Fresh Grass and Hospitality

The tests had proven fruitful for going back 5-10 years, it was my turn to go and there was an uneasy feeling in my gut. The calculations weren’t adding up. The farther back you go the more the time dilates around you, there’s a period of time you need to wait for the timestream to stabilize before someone can be pulled back. The nature of the equation means that there’s a period of time you can go back and the timestream never stabilizes around you. That time seemed to be around 20 years, and I was going back 25.

The head researchers wanted to do a ‘stress-test’ to see if there was something they were missing, some variable that would mean the equation didn’t break down, and I was that guinea pig. I pulled an all-nighter trying to find a way to make the equation work past 20, considering quitting the research program, remembering my parents would kill me for not finishing my doctorate and giving up my scholarship, and finally accepting my fate. At least I could find out why the equation didn’t work.

The actual trip back wasn’t what I expected. My peers who went before me said it felt a little weird, but it was more like having incredible whiplash for a few seconds, and a deep-seated feeling of deja-vu, and then a feeling of falling and having the air forced out of you. Our lab had originally decided on a plain just outside the city that had never had anything built on it, so I woke up to a man standing over me, the smell of fresh-cut grass, and the low rumbling of a mower sending dull vibrations through the ground beneath me. He looked a little familiar, like an old printed photo that had been sun bleached.

“You a'ight miss?”

That made my head hurt.

“What?”

“I asked if yer doin’ alright, ya took a bit of a fall outta nowhere. I had to stop so as to not run ya over.”

“I… uh… I don’t know?”

“Can ya stand?”

I hadn’t tried, but I could move my body so I figured I could. It took me a few aches and groans but I got to my feet and looked around the field, trying not to make eye contact with the landscaper. I realized he did indeed have to stop before running me over since half the field was already mowed.

“I thought this land wasn’t being maintained.” I thought.

“Well I’m here maintainin’ it. I think they’re talkin’ about selling to the fancy school in the big city though, dunno what they need it for, but I’ll probably keep comin’ to mow it till they tell me not to.”

“I said that out loud?”

“Are you sure you’re alright, miss? You seem very disoriented.”

“Did I appear out of nowhere to you?”

“Looked like you fell outta the sky to me, wasn’t lookin’ much higher than the grass though.”

“That explains the whiplash and back pain.”

“You from that fancy school? You got their logo on.”

“Uh… yeah? We’re working on- I’m not allowed to talk about it.”

“That’s ok. You need help back there?”

“Do I… huh?”

“You need help back? Maybe you’ll get your bearings there?”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“You seem like you need help. So I offer to help, I’d like to finish this field first though if you don’t mind.”

I had no idea what to make of this man. I remember my grandma telling me stories of hospitality and selflessness and how it got lost somewhere between the internet and the pursuit of personal pleasure above all else. I didn’t understand that until this exact moment, and I had to ask.

“What year is it?”

“1985.” The man got on his mower like it wasn’t an odd question.

“Would you be ok with that, I mean, driving me back?” It felt weird to ask.

“Of course. I just need to finish the field first.”

I sat on the grass, and finally registered his answer to my stereotypical time-traveller question. 50 years, double the amount of time I was supposed to be going back. I pulled my knees to my chest thinking of all the people I might never see again. Before I knew it I was crying. There was no way that equation could account for another 25 years, I could see maybe 5.

The landscaper finished his mowing and waved at me to follow as he drove his mower to a truck parked on the road. All in all it took longer than I had ever waited for something while having nothing else to do. We got in his truck, a model I hadn’t seen since I was a little girl.

“Y’know I met my wife in that field, was mowin’ and she plopped down just like you did, same getup too. That was about 30 years ago, right after I got assigned to this area.”

“Weird.”

“She told me I’d probably meet other people in that field, that the school was usin’ it for something but she wanted no part of it anymore. Didn’t care if they brought her back, I didn’ know what that meant but she told me, so I understand your situation. I can’t imagine growin’ up not havin’ things like common courtesy, and people goin’ out of their way for others. She slapped me silly the first time I called her pretty.” The man laughed.

“Well that’s fair, that’s objectification.”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with give’n a genuine compliment in my eyes miss. Not that I go complimenting other women, not since I got married.”

“What’s your wife’s name?”

“Jean Miller, her maiden name is Baker though.”

“That’s my grandma’s name…”

“We’re here.”

“Oh…uh…”

“It’s thank you. If you’re lookin’ for what to say.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome miss.”

The man smiled, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man smile, at least not a genuine smile.

Then I blacked out, and woke up on the floor of the lab.