after the lunch rush and, aside from Seph and Blair, only two families with obnoxious kids remained. Or perhaps the families didn’t have obnoxious kids but rather just had kids. Seph and Blair couldn’t agree.

They didn’t talk about the friends left behind at the museum. They didn’t talk about the museum at all. YouTube is the fast food of entertainment, noted Blair. It’s cheap, popular, large amounts aren’t good for you and it’s rarely filling. Blair was glad she made the associations before Seph. Had Seph said the same thing, Blair might have been insulted--but now she had taken the air out of the fame balloon herself.

Seph looked over Blair’s shoulder and saw a thin man walk into the restaurant wearing a suit perhaps more fitting for an old time-y preacher at a funeral. Wearing an odd black three-piece, the man was haggard and clearly on drugs or clearly drunk. He was clearly something. Seph considered he was a rich man in his normal clothes after some crazy, life affirming, adventure. The man went to the counter and asked for some water.

-Do you think we lost out on an opportunity, asked Seph.

An opportunity? Could have Blair and Seph made more of their former fame than they did? Here they were, in a regular restaurant and not one person recognized them. Days ago they might have been greeted like rock stars or the pope. They could have made spin-offs. Talk show appearances. Their own talk shows. T-shirts. They would have been experts. Could have given high-priced lectures on the viability of viral entertainment. Now at least two of the five friends couldn’t hold down regular day jobs and Lily didn’t need a job so long as she lived with her parents.

Seph, while talking with Blair, noticed the man in black sat in a far corner behind Blair. Old Black Suit never looked at anybody. The man put his head between his hands and starred at his plastic cup of water. Seph normally wouldn’t notice strange people, but this thin, old man kind of looked like Grand Moff Tarkin from Star Wars: Episode IV. Since Blair had clarified before that she, unconscionably, didn’t like Star Wars, Seph didn’t say anything about the man.

What is the legacy of a sensation forgotten? There were thousands of bloggers who supported and criticized the famed video. The news covered it. Radio DJs and one senator talked about it. It was impossible to measure the popularity against the criticism. If the group had not made the short video, what would have the world been talking about? When college students learn about the history of the Internet in fifty years, will they talk about “Fire, Shasta and a Dog Sneeze”? Will they talk about how it changed the world? What it said about the world? Maybe it’ll only serve as a marker of cultural irrelevance.

Seph’s cell phone started ringing. It was Mitch. Much later than Seph expected to be called. Hey Mitch, Seph greeted, so that Blair wouldn’t have to wonder.

-Seph, I didn’t study that president book thing Snow gave us.

-So? It doesn’t matter any more.

-Well, actually, it might.

-What are you talking about?

-Was there a President Chester A. Arthur?

-Yeah.

-He said ‘yeah.’

-Mitch, what’s up?

-Seph. I think we found him.

-You found Chester Arthur?

-Yeah, here he is.

-Where is here?

The phone then took a confusing turn as someone on Mitch’s ending started talking into the phone. It sounded like an older guy but Seph had never heard the voice before. Another homeless man? Or adventurous, smelly rich man? Seph’s confusion drove Blair to move from across the table to next to him. They both listened in the phone. Hello? Mitch? Mitch?

-What is going on, said a voice on the other end.

-I don’t know, responded Seph.

-I heard a voice!

-Yeah, that’s my voice.

-This is impossible.

-Hello? Where is Mitch?

-Who is Mitch?

-Put Mitch on the phone!

-The phone?

-Give the phone back!

-Seph?

-Mitch?

-Yeah.

-What’s going on?

-Did that sound like him?

-Sound like who?

-Chester A. Arthur!

Seph’s eyes became unfocused as his mind sank deep into his head. Impossible.

-Mitch, I’m going to have to call you back.

-Wait!

Seph hung up his cell phone. Blair asked Seph what the hell was going on but Seph didn’t answer. Instead he got out of his seat and slowly walked to the odd, thin man in black who had just a water cup in the corner. Seph stayed standing in front of the man’s table. Blair stood behind Seph, watching. Seph suspected that the man was not in fact a homeless man, so much as he was an accidental refugee.

-Excuse me, started Seph softly. Do you have any idea where you are?

The man looked up at Seph, on the verge of crying. No.

-What’s your name, asked Seph.

-John.

-John, are you the President of the United States of America?

-Yes.

Chapter Fourteen: Now That’s Interesting!

It was the day after Memorial Day. It was Mitch’s first day of work since becoming one-fifth of an Internet sensation. It was Mitch’s first tour of the, somewhat limited, historically flawed, wax-heavy, President Exhibit. It was the day Mitch was going to learn by failure. The day he would mess up most. The day he didn’t need extra pressure. It was the day his friends decided to go to the museum and take the tour.

