JOHN

Something a bit different for our Chapter of the Month this month: a short story. ‘John’ recalls the events of a tragic December night over forty years ago, when it felt like some deranged monster had stolen Christmas from us. But the music lived on, it still does… and it always will.

Here's what I like to think might have happened.

“John?”

He turned in response to my call, “Yeah, man, what can I do for you; you want an autograph or something?”

“Well, er… both, actually.”

“Both?”

“Yes, an autograph… and something… something else… if you don’t mind,” I handed over the object I’d been carrying, and a pen.

He looked at my album, “What you been doin’ to this, man, it only just came out, this looks a hundred years old, like it’s from somewhere across the universe.”

“Er, yes, well, I play it a lot.”

He laughed, “That’s a lot of wear and tear for a month, man, you must play it eight days a week.”

I smiled as he signed the record cover. There were a few perks to this job.

Handing the precious artefact back, he asked, “So, what’s the something else I can help you with?”

I took a deep breath, “I’ve come to warn you; warn you about something that’s going to happen tonight.”

“Shit, not another one. You come together with them other freaks, or that guy who’s been hangin’ around all day?”

“Ah, so they’ve spoken to you already then. What did they tell you?”

“They told me the fella who’s been hangin’ around is some jealous guy, crippled inside, a deranged fan who’s planning to shoot me after we get back from the studio tonight.”

“Did you believe them?”

“God, no, course not, I’d be a nervous wreck if I fell for every little thing some joker tells me when I should have known better. Why would anyone wanna shoot me anyway, there ain’t no revolution, I’m not like a politician, some archduke or something.”

“You’d be surprised, the world’s getting more violent now, and you’ve said a few controversial things over the years, you’ve been threatened before, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember alright, but that was a long time ago, a different life. No-one hassles me here, no-one’s bothered anymore, not enough to make them wanna shoot me for Christ’s sake.”

“For Christ’s sake,” I repeated softly, struck by the irony, “funny you should say that. Look, is there somewhere quiet we can go to talk, a bar or something, just the two of us. I’ll get you a rum and cola, or a brandy alexander… whatever you’re drinking now, whatever gets you through the night.”

He laughed, “You appear out the blue, a complete stranger, and expect me to go with you based on the offer of a drink! I never heard anything so crazy in my life, do you think I’m nuts?”

“No, I think you’re one of the greatest men who ever lived and the future of mankind rides on what you decide to do tonight.”

“Hey, that’s pretty heavy, I ain’t never heard anything like that before, not nowhere man.”

“Better than shithead, eh?” I smiled as I pressed the button on my wrist control unit to activate the sincerity signal: a subsonic wave that induced a feeling of trust, making the subject believe what they were being told… unless, like me, they’d been trained to resist. Some of the trespassers had access to the same technology; not surprising given many of them were ex-rangers.

“Come on,” I insisted, “it’ll keep us out of the rain.” 

The star sighed, stealing a glance at his watch, “Alright, I’ve got a little time to spare before we’re due at the studio, you can buy me a Bacardi and Coke.”

*

I passed across his drink and sat opposite with a glass of cola. Naturally, they didn’t have any Dipsi-Cola here, but the twentieth century’s most popular soft drink, according to my research at least, would have to do.

“You not having a real drink?” he asked.

“No, I, er… I don’t want to spoil the party, but I have a long journey, a long and winding road, ahead of me. Alcohol would be a bad idea, I don’t want to make that mistake again, not a second time… much as I would have liked to have a real drink with you.”

He raised his glass, took a long gulp, and leaned back, sighing with satisfaction, “You know, this is great, a day in the life, just having a drink like some other guy, free as a bird. I miss this, I’m so tired of having to be this big star all the time, having to prove I’m the greatest. Don’t get me wrong, I have a great life, but nobody told me success would be like this, I hate the isolation. Now and then, I wish I could hold on to a normal life, just be myself, follow my intuition and sit back, watching the wheels. Sometimes, this rock star life… it’s so hard keeping up the façade, this front, fortified by steel and glass,” he lightly flicked the side of his spectacles, “I know… I know I’ll be backed up to the wall one day, it’ll get me in the end.”

I smiled, it was wonderful to see him relax, open up, be himself. But he was remarkably prescient too, he’d summed up his fate very well; he was on borrowed time, this brief interval of care-free happiness, a few precious moments not having to carry that weight, couldn’t last. His final hours were flying by, sweeping him towards his inevitable destiny… one way or the other.

