Longfeathers soared slowly toward his place in the tall tree. He was not aware of the increasing difficulty of his daily flights as he saw the lower place move beneath him far below. He knew he was flying. He knew the difference between flying and soaring; and he knew it would be soon when the cold white rain moved slowly in the flying place and came heavy into his sight from the higher places, then move slowly toward the lower place, and grow larger and white as it stayed on the lower place.
He understood the coming of the white rain and the cold air, fast moving winds soon to be again when the warm source, that Longfeathers could not look at, went to the lower place behind and between the twin land peaks. He was aware his feather coverings were growing heavier as he worked harder to soar toward his place in the trees.
Longfeathers regarded the warm source new between the twin peaks as he flew closer to his place. The sight of the tops of the peaks appeared the same to Longfeathers’ eyes as the slow moving white rain. He was aware of the sameness. But the part of twin peaks, closer to the lower place, below which Longfeathers could not fly, was the same to his eyes as the lower place as it moved slowly beneath him during his flights while the stars slept, when the warm source moved slowly through the high place, and across the lower place that belonged to Longfeathers.
His talons grabbed firmly at the strong branch as he performed his sideways movement, first in one direction then the other, testing the strength of the branch. His place was covered with other small branches and feathers. He did not recall the soft and small feathers and small growings, that were on his big branch, came from Whitefeathers and the two small feathered ones that once had lived in his place.
He folded his wings, taking comfort from their closeness to his body. The wings made him warm during the time when the higher place changed to darkness when Longfeathers’ eyes did not see far. He knew that the great amount of small white rain that covered the higher place during the time when he did not see far changed, by appearing to his sight and not appearing to his sight. But the white rain of the higher place stayed in the higher place. The white rain did not move from the higher place to the lower place like the other white rain that moved slowly toward the lower place when Longfeathers’sight was far. He always saw the changing and not moving white rain. He did not know why the white rain in the higher place, when he could not see far, did not move slowly. He did know that this white rain in the higher place made the time during which Longfeathers could not see far not as dark.
His recollection of Whitefeathers was no longer strong within Longfeathers. He did not remember Whitefeathers or when she soared off from his place and flew in the direction of the twin peaks. He could not recall well his many flights that brought small, lower place animals back to his place. He did not remember placing the animals between the small feathered ones. It was not a sad day for Longfeathers when the two small ones summoned great courage, flapped their wings loudly and flew off from his place toward the peaks. He did not remember they did not return.
The warm source was now moving slowly lower toward the lower place that was turning dark and Longfeathers’ sight was starting to be not long. He moved his head toward the big branches more in order than most of the big branches still coming out of the lower place. He was aware, the lower place, below the place where he flew, was mostly brown and had green growings that moved upward from the lower place when the warm source moved slowly, directly overhead in the high winds place. The lower place growings were now stiff and hard like the lower place.
Longfeathers saw that a familiar smell flew in the long slow moving cloud from fire as it came from big branches that were well ordered in the lower place. The warm source appeared to glow orange through places in the branches of the well ordered place. He knew some small branches were taking orange fire and changing. He knew there was no danger from the warm source glow from the place of the well ordered branches. He knew about other slow moving large animals when they stayed in the lower place, provided themselves with ordered branches, started the warm glow like the warm source, and made the small branches change their form with fire.
Longfeathers didn’t know John Forbes arrived yesterday at his cabin in the Modrey Valley, the last time before the time when Longfeathers did not see far. When John arrived, Longfeathers did see far.
Longfeathers didn’t know John was taking a long rest on his eighty acre property in Montana following the funeral of his wife and two children, killed by a drunk driver who served no prison time but was given a suspended sentence.
Longfeathers did not share the pain of John’s loss. The call of other American Bald Eagles, at great far sight for Longfeathers, did not stir a memory of either Whitefeathers or the little feathered ones for Longfeathers. The shrill, loud sounds made Longfeathers move closer to the edge of the branch and listen. He did not know when the time would be again that he could see far so he might fly toward the source of the sounds of the eagles.
He did know his place should have other eagles. He closed his eyes listening to the night winds. He heard the shrill, long sounds of those with no feathers. They moved on the lower place as they did during the time when Longfeathers could not see far. Longfeathers closed his eyes blinking slowly. He looked at the place of the well ordered branches and at the places of orange glow and went to sleep smelling the small branches changed by fire inside the place of well ordered, large branches.
John stared at the wood crackling in the fireplace. Orange, red and black shadows shimmered around the large, knotty pined room. He and Kathy had decorated the cabin. They had been thrilled when John’s father, a rancher from an old Montana family, had given this wilderness ranch land to them. It was a surprise wedding present.
He remembered how he, Kathy, and the children had designed and built the cabin. He saw Kathy arrange the two sofas, the four big backed chairs and the large coffee table constructed from small branches imbedded in clear, light amber. He gazed around the large central living room and, at the same time, recalled the firm and puzzling words his father had spoken to him before he left Helena for the cabin.
“Read the document in the velvet box,” his father said.
John understood his father’s resolute tone. John hadn’t experienced his father’s words, more like a command, since he was a young boy. The thought lingered as he sipped brandy. What’s in the box? he wondered. Why the change in Dad’s manner?
John suddenly was aware of the change in his father’s attitude: the urgency in his voice. Dad has never made anything sound this crtical to me, ever, he thought. The lawyer part of John recognized the change. He thought about his two terms in the senate, he heard voices call him Senator Forbes. All of a sudden he realized he knew it was his duty to read the document. That’s what Dad was saying. He nodded to himself. He knew he would complete reading the document in the box before the night was out.



Chapter 2. Repeat The Plan


        
        

        John laid the book down and studied the ragged cover, torn in front and yellowed in back. He shivered thinking about what he had read. It took him almost eight hours to finish reading the book. The book contained a plan.
