Sept 30

I just got back. Ted and Dan and I went up into the hills. The newest totally renewable housing model was released just a few months ago, John, our friend, designed this one, so we agreed to take it to display in some of the more 'earth friendly' towns in the state. I had always had this image of Elm being a more sophisticated place than it turns out to be. We arrived Friday night at dusk, so set up was hardly noticed, since most everyone was at supper. Once night had established itself, some of the residents came around for a look, mostly the smoking patrons of the local tavern. They'd come over and kick the side walls, ask inane questions and then mosey back in for another drink. The main plaza had yet to be paved and was also at the lowest point in town, something that became quickly apparent once it started to storm. We spent that night playing dominos on an old card table that also served as the leasing and information office during the day. The entire night was spent there, the only furnishings inside the soft and saturated walls. Most of the night was spent in silence, only the dripping of water, the shuffling of cards and an occasional throat being cleared. To complete the ambiance, we only had a large flashlight, which was placed upright on top of our bags. One end of the experimental structure was bright, the other black as night, and we sat in the luminescence limbo.
The only conversation to transpire that evening began much calmer than it ended, and for the remainder of the trip we were all taken back by what went on.

You just laid that card down, Ted began
It wasn't my turn, Dan played it, I retorted.
Wait a minute, these are my cards from last time
Maybe you just forgot that this is still the same game
Dan pointed out.
what the...my cards are different, there from a game we haven't played yet
I suddenly realized.
Don't mock me, Ted protested
I'm not
Dan turned to me, How could you have cards from a game
that hasn't been played yet, wouldn't those be your present cards.
But they're not my present cards, my present cards are the ones I
had just a moment ago, I quickly explained.
I don't know what you two are talking about, I don't have any problems; Dan was clearly uneasy.
Well, let's see your cards Dan,
Ted demanded.
You don't see anything wrong with your cards, I questioned.
No, why should I?
Dan there's nothing on your cards, they're blank.
No they're not; I have an 8 of Hearts, a 6 of... Holy fucking shit!
Dan flung the cards on the table
they collected perfectly in the center,
and then we heard our whole conversation,
aloud, while we said
not a word.
Faintly we could see,
around the cards that were dealing them selves
playing hand after hand, the hint of
ourselves, dealing those cards,
getting up from the table, smoking
cigarette after cigarette.

I still have no apt way of describing that evening's events. Ted thinks we were at the transition point of several universes, all parallel. How could they be parallel if it was a crossing point, but he corrected me, it is not the universes crossing, it was us crossing. Is that possible? I never spent much time in science class, and although I have heard many theories of quantum this and physics that, I am not convinced that is what we experienced. I think of it as a collective memory, even the parts that hadn't taken place yet were all within the possibility of the moment. Never once did we see any component that wasn't already there, no talking ferns, no robots, nothing that didn't already exist in our environment. So we saw, in a detached manner, what we had done or would be doing. Ted doesn't believe me. That's okay though, I slashed his tires.