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The 95th Floor Page 7
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The remaining weeks of March were uneventful. I felt that if I had appeared anywhere near my younger self or Alexis that I might do something that I would regret—or something that would be so catastrophic that none of us would be around for me to have any regrets. Instead, I committed myself to stay within a small one-mile radius of my little canyon shack. I even took part in activities that under normal circumstances I never would have wanted to. I picked up a fishing pole from one of the nearby thrift stores and fished in the river at the bottom of the canyon. If nothing else, it provided me with some free meals. I never was a big fan of fishing, but I definitely loved eating fish.
I also decided to jot down my activities and events that happened around me. If I ever found myself thrust into the past again—I didn’t know if it might happen again or not—I could go back and review some of the notes I had written. They may or may not become useful at a later date. Who knows, maybe if everything ends up resolving itself I could write a book about my adventures. It would probably have to be classified as fiction. Nobody would believe the weird shit that has happened to me in the last few months.
That is when I began to wonder what happened in the present time where I should have been. Was anybody looking for me? What happened at the store the next day after I had trashed some of the aisles? Is my cellphone still sitting on the counter at the gas station? After thinking about that, a part of me was glad I wasn’t in the present. I don’t know if I could stand the consequences of my temper the night all of this happened. I really did wish I had my cellphone on me though. Once you get used to having a smartphone on you at all times, it is really hard to adjust to life without it.
My cellphone quickly became a faint memory when I remembered that I had much more important things to think about. This was the day that everything in my life would come crashing down on me and transform me into the loser that I am right now. Well, let’s say the loser I was about three and a half months ago. I think I can say that my experience over the last couple of months has really refined me in some ways. I would like to think that I am a much more mature person than I was between the time of my breakup with Alexis and the night I saw her again and became trapped in the past. The many obstacles I have overcome and the way I have taken charge of my situation has genuinely made me a better person. I still have a long ways to go until I am the man I should have been, but I am proud to say that I feel I am on the right track.
I put down my sketch pad and pencil and got on my bike for the long trek towards the house I had previously lived in. It is strange to think about, but it has actually been quite a while since I have been to that house. I suddenly really wanted to see my parents again. But that would have to wait.
I rode to the park that was very close to the house. There, Alexis was alone with a couple guys that we both went to school with. They were the same age as her and I never talked to them, I merely knew them by name and nothing else. I found a tree that was close by but far enough to not draw any attention towards me. I had my Walkman with me but with no music playing so I could hear what would be said between the two.
I could hear Alexis talking with the two guys and laughing along with them. It sounded like an innocent conversation regarding school, nothing any guy should get jealous with his girlfriend about. It was strange being able to spectate on events from a different perspective. If I had this ability back then, things would have turned out so much differently. It was nice to see her happy. All of the times over the last couple months that I had seen her it was only when I was treating her like shit. Now I wish I could go back in time again and see her at the times when my younger self wasn’t around.
The smiles and laughter came to a sudden stop when Alexis turned around to see my younger self walking towards her with a stern look on his face. He didn’t dare say anything to her while the two guys were around. What a coward. He would wait until they left before lashing out. Alexis would make sure that happened very quickly.
“Oh, hey guys, I better let you go. My boyfriend is coming, and we are going to go hang out at his house.” She said to the two guys.
“Why are you with that guy? I hear he is a complete dick to you. Is that true?” One of the guys asked her.
“No, it’s fine. I just get on his nerves from time to time, it’s no big deal. I can be a handful.” She said, trying to sound cheerful.
“Well, whatever. Come hang out with us later on if you feel like it.” The other guy said.
“Sounds good, I’ll see you guys.” She said as she walked towards the other me.
She was the perfect girlfriend. Even when I treated her like shit, she still kept it between us. She played it off like it was nothing. Well, I knew it wasn’t just nothing. She didn’t deserve any of the abuse I directed at her. But this would be the time she finally stood up for herself. Finally, the moment where I would be on the receiving end. And I would deserve every second of it.
“What the fuck were you doing with those guys?” My younger self said when he knew he was far enough away from the two guys.
“I was just talking with them about school. It’s nothing to get all upset about, jeez.” She said. Normally at this point, she would show at least some sort of emotion, but after so long, it had faded to a blasé tone.
“Well, you sure looked like you were having a good time until I showed up.”
“What do you expect, Stan? At this point, I pretty much expect to be yelled at by you and accused of being a slut when you know none of it is true.” She snapped back.
“Oh I know it’s not true, huh? Are you sure about that? What were you talking about?”
She put her hands on her hips and just stared at my younger self with cold eyes. She wasn’t planning on being left crying this time. “I told you. We were just talking about school.”
“Bullshit. Every time I’m not around, you are hanging out with other guys. Are you fucking every guy in school? Is that what is going on? Are you the school whore?” He said.
I remember when I said that, I immediately felt regret at the words that came out. But I couldn’t show any sign of weakness. Definitely not to her. Now I wish I had. Maybe things would have ended differently. Now the moment had come that would shape my future.