It was Lily’s idea that they all go, though Blair didn’t know “they all” included anybody besides herself until Lily pulled up to Emmit’s place and Emmit got in the backseat. Emmit and Blair both wondered if either had told Seph about the trip to the pet store two days ago, though neither half of the former couple actually did. Both had made a habit out of suspecting Seph knew everything, because it usually seemed like Seph did. Seph, of course, did not know a great number of things but just never reacted shocked when learning shocking details about people’s personal lives, giving the illusion he already knew.

Conversely, Lily didn’t know what she didn’t know but had she known she didn’t know something, she would have desperately wanted to know the unknown. Meanwhile Mitch basked in an occasionally deliberate ignorance and got high an hour ago. All in all this was a common position for the group of friends years ago and was resurrected this day. Seph greeted Emmit and the girls in the museum lobby entrance.

-Hello there. If you plan on drinking, I need to see some I.Ds.

-There’s booze at this museum, Emmit asked grateful to have come along after all.

-No, but you should bring that up to my manager.

-You’re a riot, Seph, you know that?

-Five dollars to get in; the entertainment is free.

-Here I would’ve thought the entertainment would knock off a couple of bucks, sniped Blair.

Everybody paid up and walked to the middle of the main lobby without anybody learning anything more. The floor was made of new tile though not especially nice or grand. An archway, similarly new but not grand, separated the lobby from the hallways of exhibits. An American flag dangled from the archway, as a half-hearted marker of patriotism. A vending machine was in the lobby but food wasn’t allowed inside the rest of the museum. Lily didn’t notice the machine. Emmit noticed all the candy was an absurd buck-fifty. Blair saw the vending machine was fully stocked but had a crack in the glass, undoubtedly from a vain effort to score a free Snickers candy bar.

In the lobby a large man in his late fifties also waited for the tour to begin, while looking through a pamphlet. This silver bear of a man was well groomed and wearing a hundred-dollar vest over a hundred-dollar collared shirt. Also his slacks probably cost a hundred dollars. Next to him was a female companion minus a couple of years. They talked harshly under their breath without looking directly at each other but anybody who could hear them didn’t want to, so their biting conversation remained a mystery.

Mitch walked out of the restroom behind the front desk and smiled upon seeing his friends waiting for him. Already three minutes behind schedule, Mitch jumped right into his role.

-Well hello there, everybody. Welcome to the uh, well, this museum. My nametag’s name is Mitch and I’ll be your tour guide today. This is my first day so please bear with me in case we all get lost in this building. Just joking. Now even though the exits are clearly marked, you may find yourselves getting lost…in history. Of course we won’t be stuck anywhere, out of communication with the rest of the world and dreading the inevitable discussion of when is it appropriate to start talking about unusual sources of food. You then start to wonder if eating your own foot would keep you from starving to death and the idea-

Blair coughed rather loudly, getting Mitch back on track.

-So lets get started! Our journey starts when America was but a child in the world of countries. Well, it was maybe fifty years old, but that’s still pretty new. I mean they didn’t even have radio back then. I think. Maybe one of those big tuba horn things or—

It was the middle-age man’s turn to interrupt Mitch.

-To hell with your preambles, I didn’t come here for your babbling, said the man.

-You didn’t come here for anybody, muttered the woman.

-I came here because we needed to do things in the real world.

-If we can’t afford two movie tickets anymore, I don’t want to be seen in public.

-That’s why you’re still wearing your best outfit?

-I’m tired of your quips.

-You’re tired of being amongst commoners oh great queen.

-I’m going back to Morningsworth.

-No, you’re going back to his goddamn charity.

-Wesley is my husband, and I love him!

-You love his money!

The woman stormed away from the group and out of the museum with her bickering counter-part right behind her. Mitch, Emmit, Blair, Lily and Seph, from the front desk, watched them leave in baffled silence.

-So our first president display is John Quincy Adams. Or as his friends called him…Q-Ball.

-Is that true, Mitch, asked Lily.

-Maybe.

-Stick to the truth, offered Emmit.

-Okay, well, John Q. and A. was our sixth president. He, um. Well, some historians would say he was the most sixth president we’ve ever had. Truly he was the Original Sixth Man.

-Uh, Mitch?

-Yeah?

-Where is the president?

