When Pete came to, he found himself back in his cell. The strangeness of the previous room prevented Pete from taking an inventory of his health but lying in the cell with nothing to do, he could mentally assess how he was doing. Pete's dizziness and weakness had left his body and he could feel his strength had fully returned. It was like the end of a bad cold. He had barely enough time to process the experience of the strange world that provided incorrect sensory information before Jayne's agonized and tortured screams began to interrupt his thoughts.

Pete sprang to his feet and moved quickly to the door of the cell to watch what was going on. It looked like Jayne had just returned from his latest trip and was writhing in pain. Even from where Pete stood, he could see blood pouring from Janye's nose. Jayne was no longer bound or gagged but it was clear that even lifting his head was a difficult task. However, Jayne did manage to lift his head and smirk at the scientist before commenting, "You know, Chuck, I think you get a sick pleasure out of hurting us. It's like you are a child playing with dolls. Did mommy never let you play with toys as a child?"

"If you insist on being unprofessional and calling me 'Chuck,' I might have to decrease your pain inhibition medication. It would truly mess with your spirit as you are already barely holding on with pain suppressants," came the sadistic reply to the taunt. "Or I could begin to play with your mind. You almost look like a Casey or a Slattery to me. How much fun would it be to convince you that your real identity is that of a stranded ship's XO in a pandemic-ridden world?" Charles leaned in close and seemed to laugh cruelly. At the sound of a nearby screen beeping, Charles turned his attention back to his tablet before changing the subject, "One last test today and we should be done." The familiar pattern began again - the sound of a die falling, the rhythmic tapping, Charles pushing buttons on the bracelet, and then Jayne's body disappeared with a blinding light and scream of pain.

Charles finished a few more notes before standing up and acknowledging Pete. "Well, you look like you finally have some color returning to your cheeks. Excuse me a moment, but since Prisoner 2187 will be away for the next few hours, I'm going to let my daughter into the lab to play." Charles gave a slight bow and left the room. Within a few minutes, the light skip of little shoes came bouncing into the room and right up to Pete's cage.

"Mr. Hutter, Mr. Hutter! Guess what? Maggie doll says she has a secret for you."

Unsure how to respond as talking to children was not something that Pete had a lot of experience in, he could only state, "Oh? And what's the secret?"

"I can't tell you - she has the secret. What's that?" she asked pointing at a tag that labeled Jayne's cell.

"You mean the label 21-"

"I used to be 2!" interrupted the child, "But now I'm 3 and Daddy says I turn 4 soon."

"Ok-" began Pete unsure how to respond to this whirlwind of questions and comments. What surprised Pete was the element of innocence in this child who was living in one of the most demented environments that Pete had experienced, which included underground lairs of Bly complete with trap doors for unwanted guests.

"Do you have a Mommy?" came the next question from the purest blue eyes that Pete had ever seen.

The question itself took Pete by surprise but it was just like the inquiring mind of a child to ask potentially explosive topics from a place of puerility. Pete decided to sidestep the question and attempt to glean more information from the child and responded with his own question, "Why don't you tell me about your Mommy?"

She used her little arm to wipe her nose before responding, "Well, she's dead. But she's a real Mommy though. Ever'body else has a tube Mama. But not me! I'm special!" as she exclaimed her importance she pointed to herself and beamed, clearly proud of her heritage. Before Pete could inquire further, the sound of a chair being rolled began to inch towards Pete and the child. Charles emerged a moment later with the rolling chair and sat down next to Livi a few feet away from the cages. She hugged her father, suddenly shy again.

"So, what did you think?" Charles asked Pete.

"How about a bit of specificity? Are you referring to the child? This world? The time of day?"

"Well, this is all beyond your time, but I know that you went to Stanford University in California. I am sure that you will be able to keep up."

This conversation was continuing to surprise Pete. "No one knows about my-"

"Education? Come now! Do people really believe that a man who is an opinionated art lover, a master of economics, and an individual with a prolific vocabulary refused to finish school simply because he forgot to wear his pants to school as a child?"

Pete decided that his college background was not worth quibbling about and the need for more information was paramount in order to plan an escape, "I was an English major not a scientist. So, why would I have an opinion about your futuristic world?"

"Still an unrealized genius for your time," responded Charles. He reached into his lab coat pocket and pulled out a cigar. He leaned back in his protesting chair before lighting his cigar. He let out a slow cloud of smoke before beginning his story, "People in my time have created digital worlds for each individual and they each live inside a cube like the one you experienced. An individual has 3 to 8 different settings depending on your status which is determined by the quality of your work and the necessity of the work you perform. At the end of an individual's work day, you return home to "live" in a box or virtual existence. It was originally designed as a way to provide vacation stops to those unable to venture outside their day-to-day world due to a lack of funds, health, or status. However, as demand for virtual reality cubes grew and the quality of life for people without funds and status diminished, people started living in the cubes instead of just vacationing in them. With the greater demand to live in a virtual reality, the outside world was cut down and destroyed to make room for more cubes.

"Now our world consists of millions of people "living" inside their hollow 'realities.' Humans have become weak due to their minimal movement. They lack imagination as everything is simulated for them and I am sure that after decades of 'improving the virtual experience,' we no longer look, smell, or feel an accurate representation of the world. More than that, socialization with other individuals, real and actually living people, is illegal for most classes. With the lack of socialization, people lack any part of humanity that comes with community. There is no human interaction anymore. There are no emotions, friendships, families, or romances. This world breeds people in tubes, places them in virtual reality boxes to serve society through work and commercialism, and then buries the ashes to make room for the next batch of test tube babies."

"Them," Livi stated as she pointed to a door in an attempt to help illustrate her father's explanation. And then she pointed at her father, Pete, and herself, before simply saying, "Us."

"So, what about us then?" asked a confused Pete trying to keep up.

"There are just a small handful of social classes that are granted the ability to live outside of the cubes. We are all still children of test tubes and do not associate with those outside of our assigned work world. These exempt groups are scientists, a handful of bureaucrats, cleaners, and gardeners. That said, a few years ago, bureaucrats began a temporary push to readjust the cubes with corrected data. You see, due to a world lacking many natural resources and decades of no one remembering what sounds are supposed to exist, what temperatures to create, what colors things should be, and what smells should be paired with various items, the quality had become quite lax over the years. Our original attempt to rectify the disparity was the orbs sent to your time to collect data."

"Yes, I remember them," commented Pete.

Charles scowled at the memory, "Yes, sending back an unchaperoned piece of future technology and expecting it to not potentially destroy history was at best naïve and at most gravely irresponsible. The lead scientist has since been...terminated."

"My mommy likes flowers," chimed in the little girl, desperate to be a part of the adult conversation.

"Yes," Charles confirmed while smoothing her hair back. "Your Mommy."

Charles then turned back to Pete. "I met her mother, Mira, shortly after the bureaucrat, John Bly, and his greed for the orbs' power disaster. You know he was actually from our time, right? Looking to take over an already limping society. Such a strange man, I believe that you were part of his gang?"