“You know what, Stan? Sure. I am the school whore.” She said then started yelling out so anybody nearby could hear. “YOU HEAR THAT EVERYBODY? I’M THE SCHOOL WHORE. I’M ONLY 17 BUT I’LL SHOW YOU ALL A GOOD TIME.” Then she pointed directly at me, sitting under the tree. “You over there. You hear that? You want to fuck?”
I just looked around me and tried to play dumb. This was not going the way I had planned.
“Keep your damn voice down.” My younger self said, trying to diffuse her.
“No. I am sick of this shit.” She then got right in his face. “I am done. Go fuck yourself, Stan. Go push your insecurities on someone who gives a shit because you and I are through!” She said, flipping him off, and walking towards the two guys she was talking to earlier. “Sit and spin, asshole.”
When I was sure that neither of them was looking at me, I walked off towards my bike and rode away.
I thought I would feel like crap after finally seeing our break up from a different perspective, but I didn’t. I wasn’t even mad at my younger self. I knew what was going to happen. I think I lacked any kind of sympathy because Alexis finally stopped putting up with my shit. She was free of the ball and chain that was me. Plus, seeing her flip the bird and yell “sit and spin” was actually kind of funny this time around. I don’t know what she would go on to do after today, we never spoke again until the night I saw her at the gas station. We kind of intentionally avoided each other at school and outside of school. I did so because of the overwhelming shame I felt. She probably did so because she hated my guts from that point on. I didn’t feel bad for my younger self, but I was still sad about what had happened.
When I got back to my shack, I immediately tried to get some sleep. I couldn’t help thinking abou
t what I could have done to save the relationship. I concluded that the answer was nothing. It was the result of my abuse slowly chipping away any feeling she had. It was months in the making. It was inevitable. Had I intervened today, it would only have postponed it until the next time. I felt terrible, lying down on my garbage mattress. Not for myself, and not for Alexis. My head was pounding, and I felt as if I had just drunk a bottle of whiskey and was spinning in circles.
What a great way to end the day. I laid there in agony as my head pounded and throbbed in an almost musical rhythm. But thankfully, sleep eventually took it all away, and I was able to get some much-needed rest.
For days after the breakup, I was not my usual self. I know my younger self would spend weeks moping about and avoiding everybody, even our parents. I was not much different. I moped around, wandering aimlessly around the radius of my shack. I ate very little—which was a blessing on my limited funds. I slept much more than I usually did. It felt as though I was having a mental breakdown. I suffered one a few years ago, most likely the result of an excessive amount of stress that piled on until I finally snapped and lost my mind. This felt very similar.
For about a week I felt that way. On the morning of April 5th, I was beginning to finally feel like myself again. I still felt somewhat depressed and mopey, but I didn’t feel like being alone on this morning. Instead, I walked across the Canyon Bridge to a small diner. I just wanted some coffee and some human interaction. Or maybe just the sound of other humans around me, they didn’t necessarily have to speak to me. I just wanted to know there was another miserable person nearby.
I walked inside the diner to see only a few other people keeping to themselves. There was a TV mounted to the corner of the wall above the counter displaying the morning news. I sat down at the counter on a bolted down bar stool and ordered a cup of coffee and a slice of Dutch apple pie.
“Haven’t seen you around these parts. Are you from here?” The waitress asked in a husky voice.
“Uh no, I’m from back east. Just doing a little bit of sightseeing of the west.” I said, making it up on the spot.
“Oh yeah? Well, there isn’t much to see around here. Except for the canyon of course, but who drives across the country to see a crack in the ground?”
“We don’t have much in the way of canyons where I’m from” I stated.
“Well, I hope you enjoy your stay. If you’re sightseeing, you might want to check out the falls too. They can be pretty nice if you catch them when the water is high. Not much else to see though. There are plenty of better places to visit than here.” She said as she filled my mug with some black coffee and set down a plate with a large slice of pie on it. “Enjoy.”
“Thank you.” I murmured.
The coffee was rather bland until I filled the cup nearly half-way with creamer. The pie, on the other hand, was amazing. Before I left the diner that day, I had almost an entire pie all to myself.
After finishing my first helping of Dutch apple pie, I stared at the TV to catch up on current events. A news story came up regarding something I was quite familiar with. I asked the waitress to turn up the volume on the television.
“Today two Libyan terrorists were turned in to Scottish authorities as suspected accomplices in the bombing of Pan Am Flight 103 that devastated the tiny hamlet of Lockerbie Scotland over ten years ago. The suspects will stand trial in the Netherlands. For anyone who doesn’t recall Pan Am Flight 103, it is the worst terrorist aviation disaster in history that took the lives of 270 people, both passengers on the aircraft as well as residents of the town of Lockerbie.”
I knew about the Lockerbie disaster. Anyone who reads about aviation disasters or even terrorism should have some familiarity with it. But one thing caught my ear was the statement of it being the worst terrorist disaster involving airplanes.
