In a solemn ceremony in the White House Rose Garden, the president announced his plan for defending America along a new frontier.
“Some very nasty people — who say they’re scientists, but I actually think they’re not bright people — they say that a time-traveling branch of the military is ‘not practical’ or ‘impossible even in principle’ or ‘yet another idea so stupid it’s soul-crushing for anyone who has to deal with you.’
“They are fake science. As one of my predecessors with great hair said, ‘We do these things that are hard not because they are easy, because hard things are not easy.’
“The United States will put a man in the future before this decade is out, and before whatever decade we put him in is out.”
Colonel James F. Dilling, Jr. heard this speech twice, not counting the innumerable times in his nightmares for years to come. First, he heard the words as they were being spoken at the White House, where Dilling had a nice comfy desk job advising on matters related to supplies and logistics. He’d been told to logistically supply his ass to the press conference, to pad out the ranks of the brass assembled behind the president. The number of generals and admirals who had other places they were absolutely needed that day had reached the point of being conspicuous, and then blown right past that point without looking back. The president would be furious if he noticed the small number of uniforms among the VIPs on stage. He liked big numbers.
Some strategic shuffling by the unusually camera-shy VIPs left Dilling standing right behind the commander-in-chief when he told people about the new thing he was commander-in-chief of. Dilling’s friends and family got a kick out of seeing him on the news, even the ones who knew better than to think it meant anything, and especially the ones who didn’t. A brother-in-law he held in particular contempt emailed to congratulate him for “being chosen to be one of the first men in time.”
He heard the president’s speech for the second time on the radio, over a game of checkers, watching the sunset while lightning bugs floated outside his screened-in back porch. His rival strategist was a retired toy-industry lobbyist named Brice who wandered over for a game now and then. In Brice, he saw the future: getting fat, wearing comfortable sweaters, taking a stroll down the block for something to do. Dilling looked forward to all these things. For him, they were a month away.
It was a great time to retire. He and Gina were in good health, the house was paid off, and the kids were busy being part of young, still-childless couples. They’d seen the world together; now they’d do it again, but on their timetable, not the Air Force’s. They’d spend as much time as Gina wanted in her beloved Rome, which he’d taken her away from 40 years ago. And at that moment on the porch, all of it, the entire adventure of being themselves and answering to no one, for as many years as they could get away with, was in their future. Their very, very near future.
The rising and falling sound of katydids began to compete with the voice on the radio. “King me,” Brice said. To his confusion, Dilling smiled.
Standing behind the president as he spoke had been one of the few people in the world with absolutely no desire to turn the clock either backward or forward.
***
“Congratulations, Jim! You’ve been selected to head the president’s new Time Force.
“Colonel to service chief — that’s a hell of a promotion.” The secretary of defense rose halfway from his seat and extended a hand over his desk as if it was all settled.
Dilling’s brain thoroughly botched the job of processing the secretary’s words. The thing it thought had been said wasn’t something that would be said. It concluded that this was a retirement prank. Grateful to have resolved the momentary confusion, it generated a feeling of relief and hastily conveyed it to Dilling.
No sooner had it done so than it received a report that its attempts to imagine the secretary playing along with a prank had been completely unsuccessful. Even more troublingly, it was unable to imagine the secretary knowing Dilling’s first name. It yanked back the relief, accidentally pulling it hard enough to cause a chill down Dilling’s spine.
His brain sighed. It would have to hold so many meetings to postmortem such a total fuckup.
“Sir…” Dilling said, then noticed that other words weren’t following the first one as they normally did. He frantically grabbed a couple that were lying around: “…what? Why?”
The secretary sat back. “The president appreciated your support last week, Jim. He saw your face a lot while watching himself on TV. Your background in logistics makes you the perfect choice to put together this new organization. And everyone who already had their stars turned down the job. Just…absolutely everyone.” He shook his head and chuckled. “So congratulations, General Dilling.”
Dilling caught up to the moment. This was real. He was being asked to delay his retirement, and for the sake of a truly undesirable job. One that meant his name would be mentioned in history books alongside the president’s Time Force. His legacy would be as a laughingstock.
But at least he’d have a legacy. As things stood, he wouldn’t exactly leave a lot behind when he left. And a general’s retirement pay was better than a colonel’s. And later he could write a tell-all, probably with a hefty advance.
He pictured Gina with her own little vineyard by the sea, like her parents had when she was growing up.
“How many stars?” Dilling said, sounding enough like he was joking to give him cover.
“Just one,” said the secretary with a nice-try smirk, holding up a finger.
“A one-star service chief could make the president’s branch look small.”
Dilling stomped down hard on the little voice inside him telling him he absolutely should not have said that. He didn’t really want the job. They were scraping the bottom of the barrel. Every other service chief had four stars. The president saw him on TV.
There was a silent struggle of poker faces.
“Two,” said the secretary.
***
He sat down next to Gina on the couch. He didn’t know which way she was going to come down on this. He’d had to give the secretary an immediate yes, but if Gina wasn’t on board he’d simply back out. What were they going to do, fire him?
“What is it?” She sounded worried. Maybe he should’ve changed out of uniform and brought it up over dinner, instead of trying to have this conversation first thing after walking in the door. But the news was too big to wait.
“I don’t even know where to start,” he said, slowly shaking his head in amazement. “They called me in for a meeting today, just out of the blue, and, well…” Deep breath. “If I delay my retirement, they’re going to make me a general.”
Gina’s face lit up. She gripped his forearms. “A general! Baby, that’s incredible!”
His own doubts evaporated as he laughed excitedly with her.
“A two-star general!” he blurted out.
“Oh, Jim…” Now her expression was one of pure surprise. The first part was good news. This was unheard of.
She put a sympathetic hand on his knee.
“They put you in charge of the Time Force, didn’t they?”
Comments (0)
See all