Charles paused for confirmation but Pete merely stared back, refusing to provide even the slightest nod of affirmation to his captor.

"Anyway, my time together with Mira was short but upon her execution, I was determined to keep Livi out of the virtual reality worlds. And not just from being placed into a cube but to destroy the cube world all together. So, I have been experimenting on the effects of time travel on a human body. As you can see with Prisoner 2187, it is a very painful procedure to make numerous trips through time. For people of your time, it becomes extremely painful to move after several jumps. For my people, anything more than once can be a death sentence. Actually, that was Mira's execution sentence, a second trip to the past. If she even survived the trip, she would not have lived long. While individuals from your time can adapt to the germs that have mutated down here, many of the diseases that you currently experience have been dormant or extinct for generations. Our systems cannot cope with the germs that lived with our ancestors."

"I wasn't allowed to see Mommy to say good-bye. We had to say goodbye to a box," added the little girl. Realizing that it was the end of her Mother's story and that there were rags posing as toys in a corner of the room, she went to play with them, bored with the ongoing conversation.

"Since I'm more of the 'live and let live' personality with a 'what's the best way to get paid' motivation, why the hell am I here? Why should I care about any of this?"

"All will be revealed in time," Charles replied while looking at his watch. After calculating the time, he stood back and returned to his work station in the center of the room. "But for now, I must work on bringing Prisoner 2187 back from his current appointed time and location." At that, Charles stood, pushed the rolling chair back to the center of the room, and picked up his daughter. Livi turned to wave at Pete as Charles carried his daughter and her "dolls" out of the lab to leave Pete alone with his thoughts.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Pete watched Jayne arrive back from his most recent "trip," but originally did not recognize his coprisoner. The man who came back had gone almost completely white and wrinkled, like Jayne had aged several decades. To make matters worse, the man came back with a scream of immeasurable pain and a profuse amount of blood exuding from his nose and ears. About the only thing that Pete could recognize was the man's clothes. Charles did not have to shock his prisoner unconscious but simply drug the prisoner by the shirt collar back to the cell before tossing the crumpled heap of Jayne onto the floor. Charles was so certain that Jayne was in too much pain or that his will had been so completely broken that Charles didn't even bother to lock Jayne's cell door before leaving the lab. Within moments of Jayne's return, Charles left the lab and turned off the lights to leave his prisoners in their simulated nightfall.

Pete studied Jayne in stunned silence in an attempt to determine if the man was still breathing or if he had died in the darkness. So, when Jayne broke the silence, Pete almost jumped out of his skin.

"Hey Pete. Were you able to see a way out on your field trip?" croaked the dying prisoner.

Realizing that Jayne wanted to act as if nothing had changed, Pete decided to forgo any questions of health or wellbeing but instead reply, "All I could see was a superfluous optical illusion in a small room. He knocked me out before and after the "box" as Livi calls it, so I have no idea what is really beyond the door out," Pete paused before continuing, "How long was I gone?"

"No idea. He has been moving me back and forth so often that it may have been a few days for you but I am sure that it's years for me."

Jayne coughed as he forced himself into a sitting position on the floor with his back against the wall. Every movement looked excruciating to Pete but he had to smile as he watched Jayne pull out his most recently stolen cigar to light it. Jayne might be dying but he would not surrender taking advantage of any opportunity to stick it to his captor.

As Jayne exhaled the smoke, he responded to Pete's shock in a mocking tone, "Tell me the truth, do you think I'm still pretty?" At Pete's shocked and silent response, Jayne began a fit of coughing that lasted for several minutes. Once the coughing subsided, he changed subjects, "Maybe you can find a way to steal the bracelet and escape to a different time."

"I'll pass on the bracelet of torture, thank you. I have yet to be called a masochist and am in no hurry to become one."

"Telling you, the first few don't hurt. Anyone can survive the first trip."

"If you weren't in pain that first time, why didn't you escape?"

"If he hadn't electrocuted, drugged, and bound me, believe me, I would have found a way to escape. In fact once, I managed to break my thumbs to release the cuffs and moved from wherever or whenever I landed. The problem was after a half mile or so, the bracelet pulled me back. The bracelet doesn't come off unless you know the code but I think I finally have the pattern down. I'll bring it to you." And with that Jayne pushed the cage door open and slowly crawled to Pete's cell door. When Jayne finally arrived, he passed a piece of torn up and crumpled paper through the bars and into Pete's palm. In the darkness, Pete could feel that there was a piece of plastic inside of the note but could not study it in the dark. Pete turned his attention to the paper but no matter how hard he squinted, he couldn't read the note as it merely looked like ink smudges. How long had Jayne been accruing this information while Pete was in the cube virtual reality room?

It didn't sit right with Pete, owing this man who was practically a stranger. Instead of expressing appreciation, Pete asked, "Why don't you just use it to escape on your next jump?"

"Because I'm dying, not even going to survive the night," coughed Jayne.

"I don't have a response to that."

"There isn't one. Just make sure that I don't die alone, or for nothing," grunted Jayne. After a few moments of reflective silence, Jayne added, "I'll tell you what the prisoners before you arrived told me before they died. 'At some point your body betrays you. For some it's getting old and not running as fast as you'd like. For others, it's the day that your body gives into pain. This is my betrayal. It was a long journey, but I knew it was coming from the day that I got here.' The day they gave me that speech, I was determined that I would never surrender. And while I might not be living past tonight, I'll be damned if I don't do everything I can to destroy Chucky and whatever his master plan might be. So, if you escape, you better do everything you can to destroy this lab and that bastard!"

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Before the scientist arrived in the morning, Jayne breathed his last. While he refused to provide any further insights to how they knew each other, Jayne spent the night determined to die in a manner of his choosing. He refused to lie down as he was determined to not be seen as subservient but at the same time, he couldn’t move more than a few centimeters before having cough fits or waves of pain. Jayne determined to not die sprawled across the floor looking like he was trying to escape or as if he were vulnerable in anyway but elected to die sitting against Pete’s cage, one last moment of rebellion against his captor. Jayne slowly enjoyed his cigar as though it was the most pleasant experience in his life and as though he were truly experiencing freedom in his final moments.

Unfortunately, because Jayne had stopped talking, or maybe he couldn’t, the night passed slowly for Pete as all he could do was watch Jayne and count the seconds to the next morning.

When the scientist arrived in the morning, he noted Jayne’s body without any compassion. Charles gave Pete the breakfast mush before pulling out a journal to take notes on the demise of Jayne. After witnessing several minutes of the captor’s apathy, Pete’s ire bubbled to the surface. “Chuck, don’t act like you give a damn. We are just the rats in your maze but instead of chasing cheese we’re escaping a giant hammer.”

“Do you think that I enjoy this? Sending people to early graves? Do you think that I place science above humanity?”

“I don’t know where your ethical line might be but mine has typically lived in the grey area. But even with my wanton concept of right and wrong, I have never given someone a prolonged and arduous death. That is a form of sadism that only John Bly could hope to match at his lowest point in his already miniaturized sense of morality.”