Just then one of the other customers in the diner spoke up. “Good for them. Goddamn towel heads just gotta blow everything up. Bastards should blow their brains out and do us all a favor!”
That is when I chimed in. “Well, they aren’t all bad. But I agree. These fuckers who just want to kill people should start with themselves. The only problem though is they already have a tendency to do that. The fuckers don’t even think twice about strapping dynamite to themselves and running into a crowd of people.”
“Yeah, well we oughta just nuke the shitasses like we did to the Japs in ‘45. Fuck ‘em.” He said in reply.
I felt this was a bit extreme. Not an uncommon thing to hear around these parts though. “I don’t know about that. Sure, there are a few bad apples, but you can say the same thing about here. Look at those assholes at that Westboro Baptist Church, or that asshole Jim Jones who convinced all those people to commit suicide for their dumbass religion down in Guyana in ‘79. Shit, there were kids in that group.”
“I didn’t go to Vietnam to kill a buncha zipperheads just so these towel heads could come here and blow our shit up.” The old man said.
“I don’t think you went there for religious nuts to brainwash women and children into drinking poison either, did you?”
The waitress had enough of our bickering and stepped in.
“You guys keep it down. If you want to argue, do it outside, but not in here.”
The old man just waved his hand to signal he was done talking. Instead he sat there mumbling to himself, none of it I could make out.
“Sorry. Anyways, I don’t know why they are calling this the worst terrorist disaster ever. I mean, sure it was tragic, but it’s like they completely forgot about 9/11.”
“Huh?” The waitress said when she overheard me.
“What the hell is 9/11?” The old guy asked with a truly confused look on his heavily wrinkled face.
“You know, the World Trade Center where the…” That was when I realized 9/11 hadn’t even happened yet. It was still 1999. It wouldn’t happen for another two and a half years.
“You mean back in ‘93? When that asshole bombed the trade center in New York? There were no planes in that. Just another of those goddamn camel fuckers blowin’ shit up in America. Pretty sure that one was in a truck though, no airplanes.” The old man corrected me.
“Oh. Uh…yeah. You’re right. Not sure what I was thinking. Uh…glad they finally got those guys from the Lockerbie crash.” I said trying to change the subject.
“Fuckin’ towel heads…” The old man said before it was reduced to a mere grumble under his voice.
I realized why I had insisted on keeping my interaction with others to a bare minimum. I almost gave away information about the future. Who knows what kind of effect that would have? But what if I could prevent something from happening? Nothing happened when I interrupted the shit-kicker when he was raping that girl. He ended up with a broken dick which most likely didn’t happen in the normal timeline, but everything else stayed the same.
I pondered the idea of undertaking a task like preventing 9/11. The more I thought about it, the more convinced that it was something I was obligated to do. I remembered the name of the girl who owned the book I received from New York just before I was flung to this era.
Keiko Miller.
I still loved the sound of that name. Right now she was still alive. I knew where she worked. If only I had a way to get there. I had studied pretty thoroughly the events of 9/11 in my spare time over the past few years. I couldn’t remember all the details of what happened before that day, but I knew more than probably ninety percent of the public did.
As I finished my last slice of pie, I was certain that I wanted to do this. I would stop 9/11 from happening; I had to.
The government would prove incompetent in doing so. Even to the day I was from, they would hide their mistakes from the public. Most would consider this evidence of some boneheaded conspiracy theory that the government carried the attack out, but any sane person knew this was all paranoia and idiocy. I would prove it to the world. I told the waitress thank you, gave her a very generous tip, and rushed
out of the diner to head back to my shack and plan exactly how I would carry this out. It was a big plan. But I was determined. More determined than I had ever been in my life.
Chapter 7
Devising a plan of action to get myself from my present location to the east coast to prevent one of the biggest terrorist plots in history proved to be just as difficult as it sounds. First, I had to figure out how I was going to get there. With only a couple hundred dollars in my wallet, there was no way I was going to get myself a vehicle other than a bike, and there was no way in hell I was going to pedal my happy ass to Florida on a bicycle.
The other problem was my memory. My book collection included quite a few comprehensive studies on those guys, all of which I had read in depth—even the mediocre commission report. Unfortunately, those books were all back in 2018 and would be of no help at this point. I could recall vague details of the movements of the hijackers from memory, but exact dates were much more difficult. There was also the issue of there being nineteen individuals against myself. There was no way I could take out every single one of them. I would have to plan it out carefully where I could take out certain ones that would cause the entire plot to crumble, much like removing the capstone from an arch.
More importantly, I needed to secure funding for the trip. Even if I had a vehicle to get me to the east coast, it would only be effective if I had money for fuel. Thankfully, gas prices in this time period were a mere fraction of what I had been used to in my own time. I hadn’t seen gas prices under two dollars for a very long time. In less than ten years from now, prices would almost quadruple. I wondered how my actions in the coming years would affect that. I also wondered if stopping the attacks would prevent the crippling recession that would take place in 2008.