Sighing again, he sat forward, “So, what’s this all about?”

“It’s about those freaks who told you that you’re going to get shot tonight.”

“What about them?”

“They’re what we call temporal trespassers… and they’re right.”

“What?”

“They’re right, you will get shot tonight. At least, well… originally it happened, it’s meant to happen. But, right now, it’s… it’s not certain anymore. That’s what the trespassers have done, you see, they’ve created a temporal schism.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, man?”

“Look, I want you to imagine two possible futures, the one that’s meant to be, and the one they’ve created, or at least they threaten to create… but it all depends on you, on what you do tonight; on whether you believe them… or me.”

“But I don’t believe them… well, at least I didn’t, not ‘til you showed up. Now you got me wondering.”

“They’ll be back, and they’ll be more convincing, they’ll have… well, you’ll believe them, that’s what matters, you’ll believe that deranged fan is going to shoot you.”

“Why would I believe that?”

“Because it’s true, he will shoot you.”

“Bollocks, man, you can’t know that.”

“But I do.”

“How?”

“OK, here goes,” I looked at the floor for a moment as I pressed the button to send the sincerity signal again. I knew I was pushing my luck, the signal grew steadily less effective the more it was used, but this was an exceptional situation, exceptional measures were called for.

“So, don’t freak out,” I looked up again, “I’m a time ranger, I’m from the future, the classic future, the original, and it’s my job to preserve it… at any cost.”

“Fuck, man, are you talking about time travel; am I on some kind of trip?”

“No, it’s not a trip, it’s not some psychedelic fantasy, it’s real, I can prove it to you. This afternoon, you had a photo session. You posed naked, but your wife wasn’t keen on stripping off for the camera, so you found a compromise. It’s a great photo, makes you look both strong, yet vulnerable, all at the same time; and it shows the way she loves you, almost like a mother. Then you did an interview with…”

“How can you know all that? Even I found out the girl wanted us naked only a couple of hours ago.”

“I told you, I’m from the future. And the reason I’m here is I have to tell you…”

“Yeah, you said… I’m gonna get shot.”

“Yes, right outside your apartment building, when you get back from the recording studio tonight.”

“How bad?”

“Sorry?”

“How bad will I get shot?”

“Er, pretty bad.”

“How bad?” he insisted again.

“Well, er… er, you die.”

“Shit, man, you gotta be kidding, I can’t die tonight. I feel fine, I only just turned forty… life begins at forty. And I just got my career going again, I’m just starting over… I’ve got a wife, a five-year old son, he’s just a little child, I…”

“I know, yes, I know… and I’m sorry, but…”

“But you’re here to warn me, right? So, it won’t happen, I won’t get shot?”

“Well, er… no, not exactly. You see, I… I… oh shit, I can’t stand this part,” I put my hand to my face, covering my eyes as the shame threatened to overwhelm me.

“What part?”

I could feel the tears running down my cheeks as I took my hand away and looked at him again, “You know, sometimes, I hate this job. I know we’re doing the right thing, but… but, like… like… I mean, do you know some of the things I’ve had to do?”

“Er, what have you had to do, man?”

“In the last year… well, a year from my point of view… I’ve had to make sure Kennedy went to Dallas, persuade Captain Smith to keep going full steam ahead, stop the NYPD evacuating the World Trade Center before the attack, warn Hitler about the bomb under his desk… I mean, warn Hitler… can you believe that?”

“Why… why would you… er, what was that about the World Trade Center?”

“Shit, forget I said that, you’re not supposed to know about that one. Point is, this job sucks sometimes, I resent having to preserve a history that fucking stinks half the time, I ask myself how do you sleep. But the problem is, much as the trespassers often mean well, they’ve no idea how much trouble they cause. You save one life, you snuff out another, and it all descends into chaos. And we can’t have that, we have to have some stability, no matter how painful it is.”

“You’re talking in riddles, man, don’t play mind games with me, gimme some truth, what’s all this got to do with me getting shot?”