Charles sighed as he continued to scribble notes over Jayne’s body. “Do you know why this time period continues to perfect time travel? They want to take pictures of famous moments and people in time to update their records. To show the victories throughout human history as a type of entertainment. They didn’t want to update or world and they don’t want to learn from history or from the people who shaped our world but just to make profit off of it. But I’ve studied history, in detail. And not just fictional films that my science partner is obsessed with but real history. I see that we have lost touch with other humans. Each human lives in a cage, albeit of our own design. But we never touch the people in the rooms beside us. We never talk to each other, unless you are in an ‘excepted class,’ such as scientists. We can communicate with other scientists because talking in person could bring collaboration and furthering success. But politicians, gardeners, cleaners, and cube people all live in isolation, each involved in their own sphere. Each furthering their egomania due to isolation while lacking love, emotions, and life. Life and everything that can give one a sense of identity, purpose, or soul has become simulated.

“With the inability for me to send our entire population back in time and the unwillingness of politicians to learn from history or free our population, I realized what I needed to do. I had to bring all of the great individuals throughout time and pull them into my time. However, in order to ensure that those individuals would not be killed on their journeys, I pulled criminals from the past. Whores, thieves, gangsters, etc. Low level people that would not be missed but hardened by life to have a stronger will to survive through the tests. When each individual was healthy after their immune systems were strengthened, they were first sent back to kidnap another person from the past with a promise of freedom if they brought back enough replacements. After they had their replacements here and moving through the initial disease acclimation, I would begin the testing of the original criminal by sending them back and forth throughout time to see how many trips the human body can withstand.”

“Is that what I am? A criminal?”

“You are more than that. You are the founder and shepherd of the Empathicalism Movement. You speak about how truth needs to be shown, not in words but in feelings and in actions. You are the person who can help shape the future. Now that my experiments are finally completed, I can start bringing other influencers like you to this time. You are my first ally brought to this era!”

At his pronouncement, Charles had stopped writing in his journal and looked at Pete with an almost godlike worship. Charles’ speech and adoration only brought a shiver down Pete’s spine. Charles was completely insane.

“I have a daughter,” Charles continued. “It’s illegal for communication between classes or to have any “frivolous and non-productive” conversations with scientists, but when I met Livi’s mother, I knew that our world had lost the essence of what it means to truly be “human.” What I felt for her was more than I could ever quantify as a scientist. I was placed in charge of the first-time traveling team following the orb debacle and charged with preventing further ramifications of John Bly’s interference. I entered the role determined to protect the health of the past and preserve the future, my present. I was charged with training my small team on how to avoid affecting any aspect of history while providing insight on how best to collect data during their travels to reset the cube simulations. My small group consisted of a scientist and a couple gardeners, one of them being Livi’s mother. Even though she was part of the working class, she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Unfortunately, ordinary men react with fear and violence to anything that’s new and different, or in our case forgotten parts of the human experience such as the births of children outside of test tubes. So, when she became pregnant, I had to hide them both but Livi’s mother was discovered shortly after giving birth and sentenced to die in the past. So, I have been hiding the child the best I can to ensure that she lives in a room larger than any box and that she experiences love and family because those are the things that connect us. We as humans are so much more than DNA, we are emotion and I want her to have love, family, and freedom. You leaders of history, you can make it happen for her and for our present society. You can bring freedom, love, hope, emotions, and strength back. You are our future!”

“Not to rain on your parade but if you believe that robbing history of great influencers will solve your problems, won’t that just create new world problems? As in, destroy the history of the world? Somehow, I doubt the bride of Chucky would approve.”

“The grandfather paradox,” responded Charles and he waved it away with a hand. “I choose to believe that it will create a new dimension of time and space and my loyalty is to that time stream and the troubles of the old timestream are not my problem. My only priority is Livi.”

“Let me make one thing abundantly clear, I will never fight or bleed for your lack of principles or your insane cause.”

Charles tilted his head to study Pete before simply stating, “We’ll see, Mr. Hutter. We’ll see.”

With that, the scientist looked at his watch before standing and leaving Jayne’s body on the floor. He crossed the room and placed his journal in the desk before locking it and walking towards the door. “For now, you will have to excuse me,” Charles called over his shoulder, “I have an appointment with a colleague. We can continue our discussion about the future, time paradoxes, and philosophy upon my return.” And within moments he left out the door.

With the lights left on, Pete could return to his bed and remove the paper that Jayne had smuggled over before dying. As Pete unfolded the crinkled up paper and attempted to read the smudged words, he found that it was still impossible to read. In an effort to better study the note, Pete moved towards the door to shine as much light as possible on the smudged words and absently moved the plastic behind the note. As soon as Pete held the note and plastic up near the entrance of the cage, the door swung open. Pete was dumbfounded. Somehow, Jayne had managed to steal a copy of the cell key, the tiny piece of plastic, and had smuggled it to Pete for his escape. Why the hell didn’t Jayne just tell Pete that the plastic piece was the key and they both could have escaped during the night? Was Jayne really that determined to never travel by use of the bracelet again that he’d rather die in a laboratory floor? Did Jayne not tell Pete about the key to ensure that there would be someone with him when he died?

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Pete was unsure how much time he had before Charles would return so he ran to the center of the room. He looked anxiously around the tables and desks but did not see the bracelet. Pete began attempting to open various drawers but several were locked. In a frantic move, he took the scientist's chair and smashed it against the floor. Pete took one of the legs of the chair and hooked it through the handle of one of the drawers. Using it as a lever and pressing his weight down on the suspended chair leg, he was able to pry the drawer open. Nothing was in the top drawer so he used the same method on the second drawer. To his frustration, nothing of use appeared in the second drawer, just the journal which Pete threw on the desk in exasperation. Finally, the third drawer yielded the bracelet.

He strapped on the bracelet and tucked the instructions from Jayne in between the skin of his wrist and the bracelet. A moment of greed overcame Pete and he decided that it might be worth it to steal some part of technology or maybe something of value. The hard part of escaping the cell and finding the bracelet was complete which should enable him to quickly escape at any time. He moved papers and wires that sat around Charles' desk. In his hurry, he knocked the tablet off the desk which caused the screen to break. Pete stooped to pick it up and noticed that besides the crack down the middle of the screen it still worked. In fact, as the light blurred to life, he noticed that the buttons for inflicting pain on Jayne was still the most recent function of this machine. Overwhelmed with disgust, which momentarily stumped his greed, Pete threw it on the floor and stomped on it until he was sure that it had been utterly destroyed. Unfortunately, he did not find anything else that looked valuable. He picked up the journal again and flipped through scribbled notes on each page. Suddenly, a familiar light and overwhelming sound flooded the room, someone was arriving. Was there more than one bracelet?

Determined to not find out if the arriving stranger who was screaming in pain might be a friend of Charles', Pete absentmindedly dropped the journal and ran out the door in shock. Still startled by the blood curdling screams and desperate to escape the sound, Pete raced into a frizzy haired and scrawny blonde young man. Suddenly the bracelet on Pete's wrist activated, the room went bright, a loud sound enveloped Pete, and he found himself wishing he was back in his rented room in San Francisco. When the lights and sound faded, Pete opened his eyes. To his surprise, he was exactly in the place that he had pictured. Pete was standing in his rented room in San Francisco.

