Democrat, Illinois - The ElectroLounge

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Serendipity is a Happy Accident?
G.C. Dillon
She awakes in darkness. She looks to the night sky to search out the Great Bear
constellation. It always leads her home, but it is not there; there are no stars. No trees.
There is a canopy above her much like the roof of her Father’s bark longhouse in
Werowocomoco. That is her Father’s capitol. He is Wahunsunacock, a weroance of her
people, a chief, most powerful leader of the entire land. So she is, in fact, an “Indian
Princess.”
A man stands before her. She guesses he is the age of the man she is prepared to
marry. He smiles to her. His skin is pale, and a thick mustache and [what he would call a
VAN DYKE] beard covers his chin. He wears a blue cape [or should that be LAB COAT?]
the color of bay water. She tentatively whispers, “Winkápew, nitáp.”
A loud voice fills the other’s longhouse. It is powerful. Crisp. Like her Father
speaking as chief. Authority incarnate. Commands unquestioned.
TEMPORAL DISPLACEMENT FACTOR: 500.624. SUBJECT: FEMALE. AGE:
TWELVE YEARS, APPROXIMATELY. CLOTHING: ANIMAL HIDE, TANNED
CERIVIDAE. ANALYZING SPEECH PATTERNS. INITIALIZING TRANSLATOR
PROGRAM: ALGONQUIN LANGUAGE SUB-SET.
“Hello, my friend,” the man says in words she knows. His voice is sweeter, kinder
she thinks. “Your being here is an accident. Or at least we call it an accident. I’m sure the
reason is buried in the cold equations of the physics. Beneath a Sigma 9X-squared or a
trinomial expression [the translator hesitates, UKNOWN].”
He stumbles a moment speaking with her. In his culture, she is a year less of a
teenager; in hers, she is a young woman. Both are just barely adults to their peers. He is a
graduate student intern. His acne is worse than hers, which he uncomfortably notices.
“Wasn’t planned at any rate. We can’t plan it. It’s random. We sent someone back
in time, so someone or something has to balance it out by coming here. Not always a person,
sometimes a plant or animal. It’s like a lottery. You should have seen the pterodactyl [the
translator hiccups before stating: LEATHERY WINGED CREATURE] we got once. Well,
maybe better you shouldn’t’ve.
“Oh yeah, my name’s Joss.” He holds out one hand. She jumps back, but he is not
truly threatening.
“I am Matoak,” she says.
“We have some time to kill. Oh, no pun! I am allowed to show you around. To
show you the wonders tomorrow brings. Come on.”
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