Blair pointed behind Mitch to an empty space in the middle of the life-size, 1820s-style John Quincy Adams diorama. The life-like model was gone from the bedroom-sized, prop-filled, reenactment. Odd, thought Mitch. The president is missing. But JQA couldn’t have just grown legs and walked away. Granted he already had legs, but that doesn’t mean he could still walk away. Mitch remembered how he once saw this robot-table on TV that could fold out and walk around a room. The table would stop walking when people wanted to eat on it though.

Emmit briefly wondered to himself if this whole thing was a part of the tour, and the tour was some kind of role-playing adventure wherein patrons were supposed to find the missing pieces of history or something like that. Seemed kind of stupid. Though Mitch was acting pretty well. Unusually well.

Growing tired of watching Mitch look for clues like a detective school dropout, Blair distanced herself from the group and walked down the hallway lined with other displays of various American time periods and historical figures. The more Blair saw the more Blair became personally interested in the mystery. Whatever problems Blair thought she had with anybody minutes earlier, slowly left her consciousness.

Everything else was there, Mitch pointed out as he walked into the three-walled display himself for a different view. Papers, pens, a clock. Even JQA’s chair was still here.

-Was that his real chair, asked Lily.

-Funny story about that-

-Hey, Phil Marlowe! Blair interrupted again from down the row. All of the presidents are missing.

Chapter Thirteen: I Love You, Bogart

Across the street from Emmit’s house, three college students took alternating turns trying to start their lawnmower. Almost through the month of May, they were trying to mow the yard for the first time this year. Most weekends up to this point had been too cold and last weekend was too windy, and in fact they wouldn’t be mowing on this almost-cloudy day except they had received a rather threatening letter from the city.

Before they could get the small gas engine started, Emmit walked out his front door and saw Blair walking towards him from the street. Just Blair. Well, Blair and Emmit’s box of tools. Emmit could tell she had on a poker face, but couldn’t tell what hand she was holding. Blair gave Emmit the tools but not wanting to bother unlocking the front door again, he just continued walking to his car. Blair followed him and watched him throw the box in the back seat like dirty laundry. Actually there were some dirty clothes back there already. And a cereal box.

Emmit, not needing an invitation, told Blair he was just going out to buy Bogart a new chew toy. Apparently Bogart went and buried the old one someplace, or at least misplaced it.

Blair asked to tagalong with this canine-toy shopping. Emmit turned away from Blair to hide his surprise before turning back to her saying, of course she could. Perhaps more shocked than Emmit was Blair. She explained to him--or defended to herself--that Lily was just busy with her own life, maybe with her parents, maybe with Mitch. But Emmit disagreed with that last part; Lily doesn’t like Mitch in that way. Somewhat offended that Emmit seemingly knew more about Lily than herself, Blair resolved that communication was the key determination of friends. By the time of this internal conclusion, Blair and Emmit were in the parking lot of the animal-centric, mega-mart, Safe Pet Bet.

-Is this what famous people do with their lives, asked Emmit.

-It’s what they do today.

Inside the store, Emmit saw a giant display for a new line of dog chew toys that absorbed dog drool so that the dog would never make a mess while playing with the toy. While Emmit wouldn’t have ever thought of such an invention, he realized it made perfect sense. The drool absorbing technology also warranted the higher than average price tag. However, it was also on a “buy two, get one free” deal that would only last another week. Yeah, these three identical toys were perfect for Bogart.

But Blair disagreed. Blair was not only suspicious of an anti-drool technology, but also thought getting three of them was a tad excessive. Blair and Emmit then made the same argument to each other: in a week, everybody will have that same dog toy. Emmit said he was getting in the check out line. Bogart was his dog. Blair said she was going to go look for a new toy to get Bogart herself and left Emmit standing at the toy display, no farther than thirty feet from the entrance and the exit.

As soon as Blair was out of eyesight, Emmit realized he had made a mistake. He didn’t wallow in this realization for long though as Addison, a former coworker of his, walked into the store. She had dark eyes that weren’t so much narrow as they were sharp. She had worked in a university lab with Emmit, just plugging in nameless data for a few summer months years ago. At first, she was as friendly as any coworker is expected to be but overtime allowed Emmit to see her more natural sarcasm. Though they never worked together again, the two stayed in lukewarm communication. The kind of friendship Emmit thanked and blamed the instant-information age for creating.

Emmit had never figured out if Addison liked him or not, as she always seemed as nice to him as she was to anyone. More compounding, her sarcasm always muddied the conversations for Emmit. Today, Addison was buying a new scratch post for her cat after her new best friend forever threw up on it during her last party. Who? Oh, The Emma--who actually wants to be called Bella now. Emmit had forgotten that but didn’t really care. Addison dryly pointed out that now the world puts a premium on memorably beautiful names, you know, in case someone’s personality isn’t memorable enough. That’s why Addison claimed she was changing her name to Gertrude Hockersmith.