Somehow, Pete had escaped back home.

"Good Morning," came an overly sweet female voice. If you could call it a female voice. It sounded less human and more like someone rubbing their fingers over velvet, a sound that seemed to make Pete's skin crawl.

Hoping that the voice would stop speaking, Pete forced himself awake to find a beautiful woman's face right over his head. She was standing next to the bed that Pete was laying on and she reached out to stroke his face. Pete couldn't put his finger on it, but it all seemed somehow fake. There were flowers on a nearby table with breakfast food laying out on it but somehow the smells weren't right. It was if someone told you that flowers were sweet and they took a bunch of sweet smells, like syrup and clean linen, and replaced the original smell of flowers. As he looked at the food and noticed bacon and eggs, it smelled more like beef and potatoes. The linens on the bed felt more like leather than cotton and the woman's hand felt more like cotton was being held up to his face, rather than the sensation of human skin. The room was not unpleasant but the sensory signals were all wrong and it was a jarring experience.

Pete pushed the woman's hand away from his face and stood up. As he moved around, the room seemed to change with him. He had taken a mere two steps and the room rushed by as though he had roamed from a bedroom to a new part of the house. After only a couple more steps he was standing in a fully decorated dining room with giant windows overlooking a beautiful snowy scene. Pete's mind tried to send a shiver down his back as it triggered the sight sense but his back would not shiver as the room was hot and humid. The temperature felt more like a beach than a snowy mountain top. Pete turned around and leaned over the table to inspect the food. He took a bite of the eggs and realized that he was actually just eating the mush from the day before. Maybe this is what Livi and Charles were talking about.

Pete was suddenly aware of the woman who had not only walked with him but appeared to have been talking the whole time. The incorrect sensory environment was causing every neuron in Pete to work overtime which made listening to the velvet voice difficult to process. He began to watch her mouth move and noticed that there was a slight delay with every word that she had said, almost like a dream. Pete surreptitiously pinched himself in an effort to wake up from this bizarre world. Maybe he had left the futuristic captor and if he pinched his arm hard enough, Pete would find himself back in San Francisco. Unfortunately, no luck. Pete was indeed experiencing this odd world.

Pete attempted to focus on the woman again. The velvet voice had another element that was too sweet and because Pete could not place it, the uneasy feeling grew exponentially. After watching her for several minutes, Pete finally registered that she was asking him if he would go out with the boys and play a few rounds of golf or would he be joining her at the club for dancing.

Pete cleared his voice and said, "Why don't we stay here for a moment and you tell me about this place?"

"This is our house, Silly. You know all about it as you designed everything that you wanted in it," came the overly patronizing female voice.

Twice in two days that I have been called "Silly." If I wasn't so outside my element, I'd be offended.

"Let's just say that I am having a hard time moving from my slumbering dreamland and into reality. Can you explain to me what is going on? Where we are? And who the hell are you?"

Instead of becoming offended like a normal woman, this faux woman answered automatically, with little emotion or attachment. "Well, to answer your questions in order, we are trying to decide on your plans for today as we have mandatory activities, including your consumer hours, before you switch to your work hours. We are in our house but if you don't like the settings, feel free to simply change the house by clicking on the wall remote. And I, am your programmed entertainment and companion."

As she was speaking, she pointed to a small box mounted next to a sliding glass door. As Pete approached it, the room changed again and he was now standing outside in the snow overlooking a ski pass. He had not even opened a door but suddenly the world changed to render an outside environment. The woman had simultaneously moved outside with him but was now wearing a pink cloak with white fur lining. Pete took a step backwards and found himself back "inside" and his companion wearing the outfit designed for "indoors." Pete took a forward and backward step a couple more times to see the world and woman change as an individual might turn on and off a light switch.

Deciding to let the outside world be for a moment, Pete turned his attention back to the small box mounted next to the sliding glass door. As Pete studied the box, he found that there were 4 buttons on it marked, "Everyday," "Preferred," "Special Occasion," and "Evening." Each setting had a dollar sign next to it but the numbers did not look like anything that he recognized. Clearly the monetary system had changed since Pete's time.

Pete clicked the "Everyday" button and the room and woman shivered like a rock causing ripples in a lake. After the momentary shiver passed though the environment it ended and the world surrounding Pete remained the same. He clicked on the "Preferred" button and the room shivered again but this time it changed when the ripples ended. He was on a beach but not like one he had ever seen before. There were scantily clad women everywhere and men wearing nothing but pants that cut off at the knees. As the water began to creep up to catch his toes, Pete looked down and his feet were no longer in shoes or socks but bare feet. Pete noticed that his legs looked a lot tanner than he remembered as the waves came up to splash on his feet. However, like everything else, it did not feel correct. It felt more like a gelatinous slime everywhere which caused Pete to jump back and away from it. Whatever the blue liquid was, it was definitely not water. What made the situation worse, was that the "beach" was cold.

Deciding this world was much too unappealing, Pete turned his attention back to the box which seemed to now be attached on some kind of board that was sticking out of the sand rather than mounted to a wall. He clicked on "Special Occasion" and suddenly he was in a room crowded with people. It was a casino with roulette tables, card tables, and slot machines. The room was full of smoke but it smelled more like burnt cotton candy and the smoke looked more like a morning dew than cigarette smoke. The woman's dress looked more like a negligee than a dress as it left almost nothing to the imagination.

"Oh yes!" the faux woman exclaimed, "Let's go dancing!"

She took a few steps towards Pete and the room suddenly changed leaving the couple standing in the middle of a dance floor. Pete looked down to notice that he was wearing some kind of a suit. However, she had barely moved in close to the dumbfounded Pete, when the shimmer occurred and the room changed back to the dining room overlooking a snowy exterior. The woman was suddenly in everyday clothes and an unseen male voice said, "Your credits for 'Special Occasion' have been used up. You must accumulate more credits during work shifts before you can use 'Special Occasion' again."

Pete touched the last button and found himself in a flannel shirt and jeans and the woman in a flannel nightdress. They were standing on the deck of a log cabin overlooking a lake. The sounds of nature sounded off, the frogs were too low in sound and the mosquitos too high. The fireflies were much too bright. In fact, a couple of the lightning bugs seemed to have actual fairies riding on them instead of just being the insects. "Is it time for bed?" yawned the woman.

Pete switched back to the "Everyday" setting as that seemed the least distracting of the various worlds. Pete passed through the "glass door" before walking towards the side of the snow laden deck and found a ladder. But just as he turned to climb down the ladder, he touched the rail and found himself suddenly standing on the ground without having actually descended down a single rung. The woman was still standing next to him, as Pete's personal ghost. "Would you mind scootin' along, little lady?" he asked in an effort to better explore the place alone.

"Your request does not compute. I am your companion," stated the faux woman and instead of stepping back, she moved closer.