        The morning sun showed over the canyon peaks.
        He walked back into the living room. The wood glowed orange and red among the gray ash of the burnt branches. John picked up his glass and moved slowly into the kitchen. He placed the glass in the sink and looked out at the valley: green and brown with pine trees that circled the valley like a coronet. Other trees, rapidly changing into blushing reds, purples, and orange pastels danced among the black shadows of the trees. The sun rose higher in the sky escaping the peaks of the Modrey mountains and took charge of the day.
        It had to be, John thought. Other thoughts pushed forward into his mind gaining recognition. It had to be that before when they made plans to turn the country over to the enemy... Now it has to happen again... The plan is there... You’re a member of the change team... It has to be again... What has to be again? What is 2C517? A code?
        John took a deep breath and circled behind the big oak desk. He sat down in his big- backed chair and tilted back. He watched the telephone and decided to make the phone call. He placed the call to Anthony Foreman, his best friend. Anthony had grown up in Nevada, had always lived in that state and had been elected to the United States Senate the same year that John took office as the Junior Senator from Montana. The telephone rang.
        John listened as the sound buzzed from the other end. He remembered how the comfort he felt when Anthony and his wife and three children attended Kathy’s and his children’s funerals. He took comfort in calling Anthony and was pleased that his name appeared in the book's long list.
        And now, Anthony would become part of the plan, a plan that already had participants.
        John’s thoughts were about Kathy, and he had heard her say, “Strange that two men, similar, both from Western states, should be elected Senator: one from Nevada and you from Montana.” He squinted, remembering her words. That proved her correct. John recalled looking up and into a mirror and knew that he and Tony could pass for brothers. They resembled each other.
        John smiled as the ringing stopped. He heard a click, and Anthony said, “Hello”.
        “Tony,” John said. “It’s you, John,” Anthony shouted. He lowered his voice. “How are you doing, buddy? How are things going for you?”
        “Better,” John replied. “It’s getting easier.” John saw Kathy’s face in his heart.
        “Where are you, John?” Anthony asked.
        “I’m at the cabin in Modrey,” John said as he alternated the pencil, first eraser down then point down. He had doodled 2C517. “Tony, there are some things that I have to talk to you about.”
        “I know, John,” Anthony responded, his voice softer. John detected a mysterious tone in Tony’s voice. “How long are you going to be at Modrey?”
        “Several days, at least. We really must talk, and soon.” John circled the doodled 2C517, repeatedly.
        “I’ll catch a charter flight up, John,” Tony said. “We’ll have some time to ourselves and get our talking out.” Anthony sounded as though there were other things he wanted to tell John. “I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”
        “I’ll meet you at the field,” John offered. “Not necessary, buddy,” Anthony replied. “I’ll drive one of your cars from Modrey Field.
        “Good, then,” John said. He hesitated. “Anthony...”
        Anthony interrupted, “Got to get along, John.”
        “Yes,” John said frowning. “See you soon.”
        John heard Tony hang up the receiver. He speculated that Tony knew something too. Who put Tony’s name on the long list? Tony spoke somewhat guardedly, John thought.
        He shook off the somber and puzzling thoughts, dropped his pencil, and darted toward the hall tree next to the front door. He smiled as he looked forward to seeing Tony again and thought how his loneliness would soon be gone. He whistled quietly as he took his jacket off the hook, slipped it on, opened the door, and stepped out into the August morning of the Modrey Valley.
        The shrill screech of an eagle echoed over the hills and mountains. Not as many eagles as there used to be here, he thought, stepping off the wooden plank porch.
        John surveyed the tall pine trees as he headed down the path he and Kathy had walked many times together: close together, arm in arm. He put his hands in his trouser pockets, felt the strength in his thighs. Not as fast as I used to be but not slow, either, he thought. John looked up as a large eagle flew off the top of the tallest tree within sight. He’s a big one, John smiled. A big one.
        Longfeathers saw the movement of the tall animal when the tall animal came into the sight of Longfeathers, out of the place where the trees were well ordered. He made his long sound and his eyes moved away from the tall animal, and he surveyed the lower place where the growings were above other small animals. Longfeathers knew that the quick movements were not small growings. The quick movements were different in color than the small growings and moved on the lower place. The small growings stayed in one place and did not move.
         Longfeathers made his sound again, saw the small gray animals quickly move within his sight and out of his sight. He pointed his head downward and moved toward the lower place at great movement. He liked the sound of the middle place as the unseen movement passed his head and his body. He knew that he would soon have a small animal from the lower place. He spread his wings, poked his head downward and without any effort caught a moving animal with his right foot. His talons encircled the small animal, which made slight sounds. Bending his wings backward, Longfeathers moved upward rapidly, moved his broad wings swiftly, and approached his place. Longfeathers folded his wings to stop on his place. He felt the warmth of his small animal and savored the warm liquid he swallowed as he grabbed for the strong branch that belonged to his place. The small animal stopped moving. Longfeathers looked at his food.
        John marveled as the eagle swooped down toward the ground. The large eagle’s speed impressed him. He heard a loud scream and knew the eagle had spotted prey on the ground. Get im, guy, get im,” John said aloud to himself. “It’s time for your breakfast.” He stopped and watched the eagle perform. The eagle shrieked again as he came within a foot of the ground. The grasses bent in all directions, and the air made loud hisses as the eagle picked up the field mouse.
        The eagle jerked his head backwards, changed the bend of his wings, and moved in John’s direction. John could see the field mouse in the eagle’s talon. The eagle’s eye stared directly at John. John saluted the eagle as the bird swooped close to John then up and away like a jet. He followed the eagle’s flight back up to the tree.
