Prologue III

The Imminent Man had found himself walking along the side of the road in Utah. He scooped up a baby bird fallen from a blown over nest. A little squawking creature. It was so new to the world and soon to be sent right back out. 

“Hush, little birdy.” He said as he quieted its shrieks for its mother, a mother that was long gone on the western winds. He placed the thing gently down. Returning it to its half destroyed nest. Then he kicked a rock off across the crossroads he had wandered to. He did this while whistling his sad solemn tune. Just the remnants of that song. It had faded and he couldn't tune his ear to exactly how it went. 

He was most impressed with that man's powers. His observations. Tim was surprised he was talked into letting him off the hook. Why had he done that? He let him go! 

The last man he had done that for was the great lakes warrior. But that was a curse, not a gift. 

Wow things had gotten away from him. 

He knew they both might be close to one another, he could finish things up, he decided. He sighed. 

But he supposed he had let him go for a simple reason. He liked him. They had history not yet discovered. It was a history that was loose and slipping through his head like dandelions through your fingers. But it was still there. It made him feel something. And that was rare. And uncomfortable. But it was a good reminder for him. One he needed. He could do his work but he mustn’t let it change him. Consume him. Make him a nasty thing. 

The man had made him remember why he was. That’s a hell of a thing. 

He would pay him a visit again. He had too, he already had, he saw down the road that he was living in a suburb of Phoenix in a plain beige house. But inside it was full of love. Anointed with art projects and laughter on the walls. Yes, he would pay him a visit. He would meet his wife he had talked about. He had to. He already had. He had to follow through to set everything in motion. And he would play his part dutifully. Everything just as it had been to bring them together. Motion was his world. How it flowed and how it split. He had to make it flow the right way, and this was just more incentive. 

But what if he didn’t? What if he helped this man one last time and never arrived on his doorstep to do his terrible job. What if instead he visited an old friend, then maybe blew off some steam? Would the world cease to be if he did so? The man who danced with him was right in a way. Maybe it could handle one wrinkle here and there. It had before even if things got a little wonky. His wife couldn’t be that important of a lynchpin for the crux, could she? But if that happened then they would never have their meeting. Tim would not have this feeling. This recollection. This emotion. This option. This paradox.  

He sighed. Difficult choice.

People think the dimensions are a fragile tesseract but in actuality they were like a steam roller. And the fourth dimension was very rude to him when they chatted last. He could say screw it all. 

He wasn’t sure. He had been so dutiful before now. But he doubted he could disobey. That’s not the right word. De-exist is better. Sometimes he felt he had less free-will than the people around him. The people he picked and plucked. Maybe that’s why he was envious of them? And their great works they jam into such small short lives. He sighed again. Then he picked up a rock and threw it into the sky. It knocked a beetle off its winged course and right into the beak of a passing wren. 

Sometimes he was all out of sorts. But this was something else. He had been shown kindness by a man who should hate him most. That’s a man you need to visit again. One you want to be around. One who can always teach you something. Teach other people something. 

He shrugged. He just missed him really. 

He supposed he was indeed a man you could write a book about. Like Buddha back in the day. A prophet of sorts. Although a cheap one. One of dollar stores and knockoff brands. Of socks and sandals and loose electrical wiring. But a kind man with an open mind. It didn't matter it was almost bursting at the seams, that’s a man who deserves another chance. Tim had done right letting him leave. Will do right and will do his part. 

He snapped his fingers. 

“Oh shoot,” He quickly looked back into his last scene hoping to find the man's face still lingering there, but he realized instead he was at a crossroads in the Chao Phraya delta. 

Flooding again. 

He snapped again, disappointed, before trudging forward. “I forgot to get his name,” He muttered to himself.