Good Old Days
copyright © 2008 by Robert L. Blau
The guy was doing cartwheels in the mall. And singing. Not well. Something had to be done.
"Um, say there!" said I, accosting him in my best let's-humor-the-nutcase tone of voice. "Are you all right?"
The man paused in mid-wheel, fetching himself a rather nasty conk on the noggin. Then he looked up at me as if realizing for the first time that he was not alone in the world. Or even the mall.
"Oh, hello," he said. "Lovely day, isn't it? Lovely world!"
"Well, if you say so," I continued carefully. "Are you aware that you could get locked up for behaving like that in public?"
"Behaving like what?" he asked, seemingly puzzled.
Case in point, I wanted to say, but restrained myself. "All the cartwheeling and, uh, singing," I said instead.
"Oh! Oh, yes!" he said, as if coming out of a coma. "You're quite right! I had forgotten what frightful tight-asses you people are. I suppose I had better tone it down a bit. Must keep a low profile. Matters requiring my attention and all that. I just couldn't help myself. The world is such a wonderful place to be, don't you think?"
"Well, hmm," I temporized. "I guess so. Apart from the wars, collapsing economy, deteriorating environment, and a couple of other minor matters. But you probably don't get out much, huh?"
"Piffle!" scoffed the stranger. "Mere piffle in the wind! The merest of piffle!"
"You know, a lot of people don't even have a pot to piffle in," I remarked. "Probably doesn't seem so great to them. And most of us are having some issues, with the economy being so bad and all."
"You have no idea what bad is," said the strange nut. "These are your 'good old days.' You should be celebrating."
"Actually, there have been better old days," I replied. "Some of them not so long ago. So, I suppose you do know what bad is?"
"Indeed, I do," he said. "I have just come from 'bad.'"
"And that is ...?" I prompted.
He glanced furtively about. "Ah, what the hell," he said at last. "I have to tell somebody. I'm a time traveler, and I have just come from the future. Your future."
"My future?" I stammered. "Like in A Christmas Carol?"
"No, no," snapped the time traveler. "Not just you. I'm talking about the future of the planet, of humankind. And believe me, it ain't pretty. I saw it in what you might call 3D. That would be Disease, Destruction, and Death."
"Ah, ha!" I cried happily. "You've come to warn us!"
This did not evoke the reaction I expected. The guy clamped one hand over my mouth and raised a cautionary finger on the other to his lips.
"Shh!" he shushed loudly. "Are you trying to get me locked up for real? Of course, I didn't come here to warn anyone. I came to escape. Like any other rational being would have. And now, it is imperative that I get back to work on my time machine. To check out some of those 'better old days,' as you say."
"But people should know, if the future is going to be bad," I objected. "We could change it."
He shook his head. "It wouldn't do any good. You could have changed it, but you wouldn't. You people have already been warned. Over and over. No one pays any attention. I remember."
Something about that sounded funny. "Wait a minute!" I huffed. "What do you mean, 'remember?' Just how far in the future did you come from?"
The time traveler looked furtively about, his eyes resting finally on my wrist. "Uh, that depends," he said. "What time do you have?"