"Beat it! Skedaddle! Go away!" And within moments of Pete's explosion, she disappeared. Pete took a few more steps into the snowy banks before he walked into what felt like a solid wall. Pete took a step back to regain his senses. As he rubbed his nose, he realized that the pain was not part of this odd world. His nose legitimately hurt. He stretched his hands out to get a better understanding of what was in front of him. As he ran his fingers up and down, it was clear that he was in front of a solid wall. Only the snowy bank in front of Pete was better and more convincing than any rock painting Pete had ever seen or commissioned for train robberies. The snowy bank looked to go on as far as the eye could see and as Pete leaned in close to inspect the artwork, he could not find any evidence of brushstrokes.

If there was a wall, then there must be a door, he thought. Pete used his hands to guide him down the wall as he could not trust his vision. Just as he came to a corner, Pete looked down and saw the powder from the snow was staying in the air longer than expected. As he knelt down to study the anachronism, he realized too late that it was a kind of gas and a mistake to have moved closer to it. Pete quickly stood up and attempted to run away but within moments he had run into an adjoining wall. Pete fell backwards, knocked out on the cold hard floor.

Pete awoke with a clearer head than normal and this time he was not strapped to a bed. It was a welcome relief to not have a flashlight shining in his eyes. In fact, there were not any lights at all and he was not laying on the hospital bed in the center of the room. Pete slowly sat up and took in the surroundings. As his eyes adjusted, he realized that he had been moved to the bench of one of the cells. He was on a tiny mat and a plate of food sat just in front of the door to his cage. The middle cage was empty but the man who had fascinated Pete was still in his cell, two cages over. In fact, the man was sitting in his bed, smoking a cigar, and watching Pete.

"Of all the gin joints, in all of time and space, it's Pete Hutter."

Pete's head was still dizzy but he struggled to stand up and ask, "Do I know you?"

"Not yet but you will, the name is Jayne Cobb," the prisoner said as he watched Pete attempt to struggle to get up. "I probably wouldn't push yourself too much. Think that the nutty professor had you truly doped up there for a while to fight all of the mutated diseases, or so he says. But even if he's lying about viruses, it will take a bit of time before your back to your old self. At least that was my experience when I got here."

"Where's the other guy?" asked Pete. His throat felt parched and scratchy but it was nice to have the tubes removed from his throat.

Jayne shrugged in the darkness and continued to smoke the cigar in silence. Realizing that the whereabouts of the 3^rd man would not be gleaned from Jane, Pete decided to change tactics.

"How long have you been interned in this scientific nightmare?"

"Who knows? The days mesh together," Jayne responded nonchalantly before taking another puff from his cigar. "At least it's two master thieves here which means we have doubled the chance of escaping this hell."

At being called a thief, Pete was about to object but realized it was pointless in this futuristic lab so he instead replied, "You seem to know a lot about me."

"Spoilers for another day. Think the day is about to start here in a few."

"How did you get the cigar?"

"Told you. I'm one hell of a thief," boasted Jayne as he flashed a smile at Pete.

"Cuban?"

"Do you think that I would settle for less?"

At Jane's reply, there was suddenly a loud buzzing and the lights began to power on overhead.

"Feels like those lights get brighter and louder every single day," grunted Jayne.

Pete shakily forced himself up off the floor and onto the bench of a bed. He carefully leaned his back against the wall and took in the room from his new vantage point. He couldn't quite see the whole room but he could hear a door open and then the sound of small feet. They were skipping. Suddenly a child's voice came giggling and singing to herself before the tiny face of a girl peered around the corner to look at the two men. Pete looked over at Jayne to determine if this was normal but based on Jayne's shocked expression, this was new to him as well. In fact, Pete wasn't sure if the cigar was about to fall out of Jayne's mouth as it dangled down in confusion.

"Excuse me, sir, but is you one of them or one of us?" the innocent voice inquired.

"Who are we?" Pete asked trying to piece together what the hell a little girl was doing in a lab of torture and cages like this. She was thin and small with piercing blue eyes and a mop of brown curls framing her round face. If Pete had to guess, she could only be 3 or 4 years old.

"We're scientists. We don't live in boxes."

"Isn't this a box?" Pete asked pointing to the cage.

"No, silly, I can see you. The other people, the ones that live in boxes, you can't see them. And this is a lab. We don't sleep in boxes here, unless we're hiding from box people."

"I am unable to argue with that logic," Pete replied as he slowly moved off the bed to sit by the cage door. He studied the girl for any sign of abuse, trauma, or scars, but she had none. In fact, she looked to be every bit of a normal, healthy child. Albeit too pale and too skinny. She doesn't seem like a captive, so why would a child be allowed into the lab that kept men imprisoned? How is seeing caged individuals a normal spectacle for her?

"Are the box people bad?" asked Jayne in his gruff voice.

"No," replied the girl tentatively. Jayne's deep voice seemed to only slightly catch her off guard. But the true source of her hesitation and scrunched face seemed to be a struggle to remember a definition that she had been taught. When it seemed to be too big of an answer to recall, she put it out of her mind and simply said, "No, we just don't talk to them or play with them is all. Besides, we like being in the lab. Labs change things. Make things better. What's that?" she asked changing the subject to the food in front of Pete's cell. Just like a child to lose interest quickly.

"I think it's my breakfast," responded Pete in disgust.

"But that doesn't look like breakfast. I don't see any tato, potos, PO-TAT-TOES," she finally enunciated the words correctly and with pride almost shouted the word again, "Potatoes!" she began to grin at herself before sticking her fingers into the mush sitting in front of Pete's cell. "Feels yucky and I don't see any potatoes." She announced her finding as if to explain that the meal was certainly not Pete's breakfast.

"It's his dinner from last night," came the captor's voice.

"Chucky, I was wondering when you would show back up!" called Jayne from the cell. Jayne's voice and smile were dripping with ironic good humor, while his eyes were filled with loathing as he watched the scientist move towards the cages.

"Livi, don't play with Mr. Hutter's food."

"Food is for eating and not for painting," the girl recited as though this was a common reproach at the dinner table. She then ran to the captor and hid her face behind the back of his leg as though suddenly shy around the two prisoners. She peaked around at the two of them gave Pete a smile, wiped her hand on the lab coat, and then hid her face again in the back of the captor's leg.

The professor, or Chucky, as Jayne called him, gently picked up the girl, kissed her cheek and then turned back to the prisoners. "Mr. Hutter, may I introduce you to my daughter? Livi. Livi, this is Daddy's...friend."

"Friends! Ha!" came Jayne's voice. "Hey kid, I'll give you a big 'ole Silver Dollar if you can run and get another adult for us. Or even just scream, scream really loud."

The girl's eyes widened in misunderstanding before suddenly dismissing the idea as preposterous and giggled. "You're silly, Mister. I scream all the time in here and no one ever comes in to see me," her words brought chills to Pete's spine.

Charles turned to address the little girl in his arms, "Now, Daddy has to get some work done. Can you go to your play area?"

