City Out of Time. William Robison III
empty.
The day before came flooding back. His brother was alive. He was in some sort of strange city in the desert. Oh, and there was some fantastic bit about being a time traveler… or had he dreamt that part?
There was another knock on the door and Lanz realized that the first knock had been what had woken him. He rolled out of bed, thought better of answering the door naked, and grabbed the sheet. He wrapped it around him like a makeshift toga and went to the door.
He cracked the door a tiny bit and saw the older gentleman from the reception desk standing in the hallway beyond.
“Mr. Franco?” he asked.
“Yes?”
“Is everything alright with you?”
Lanz thought this over for a second before answering, “Yes, I think so.”
The older gentleman seemed perplexed by the answer.
“Is something wrong?” Lanz asked.
“Well, sir… you didn’t come down for breakfast and you’re going to be late for Indoctrination.”
“Indoctrination?”
“You remember… from the orientation film last night?”
“Oh… no… I skipped the movie.”
The sour look on the receptionist’s face told Lanz that that was the wrong answer.
“I came in late,” Lanz added. “I was told I could see it later.”
“Oh… well, Indoctrination is where you go to be given permanent housing. This is only temporary housing. I’m afraid you’re going to need to check out, sir.”
“Oh, okay… I… I’m just going to take a shower and then I’ll clear out.”
“Very good. Come see me at the main desk and I’ll get you squared away.”
“Thanks.”
The receptionist turned around to leave, but stopped after only a step and said, “Oh, one more thing…”
He turned around and handed Lanz a stack of his clothes, freshly laundered. Lanz took the stack of clothes, but didn’t have a chance to ask about them before the receptionist was gone.
Lanz shut the door and walked over to the window. This town was certainly efficient… and completely strange. Friendly, though, so far as Lanz could tell.
He pulled open the curtains (had he closed them?) and stood in the window looking out at the town spread below him, now sparkling in the rising of a brand new day. The hills in the distance were the same ones Lanz had seen from on top of the peak in Death Valley the day before – only, it seemed, this town had sprung up in the little valley between the two sets of hills since then. And along with the town of about 50,000 people, the valley had also sprouted a fully flowing river, a thriving main street, and several gorgeous looking green parks. Lanz was certain that none of this had been visible the day before.
Lanz closed the curtains, shed the toga, and went into the bathroom. There was nothing Star Trek about this future city’s shower. It was a straight-forward turn-the-knob-and-hot-water-comes-out variety. Lanz’s dry sweat-stained skin soaked up the warm water and spit out the dirt. Humanity and sanity returned.
He dried off in a nice fluffy white towel and pulled on his freshly laundered clothes. A rudimentary toiletries kit by the sink provided a tooth brush, tooth paste, razor, shaving cream, and comb. Lanz gussied himself up and then checked the room for any lost articles. Having brought none with him, he didn’t worry about leaving any behind. Satisfied that he was ready to go, Lanz stepped from the room and rode the elevator down to the lobby.
“Ah, Mr. Franco, you look far better now,” said the receptionist. “I always find a nice shower first thing in the morning keeps the spring in my step.”
“Yes, it was an eye opener, but I also smelled like a wet dog,” Lanz replied. “So the shower served two functions.”
“When I started here in 1971, I’d constantly have to find rooms for hippies. Believe you me, mister, nothing smells worse than a hippie that hasn’t bathed in a couple of weeks.”
“You’ve been here that long?” Lanz asked.
“Sure beat the hell out of the jungles of ‘Nam, let me tell you.”
“’Nam? Oh, the hippies must have loved you,” Lanz replied with a smile.
“Surprisingly, we had a lot more in common than you might imagine,” said the receptionist. “Now, don’t let me get started talking about the old times, Mr. Franco. You’re already going to be late to Indoctrination as it is.”
“Right. So, uh, how do I get there?”
“Go back down the escalator to the tube and take it downtown until you reach the Central Plaza station – about three minutes or so,” the receptionist explained. “When you come out of the station, it’ll be the big round building directly across from you and past the Fountain of Peace. But if you miss it, or get lost, just ask anyone where it is. They’ll be happy to point it out.”
Lanz shook the receptionist’s hand and thanked him before walking across the lobby and down the escalator to the tube station.
The tube was just as he remembered it from the night before, only much more crowded. It whizzed through the tunnels past three or four stops before finally reaching the Central Plaza. Lanz got off and followed the crowd up a wide flight of stairs into the bright sunshine of a perfectly clear morning.
It was relatively cool here. Lanz estimated the temperature to be only in the seventies with a slight breeze. It reminded Lanz of the two weeks of spring that Vegas received before the temperatures started rising on a nearly daily basis until it swelled past 100 degrees every single day in June. The temperature was pleasant.
The Central Plaza was a hive of activity today. People were streaming across its wide circular expanse, ignoring the beautiful statues and fountains, on their way to whatever constituted an emergency for a city full of time travelers. It seemed so normal – like a town he might find in a quiet valley in California or Arizona or New Mexico.
Lanz immediately spotted the Indoctrination Building. It was about five stories tall and round like a wheel thrown on its side. The front entrance opened on to the plaza. The building reminded Lanz of something he’d seen in a picture from the New York World’s Fair.
He crossed the plaza and walked through the front doors.
The lobby of the round building was impressive. A large reception desk was off center in the open space. Three lovely young ladies offered information there to all that asked. Massive original paintings graced the five story walls that made up the left and right walls of the lobby. But what drew Lanz’s attention was a gigantic scale model of the entire City resting in a glass cabinet on the other side of the lobby.
Lanz walked over to the model and tried to take it all in. The model was an entirely functional duplicate of the entire city. It had working lights, running above ground and below ground transportation system, and it even seemed to transform throughout the day from a 1940’s variant of the city to a near-future variant (with computerized monitors on some of the walls). It was an impressive model with some really impressive effects.
Lanz located the spot on the model where he would have been standing when he first spotted the streetlights in the fog and when he tried to look from the same angle that he’d been standing in at that moment, he could see a street intersection with a street light in it. As hard as it had been to believe the night before, Lanz realized that this was, in fact, the City he’d seen through the fog about twenty four hours before.
Lanz stared at the model for quite some time before he was approached by one of the young ladies from the information desk.
“Is there something I can help you with?” she asked.
“I