“Dude, I have always, always wanted to meet you.”
Dave nodded and smiled politely, wondering what the fuck the guy was talking about. He’d seemed a little bit... weird... when he sat down next to Dave at the bar, and now that he was drunk he was even weirder.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, “I’m a delivery driver for a bread company, if you want to meet me just hang around in back of a supermarket and eventually I’ll show up...” It didn’t sound as clever out loud as it had in his head. He’d heard a guy who delivered a keg to the bar say something similar, but it was funnier when the beer guy said it.
“No, no, you don’t... listen, I can’t tell you any more, but trust me, this is a dream come true. It’s a real honor.”
“Well,” said Dave, “Glad to help.” He pushed his empty beer glass forward and made the ‘one more please’ gesture to the bartender. He wondered if he shouldn’t go find a bar that didn’t have a hero-worshiping lunatic in it.
“No,” said the lunatic, “no, it’s on me.” He waved at the bartender. “Hey, this guy’s drinks are on my tab, whatever he wants.” It was the third time he’d said that.
Well, thought Dave, there are plus sides to hero-worshiping lunatics.
“So,” said the lunatic, “Is this your regular spot, or do you mix it up?”
“Well,” said Dave, “This is where I come most evenings, you know, after work. I also go to the International, sometimes, over on Brannan...”
The guy grinned. “But you would say that this place is your spot, and the International is, like, secondary?”
“I... guess so, yeah.” He looked down at the small bowl of curried fritters on the bar. “The International doesn’t do pakora, so...”
“Right, sure,” the guy said, snickering. His beer was empty. “Sorry,” he said, “I don’t usually drink, but I thought... it’s a bar, right?”
Dave eyed the guy warily, took a sip of his beer. “It is,” he said, “a bar.”
“Oh man, I can’t believe this.”
Dave looked around, hoping to catch the eye of another of the regulars, get someone to come over and rescue him, but the place was dead tonight.
“The International,” said the guy. “Fuck those guys.” He slapped his hand down on the bar. “Brannigan’s Hole my ass.”
Dave blinked. Brannigan was his last name.
“Listen,” he said, “You want to tell me what this is all about? I mean... you’ve been sitting here for an hour, acting like I’m some kind of... movie star, or something... and paying for my drinks... I don’t know who you are, or what...”
The guy waved off what he was saying melodramatically. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Just... enjoy it.”
Dave took a drink, his eyebrows creasing. “But I haven’t done anything,” he said. “I just drive a bread truck.
“You haven’t done anything,” said the lunatic, “Yet.”
Then, “Aw, shit.”
“What?”
The guy was shaking his head. “Nothing,” he said, “I just... I’m going to have to fix something, tomorrow.”
“Fix something?”
“Yeah, don’t... listen, you know what? Fuck it, I’m going to have to fix it anyway.”
“Sure,” said Dave, “Fuck it.” He raised a glass in mock salute and took a drink.
“No, listen,” said the lunatic, “I’ve already fucked it up, so... listen, Dave.”
Dave blinked. He hadn’t told the guy his name. The guy’d been acting like he knew him, but he had just chalked that up to... mistaken identity, maybe, or just lunacy.
“Can I call you Dave?”
Dave shrugged, uncomfortably. “It’s my name,” he said.
“Yeah, but the... everybody says ‘David.’ The Hero, David Brannigan.”
“Dude, what the fuck are you talking about?”
The guy shook his head. “Wow,” he said. “Just wow.” He took a drink, and seemed to think for a minute.
“So,” he said, “In about twenty hours, this city’s going to be absolutely leveled by an earthquake. Eight-point-nine, right under the city.”
“Um.” Dave glanced at the guy out of the corner of his eye. Being able to predict earthquakes was one of those Sure Signs Of Lunacy, in his experience.
The guy waved again, this time an all-encompassing two-handed thing. “Huge disaster, massive damage. Just wrecks the city. And there’s a fire afterwards, too, though it’s not as bad as the, the quake itself, right? So the city’s just wrecked, everybody’s feeling like shit, power’s off, water’s off, for days, weeks some places, while the utility crews figure it all out...”
Dave watched the guy, beer at his lips, not wanting to take his eyes off the guy. “Uh huh,” he said.
“But get this, this is the amazing thing. When they get through tallying up all the damage, all the... the losses, it turns out nobody died. Nobody but one guy.”
“One guy. The city’s leveled, and only one guy dies.”
“That’s what I’m saying. And this one guy, he managed to die right in front of a security camera. Right at the best angle, too, because... well, so, how it happens is, there’s this mini-mart over on Fifth, it’s not really, like, anything special, just this run-down hole-in-the-wall, but when the earthquake hits it’s full of people.
“And the steel grate on the front of the door, the, uh, the security gate they lock up at night, it slams shut and sort of wedges, because the whole building has sort of shifted, and there’s a fire that starts in the back room, the shop owner’s mother was cooking something back there, right? So there’s all these people trapped in the store, and it’s on fire.
“So right when it looks like it’s hopeless, the grate goes flying off the front of the building; somebody’s ripped it right off the hinges. A second later, there’s a guy standing in the doorway, just perfectly framed, wearing a uniform, gesturing for everybody to get out. Heroic as fuck, just framed there, backlit...
“Anyway, there’s this little kid, goes running back into the store for something. A cat, I think. And everybody else is out, and the guy’s standing in the doorway yelling for the kid, and the building sort of shifts, starts to come down, and here comes the kid, and the doorway collapses, except that the guy’s standing there, both hands over his head, and he holds it up, for a good thirty, forty seconds, while the kid goes running out, clutching the cat.