"Yes, Daddy," the girl nodded as he kissed her forehead and gently set her down. She began her shy act as she hid behind her father and waved at the men. As the scientist gently nudged her towards the door, she began skipping away out of their sight and back out the door.

As soon as his daughter was out of hearing, Charles turned to Jayne before sternly exclaiming, "Prisoner 2187 - you will refrain from addressing my daughter ever again!"

"What kind of sick bastard are you? To allow your daughter to watch as you experiment and imprison people? And what place is this that no one comes to check on screaming people, Chuck?" demanded Jayne.

The scientist cooly pulled out his tablet from an oversized pocket in his lab coat. He quickly slid his fingers from the bottom of the screen to the top which resulted in Jayne falling off his bench and writhing on the floor in pain. Pete shakily moved away and onto his bench and he watched Jayne continued to shake on the floor. It had been a long time since Pete had last experienced a high voltage electrocution situation but the sound and smell still haunted him. Luckily, Jayne's experience lasted only a couple moments before Charles slid his hand back down across the tablet.

"As I have explained before and in tedious detail," the scientist began in a sadistic tone, "the name is Charles, not Chuck, Chucky, or Chuckster. And no, I do not allow her in here but she wanted to meet Mr. Hutter so I allowed her in today before your experiments begin. As for the location, this is a government funded lab. Of course, no one will come in, because no one cares if you live or die Prisoner 2187. And as I have stated on numerous occasions, there is no escape."

In an effort to collect himself and to illustrate his silent rebellion, Jayne took the opportunity to sit back up on his bench and made a show of putting the cigar back inside his mouth before taking another deep inhale and slowly blowing smoke in Charles' direction.

For a moment, Pete thought that Charles was going to use his tablet to punish Jayne but to Pete's relief, Charles simply placed the tablet on a nearby table before turning to address Jayne again. "While I am not pleased that you stole one of my cigars, I am glad to see that you are putting your talents to a use other than escape attempts." Jayne merely grunted in reply and began to blow smoke circles into the air.

Charles turned back to Pete and instructed him to stand up and to place his hands through the bars. As Pete shakily complied, the scientist tied Pete's hands together. "I see that you did not eat last night, Mr. Hutter. How unfortunate."

"Due to my gut shot from years ago, I have a small appetite," came Pete's wry reply. "Furthermore, I prefer to get some exercise between waking up and eating. Gets the blood moving. So, anyway that you can be a gracious host, open the door, and let me mosey on home?"

Charles gave an amused smile to Pete and replied, "Not at this time."

Unphased by Charles' denial, Pete continued, "Then how about something more appetizing. I'm with your daughter, I prefer potatoes for breakfast."

Charles smiled amicably before responding, "She has only seen pictures of potatoes but she has never actually eaten potatoes. What you have there is a meal staple. Three times a day you get this-"

"Disgusting mush-" grunted Jayne.

Charles shot Jayne a look demanding silence before addressing Pete, "I do agree, there is not much taste. However, it does have all of the basic nutrients to make a meal. That said she has an impressive imagination which has somehow convinced her that she has potatoes every morning." Charles stated all of this information as he took Pete's blood pressure, listened to Pete's heartbeat, and performed other random tests with odd gizmos and gadgets.

"Aside from the normal dizziness, how do you feel? Any chills? Fever? Pain?"

"I thought you just said no one cares if I live or die," responded Pete as coldly as he could muster.

"I said no one cares if Prisoner 2187 lives or dies, he's just a common thief from the past. Not even a notable one..."

"Gee thanks. It's not like I'm a few feet away and can hear you," muttered Jayne sarcastically.

"But you, Mr. Hutter, you are the beginning. You are the start of something much bigger. No, no I can't have you getting sick. You have so much more living to do."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The rest of the day, Pete laid in bed. He still felt tired and weak so he simply watched the activity of the lab to seek possible escape times and routes. Unfortunately, Jayne's experience was not so peaceful.

In an effort to move Jayne, an unwilling test subject and well built individual, Charles had to utilize a variety of electrically charged instruments to stun Jayne into a paralyzed state. At which point, the scientist could utilize a machine to drag a gagged and bound unconscious Jayne to the center of the room. However, Jayne was not moved to the bed that Pete had experienced but left on the floor as Charles sat at his desk.

Upon sitting at his desk, Charles tossed a bright red die into the air and let it fall onto the desk. For a moment, the familiar object reminded Pete of happier times and poker games with Bly's gang or with Bowler in Hard Rock but the pleasant thought was quickly twisted as Charles clattered away while typing the results. No matter what number had been revealed on the die's face, the result always led to torture for Jayne.

Pete had to stretch his neck to watch Charles lean down from his seat to attach a leather bracelet to Jayne's foot before kicking the prisoner awake. Jayne grunted awake and expressed his dislike through a series of grunts before Charles pressed a couple buttons on the bracelet which caused Jayne to disappear with a blinding light. After ten minutes or so, Jayne reappeared, still tied up and gagged.

The scientist would then take notes, measurements, consult the screens, and if Jayne did not wake up quickly enough, the scientist would inject Jayne with something that would cause him to bolt awake in a shriek of pain and anger. Then the scientist would roll the die again, record the results of the die, press buttons on the bracelet, before Jayne would disappear and reappear.

The first few appearances seemed to go well as Jayne looked exactly the same. Occasionally, the doctor would ask Jayne if he was experiencing any pain which Jayne responded with grunts that seemed to intonate "No," "Fuck you," or "Go to hell, Chuck!"

However, as the day went on, Jayne seemed to disappear for longer periods of time and his body seemed to stiffen as though he was starting to experience more intense levels of pain. Unfortunately, Pete could feel his own body temperature rising, maybe he was getting a fever. But if he was going to go through the same hell as Jayne, it would probably be better to expire of fever rather than endure the mad scientist's experiments.

Finally, the day seemed to end and Jayne was shoved back into his cell before the scientist loosened the bindings. When Pete couldn't move to the bars to have his hands rebound for evening medical checks, the scientist rushed inside. He took Pete's measurements and chastised Pete for not speaking up, as a father would chastise a son with gentle sternness. Why did Pete get all of the affection and Jayne got all of the hate? No, not hate. Just complete apathy and lack of basic humanity. He gave Pete a shot of something called an antibiotic to boost something or other and then provided a new bowl of mush and placed it gently by Pete's bed before locking Pete back in. And then the lights went out.

Jayne grunted as he sat up in bed, moved to the door, and then quietly started whittling away at the door. "I've picked my fair share of locks in time but this one's innards keep changing every time I try to get it open. It's almost like its learning. There must be something special about his key that enables it to open for him but I have yet to get a good look at the key or attempt to steal it from him."

When Pete didn't respond, Jayne looked over at his co-prisoner before commenting, "You look like shit."

"Gee, you mean that I won't win the beauty contest? You've dashed my dreams of becoming a fashion icon," Pete replied in mock disappointment. After a few more minutes, Pete noticed that his shivering was starting to feel uncontrollable. "D-Did you g-go through whatever this fever i-is?" Pete asked through chattering teeth.