        Longfeathers gulped down pieces of the small animal, savored the warmth of it and took notice that the tall animal of the lower place moved again on the lower place. Longfeathers tore at the small animal again and kept an eye on the tall animal of the lower place as it moved where Longfeathers could not see far. Longfeathers took his eye off the tall animal and no longer tried to see the tall animal that moved on the lower place. Longfeathers swallowed the rest of the small animal.
        John moved uphill away from the valley. He would go to the place Kathy and he played in when the kids were occupied, gone, or sometimes asleep: a private place for two adults very much in love. He ached to hold her close to him as he had many times in the secluded private retreat. He felt and smelled her presence but knew it had to be his imagination. He missed her when they wore no clothes, their bodies touched in many places, and they performed acts of love and devotion.
        The winds blew softer in this area of the valley, and the warm sun’s rays poked and searched their way through and between the dark branches of the Modrey trees. He felt the warmthon his face and then the cool of the shade from the branches. The aroma of pine held sway in the air. John detected lavender from time to time. He recalled that Kathy had planted some around their place a few years back.
        Her memory made the tears come again. He felt alone. He had held her in his arms the night before...she went away. The memory of her soap overwhelmed him, the smell of her hair, and the way their bodies matched when he held her close. Leaning against a tree, he could feel her body against his. He sobbed, enveloped by the memory, and a deep animal grumble startled him: an animal sound he had not heard before in the Modrey.
        John’s heartbeat quickened as the sound grew louder. Growling and roaring surrounded him. He knew it had to be a giant bear. A bear, he thought. There’s never been a bear in this part of the Modrey. He didn’t like the thought of a bear in his valley. He started to sweat, and he could hear the movement of the creature, the breaking of brittle, dead branches, and the panting of the animal.
        John knew the lay of the land in the Modrey. He looked to his right and could see the large brown bear moving angrily on the horizon. John held his breath and watched. Blood covered the bear’s snout, face and paws. It bore claw marks and tears in its fur. A fight, John thought. This guy’s been in a fight.
        John looked to his right and saw the small space between two huge boulders. His daughters always hid in that space when they played hide-and-seek. John looked at the small opening, knew there was room enough for him but did not know if it could protect him from the bear.
        The bear stopped moving and stretched upward on its hind legs. John watched and licked his lips, hesitating to move. The bear roared, and John knew he had his scent.
        The bear, pawed the ground and spread the twigs of the bushes to see the source of the smell. John broke from the tree and ran, top speed, toward the black space between the two boulders. The bear moved rapidly behind him. Twigs cut the lower part of his legs above his ankle- high hiking boots. He dove between the boulders and moved backward toward the rear of the small cave, wished the cave were larger, and kept his eyes on the small opening.
        The bear roared as it approached. John could feel its anger. The bear stuck his large head into the small opening, filled it leaving little space to turn and growl, and snarled louder than the loudest thunder in the Modrey. Its eyes glazed gold and red. Saliva dripped from its jaws, and John moved farther backward against the rear of the cave.
        The bear’s head filled the entrance. It tried to push a huge paw through the opening. John was about to throw dirt in its face, to silence the hideous roar, when suddenly the bear became silent. It was motionless. Its eyes stared toward John but didn’t see him. It’s listening, John thought. John heard the sound of another bear; he heard the sound of a cub. This is a female bear. She’ protecting her cub. She growled, pulled her head out, stood on her hind legs and listened again, without moving. The danger sound got louder as the cub moved closer to its mother. The bear turned, scattering leaves and dirt, the earth shook and she moved away from the opening. John sighed heavily and wiped sweat from his forehead and face. He stretched to see through the opening of the small cave, trying to keep the bears in view.
        The big bear moved close to the cub. She sniffed it and pushed it in the direction she wanted it to go. She had been looking for her cub, John guessed. She lost her bloody cub and would have taken it out on me by having me for dinner. He laughed nervously as the bears disappeared.
        John hadn’t noticed the approaching twilight. I’ve been out here two hours?” he thought as he crawled out of the small cave and moved quickly down the narrow path back toward the cabin. The twilight made the tall trees appear darker green, and John could see some of the stars already twinkling in the night sky.
        Tony will be here in about a half hour, he thought as he moved rapidly through the valley. He shivered as he thought about bear and her cub. He thought about Kathy. He wondered if he would try to go to their private place again. A bear in the Modrey, he thought. Hard to believe.
        He heard the scream of an eagle and quickly looked up at the tall tree, the origin of the eagle shriek. Not a fierce sound. It’s more like a signal, he thought. No! More like a greeting. What am I saying? John thought. That damned bear.
        John started to run toward the cabin. He bounded onto the porch, opened the door, and shut it quickly behind him. He bolted the door and thought about closing all the shutters. He breathed heavily. Suddenly, he felt no fear as he took off his jacket and thought about Tony’s arrival. He unbolted the door. He had never seen a bear in the Modrey during his childhood. Bears habitats and roaming regions were always hundreds of miles north. He had heard his father say these same words many times and yet his father had always cautioned, “but be on the lookout. The Modrey belongs to them and they roam where they roam.”
        He placed logs in the fireplace, turned on the gas jet, and struck a match. The green- blue-yellow fire wound around the logs. He threw the match into the fire and straightened up. He stretched, put his hands on his lower back and slowly massaged his back and buttocks, walked around the amber coffee table and sank into the couch.
        John heard a car in the distance and listened as the sound grew louder and finally stopped on the gravel driveway. He heard the quick footsteps on the pebbles, the door flew open and Tony walked in.
        They hugged and shook hands. Tony pushed John away from him and looked directly at him.
        “You’re looking great considering,” Tony said. “How are you really feeling? I know it’s not been easy.”
        John felt at ease with Tony’s concern. He knew his response had to be that of a strong man, a person who could weather the tragic storm of losing a family.
        Tony closed the door, put his arm around John’s shoulder, and they walked toward the furniture in front of the fireplace.
        “You brought no bags?” John asked.
