Trees

I can't tell one kind of tree from another. They either have needles, or they have leaves that drop off in the fall. I guess I can spot one or two types by their leaves... maple and oak. But that's about it. It just never seemed important.

Especially in winter, when it's really down to just evergreens and sticks. Evergreens are still alive. Everything else, you know, is just sticks. Living or dead; you can't tell. You won't know till spring.

I think it's a Monday. It has the feel of a Monday. I am down in the park in the valley where I've been before. I like the park and the forest more and more. Something about the city... the sharpness of the lines, the steel, the sun made malicious and stabbing at you from every shiny surface... it wearies me more and more as time goes by. The city's uncompromising. Everything is either this or that; fences, borders, doors. Yes or no. In the valley was the potential of maybe. Maybe. Down among the trees whose names I did not even know. This is a Monday; a modern Monday.

The last building before the path down is a pizza joint. The scent of it follows me down like a siren song beckoning me back onto the rocks of the concrete sea. But the fragrance of pine is wild and fearless and soon wrestles down that interloper from above. The sounds of traffic die away. I'm real.

The drop is pretty steep; a slip a couple of times on the way down but I don't fall. After a minute or two I reach the flood plain and the path surrenders its paved pretensions and gives way to the stumbling uncertainty of dirt. There's that compromise. It's hard to tell what's trail and what isn't. Really, it's up to your eyes and your feet. They may not even agree with last time.

Just before the path is swallowed up by the forest, there's a bench. The last outpost of civilization. And its last citizen. There's a girl sitting there. Well, a woman. University age, she looks. I'm a far better judge as I grow older. She's sort of white, sort of black... maybe Middle Eastern; we meet eyes. "Morning," I say as I pass.

"Good morning," she says. Her English is perfect to my ears, but she speaks as through she's never tried it before. Eyes still fixed on mine, she seems to hold them, her head turning to follow. I'm so struck I actually have to stop.

"Are you human?" she says.

"What?"

Flustered, she says, "I mean— Accept command reset three-fifteen execute—"

—path is swallowed up by the forest, there's a bench. The last outpost of civilization. And its last citizen. There's a girl sitting there. Well, a woman. University age, she looks. I'm a far better judge as I grow older. She's sort of white, sort of black... maybe Middle Eastern; we meet eyes. "Morning," I say as I pass.

"Good morning," she says. Her English is perfect to my ears, but she speaks as through she's never tried it before. Eyes still fixed on mine, she seems to hold them, hear head turning to follow. I'm so struck I actually have to stop.

She seems at a loss for words. She's acting like she's never seen anyone else before in her life. Hands in my jacket pockets, I finally give a shrug. "Can I help you? Are you okay?"

She says, "I'm — yes, I'm okay. I'm called Alooka. I mean—" She cuts off with snort. "Accept command reset three-fifteen execute—"

—path is swallowed up by the forest, there's a bench. The last outpost of civilization. And its last citizen. There's a girl sitting there. Well, a woman. University age, she looks. I'm—

"Isn't it a cold day?" she chirps.

My pace falters. "Actually, I was just thinking how mild it is, myself. Maybe we'll have an early spring."

She seems a bit downcast. "Oh," she says. She looks around, faintly embarrassed.

I take a chance, even though her English seems flawless to me. "Are you here from a warmer place?"

She looks up as if she'd been drowning and I'd just tossed her a life line. "Yes, yes, exactly. It's much warmer where I'm from."

"Whereabouts?"

Again she's at a loss. "South," she says, glancing in the direction of the sun. "East of here." She looks down at the bench she's sitting on. Picks up some snow in her bare hand. "I've never seen this before. I've seen ice, but..." She suddenly shakes it off, visibly surprised by how uncomfortable a handful of snow is.

"Snow?" I say.

"Snow," she nods, as if trying out the word. She adds, "I knew that, I've just never..." She looks up, sighs. "This isn't going well."

This is weird. Time to go. Back up to the street? No, she's not dangerous. And I'll be damned if I'm going to give up my walk just because some scattered girl is looking for someone to chat with. "Well, you take care. Have a nice day," I tell her pleasantly, and step into the screen of trees.

She doesn't rise or even turn. I just hear her say, "Your name is Mark Wilson."

I turn. "How do you know that? Who are you?"

She gets to her feet, long jacket gathering around her boots. "I'd like it if you called me Allie," she says.

"How do you know my name?"

Suddenly she looks coy. "What would you say if I told you I'd seen you before?"

"Where?"

"In the future," she murmurs. "Far, far, far into the future."

If she hadn't spoken my name, I would simply turn and leave. But she has. "I'm not fooling around. How do you know my name?"

"I can tell you anything, you know. And you won't even remember."
Okay, now I'm scared. I don't even know how you talk to someone like this.

"I want you to leave me alone. Do you understand?"

"But no, please. I won't hurt you. I want to talk to you. I came here looking for you." She drops her eyes, no longer willing to meet my gaze.

I shake my head. "What the hell are you talking about? I want you to explain this. Right now. Or I... or I'll go to the cops or something."

"Your name is Mark Wilson, and you're interested in gravimetrics, right?"

I feel a sudden splash of relief. A possible answer. "Do you work at the institute? Or are you on a study assignment...?"

"I just know that you work in gravity theory. Don't you?"

"Yes... that's right."

"I'm a scientist too."

"Physics?"

"Anthropologist. That's what you'd call it." Her eyes lift again; fix on mine. "I always wanted to talk to you. Ever since I first saw you. I never dreamed I'd be able to but when I found you here... I couldn't believe it." She looks around, suddenly delighted. "Everything I say sounds so strange, but it's all so natural."

"Where have we met?"

"We haven't... well, here. Now."

"Then where have you seen me?"

Eyes back on the path. "Like I said. In the future."

"The future. Yeah, you said." I take a step back.

She says, "Do you think it would be easier to detect gravitons on the moon?"

How could she possibly even guess that? "How do you know these things? Allie? Who the hell are you?"

"Because that's why you're there. In the future. And that's where I've seen you. Although... it's not really the future, because we're both there now. It just seems like the future from your perspective..."

She can't be insane. She knows things she couldn't know if she were just nuts. But how can I believe any of what she's saying? "Would you please cut the mystical shit and just tell me what you're talking about?"

"It's going to take time to explain," she pleads. "I don't want you to run away. I don't want to have to start this all over again. The things you can teach me... they could help me more than you can imagine. And I may even be able to help you."

"Help me? Help me to do what?"

She looks startled. "They're coming," she says. "I have to end this. But I'll be back. Will you meet me tomorrow?"

"Look, I—"

"Meet me tomorrow!" she begs. She darts into the forest.

"Hey, wait a minute!" I follow. She's instantly lost in the trees. "Come back!" I follow her trail, the boot prints in the snow, until suddenly they vanish.

COMMAND END ACCEPTED EXECUTED
COMMAND SAVE ACCEPTED EXECUTED
COMMAND CONDUCT ACCEPTED EXECUTED
UNSPOOLING... COMPLETED.