"Yeah, most people seem to live through it," grunted Jayne.

Pete thought back to the 3^rd prisoner who had disappeared and again decided that he didn't want to know the fate of other prisoners so he changed the subject to learn what the nearer threat might be, "What was he doing to you today? And what the hell is up with that die?"

"Not totally sure. The bracelet that he straps on my ankle sends me to different places. It might also be various points in time. It's hard to tell where or when I have arrived but I can tell that it's no longer here or now based on what I can see and the length of nearby shadows. I think the die is how he decides where and when I travel to. We have to find a way out of here soon though because the first few trips didn't hurt, but the last few were different. The last couple started to feel like there was a stabbing pain in all of my muscles. That last one felt like my insides were out to murder me." At that Jayne started muttering to himself and all that Pete could catch was "betrayal of body."

Before Pete could ask what Jayne meant, Pete's eyes began to struggle to stay open. In a matter of seconds, the world faded away into darkness.

Year 2169

"From the ashes, through the bridge, the shepherd will rise," came a whispered voice through the darkness.

Unsettled by the words still echoing in his ears and annoyed by an incessant tapping on his face, Pete awoke to find a light being moved back and forth in front of his eyes. In an effort to protect his eyesight, Pete slowly blinked to block out any pain but it made the world around him look like a blur. As he began to feel the drowsiness drain away, he worked on focusing past the light. It turned out there was a round faced man with dark eyes and a stubbled face who was shining a tiny yet blinding light back and forth in front of Pete's eyes. Pete attempted to demand the light be shut off but as he tried to speak, he realized that there was something in his throat. It felt like a tube of some kind and it hurt as he tried to speak. Pete began to struggle but found that his arms were tied down.

"Stop struggling or you will injure yourself," came the low-voiced command from the captor. The man turned off the light and sat back to study Pete before speaking again. "Pete Hutter. You have no idea how long I have been waiting and looking for you. It was lucky that I finally found you when I did."

Pete stopped fighting the binds and began to look around the room to get his bearings and to figure out a way to free himself. The room was a large rectangle. As Pete tried to look down towards his toes, he found that he was strapped to some kind of hospital bed that was higher off the ground than he was used to. The man before him was wearing a white lab coat over a dark suit, wearing blue gloves, and tapping on a flat rectangle in front of him. As Pete studied his captor, the stranger seemed to constantly be moving from checking the various tubes running into Pete's arms, tapping on the flat screened device, checking a beeping device that seemed to be measuring some type of sound or radio wave, to studying a larger flat screen that was sitting on the desk. Pete turned his attention to the wires running out of his arms and noticed that there seemed to be several attached up and down his torso as well. Pete tried to follow the cords' destination or source of connection but they ran off the bed and out of sight. Pete could only deduce that they were somehow connected to the screens by the bed but from this angle, he could not determine how. Watching his captor expertly transition between screens while monitoring Pete's health felt overwhelming. This was all beyond his imagination or understanding and much more up County's alley of "The Coming Thing."

"You don't seem to have enough color in your cheeks," the strange man muttered, more to himself than to Pete. He then began patting Pete on the cheeks as if to bring life back into him; for a moment, it reminded Pete of a spinster aunt determined to pinch color into a child's face. The captor sighed before digging into his pocket for some kind of chocolate bar that had a smell Pete couldn't place. As he devoured it between scribbling notes with his finger onto the small flat screen he caught Pete's curious gaze and responded, "Protein bar. Need to keep my blood sugar under control so that I can enter data into the tablet as quickly as possible."

Pete took the opportunity to look beyond the lab coat, wires, and screens and attempted to study the room a bit more. It was clear that he was in the center of the room and he could just barely see the back wall if he pushed his chin as high as it could go. If he looked past his toes and to the right corner there was a door and past his left most toe there were 3 cells. The furthest cage to the right was empty with just a tiny bench and a pot to leave little to the imagination about living conditions for the life ahead for Pete. The center cage was occupied by a body crumpled on the floor but it was difficult to really study the center cage's occupant as it looked more like a pile of clothes rather than a human. What drew Pete's attention was the 3^rd cage's occupant, a tall well-built man with grey hair. His hair looked unkempt as if he had been a prisoner for awhile but even from here Pete could see that he had an oval face with a chin that could break fists. If Pete was a betting man, he would gamble that this man was former military or something requiring brute strength. The man was leaning against the back wall of his cell as if he had little interest in the spectacle at the center of the room.

Just then, the nearby chair protested the movement of its occupant which caused Pete's eyes to dart back to the scientist. To Pete's horror, the man pulled a syringe from a nearby table injected it into one of the many tubes connected to Pete.

"That's enough excitement for now, Mr. Hutter. Time to go back to sleep. Can't have you in too much shock all at once. Your immune system needs time to build a tolerance to our mutated strains of viruses that you have not been exposed to before."

Suddenly, Pete's eyelids were extremely heavy and with every blink it became more and more difficult to keep his eyes open. And then the world slipped away, back into darkness.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Pete opened his eyes and found himself in the sheriff's office in Hard Rock. Sheriff Bowler was in the other room talking to his wife and town mayor, Lenore.

"Bowler that man helped bring you home to me! He was part of the rescue mission to enable you to escape a firing squad," came Lenore's commanding voice.

Pete could hear a lower voice in the other room so he knew that Bowler was responding and objecting to Pete's request to be a deputy. However, as much as Pete strained to hear Bowler, he could not make out the words.

"People can change. Wyatt Earp worked security for his wife's brothel, Doc Holiday was a prolific gambler and shot several people following card games that didn't go his way. Hell! Whip Morgan has spent his youth in and out of jail. Why is Pete different?"

As the conversation continued, Pete looked around the room again. "Wait!" he thought. "I have been here before. In a few moments, Bowler and Lenore are going to give me a trial period of 3 weeks before officially deputizing me." The door opened and just as Pete turned to make his case, the figures of Bowler and Lenore were blurred. Pete tried to strain his eyes to get a glimpse of his old employers but the room began to fade away.

And then Pete woke up.

In his bleary eyed state all Pete could think was, "Damn! Sometimes the worst dreams aren't nightmares but memories that you would rather keep buried."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Due to his drugged state, Pete could not keep track of time but it was the same situation over and over again. The rude awakening, the scientist snacking while writing in his "tablet," the opportunity to take a gander around the lab, the silent co-prisoners, and then back to sleep. Time was impossible to track as it could have been days or weeks. Since the scientist seemed to always be perfectly groomed, the only clues that Pete could glean were from the co-prisoners. The crumpled prisoner seemed to always be curled up so it was hard to see his state but he seemed to be in different parts of the cage every time Pete awoke and looked over. The man was not coping well with the treatment or life in the laboratory but the man did have small signs of life. The more fascinating prisoner gave a bit more evidence of the passing of time. His hair seemed to grow to a certain point before it was shaved off which meant that this was occurring over a longer period than just a few hours.

