Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Eight

July 2, 2008

Jonas looked around the lending library. It was bright, cheerful and there were people of all ages and races browsing, sitting in chairs reading or at tables talking with their heads together. And then there was the row of desks with small versions of the big box in Cheyenne’s living room, only these glowed with pictures.

He followed Cheyenne, still dressed in what she’d called shorts. He smiled, an appropriate name.

The sights, sounds and smells of this time were overwhelming, but fascinating as well.

So distracted by what was going on around him, he didn’t realize Cheyenne stopped until he ran into her. He looked around and saw she was by the row of boxes with pictures. Only this close, he realized they weren’t boxes but picture frames on stands.

Cheyenne smiled, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left you behind.”

“I promise, we’ll go home after this and I’ll catch you up on the twenty-first century, but first pull up that chair and we’ll go through the old newspapers.”

Jonas looked for a stack of papers while he pulled up the chair, which turned out to be remarkably light. Seeing no papers, he watched as she moved an oval object on the desk, and the frame came to life with a lighted picture.

“Okay,” she said looking at him. “This is a computer; a computer is a device that stores tons of information on what is called a hard drive. Please, don’t ask me any more than that, I’m a photographer, not a computer tech. I have one at home, I’ll show you how to use it and you can learn anything you want, including just how a computer works, for now, just accept that this a giant book with tons and tons of information, and at the moment, it’s a stack of all the newspapers for the past one hundred or so years.”

He stared, marveling at how long she could talk without taking a breath. “Okay, I’ve had to accept so much already, I think putting that in simple terms is not a bad idea.”

Like the trip to the lending library. He’d seen automobiles, of course, the Honorable Hucksinger had one, and it was only logical that they wouldn't be the same. But what he hadn’t expected was the speed. And the way she and others drove. Cheyenne Cody was a beautiful, enticing woman, but she was also erratic and nervous; and it showed in everything she did, including driving.

A shrill screech ripped through the library and he almost jumped out of the chair he’d just sat in.

“Crap,” Cheyenne said jumping up and reaching for her side.

She pulled a small object out of her pocket and quickly unfolded it, stopping the screeching. She looked at an area that glowed then refolded it and put it back in her pocket. “Sorry, I forgot to turn my cell off.” She must have noticed his face because she smiled. “Okay, a cell phone, hum,” she said sitting back down.

He could see her trying to figure out how to explain it to him so he said, “Never mind, I know what a telephone is and you can explain this one later. I’m no longer amazed with how much smaller something I’m familiar with is. Or faster. Although I do have to admit I’m fascinated by the light in it.”


“Wow, there’s so much. I’ve just never thought about every small thing in my life before. How much we take for granted.”

"I will learn.”

“Do you want to be here long enough to learn?” her question was tentative, as though she was afraid of the answer.

He looked at her trying to decide which answer she was afraid of. That he was staying or going? So he thought, what the hell, “Which do you want?”

She smiled, “Staying.”

“Me, too,” he answered, surprising himself. He did want to stay, he liked this century. “Oddly, I feel as though I belong here.”

“I’m glad, I want you to belong.”

He couldn’t resist, and it certainly wasn’t very gentlemanly, but he moved to kiss her gently. Just as he started to lean forward, music started playing nearby, and he looked to see where it was coming from.

A man pulled another small phone out of his pocket and stuck it to his ear, talking.

“Hum, anyway,” Cheyenne said as he looked back. “We can search the newspapers for any information on Hucksinger or your sisters. Do you have their married names? Were they married when you left?”

“Three of them were, the youngest was not.”

“Okay, give me a date to start with, and we’ll see where that takes us.”

Chapter Seven

Chapter Nine