Time Enough for Twilight

by featured writer | Sep 20, 2007 | Story

Author : Todd Keisling, featured writer

Mr. Serling entered the cafe and took a seat at the bar. He ordered the lunch special which, for that day, was a bowl of vegetable soup, carrot sticks and a peanut butter sandwich.

His arrival did not go unnoticed. Rob watched from his booth table while his girlfriend, Mary, nursed her coffee.

“Rod Serling is an alien.”

Rob chewed his lip as he made his confession. Mary set down her cup of coffee, glanced around the cafe and lit a cigarette. She blinked.

“Your neighbor is an alien?”

“Yes, I’m telling you, he’s a damned alien and he’s right there.”

Mary took a drag and exhaled a plume of smoke. She regarded poor old Mr. Serling’s aged back and smiled.

“You’ve been smoking too much, man. Not the ciggies, either.”

“No, Mary, I’m serious. Here–”

Rob produced a brass pocket watch. Mary smirked.

“It’s a watch, Rob.”

“No, it’s not just any watch. I found this in his front yard.”

“You were snooping in that poor old man’s front yard?”

“No. Well, maybe. Yeah, anyway, look–this watch stops time. Just like in that old Twilight Zone episode.”

From his seat at the bar, Mr. Serling uttered a low belch and opened up a copy of the morning newspaper.

“Rob, you’ve been doing more than smoking. Did you drop that acid last night after I left?”

“I’m serious, Mary. Look.”

“Rob, it’s a damn watch. Now, I want you to go over there and return that man’s property. Tell him you found it and think it belongs to him.”

“But Mary, he’s an alien!”

This last outburst attracted the attention of several cafe patrons. Mr. Serling was too absorbed in his newspaper to notice.

Mary put out her cigarette in the ashtray and placed her hand on Rob’s.

“Honey. I love you, but I swear to God Almighty, if you don’t stop watching those reruns on TV, I’m going to kick you in the ass. The real Rod Serling died in the 70s. You know that. That guy–”

She pointed at old man Serling.

“–just happens to have the same name. That guy’s not even related. You know that. I know that. Now go return his watch before I smack you.”

“Mary, you’ve seen the shit that goes on next door some nights. You’ve seen things float into the sky and hover and the flashing lights and–”

“Rob, I’ve been stoned out of my mind and seen elephants eclipse the sun. He is not an alien. You’re just paranoid and weird. Now go return the damn watch.”

Rob snatched the watch from the table and rose. He marched over to the bar where his neighbor Mr. Serling sat chewing a peanut butter sandwich.

“M-Mr. Serling?”

The old man swiveled in his seat and faced Rob.

“Yes?”

“I, uh, well, see, I was walking along and I found this–”

Rob held up the watch. Mr. Serling’s eyes brightened.

“Oh, thank goodness. I thought I’d lost it forever. Thank you, young man.”

Mr. Serling took the pocket watch. He opened the cover, stared with gentle amusement at its ticking face, and then pressed the stop button.

Everything froze.

He rose from his seat, left a couple of dollars on the bar and left the cafe in its frozen state. Above, birds hovered still in the air, while cars and people stood in place.

Rod Serling surveyed the street corner, smiled and nodded. His work here was done. He pulled back his sleeve, tapped his wristwatch, and promptly vanished into another dimension..

The Collector

by featured writer | Sep 17, 2007 | Story

Author : Todd Keisling, featured writer

It’s the smell that gets to me. Agent Lennox ducks his head out from the kitchen just in time to watch me vomit into the hall.

“You okay, Church?”

“Yeah,” I tell him. “Just peachy-keen.”

The smell is that of burning meat Inside the kitchen are the remains of tenant #62 Jim Hollerbach. That horrid smell is from his insides coiled and plopped into a frying pan.

I check my sensory inhibitor, thumb it to olfactory and I’m good to go.

Agent Lennox’s phone rings. He taps the earpiece.

“Lennox,” he answers. “You’re shitting me. I’ll send Church over in a minute.”

He taps the earpiece again to disconnect and motions to me.

“The perp lives down the hall. Tenant #41. Guy jacked his line and set it on a loop.”

“He looped?”

The inhibitor gives me a metallic taste in my mouth.

“Yeah,” Lennox says. “Blind analog feed. Should be down the hall to your right. Go check it out. I’ll catch up in a minute.”