The room around them also never changed and there were never any other people aside from his captor and co-prisoners. The room was practically silent except for the captor who rarely talked but to himself. Meanwhile, Pete and the crumpled prisoner were unable to talk and the fourth man just seemed to lean against the back wall or lounge on his bed. The fourth man seemed to radiate silent rebellion to the situation at hand and he remained apathetic to his surroundings. It was clear that he was a man who had never met a cage that could keep him jailed for long.

Pete did his best to study the co-prisoners to determine if they would be allies in an escape and to study the room for signs of why he might be a captive and how he might find freedom. In fact, Pete did his best to keep his mind as filled and distracted as possible since the hardest part of the experience were the dreams. It felt as though every dream forced Pete to relive a past experience. To make matters worse, Bowler's recent passing seemed to make all of Pete's dreams centered around the Lonefeather family.

While Pete was not a fully changed man, he did honor the agreement and upheld the letter of the law while under the employ of Bowler, but definitely not the spirit of the law. Ten dollars per arrest was decent income but sometimes, Pete needed to spread his wings for additional income opportunities of the creative variety. While his financial schemes during that time in Hard Rock weren't illegal, they were not rarely ethical. Pete had heard about Frank James selling stones off of his brother Jesse James' grave in order to create extra income so Pete did a similar routine. Bly didn't have a grave per se, so why not set up a gravesite near Hard Rock? A piece of history from Bly's "grave" for only $2 was a steal in most history hunters' minds and Pete made a decent sum of money over time. And the beauty of the scheme was that all Pete had to do was add more rocks to the gravesite a couple times a week.

Pete's second scheme was actually based on lawman Bat Masterson's habit of carrying antique guns and selling it for $20 to young buff's wanting to carry "the gun that tamed Dodge City." When people would come to town and beg for Bowler's shotgun at the sheriff's office, Pete would escort them out, per Bowler's request. As soon as they were out of earshot, Pete would empathize with the disappointed history seeker. Pete would weave a tale about how he had tracked down Wyatt Earp, Brisco County Jr., or Bill Hickock, whichever hero seemed to resonate most with the sucker. Pete would lament how much time it took to convince the individual to part with their gun but now Pete was able to carry a weapon that helped to "tame the west" and how much courage it gave him as a deputy. Of course, he was always willing to part with it for say, $20. The individual would ride out of town believing they had achieved their goal of leaving town with a historic gun and Pete would go to the local pawn shop and buy another gun. If Bat Masterson did it, it couldn't be that unethical, right?

Pete's favorite financial scheme was a miracle elixir business. Pete convinced 10 people to not only buy the elixirs but to "become their own employers" and get 10 people of their own to buy and sell elixirs. The business went on and on to ensure that Pete was at the top of this, well, triangle-shape. Most of the money was made from all of the people in the lower tiers. While Pete ensured that all of his schemes were never illegal, he had a feeling that Bowler and Lenore might not approve so he kept his name off of all financial records for the gravesite and for the miracle elixir business.

A movement from the scientist sitting next to Pete stirred Pete back to the present. The scientist was pulling out another syringe. Pete heard his own exasperated sigh before feeling the prick of the needle.

"Don't worry, Mr. Hutter. We're almost finished with this stage."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Pete was walking out of the church for Bowler's funeral. Between family, friends, lawmen, bounty hunters, and politicians that the family met over the years, Pete could only find a space to stand at the back. While he had originally planned to pay respects to the family, being in a church filled with lawmen and judges did make Pete uneasy which prompted him to slip out the back before the service ended. Pete had just approached his motorcycle to head back to San Francisco when he heard a familiar female voice.

"Pete, are you really trying to sneak out without saying 'hello?'

Pete turned and gave his most mischievous smile and he raised his hands in surrender. "Why Madame Mayor! I would never exit without your dismissal. I just remembered that this was a potluck event and that I forgot my Aunt Susy's potatoes for the afternoon buffet. As a former deputy, I can't let down the mayor or town."

"Come here and give a widow a hug," Lenore ordered. Pete complied before standing back to say, "Seriously, how are you doing?"

She arched her eyebrow and placed her hands on her hips before replying, "Pete, I may have adopted you into my family while you were here, but we avoided all serious conversations over the years, including your miracle elixirs."

"You were aware of that financial venture?" Pete asked bashfully.

"Just because I turned a blind eye, doesn't mean that I didn't know. Besides, my goal was to never change you or force you to walk the straight and narrow but to give you a sense of home."

Pete smiled and admitted, "It's the closest that I came to a family that I recall."

"Speaking of which did you see James? My boy is all grown up."

"I only got to see him from the back of the church and he wasn't facing me so I didn't get a good look at him."

"Maybe next time then," Lenore replied with a weak smile. She looked at Pete's motorcycle before asking, "I thought that I heard that you were motorcycling across the country, doing something in Picture Palaces?"

"Towns need someone to run the cinema reels and driving from town to town on a motorcycle seems to fit my restless personality. Although the films have been a little more focused on the art of camera work instead of the storyline for my taste. Personally, I feel that Charlie Chaplin has a better mastery of camera use while still being able to tell a believable story-"

"I thought I heard you were in a terrible motorcycle accident," interrupted Lenore.

"Oh that," Pete began, debating how to continue. Deciding to downplay the event, Pete continued while avoiding Lenore's gaze, "Well, I was driving through a town and a car came out of nowhere and blind-sided my motorcycle. I turned at the last second but the motorcycle jerked too hard and fell over, dragging me on the street."

"How awful!"

"Road rash only takes a couple weeks to recover from. I healed and the road seems to have exfoliated my pores so my skin is clearer than ever," Pete said as he shrugged off Lenore's concern.

"I know a lot of women who would be happy to risk death in order to exfoliate skin to that level of smoothness," Lenore commented while studying his face. The doors to the church swung open and a funeral procession was starting to spill out and towards Pete and Lenore. "I have to get back and I won't make you stay here. I just wanted to say thank you for coming before you drove back home. It means a lot to see you here and I wanted to tell you that Bowler appreciated your letters. They consoled him in his final days but he burned them before I could read them, much less return them to you. Bowler may not have agreed with your lifestyle but in his own way, he seemed to respect you."

At that, she gave Pete's arm a gentle squeeze before turning back to the funeral parishioners. Leaving a confused Pete standing next to his motorcycle wondering, "Who the hell would pose as me and send letters to Bowler? What did those letters say? And why would Bowler burn letters from a person pretending to be me?"

As dreams often do, the scene blurred and he was no longer in Hard Rock but in his apartment in San Francisco. The thought that someone was posing as Pete and sending letters to Bowler, spooked Pete and he haphazardly threw items into his bag. Clearly, Pete was not going to be safe in his apartment. Pete looked outside his apartment window to see a black Ford had parked in front of the building. Just as he realized that the car had been following him through San Francisco, he noticed an odd smell in his room. Pete turned to see that a gas was seeping through the keyhole of the room. Pete scrambled back to the window and tried to open the window to let fresh air in and potentially escape but he was too late. The people and vehicles outside were becoming distorted and blurry.