-Gertrude? Um, okay. That’s cool.

-Emmit, I was being sarcastic.

-Well, duh. Of course. So was I.

If a roof was ever going to collapse on Emmit, he wanted it to be right now.

-You with Blair, Addison asked rather gently.

-Yeah, she’s around here somewhere.

-Well, it’s a big store.

-The store is so big you’d swear it was just for elephant toys.

Addison politely laughed and Emmit smiled. It felt good to flirt again, though only Emmit would consider this exchange as flirting and hated himself for it.

-When did you get--Addison looked at the chew toy--a dog?

-About a year ago. Blair had said she wanted a dog but her place doesn’t allow them.

-Right. Because they’re always late with the rent.

-Yeah, no the dog doesn’t pay rent.

-How quaint.

-Any ways, he’s mine. I kind of got him because of her though.

-She has a type.

-Yeah. I don’t remember the last time she bought me a toy, though.

-Still, that’s quite a commitment.

-No kidding. But don’t tell Blair any of that. She can’t know.

-Please. Somebody is lying in a relationship? I’m calling the presses.

-We’re just friends.

-Yeah, that’s why I’m being nice.

-Oh.

Emmit took this misunderstanding to mean Addison was being purposefully nice to him because he and Blair were just friends. Mildly excited at the prospect of having a girl in his life that isn’t dating his best friend, Emmit tried to come up with a sarcastic way to ask out Addison. Unfortunately this was all too confusing for him and left him in silence just long enough for Addison to feel unusually awkward. Saying goodbye, she then walked down an aisle, leaving Emmit just a little slower than Blair had minutes ago. Emmit looked at the signs hanging high above his head, trying to get pointed in the right direction.

While Blair considered buying a cheap, rubber, squeaky, television remote control, Addison walked past the aisle and noticed her. While Addison explained her presence at the store with no less than five or six sarcastic lies, Blair got distracted thinking about how pointless it is to try to keep up with Addison. Is sarcasm smart humor? Blair internally conceded that Addison was funny in small doses. It seemed Addison’s only goal in life was to make herself laugh—a rare occurrence indeed. It was also frustrating to Blair that Addison was always so immersed in herself, that she wouldn’t allow other people make her laugh. Wait, was that about puking on a cat? Whatever.

-And Emmit’s looking for you, Blair.

-It’ll take him a while to find me.

-Right; because it’s a big store.

-The store is so big you’d swear it was just for elephant toys.

-Wow. That joke must be contagious.

Emmit stole my joke from when we dated, realized Blair. Fine, he can keep it. It’s a stupid joke anyway. I hope Addison at least laughed the first time. Making Addison laugh would be worth more than a thousand anonymous online compliments.

-So you talked to Emmit?

-Yeah. He said you guys were back together.

-Oh?

-Yeah. But I left my car on fire outside, so we didn’t talk about much else.

-Right. Same here.

-Okay, well, we should get lunch sometime. Bye.

Was that sarcastic? Blair had no idea any more. This whole world had become way too sarcastic for Blair’s tastes. At the checkout line, Blair showed Emmit the fake remote control. Now you’ll know when Bogart wants to watch TV, Blair said with a less than stellar comedic delivery. Unfortunately for Blair, she had forgotten Emmit was a little more receptive than the two guys normally in her life, and picked up on the tone.

-You know, Blair, Bogart likes you. He likes you a lot.

-Apparently he’s not alone.

-Right, Seph.

-This isn’t about Seph.

-I don’t even know what “this” is.

Blair thought for a moment. Emmit was playing dumb and she wasn’t going to get emotional at a pet store, even if they were in the parking lot by this point. You didn’t say anything to Addison about us? Blair questioned like a lawyer--that is, already knowing the answer.

-I said a couple of things, Emmit defended.

-So she wasn’t lying?

-No. I can’t believe she told you though.

-Who else knows?

-Nobody. It’s just that a dog is a lot of work.

-Wrong route to go to show your feelings there, Romeo.

-So what do I do about Bogart?

-I don’t care about Bogart right now. Here’s his toy.

Blair got out of Emmit’s car in the driveway and walked across the street to her parked car. Her face was burning but even she didn’t know why. The guys across the street had gotten the lawn mower started and mowed a third of their front yard but got distracted taking a beer break. The sweatiest of them yelled at Emmit while Blair was still within earshot. While meant to be funny, it didn’t make anybody feel better.

-Hey! Does that Shasta still burn!?!