I give the remains of Mr. Hollerbach a passing glance before I leave the room. My stomach twists, but nothing creeps up my esophagus.

The Government requires inhibitors for situations like this. Dulling the senses is required to perform an Agent’s duties—or so they tell us in training. It sure beats the hell out of puking.

The serotonin, they tell us, is to enhance community morale.

Agents like myself and Lennox aren’t required to take the supplements. The inhibitors do it for us.

Walking down the hallway, it hits me. Analog. That’s not a word you hear very much these days. The SmartCams are wired to an all-digital encrypted network, and knowing how to bypass that encryption with old technology would require extensive old-world knowledge.

Printed literature took a backseat after the invention of Channel Zero. Rather than face scrutiny and ridicule during such a turbulent time, the Government chose to reinforce a blind eye toward printed material, instead pumping all its resources into the necessity of the single channel. It made more sense to divert the public’s attention rather than force them to give up reading.

It worked, too. People stopped reading. They stopped caring. Books were no longer a danger because no one gave a damn anyway.

Tenant #41—tonight’s murderer—isn’t home, but he left behind the blueprints for his own design.

I step past the forensics team, tug on a pair of gloves and thumb through the first book I see. Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand.

Every wall in the apartment is outfitted with makeshift shelving. Books—at least a thousand—decorate the room. It’s an antiquarian’s dream collection.

“Lennox,” I say, and tap my earpiece.

He answers, and I tell him to conduct a search on all the local antique shops. When he asks why, I tell him.

“Because it looks like our perp is a reader.”

“Oh shit.”

I disconnect and put down the book.

The Government thought they could sweep this under the rug. That if people stopped caring about books, there would be no reason to take away that particular “freedom,” and no cause for alarm or rebellion.

Staring at the home of this murderous reader, I realize the Government has made a gross miscalculation.

Time Assassin

by submission | Sep 16, 2007 | Story

Author : Daniel Rosenblum

“This wasn’t what I expected the past to be like.”

I looked around warily, absorbing the unfamiliar sights. I was alone in a rotund, palatial chamber, standing at the center beneath a sweeping ceiling supported by ornate columns. Yellow shafts of early-morning sunlight penetrated the room’s few windows, casting soft, dramatic shadows across the echoing structure.

I checked my watch. 4:28 AM. It was time to commit the grandest act of goodness possible.

Behind the mahogany doors ahead slept a powerful, perverted man. In two months, his distorted thoughts and nefarious deeds will irreparably damage the future of civilization. Three hundred years later, in my natural time, we still felt the shockwaves of destruction emanating from this man’s atrocities.

Now I held the power to end it all before it ever began.

I slipped through the doors like an avenging spirit, intent on my purpose. There he slept, so mortal and vulnerable – no more than a collection of bones and muscle. His faint breathing filled the room, amplified in my ears over the intense throbbing of my nervous heart. I removed my weapon from its holster, took steady aim, and…

“For morality,” I murmured angrily, and the deed was done.

I had done it. No one would ever hear of my deed, sing songs in my name, or celebrate a saved future. No, I didn’t require any fanfare – only the knowledge that I had done what’s right.

I returned to my time, looking forward to enjoying a world free from fear and oppression.

“This wasn’t what I expected the future to be like.”

Where there once was a wealth of technology, there was barbarism. Where there used to be a massive city just before the vast horizon, there was black, smoldering rubble. My laboratory was in ashes. My home was in splinters. I could see a small cottage faintly in the distance, starting life anew. At first I could not understand. I had fixed it! But the man’s ideas were greater than his flesh, transcending the material. Someone worse – far worse – had taken his place. The world was destroyed, but I knew what I had to do.

I returned to the past, 4:27 AM, and waited for my earlier self to arrive. I soon saw myself appear in the center of the room, just as I remembered. I stood still, staring at the back of my head.

“This wasn’t what I expected the past to be like.”

I took a step towards my earlier self and gripped my weapon.

I looked around warily, absorbing the unfamiliar sights.

I checked my watch. 4:28 AM. It was time to commit the grandest act of goodness possible. I held the power to end it all before it ever began.

No one will ever hear of my bravery – I only knew that I was doing what’s right. I removed my weapon from its holster, took steady aim, and…

“For morality,” I murmured angrily, and the deed was done.