        “Yeah, they're in the car,” Tony said as he sat down in his chair.
        “Strange things going on,” John said as he sat down. “Drink?” he asked.
        “Yeah, sure. You making?” Tony smiled.
        “As always,” John replied. He got up from the couch, walked over to the wet bar to the right of the fireplace, and assembled the gin, vermouth, mixer, long-handled martini spoon, ice and filter. “Strong or big,” John asked?
        “Both,” Tony replied. “What’s happening, John?” Tony asked.
        “I’ve just finished reading an old book,” John said. “Scary, sort of,” he added. Tony did not respond. John watched Tony as he continued. “Your name is in this book,” John said, watching Tony’s reaction.
        “What kind of book are you talking about, buddy?” Tony asked.
        “I can’t tell. I don't know,” John said and frowned. He didn’t know why he felt uncomfortable as Tony walked to the bar. He mixed their martinis. “Did the book have anything to do with 2C517?” Tony whispered. John stopped stirring and stared at Tony. He wondered why the strange feeling engulfed him. He did not speak. After a few moments, he said to Tony, “Then you know?” Tony did not respond. John poured the mix into the martini glasses.
        “I’m not certain, old friend, what I know.” Tony looked at his glass and then looked at John. John noticed a slight frown through Tony’s smile as he held his glass up and said, “Here’s to us, John.” John held his glass up, thought to himself, Yes, to us.
        He drank his martini and watched as Tony drank his. Something is different John thought. He heard the shrill sound of the eagle again. This sound struck him as very different from the big bird’s shrieking he had seen and heard earlier in the evening.
        “What in hell was that?” Tony asked, setting his glass down on the bar. He looked toward the windows and tried to see outside into the night.
        “An eagle,” John responded. “Another eagle.” He walked to the bar and started a pot of coffee.
        Longfeathers had heard the loud sounds of the big animals that stayed on the lower place. He had heard the soft sounds of a smaller animal. He almost remembered the smaller sounds he heard were calls and responses of gentler animals; but he did not see the image clearly, and he pulled back toward the big part of big growing that was his place. He grabbed the growing with his talons.
        Another creature who moved through the middle place moved around Longfeathers and threw shrills at him. Longfeathers watched the new one and could still view the creature as he moved through the middle place.
        Longfeathers drew backward again as the creature landed on the strong branch, part of Longfeathers’ place. His covering looked the color of white rain around his top and more like the cold lower place color around his other parts. His talons appeared large and impressive. Longfeathers understood the length of long talons.
        Longfeathers stared at the other creature within his sight. He scrutinized everything within his sight as the warm source moved more rapidly out of sight behind the twin peaks. He looked back at the new arrival on his branch. If Longfeathers could have given the other creature a name it would have been Strongfeathers.
        Strongfeathers regarded Longfeathers closely. Longfeathers did not fear Strongfeathers. Longfeathers moved up into the round place in the wide part of the big growing. The round place protected Longfeathers from the moving, cold sound of the middle place. Strongfeathers watched as Longfeathers moved into the place in the growing. Strongfeathers scratched at the small growings and small feathers that he clutched beneath his talons. He lowered his body in an orderly manner onto the small growings and small feathers. He looked at Longfeathers, no longer in his sight. Strongfeathers could not see far; he closed his eyes.
        Longfeathers held Strongfeathers in his sight, and he could see far because of the white rain and big white rain that did not move in the higher place. He closed his eyes and knew that the darkness would end and the time would come again when he could see far.
        John and Tony talked. John moved around the large room of the cabin as they talked. John looked outside occasionally. What a beautiful moon, he thought. And the stars. You could reach up and touch one.



Chapter 6. Past and Present
( An excerpt. Not the entire Chapter 6. )

         .... John didn’t take his eyes off the dancing lights. The low pitch got higher and increased in intensity, but it was still barely audible. It sounded more like swishing linen than a sound based in high energy.
        John stared at the fireworks as the figure became clear and the lights slowly extinguished, then fading from view. The figure stood still looking at John and the minister.
        Mr. Long seemed to step out of an invisible place. His height indicated four feet plus an inch or two, he had a smooth lightly tanned skin with light, softly curled hair, and regarded John closely as he walked over to the table. He looks elegant, John thought. He didn’t sit down but he smiled at John with a warmth John understood immediately.
        John observed the person’s clothes were somewhat different than the current fashion in men’s styles, but noted he wore a shirt, no tie, a jacket, trousers, and strangely shaped, shiny, shoes.
        “What department are you with?” John asked Mr. Long.
        “No department,” Mr. Long responded. His high voice, near soprano, filled the room with crisp clear words, but he appearance gave the impression of an adult male. He voice sounded tinny and not quite real or human but suddenly his voice sounded normal to John. John received the impression Mr. Long had modulated his voice to please John. How did he know what I thought about his voice? John cleared his throat.
        “I mean what department of the Government are you with?” John hesitated, then added, “Or perhaps you can’t tell me. Perhaps, I shouldn't have asked.” he smiled at Earl Byrne. Earl returned the smile, replaced his smile with a serious expression, and looked again toward Mr. Long.
        “No department of your Government, Mr Forbes,” Mr. Long responded. “I need to explain many things to you and I shall do so, soon.” He looked directly at John. “As quickly as feasible.”
        The situation impressed and pleased John and assured his own inward calmness, even though his heart had quickened when Mr. Long appeared in the flurry of fast moving tiny multi-colored lights. This has to be an exciting experiment. He was glad to be involved. His thoughts vanished as Mr. Long spoke again.
        “This isn't an experiment,” Mr Long said.
         John was startled to believe Mr. Long read his mind. His heart beat louder. He listened to the small, Mr. Long. “I’m not teleporting much these days although we’ll soon teleport you so that you believe completely in what we are doing.”