“Alright, it’s like I said, there are two possible futures. In the original, you get shot, you die. The world mourns you, there’s a great outpouring of grief, your fame soars to new heights, your messages of love and peace are heard by a whole new generation, your legacy endures for decades. On the centenary of your birth, just as the world is threatened by a new menace, potentially the dawn of a new era of hate, people remember your music, there are renewed calls in your name, telling everyone all you need is love, they should give peace a chance. The world teeters on the brink of self-destruction, it’s as tight as that, but it’s your music that tips the balance, your music that saves us, John, your real love for mankind pulls us through.”

“Wow, that’s… that’s, er… I’m humbled, er… it’s… but what’s the other possible future?”

“In the other future, the one the trespassers are accidentally going to create, they warn you about your murder, you believe them, you don’t get shot, you live well into the next century. You’re remembered, but it’s not the same, you’re not revered as the great legend who spread the word of peace. In time, your music is… well, not forgotten, but, one day at a time, it fades, loses its potency… it’s not like nobody loves you anymore, but you don’t give that power to the people when it’s needed the most. The generation that faces that new era of hate in that distant tomorrow never knows your message of love and peace, the world falls into the abyss and, before any time at all, everything is lost.”

“But, hold on… you said you came to warn me, to save me?”

I sighed, staring at the floor, “I didn’t come to save you, I came to warn you what would happen if you listen to the trespassers… I came to appeal to you, beg you, to let history run its course, let it be the way it was meant to be… let yourself get killed… for the sake of all mankind.”

“You can’t do that, you can’t ask me to die for a future I’ll never see, for people who haven’t even been born yet, people I’ll never meet.”

I couldn’t hold back the tears streaming down my face. They say you should never meet your heroes, that they will only disappoint you. Now here I was asking my greatest hero to sacrifice his life to save a world he would never know. Sometimes, this job sucks.

Looking up, I nodded, “I know, I know… I understand… I dig it, as you say in this period. I know you don’t want to leave your woman, your beautiful boy, I know how you feel, I know it’s not fair, I’m asking too much of you, more than anyone should ever ask. But that future you’ll never see is my home, it’s where I come from… and only you can save it.”

He got to his feet and pulled on his coat, “Go back to your future, day tripper, run for your life, I’ve heard enough of this shit. My wife’s gonna grow old with me, my son’s gonna look at me when he grows up, see me standing there by his side; they’re the only people that matter. Now I’m going to the studio, and I’m not letting some bastard shoot me when I get home.”

I put my head in my hands, sobbing in despair as he walked out of the bar. I had no idea whether he believed me or not… I wasn’t sure whether I wanted him to. Either way, the consequences were going to be terrible… and I didn’t have the strength left to intervene. I’d done what I could, it was out of my hands now.

*

I waited anxiously in the shadows, watching the fans hanging around hoping for a glimpse of the star, an autograph, a few words, a chance to bask in his greatness, even if only for a moment.

The assassin was waiting too. I could see him, the creature I’d reviled since I first heard of tonight’s events, the creature who would bring so much grief to the world. And I was supposed to make sure he succeeded, the way it was meant to be… when I’d much rather burn him alive.

I’d never felt so conflicted, so desperately horrified by what my mission required. I’d done worse things, it was true: drowning the innocent, protecting maniacal despots, all in the name of preserving history. But this felt more personal.

I hadn’t been lying when I said I played his album a lot, although not that original pressing that I’d got him to sign: it was a precious antique, worth a fortune. But I played all his music, listened to his words. I felt like I knew him, like he was an old friend, a trusted companion, a wise counsellor… and now I was tasked with ensuring he was murdered.

If it had only been about preserving history, a theoretical ideal, I would have refused. But I’d seen that alternate future the trespassers would mistakenly create, all the misery and suffering it would bring. They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and there was never a better example: I’d seen the planet on fire, heard the screaming of billions of people.

One man’s life to save billions. It was logical. But it wasn’t fair, it didn’t seem right. So, I’d left my gun behind, it was up to John now.

The limousine pulled up to the kerb and he got out. He looked at me and nodded, as if to say, ‘OK, I got this,’ then he strode straight towards the assassin, leaving his wife behind, where she would be safe.

He passed close by the murderer, glanced briefly at him, then kept going, heading for the building’s entrance. A second later, right on cue, the maniac emptied his revolver into the star’s back.

John staggered on a few steps, through the archway, and collapsed to the ground. I ran to him, knelt beside him. “Thank you,” I whispered.

“Imagine that,” he smiled, “I saved the world.”

Sometimes your heroes don’t disappoint you.