NEXT

     Dick turns to the man seated next to him. Would be in his thirties, but here, who knows?::::could be sixty. Short, perfectly trimmed, perfectly square beard::::no sideburns::::short-cropped black curly hair. He's staring at the podium.
     "I don't get it"::::no reaction.
     "I don't get it"::::Dick turns his body to face the man::::"I mean, don't people from 100 years in the future just, like, pop in here and stuff?"
     Seems now the man has become aware that Dick is addressing him. Turns his head.
     "You know, I mean, what's so special?"
     Strange look::::like the man's seeing a zebra for the first time.
     "Excuse me?"
     "Sorry::::I'm Dick"::::Dick offers his hand::::the man takes it and they shake.
     "Robbe::::my name's Robbe."
     "Cool." Robbe still looks a bit bewildered. "Sorry::::I'm kinda new here."
     "No doubt."
     "Uh::::can you explain this thing to me?"
     "What do you wish to know?"
     "Well, pretty much the whole of it::::I'm really new here."
     "Well, in a few minutes the fremeologist Barton-2 will arrive. He's going to use the codon to go into the future::::a space he's dug in before… You seem to know this."
     "Yes, well. What I don't get is why it's so special. I mean, you pop people in from the past pretty regularly, I hear. And, so, why aren't they, in the future, not just popping in here?"
     "There are several theories. They no longer use the codon for time travel. May be the power usage. The population double::::just about::::in fifty years. 30 billion::::I'm sure the codons are very busy. Another theory is the destruction of the codon or supercession of it. Somewhere along the line something goes wrong with or evolves the system. Or then there's the warp-theory, which maintains that a time-warp occurs which precludes codon-based time travel::::we are, in essence, existent in an outward bound spiral that's unchanging."
     "Wait, wait. This isn't helping. What about this particular trip::::what's it about?"
     "Barton-2 is taking with him a camera our fremeology department has invented::::which hopefully will be able to record images in the future and bring them back to us now."
     "Cool."
     "Yes. His coordinates have been fine-tuned also. We're hoping that he'll come in contact with someone."
     "He's never seen anyone?"
     "Not at that distance. Twenty years, yes. But after that we've lost some form of perspective::::the conditions of the Earth have changed so that we're entering, well, an unknown corridor. Even Earth's density has changed::::and thus, gravity. Still habitable::::as is the atmosphere. But we can't seem to locate any human beings. Not yet."
     "Strange."
     "Yes."
     "Isn't everyone worried?"
     "No. There's a logical explanation. Another theory is that human being have evolved into another dimension completely, one which we're unable to access at this time."
     "Or, like, maybe everyone's died."
     Robbe looks at him quite strange now. "Where is it you say you come from?"
     "Long story."
     "Well, the end of civilzation is not a possibility. We have everything in place to ensure our preservation. So as long as the planet still exists::::and it does::::so shall we exist."
     "The detta thing."
     "Yes, quite."
     At this point Barton-2 enters and everyone rises out of their seat.
     Once Barton-2 is standing at the podium everyone sits down::::snappy like at a military academy. Perfect silence.
     "Round-18's imaging device is secured inside of a kevlar box with synthetic amatronic skin::::developed by Round-5."
     A group at the far end of the hall cheers::::muffled::::dies down quick, some laughs.
     "Period-infra is set; log initiated."
     He walks over to a circle painted on the floor of the stage a small distance in front of the podium, looks at his wristwatch.
     "I love you, Mazy."
     He just stands there::::obviously doing a breathing exercise of some sort::::relaxing as best he can:::::with all these little machines strapped to his arms and some box attached to his back. His suit is incredibly bulky::::like an astronaut's::::he's even wearing thick gloves, and moon boots::::and what appears to be a WW I era leather flying cap which hangs down the sides of his face unbuckled. Quite a show::::Dick suspects it's all a bit contrived::::a costume::::more than a necessary uniform. The lights in the building flicker. Once they're stable nothing appears changed::::Barton-2 looks essentially the same::::perhaps a bit stiff. He blinks, brings his huge-gloved hands up and presses his head::::then looks out at the audience::::a real crazy look passes through his eyes. He shakes his head. Walks a bit stiff over to the podium. A team of six laboratory-coated people come out from the wings and attend to him as if he's a race car in for a pit stop. Some kind of infra-red reading device is shot at him which soaks in info from the machines on his arms::::and two are meticulously unfastening the box on his back. Suddenly a screen with hundreds of letters and numbers shoots up::::as large and confusing as a tote board in a Vegas casino monitoring ten or more race tracks simultaneously.
     After about two minutes::::the box now off and gently laid on a table and being fiddled with, the numbers having been there for a little while, people start clapping. Barton-2 smiles.
     When the applause dies down, Dick turns to Robbe.
     "What's happening?"
     "Well, no atmospheric changes::::which means our calibrations are correct. That's my field. Um. He was there for 23 hours, 10 minutes and 20 seconds. His vitals are completely normal. That's mapping information to the right::::he traveled some thirty kilometers in various directions."
     Barton-2 raises his arms. The doctors back off::::most had been looking up to the info board anyway. The two seem to have finished setting up the camera-thing, 'cuz they too are now staring up at the board. The noise settles down, Barton-2 clears his throat.
     "Though no human contact::::I did see several marsupials. I hope their existence comes out on film. There was also an atmospheric disturbance::::it is registered in dBase-5."
     He turns to the two standing by the camera and nods. A screen forms::::at first completely dark::::then some lines and static::::but streaming in an obvious pattern with occasional pops.