         I believe, I believe, the imp in John said silently. How can I believe in or agree with something when I don't even know what is happening? John laughed inwardly. He was excited.
         “I’m from the future, John,” Mr. Long said, “Please call me Varn.”
         John took off his jacket slowly. He perspired under his arms and between his legs. “How far in the future?” John asked.
         Let’s use our thoughts, Varn said. It’s faster and somewhat safer.
         How far in the future? John thought.
         Many thousands of years.
         John was stunned by the answer. Where do you live now? John thought.
         In a place similar to what had been your country, was the United States. You would refer to my dwelling place as a rural setting..
         Why are you here?
         We’re changing our future.
         How?
         You'll see. Do you believe me?
         You mean do I believe you’re from the future? Do I believe you are who you say your are? Do I believe you’re changing your future? I don't know. Maybe we should slow down.
         Really no time for slowing, Varn thought.. We can move more rapidly by showing you proof of what we can do.
         John remembered talking to another human, who sat in a wheelchair, when he was buying vitamins in a department store. It happened in San Diego, California. It happened twenty years ago. He recalled the lady, dressed in various colors of silk, who spoke to him first in his mind just as Varn had done. John hadn’t shown much of a reaction then, it had seemed natural enough at the time, and he didn’t feel strange now. He remembered thinking, Wouldn't it be great if everyone could speak in their minds as we’re doing now? He was surprised but quickly, thinking about the ability, he mentally agreed with her. When she responded, in his mind, he heard her say, They can speak in their minds if they so choose, as you well know.
         Varn continued the thought transfer, What we have to do is change our future. We are working in many different time frames.
         Time frames? John asked.
         I’ll tell you what you need to know to participate, but yes, time frames: the thirties, forties, fifties, sixties, etcetera.
         And you need me to work with you now?
         Yes, John.
         Why? John thought.
         The quality of the future depends on the well being of the past. There are some things that we cannot change yet, other facts, not part of the plan, accidents, that were accomplished and must be changed. It is the battle, if you want to think of it this way, John, between light and dark or right and wrong or permanent and temporary. Varn moved away from the table.
         First, we go back and check, change, and try to make better, genes in those that go forward, Varn said. He crossed the short distance to where John sat and situated himself in the chair next to John. Varn’s feet did not reach to the floor. He placed them on the rung of his chair.
         And then what?
         Then we make a change to an ancestor, coordinate the change and observe the results. And, of course, in executing a change, we have to change and coordinate the history of all humans involved-- and sometimes, animals, too; other creatures.
         Animals too?
         Yes. You'll understand.
         I am going to show you something. Give you proof that we can affect necessary changes.
         How?
         You had an operation two years ago for prostate cancer. Varn stared at John waiting for an answer.
         Yes. I guess you know everything about me.
         Yes, Varn replied. Of course I know a great deal about you. Public and private thoughts.
         We’re going to do a physical variant. Some call it a physical change....
         To whom?
         You!
         Why?
         Your operation was not necessary for your future or for out future.
         You mean the operation is a mistake? John asked.
         No. Not that. The condition of prostate cancer is real. The event that caused it was a mistake in time, we should have corrected. We missed it. The medical diagnosis was correct. You should not have had certain genes. We could have changed the situation before your birth or afterward. Either change works for the future.
         John felt helpless and squeezed his lips together. Got to absorb all of this information.
         You shall. Don’t concern yourself with it. It’s being implanted and shall remain. Varn continued speaking. He used his hands for emphasis.
         We first became aware of this omission when you were fourteen years old.
         What? John’s mind screamed.
         When I was fourteen? I lived in, in...
         Yes, we know, John.
         You picked up a carcinogen from the boiler room in the basement of the grade school building.
         John remembered Concord Grade School and Bush Junior High School. Yes, he thought. Our high school used the gym and the high school basketball teams used the grade school gym as their home floor.
         Yes, we changed the environment enough to keep you from getting cancer earlier and one more trip will do it, we think, permanently. But we need you. Varn paused stood up and looked at John. Are you ready? he asked, holding out his hand.
         Yes, John thought.
         He took Varn’s hand and they walked to a space next to the table. Earl Byrne watched closely. “I’ll wait for you guys here,” he said smiling. “Good luck!”
         You'll feel as though you’re moving rapidly through the air. It’s almost like flying, except you don't flap wings. You'll move through the air in a vertical position. You'll see lights but not scenes that you will recognize. You may hold my hand this first trip.
         John looked at Varn’s hand and held it. Varn removed a short metallic stick from his pocket. He pressed it several times using different cadences. Code you know. He looked up at John. Let’s go.
         John could see tiny blinking lights. He felt a mild movement of air pass over and around his body, and he seemed to be inside a cylinder: he and Varn side by side. He experienced no breathing movements and heard Varn say inside his head, ...Everything’s inanimate in transition, except our brains. The mental never dies or sleeps.
         John heard the sound of rushing air get louder, the tiny lights glowed and shimmered brighter, and suddenly, there was silence and the lights were gone. He looked at the gym door. He and Varn stood on the inside of the grade school gymnasium. John recognized the gym he had played in when he attended Concord Grade School; the gymnasium he played in when he was in Bush Junior High School. He smiled as he thought about this same gym also was used by his Community High School. It was snowing softly outside, and John saw a young boy approach the top of the stairs that led down inside the building.
         Smells just like it used to smell, John said to Varn.
         This is used to, John, Varn said in John’s mind. We've time travelled. We’re back in the time of your youth. We’re in your past.
         In my past?
         Right! Varn chuckled. We can do this. Don’t be bothered. Go with the flow as is the expression.
         Varn pushed the gymnasium door open, and John stepped backward. He recognized himself as a boy, gasped, held his breath and wanted to touch the boy, himself. Varn shook his head, told John he should not touch the boy, and shouted to John, the boy, carrying a large gym bag, “Come in this way, John. It’s faster.”
