JPRM – R.18

“Within the next generation I believe that the world’s leaders will discover that infant conditioning and narco-hypnosis are more efficient, as instruments of government, than clubs and prisons, and that the lust for power can be just as completely satisfied by suggesting people into loving their servitude as by flogging them and kicking them into obedience.”

Aldous Leonard Huxley, Writer, 1894 — 1963

Gracie, A.K.A. Time Visitor Two, perceived that twenty-first century individual who called himself Parsons was an unprecedented enigma. Parsons was his middle name: granted in honor of  an uncle who was an engineer, science fiction reader, and student of alternative religions. Like his namesake, this Parsons indulged in Engineering but their motives differed enormously.

This Parsons not born into wealth, nor did he receive much familial support. The man poured out simultaneous torrents of psychopathy and empathy; was he a missing link between her kind, Homo Sapiens Tempus, and the others — Sapiens — who had managed to provoke retaliation from Earth, and its Sun. Was Karma created by Man in his own Image?

To Gracie’s evolved senses, like the Sun’s fire,  the man burned constantly, ferociously. Was Parsons the ultimate distillation of unwitting evil? Would he have to pay the price for becoming a Chosen One? Only a handful had known him well: well enough to fear him. Louise…

Even worse, he knew that she, Gracie, was onto him. That made her an enabler. It made him paranoid.

Parsons didn’t know enough…


Parsons was seated inside the time-thesis, he understood it well enough to realize that much like peas in a pod, he and Gracie were aligned with the two Sapiens a century apart from them. He’s talking, thinking like Gracie, even… The Engineer part of his brain placed William, Marilyn and their girls Paula, and Pauline, in year 2002 on the time-line.

Gracie and him were in “pod-two” of the same time metaphor. If William and Marilyn turned around, would their illusion of singularity dissipate? Would they perceive Gracie and Parsons, who were, according to her, a century ahead, year 2102. A century after Toronado Motor Inn called it quits.

Gracie informed him that 2103 was the end of the line, big-time, but: there was an implication that the pea-pod allusion was too simple. The situation was more likely akin to a Computer Directory Tree, with branches — otherwise — why bother with all the procedures if no alternatives were achievable?

What if he Parsons, looked over his shoulder… Was anybody watching them?

“But the attitude of faith is to let go, and become open to truth, whatever it might turn out to be.”

Alan Wilson Watts, Scholar, 1915 — 1973

Parsons was more than two people. Mainly he thought about Louise. She was an enigma to Parsons. He entirely seriously kept reminding her she was not a human. She was better. Physically, she was born too early, too small. Subsequently her life was altered by people who mistook her kindness for weakness.

This time-enhancement procedure The Visitors, Homo Sapiens Tempus possessed was a tool that would come in very handy. Parsons, particularly in his later years, began to realize that being King Of The World was a splendid idea. Engineering had created problems for him, as if it were an unwitting evil allowing him to keep eating, keep suffering… Why?

The Visitors needed him. They could Compute, but he could Engineer. They would owe him big-time once they saved Earth together.

Louise had married, belonged to actually, two men prior to meeting Parsons. Back when she already earned her angel wings. One man, a physical abuser, the other man was a psychological torturer. The thought of the two of them made his bones crackle, ligaments stand out, ears scream. Parsons would Save The World for his grandchildren. Put the Earth’s Sun in its place. Then….

Barter time. Avenge his Angel. It would make him calmer. That mattered.

All this time he was concurrently observing the other couple, William and Marilyn, and their girls, Paula and Pauline. Paula was athletic. Pauline was thoughtful. Parsons knew it all.

The dad was silently, courageously, manfully freaking out. Where had his world gone? A lifetime of hyper-specialized training, culture and irish whiskey coffees conspired to make his life a shitpile. Five years back, they had a Real Summer, Five-Star Penthouse, just five miles away up …

Parsons nearly gave himself a heart attack, but he was way too strong… Five-Star Penthouse… William hadn’t spoken a word!

That Gracie, he’d acquired her mind-speak… mind-listen?

“Can’t go on like this…” Jimi Hendrix, Musician, 1942 — 1970

Louise Parsons Rocket-Man, a pseudonym of course, was watching over her Loving Husband, as she always called him. It made perfect sense to do so, mandatory even, for Louise was an Angel. Jack P was entirely comfortable with fully believing in Louise, while abstaining from the other bells and whistles associated with commercial religions.

Idolatry, a minister said to Jack P, calling Louise his — Parson’s — Religion. He said that to Jack P while they were at the South Entrance of the THT, Tura International Airport, about an hour West from Skyhaven NH USA. It was 04:00 with a windchill of -20 Degrees Fahrenheit, Parsons was already in a bad mood.

That “Man of the Cloth” pissed off Jack P extremely. If it wasn’t for three problems: (1) Upsetting Louise; (2) There were witnesses; (3) It wasn’t allowed in the Security Guard Manual; that minister would have found out personally if there was a heaven.


Lovely Paula thought to herself, she wasn’t nuthin’ special, but she was stong as an OX and only ten-years old. Her Grandpa had called her… she wasn’t supposed to repeat it… but she could hit a softball and boink that shrimpy Joe-Boy playing third-base Coed School Softball. Pauly laughed at Joe-Boy and called him a girl!

She knew she wasn’t a genius, but she didn’t want to be. Her little sister, Pauline, wasn’t a genius either. They both, scholastically, were B+, perhaps Pauline had a statistical edge… They both were good. Their silly father with a heart of gold adored them. Momma actually listened to them, when they spoke to their parents.

Pauline was shy, but not introverted. It seemed she had better hearing than Mom and Dad, but they were old people and she was a kid. More disturbingly, her big sister — Grandpa had called her Pauly The Ass-Kicker because that was what she did to disrespectful boys of all sizes — couldn’t hear everything Pauline could pick up on, either.

Pauline loved pretty yellow flowers, blue dragonflies, and white ice cream.



About Richard E & Mary L Marion

Independent Writers
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