     "Radio-isotropes"::::Robbe whispers to Dick. Then he mutters something about dBase-5 and calls his computer and a small screen pops up in front of him::::so he can switch back and forth.
     Everyone seems caught up in it::::but it's a bit abstract for Dick::::he'd been expecting something more like a movie::::maybe if not hollywoodish, at least like one of those experimental films or something::::but this is like watching an EKG backlit by black fire. He sits through ten minutes of it, waiting for the film to begin.
     "How long does this go on like this?"::::whispers.
     "Twenty-three hours."
     "I'm outta here. Thanks." Dick rises and slips out as undisturbingly as he can::::amazed at all these people wholly absorbed in watching what in essence gives much less visual stimulation than even the lamest laser light show.
     Outside he squints. Sees a large bird hovering high up in the distance. Starts walking along a path::::going nowhere.
     The large bird passes overhead, lower, and Dick suddenly realizes that it is not a bird, and he looks up more closely and sees that it is a human being with wings. The being is looking down at him, coming closer::::Dick waves. The bird-human circles out before him about twenty feet off the ground, but turns away, turns back, turns away::::and Dick begins waving his arms more vigorously, flagging the thing down. It spirals down in toward him. Suddenly has landed a few feet before him::::perfect::::standing there::::a wiry framed dark man, smiling, friendly::::the enormous wings flutter a bit then fold in to his back quickly::::so that there's just this man standing there, wind-blown face, quite friendly, curious::::wearing a bright orange jump-suit with blue trim::::a patch of control instruments on the left arm of his suit which blink::::what looks like leather sandals strapped to his feet::::laces tied around his dark ankles.
     "You're a strange one::::first to escape."::::Bird.
     "Dude::::You were flying!"::::Dick
     "Yeah, finally got my license last month::::sheesh, what a pain. How come you're not in there with the mob, or tuned-in somewhere?"
     "I was there::::walked out. What about you?"
     "Ah, you know::::last year then the fremeologists started going 50, 60, hundred years forward, well, I thought it was too much. My theory is we ain't finding no one 'cuz we're not meant to. Ah::::you probably think I'm religious or something."
     "No, no."
     "Leave the future alone. It's like asking the fortuneteller when you're going to die. The knowing won't help you::::just going to happen. It's all a waste of electricity in my book."
     "I hear you."
     "So::::what are we going to do in this greasy old ghost town?"
     "I don't know. What's there to do?::::My name's Dick."
     "Hey, Dick::::I'm Tarasite-11, friends call me Turl."
     They shake hands.
     "Well, space-lab is wide open::::we can go bounce around in the weightless room. What's so funny?"
     "Just that where I come from we have weight-rooms, you know? Hey, how is it that you fly?"
     "What?"
     "The device::::I've never seen it before."
     "You've never seen a wingmaker? Been around for a hundred years."
     "Let's say I've been living in the desert."
     "Cool."
     "Why doesn't everyone have wings, man?::::a wingmaker?"
     "Licensing is a bitch, man. Two years, minimum. Gotta be accepted for the program::::and they only issue about 500 licenses a year. Very, very dangerous, dude. So far this year there's been ninety deaths or something crazy. Most people stick with air-boards and blazers and shit."
     "You mean it's just a toy?"
     He laughs::::"Yeah, you could call it that. Range is limited. Not really good for anything other than kicks. Milo did do a round world trip with a wingmaker::::but I mean he had to stop and charge up a thousand times or something::::so what's so great? A toy::::yeah."::::He laughs.
     "How do they work?"
     "Oh::::wanna see my wings?"::::He steps back, pushes a few buttons and wings seemingly grow::::unfold right out of a little pack on his back, even with his shoulder blades. Dick moves behind Turl and watches the wings expand. Turl cranes his neck back::::smiles at Dick.
     The wings now fully extended::::about three meters each. Dick reaches in to touch them. They flicker, and he retracts.
     "Don't touch, man. Sensors hate finger prints."
     "But what are they made of?::::That's the thinnest material I've ever seen."
     "Yeah::::Litton::::I think it is the thinnest non-woven."
     "But you can't touch it."
     "Hell, yeah, you can touch it. Just the sensors don't like prints. Go ahead::::touch it. Go ahead::::it won't bite."
     Dick quickly rubs one edge::::thinner than a nylon stocking::::but as solid as steel.
     "Thanks."
     "Sure."
     "And how does it work?"
     "The wings? See those tubes in those seams? Air propulsion modulators. And there are over 20 billion sensors built-in to the material itself. The instant you're up, there's a catcher which springs out and grabs your legs so they don't dangle. You just kind of move your body to steer::::and there are voice controls over speed and altitude and functions. Very little electrical usage::::but the pack isn't very large either. I don't know::::maybe a hundred kilometers without any wind factor, something like that."
     "Cool."
     "Yeah::::but dangerous::::gotta know how to do it::::gotta know how to read shifts in air currents and all that."
     "Truly amazing."
     "Based on insect flight::::not birds. People call us 'Birds' but that's a misnomer. More like 'Bugs.'"::::He laughs. "Hey::::there's Gar! Is that Gar?::::Yeah, that's Gar!"
     Dick looks up and sees another flying human.
     "Yeah, that's Gar. Well, Dick, gotta fly"::::He laughs. A second later::::wholly silent::::he's a good two bodies high off the ground::::wings vibrating, but almost imperceptively. Then all at once his legs are hoisted up so that he's horizontal with the earth, hovering, looking down at Dick.
     "See ya."
     Then he's off::::very quick::::sound of the wind off the wings::::whoosh. Dick watches him fly up and meet his friend. They take off into the sun.
     Dick continues walking, huge-smiling.

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