         “O.K.!” the boy shouted. John marvelled at the sound of his voice at fourteen. He watched as John moved around the metal guard rail of the large basement room entrance that protected children from the stairs that led down to the boiler room of the grade school. It was beginning to snow heavier.
         Varn left the door ajar, and the tiny lights appeared and John heard the low hum; the low vibration.
         Where to now? John asked.
         Watch, Varn replied. Besides being participants, we may also be observers. I had you come in through the gym entrance. One more time past the boiler room and your prostate would be prone to cancer. Bringing you in through the gym changed your prostate condition. Watch!
         John watched the scene unfold. He remembered some of the event.
                 
         ...John walked slowly through the early evening snow. He shuffled small snow banks with his wool-lined Air Force flight boots. He was delighted when the new fallen snow flakes fluffed up after him like white dust. He walked in the street of his small home town when there were no cars in sight. He wore no shoes inside his boots. The wool protected his feet from the cold and the leather zipped up tight around his ankles. He needed to keep his feet warm for the game.
         His team, ranked seventh in the state in high school basketball, played as a well coached group of young men. He had worked hard, as had his buddies and other members of the team, to get the team to this point in their schedule: undefeated and a high ranking in the State high school basketball polls. He exhaled, blowing billowing breath before and around his face. “Choo Choo!” he said to himself. “Big train coming!”
         He crossed the last street into the schoolyard and quickened his pace. He reached the top of the stairs that led down to the boiler room. As he started down, a voice called to him from the closest door to the gymnasium. The voice sounded strange, but he thought it had to be Mr. Hally, the custodian in charge of the grade school and high school janitorial services.
         John saw the door was ajar and started to walk inside when he heard his longtime buddy call to him to hold the door open. They walked into the gym along the short distance on the black rubber mats that were as wide as sidewalks and were laid along the periphery of the gym to protect the floor from water and snow. The two friends jumped down the stairs into the hall, walked down the cold hall that smelled of hot steam and passed bypassing the large boiler room.
         They shook the snow off their jacket hoods and trousers, stamped their feet, loosening the snow, and dried the soles of their boots by dragging them along the concrete walkway.
         “We gonna win?” Jeremy asked. Jeremy isn't pessimistic, just not confident in his or our chances. He has a fear of losing, John thought.
         They opened the swinging doors to the men’s locker room, bounded up the seven stairs in the hallway, and walked into the locker room.
         John liked the smell of the locker room: sweat, shoes, leather, resin, liniment, and body odor that never went away. It conveyed anticipation of another athletic win. He enjoyed sports and the competition and winning. He had dressed and undressed here since he was in third grade. He was comfortable here and gave no thought to being naked in front of other boys and men.    
         “Turn the lights on,” Jeremy said. John set his gym bag down, walked over to the wall switch, flipped it on, and started to take his jacket off as he walked back to his locker and the bench holding his gym bag.
         They undressed, put on their jock straps, socks and gym shoes and realized, at the same time, they hadn’t picked up their uniforms. They laughed at and with each other and started toward the team athletic locker room to get their uniforms. John felt as though his penis had grown within his body. He put his hand inside his jockstrap to check himself. He walked in a straddled fashion.
         “What are you doing?” Jeremy asked, watching John feel his penis as they walked. “Playing with your nuts?” He laughed as he glanced at John. “What’s the matter?” he asked seriously. “Are you OK?”
         “It feels like something is changing inside me. In my penis, here. Inside me,” John said. He frowned as they walked. “It’s more like a feeling but it feels like a swelling. I don’t ...”
         “You’re getting a hard on,” Jeremy said, knowingly. “It'll go away. Does it hurt? Boy sometimes that hurts me.”
         “No, it doesn't hurt,” John said as they walked through the locker room. It’s getting hot though, if you know what I mean.
         John knew that his heart beat normally: his body felt warm, but he felt good. He took his hand out of his jockstrap. His jockstrap felt tighter on him around his waist, thighs and between his legs.
         “Jack better be here,” Jeremy said as they walked out of the locker room, into the hall, and finally into the lockup room. They saw Jack inside the gage just as Jack saw them. His eyes widened as he said, “Hey, you guys. There are already people in the gym. What if someone comes down here and sees you two? They'd see you guys practically naked.” He went on with his lecture as he pulled down their white uniforms: tops, shorts, jackets and kneepads and handed them to them over the counter. “Tonight’s white outfits, guys,” he said.
         Neither Jeremy nor John changed expressions. They picked up their uniforms on hangers and threw the hangers and clothes over their bare shoulders and walked back to the locker room. Jack shook his head negatively in disbelief. Boy if the principal saw them now. Wow! What’s next, he thought. Only those two could get away with that.
         John put on his jersey and his trunks as he and Jeremy engaged in small talk. John had first known Jeremy when they met in the third grade. They had played together every day of their lives since that time. They had gone to the same grade school, the same junior high, and now were juniors together in the only high school the small town had. Jeremy had come to depend on John while John had come to depend on Jeremy’s dependency. Jeremy needed reassuring, and John knew how to do that. John would not think of admitting defeat even if the battle were lost. Jeremy would question the proposition of getting into the battle.
         John watched Jeremy pull his jersey over his head and slowly down to his waist. Jeremy is smaller than the rest of us, John thought. But he has a good build and strong body, and shoots the basketball well. John sat down to put on his knee pads. They talked, and Jeremy finished dressing.
         The next hour went fast with the sound of the coach urging them to victory, passing out the basketballs for warmup, and the boys on the team greeting each other, telling dirty jokes, stuffing several pieces of bubble gum in their mouths, and finally, lining up to go up the gymnasium stairs and make their appearance in the gymnasium, which was packed with cheering, screaming, singing students, parents and town people.
