The Future Rocks

    It was going to be a day like any other day. What reason did I have to expect otherwise? It began simply enough with my morning routine, the end of which found me heading out the door. Once a month I paid a visit to my Dad, and today was the day.

   I casually strolled the three blocks to my Dads’ place, and as I walked up the steps of the half-way house, I could hear his voice raised in argument with another man as they slung accusations at each other over who “did it.“ Stepping inside, I saw immediately the source of the dispute; two tea cups smashed on the floor. When my dad saw me he handed me some money and told me to head over to the grocery store.

    “Get us one of those precooked chickens and some Wagon Wheels.” he said.

    As it turns out, they don’t seem to make Wagon Wheels anymore. So I got a bag of Pirate cookies instead.  I wound up wishing these had also been discontinued, because when my Dad saw my alternate selection, he was none to pleased.

    “Pirate.” he said with ill concealed contempt. We ate our chicken and our cookies in silence. I stared at the floor where one tea cup shards once lay. Finally, my Dad spoke again.

    “Son, there’s no easy way to tell you this. Your Grandfather is dead.”

    My grandfather, Jamie S. Luxton the first,  had been incredibly old and incredibly racist. He once bought one of those Canadian Indian residential schools, altering the course curriculum so that it provided the steady stream of well trained servants that his household required. This incident is not taught in schools but neither is it the most obscure bit of Canadian history. In fact, my grandfather is sometimes celebrated for his efforts to remove the draconian system of corporal punishment that was so endemic to these schools. While that may seem a principled and progressive stance for a man in 1915, the often forgotten part is that he only did this to impose a system of capital punishment in its’ place. Interestingly, the change had no measurable effect on attendee mortality. Anyway, after only three years, Prime Minister Borden and his government decided that the schools were not eligible for private ownership,. Control was restored back to the church, who paid a sum to my grandfather quite smaller than what he’d originally paid them.

    “I never met my grandfather, and I’m glad I didn’t, because he was a horrible man. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest.” I said.

    “I know, that’s what makes it so difficult. It feel like I’m supposed to think that this is important, but I can‘t think of a reason to care, either. Maybe you’ll find this interesting. He left you something.”

    He slid a plain looking brown box across the table top at me. It wasn’t fastened or secured in any manner, so I opened it immediately. Inside was a smooth grey stone, like a thick and cloudy piece of glass. Accompanying  the stone was a folded piece of paper, on which was written:

   
    Grandson,

    I present to you this piece of Ulexite.  Ulexite (if you are not familiar) is sometimes referred to today as TV Rock. It is a mineral whose structure makes it sort of a naturally occurring optic fiber. In a properly cut specimen, this stone will project an image of anything behind it, via it’s fibrous structure, to the front layer of the stone.  Do not mistake this characteristic for translucency, for while the results may sounds similar, the mechanics involved are anything but.  This may not seem all that remarkable today, but in ancient times, even the most ordinary sample of Ulexite was considered to be anything other than unremarkable.

    Centuries ago, Alcatio Amarez, an alchemist of no small infamy, came into possession of this chunk of Ulexite. Being a man possessed of much esoteric knowledge, this rock and it’s amazing properties were too mundane to be of any interest to him. So he ensorcelled the thing so that it could see the future. To this thing he gave the name Ulextone. That is what the legends tell us. If this is truly what occurred, the stone does not say. It tells the future, not the past.

    All one must do is have a specific situation in mind while looking into the stone, and it will show you the inevitable outcome. Share this secret with no one. Use it well, for it is a powerful tool that may serve you well. I know I wish I had possession of it when I bought that school. If I had known in advance how that would turn out, I would have never bothered.

    Grandfather.

   
    I left my father at the half way house with rote promises to return in a months time. I held the palm sized stone in my hand as I walked, wondering if my grandfathers’ claims about its’ powers could be true. I quickened my pace, eager to get home and test it for myself. I turned down the alley that led to the back off my apartment building. I had walked this way countless times, and never before had the alley seem so cluttered and foreboding. Doorways were lost in shadow, and telephone wires crisscrossed overhead, like a spiders’ web. I dismissed my apprehension by telling myself it was the fastest way home. It would only take thirty seconds to reach my buildings door.

    As always, I arrived at my buildings’ door without incident. It was only when I opened the door that I found my way blocked by a man dressed in black. He moved towards me in a menacing fashion. I stepped backwards into the middle of the alley, only to find two more men closing in around me. All were native, and all wore the same long, dark coats as the first man. I wondered briefly if they were members of Code Red, the native mafia that controlled the drug trade and other criminal enterprises in the city.  Then there was no time left for wondering, and there was no where left to go.

    “Good afternoon.” called out a voice. I turned to see a fifth man, stepping from the shadowed doorway behind me. He wore the same sort of black coat as the others, but this was over a loose fitting, rose coloured suit, with a tie as yellow as his slicked back hair. He took a long drag from a long cigarette.

    “I understand you have taken possession of a rare and valuable artifact. We are here to convince you to part with it.”

    “Look, I don’t know where you get your information from, but you have it all wrong. You got the wrong guy. I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about.”

    Tossing the cigarette aside, he smirked slightly. “Nor do you have a clue about who you are dealing with. I can promise you we have made no mistake. I also promise we are prepared to be very persuasive. I think you will find what I offer in exchange to be of great value.”

    “Oh yeah? What’s that?” I said. Considering that I thought these guys were just going to steal it from me, an exchange of some kind seemed worth entertaining.

    “Your life.”

    As if on cue, the others drew submachine guns from beneath their long coats. I glanced up and down the alley, and at all the windows, for any sign of any help at all. There was no one. I was on my own.

    As I looked around, I started to take notice of all the things around me, and a plan began to form. A garbage can within reach of my right hand. I could swing it at the guy behind me, knocking him out. Then knock over this stack of boxes on to the guy on my left. We’d both end up on the ground but he’d be stunned. I could grab his gun and use it send the other two scurrying for cover, at the very least. Then its up on top of the dumpster, big leap to the fire escape, and crash through the first window. Inside, I would set off the fire alarm. This will drive off the bad guys, who probably don’t want to be seen.

    I felt the cold tip of a gun barrel press against the back of my ear. This was it. Go time. My plan was desperate and risky, but what other choice did I have? I looked down at the stone concealed in my hand, and my grandfathers’ instructions suddenly came to me.

    “Can I really pull this off?” I thought, as I stared into the stone.

    The stone showed me a vision of my lifeless, bullet-riddled corpse.

    “All yours.” I said, holding out the stone towards the rose suited man.

    “Good choice. This better not be some kind of trick.”

    “Nope.” I said. He took the stone out of my hand, examined it briefly, and smiled.

    “A pleasure doing business with you.” The blonde man said.

    The thug behind me pushed me into that stack of boxes, and I fell to the ground. I lay there, stunned for a moment. When I sat up, they had all vanished without a trace.

    I stood and dusted myself off, my mind racing. The stone had worked! It was real! I’d had it, and it was mine, and I lost it, all in the space of an hour. But being alive wasn’t so bad, as far as consolation prizes go, and realising this, I didn’t miss the stone so much.

    As the events of the day flashed through my mind, my hands went through my pockets, looking for my keys so I could go inside. They were gone. They must have fallen out of my pocket when I fell on the ground. I searched and searched, but never found them. I went to the front to have the landlord let me in, but he wasn’t there. Now I couldn’t get in until he came home, and there was no telling when that would be. I could have really used a future seeing stone right then.