         Jeremy led the team up the stairs to the entrance of the 6 foot wide doorway to the gymnasium. They stopped at the entrance and waited for the team introduction. They were crowded on the landing, lined up with their bodies touching from front to back. The whole team had to be on the stair landing for the introduction.
         “And here they are,” the loudspeaker said. “number seven in the state, but number one in our opinion. Undefeated in varsity basketball...”. Jeremy turned and winked at his best friend. John smiled back. Are we going to win? Jeremy thought. He gave the thumbs up to John.
         You betcha! John thought, reading Jeremy’s mind. John had this ability with Jeremy and some of his other friends. Sometimes he believed that Jeremy had this ability with him.
         “...And here they are, led by team Captain, Jeremy...”. John pushed Jeremy onto the floor. The roar was several levels below deep bass. The gymnasium throbbed from the steady beat of cheers and noise from the students, the band and the cheerleaders.
         They ran onto the hardwood floor dribbling, running, and passing the basketballs. John and Jeremy would lip-sync to each other as they passed the basketball back and forth for the first warmup. Normal shouting was useless; the roar and cheering went on.
         Big crowd tonight, huh tiger? Jeremy said moving his lips.
         The roar of the students and fans engulfed the gym. The sound was always there whenever this team took to the floor. The cheering came in waves. The cheerleaders were jumping and touching their toes as they led the series of school cheers. The high school band, was loud, brassy, bullish and confident. They had rhythm, razzmatazz, and swayed as they played.
         Some students were cheering, a few yelled their own greetings to the team members, while others followed the cheerleaders, punched one another as they anticipated another school basketball victory, and sang the school fight song accompanying the band. The crescendo rose and fell. John felt the love waves surround him, and the devotion and support of the students, teachers and town people made him feel as though he could rise off the floor, soar slowly into the rafters, and fly. His body tingled with excitement.
         “They are young; they are all good looking; they are athletes; and they are winners!” the local newspaper sports reporter wrote almost weekly. “Anyone who lives in this town and doesn't get down to the gym to watch this education in fundamentally sound basketball, which they play the way the game is intended to be played,” he emphasized,”is nothing more than disloyal to the kids, the high school, the town, and your families.” John laughed to himself, wondering why Carl, the local sports reporter hadn’t mentioned country, too.
         John thought that the sounds from this home town crowd could bring down the walls of the gymnasium and the grade and junior high school buildings. He smiled again, thinking about the great feeling of being on this floor: a good basketball player on a championship team. He recalled an earlier article by Carl that went, “... And you don't have to mention last names. Everyone in this town knows these kids. No. Not kids. Let me take that back. Young men. Yes, indeed, young men.” John understood that, at times, Carl’s emotion got in the way of his journalistic training. Instead of writing a terse, succinct and accurate article, John thought Carl gushed in his byline, especially about this basketball team, but also about other sports events. Carl gave his all in his writing, and John wondered how anything could be that important. John liked the notoriety.
         “Everyone in this town knows these young men because they have been winners all their lives. Everyone knows that four of them have played together since third grade. They played basketball in the school yards, played dirty basketball in Jeremy’s family garage--ask me about that one, ladies and gents--baseball at the Park and in Wiretown, summer basketball and baseball leagues, and football, track, tennis for the high school. I don't have to remind you people that four of them-- Chris, Jeremy, Glen, and John were in the same scout troop, they hiked together, camped overnight in forest preserves and scout campgrounds. They went on moonlight swims together, wore their scout swimming trunks with their Senior Life Guard Merit Badge patches sewn to the left thigh of their trunks, and used the buddy system for swimming safety.”
         John laughed again, because of the excitement, as he tossed the ball back to Jeremy. Jeremy was looking around the gym. John thought the article should have said, “They went on moonlight swims together, wore no trunks, and why should they? Nobody was around except them.” John remembered the time their troop was in the water of a small out-of-the-way campground. They were wearing only their birthday suits when a troop of girl scouts passed by. John remembered being aroused by his nakedness and the pretty faces, ten feet from his position in the water. Some girls tried to see under the water as they passed, and all smiled and waved. Never did know where they camped, he thought.
         John continued recalling Carl’s article. “They had shared their lives since their early years. For the last two years, as Frosh and Junior Varsity Teams, Jeremy, Glen and John, plus the new kid, Ed, have lost only two high school basketball games of the fifty- six games they played. The four of them, now that they are juniors, are reunited with their boyhood chum, Chris. They are going to take this town to the state finals in the state capitol, and don't you forget it! They are strong. They are winners. They are Champions. Come to games and watch them win and win and win!!!”
         Carl’s articles always ended with three exclamation points. “In a small town, one has license,” Carl told John. “It’s called creative license.” Jeremy interrupted John’s recollections by motioning for John to come to him. Jeremy signaled the team to start layup practice. He threw the ball to John, John dribbled once, moved quickly toward the basket from the right side, and the ball went through the hoop. “Swish!” the crowd roared.
         John got rebounds several times, and he and Jeremy small talked as the layup practice continued. John thought he was more serious minded than Jeremy, but he hesitated to show this side of himself to many people.
         Varn and John stood looking at the scene of the crowded gymnasium. John knew his clothes were different: old-fashioned. He felt a hat on his head and examined it. He removed it and looked at it. It was gray felt.
         More seasonal clothes than what you were wearing, Varn said.
         It’s cold here, John thought. He put his hat on, looked at his gray checker- patterned topcoat, looked at the dull green sweater underneath his topcoat and felt comfortable wearing briefs instead of boxer shorts. He fingered the leg of his trousers: loose around his legs.
         He watched the team warm up, listened to the sounds of the pregame warmup, and recognized one of the basketball players on the floor. He saw the jersey number “22”, and before his thought could be completed, he heard; Yes, John, number “22” is you when you were in high school. The change is happening.
         What is the change, John asked Varn.
         You'll feel it, John.
         John continued to watch number 22. His thoughts raced through his mind, one after the other. Number 22. This is crazy. That is me. I know it’s me. How could I ever have been that young? I really was or am a good looking kid. O wondered what I really looked like. A little thin. Big blue eyes. Curly blond hair.
         Yes, John. We’re taking imminent prostate cancer away from you.
         Jeremy ran up behind John and started to tell him about his girl friend, Flora. John smiled again. He could smell Jeremy’s bubble gum. John tipped his head to hear Jeremy better. Jeremy kept the identity of his “new” girl friend a secret and used a code name. “My God, Flora?” John asked, looking at Jeremy. “Yeah, John,” Jeremy said, as though he accomplished a coup.
         Jeremy talked about Flora as they moved forward in the line. Suddenly, John didn’t hear Jeremy. An ominous feeling, like a dark shadow, came over him. He heard the thought and knew he was not alone. The thought dominated his mind. Who’s here? he thought, somewhat frightened. Why did I think that? His heart pounded as he got the rebounding ball and threw it to Ed. Who’s here? he asked.        
         John continued the practice session and surveyed the gymnasium, pretending not to look at the crowd. Then he openly turned his head and during several rotations of laying up the ball and rebounding, he had looked at everyone in the gym, all two thousand people. He knew everyone in town and saw only familiar faces until he saw a tall man in a gray checkered top coat, gray hat, his hands in his coat pockets. The man stared at John. Something inside John became terrified. He looked away from the stranger. John lined up again in the layup line and Jeremy came up behind him.
         “You O.K.?” Jeremy asked. “All of a sudden you look pale, tiger.”
         “Do you see any strangers here tonight?”
         “No. I looked the whole place over. No scouts or anything,” Jeremy responded, spreading his legs and loosening his jock.
         “Look over there, under the backboard.” John motioned with his head. He did not want to look at the stranger again.
         “Where, John?” Jeremy stared beyond John in the direction of the backboard. “Oh yeah. The guy in the gray everything?” Jeremy asked. He finished adjusting his uniform.
         “Yeah.”
         “Probably a scout,” Jeremy said, as they moved forward in the line.
         John watched number “22” as he rebounded the ball, threw it to Ed and trotted back toward the other players in the layup line. Number “22” put his hand under his shorts and pulled his jockstrap away from his scrotum. John felt a warmth inside him, and it felt like his penis swelled.
         John told Varn in his mind that he now believed. Varn saluted John as the lights returned, and John welcomed the low hum. He knew where he and Varn were headed.
         Not a basketball college scout, John thought.
         The feeling of joy and comfort returned to John after the wave of fear that had engulfed him. John imagined he heard bells and beautiful music somewhere in the vast distance, out there. He didn’t know the origin of those new sounds. My imagination, he thought. He ran to the basket to get the ball. He threw the ball to Glen. John stopped to look at the stranger again. The stranger had vanished. A feeling of relief enveloped John. He walked toward his place in line as the police whistle sounded for the game to begin. The team walked toward their bench.
         “That was no scout,” John said softly.
         Jeremy said, “Maybe not.”
         John saw the lights fade and heard the hum disappear as they stood in the room of the church where the Bible was studied. He saw that he wore his brown pinstriped suit. He looked at Varn, sensed a growing feeling and swelling between his legs.
         “You’re cancer free now,” Varn said speaking again, with authority..
         “Why?” John asked.
         “You have important work to do,” Varn said. “It was a mistake to begin with.”
         John looked at Reverend Byrne. “How long have we been gone?”
         “Not long at all. Only a few minutes I would guess,” Earl responded and stood up.
         “Seems more like a couple of hours,” John said.
         “We’ll be in touch, John,” Varn said and disappeared.
         John watched the tiny lights fade where Varn had stood.
         “Do you ever get used to that type of exit?” John asked Reverend Byrne.
         “Don't know really. Haven't seen it that often.”
         The two men walked down the hall, down the back stairs and out into the night air. Earl locked the door, tested it and told John to drive carefully.
         “You bet, sir,” John said as he walked toward his car. Earl Byrne walked toward the parsonage and John could hear Reverend Byrne hum, ‘Nearer My God to Thee’.
         John stood next to his car, unlocked the door, and turned to look at Earl. Earl waved, opened his door, and disappeared into the parsonage. John thought he saw a moving shadow along another part of the church building. It didn’t cause him concern. He felt too good about the time travelling event to be aware of any problems. Who could he tell? He had to tell someone. Tony came to mind.
         John drove his car onto the dew covered streets and settled down into the trip almost across town. He got onto a freeway and soon travelled in the second lane. He felt his crotch and rubbed it. He could feel the heat rising from it. He rubbed himself again. He had an erection. First time in years. Wonder if they did anything to the length? I’ll soon know.
         He turned the radio on to an FM station. He turned the volume down to soft and drove home as it started to mist. His windshield wipers turned on.
         Longfeathers settled down on his branch at his place. He stretched his neck and moved sideways toward the big hole in the tree in his place. He lowered his body into the hole in the tree trunk and knew it would soon be the time when he couldn't see far.
         He heard the swooping of a big feathered one pass him close to the tall growing. Strongfeathers circled the tall tree. Longfeathers screamed a high shrill sound as Strongfeathers landed on the big branch. Longfeathers looked at Strongfeathers sitting on the branch and had no feeling to move him off. He knew he had no contentment with Strongfeathers, but Strongfeathers never made a move to sit in the hole of the tree that sheltered Longfeathers.
         Longfeathers observed Strongfeathers, scrutinized his movements, turned his head, but still regarded Strongfeathers, uneasily, out of the corners of his eyes. Strongfeathers appeared to have his eyes shut. Longfeathers wasn't certain as he closed his eyes for rest.