“And then the doorway comes down, completely crushing the guy in uniform. He managed to hold it just long enough for the kid to get out.”
“Wow,” said Dave, “That’s amazing.” He stared at the guy, blinking, remembering that this was a crazy story from a crazy guy, that was supposed to be taking place in the future.
“So that security video, it makes the rounds, right? All the websites and whatnot, and it changes everything. Just, like... overnight. Because everything worked, right? Like, all over the city, things worked the way they were supposed to, maybe by luck as much as anything else, and just that one guy died.
“And all of a sudden, people remembered that it’s great when everything works, and got really... interested in making everything work right, like happened during and after that quake. And that guy, that video, was like... a symbol of how everything can work, if everybody does what they’re supposed to, and how... you know, knowing what you’re supposed to be doing and doing it can be meaningful and...
“Anyway, everybody wears a uniform, in the future. Every job has a uniform, everybody has a job, even if it’s only part-time, and everything just works. It’s like a, a renaissance of shit working, because this one guy in a bread company uniform held up a door for thirty seconds.”
Dave blinked, four or five times. “That’s... I’m not sure...” He felt like he should say “It was nothing, anybody would do it” or some other such aw-shucks bullshit, but he really *hadn’t* done anything.
“So what,” he said, “It’s all sciency and they make time travel, and you came back in time to buy me a beer?”
“More or less,” the lunatic said.
“Well, listen, I’m not sure I’d do it,” said Dave. “I mean, I can see taking a risk like that, in the heat of the moment, but... knowing I’m going to get killed? I don’t know...”
“Yeah,” said the guy, “I know, which is why I have to go fix it. I’m going to go back and have a talk with myself and set the timeline right, so we won’t have had this conversation, so things will just go back to how they were.”
He stood up, a little unsteadily. “Shit,” he said, “I really have to work on my drinking if I want to do more time traveling.” He waved the bartender over.
“Leave the tab open,” he said, “I’ll come get the card in the morning.” He winked at Dave, and walked out of the bar.
“Huh,” said Dave. The bartender was looking at him and his empty beer. “Another,” he said. He looked back at where the guy had just walked out the door. “As long as the lunatic’s paying.”
Dave nodded and smiled politely, wondering what the fuck the guy was talking about. He’d seemed a little bit... weird... when he sat down next to Dave at the bar, and now that he was drunk he was even weirder.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, “I’m a delivery driver for a bread company, if you want to meet me just hang around in back of a supermarket and eventually I’ll show up...” It didn’t sound as clever out loud as it had in his head. He’d heard a guy who delivered a keg to the bar say something similar, but it was funnier when the beer guy said it.
“No, no, you don’t... listen, I can’t tell you any more, but trust me, this is a dream come true. It’s a real honor.”
“Well,” said Dave, “Glad to help.” He pushed his empty beer glass forward and made the ‘one more please’ gesture to the bartender. He wondered if he shouldn’t go find a bar that didn’t have a hero-worshiping lunatic in it.
“No,” said the lunatic, “no, it’s on me.” He waved at the bartender. “Hey, this guy’s drinks are on my tab, whatever he wants.” It was the third time he’d said that.
Well, thought Dave, there are plus sides to hero-worshiping lunatics.
“So,” said the lunatic, “Is this your regular spot, or do you mix it up?”
“Well,” said Dave, “This is where I come most evenings, you know, after work. I also go to the International, sometimes, over on Brannan...”
The guy grinned. “But you would say that this place is your spot, and the International is, like, secondary?”
“I... guess so, yeah.” He looked down at the small bowl of curried fritters on the bar. “The International doesn’t do pakora, so...”
“Right, sure,” the guy said, snickering. His beer was empty. “Sorry,” he said, “I don’t usually drink, but I thought... it’s a bar, right?”
Dave eyed the guy warily, took a sip of his beer. “It is,” he said, “a bar.”
“Oh man, I can’t believe this.”
Dave looked around, hoping to catch the eye of another of the regulars, get someone to come over and rescue him, but the place was dead tonight.
“The International,” said the guy. “Fuck those guys.” He slapped his hand down on the bar. “Brannigan’s Hole my ass.”
Dave blinked. Brannigan was his last name.
“Listen,” he said, “You want to tell me what this is all about? I mean... you’ve been sitting here for an hour, acting like I’m some kind of... movie star, or something... and paying for my drinks... I don’t know who you are, or what...”
The guy waved off what he was saying melodramatically. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Just... enjoy it.”
Dave took a drink, his eyebrows creasing. “But I haven’t done anything,” he said. “I just drive a bread truck.
“You haven’t done anything,” said the lunatic, “Yet.”
Then, “Aw, shit.”
“What?”
The guy was shaking his head. “Nothing,” he said, “I just... I’m going to have to fix something, tomorrow.”
“Fix something?”
“Yeah, don’t... listen, you know what? Fuck it, I’m going to have to fix it anyway.”
“Sure,” said Dave, “Fuck it.” He raised a glass in mock salute and took a drink.
“No, listen,” said the lunatic, “I’ve already fucked it up, so... listen, Dave.”
Dave blinked. He hadn’t told the guy his name. The guy’d been acting like he knew him, but he had just chalked that up to... mistaken identity, maybe, or just lunacy.
“Can I call you Dave?”
Dave shrugged, uncomfortably. “It’s my name,” he said.
“Yeah, but the... everybody says ‘David.’ The Hero, David Brannigan.”
“Dude, what the fuck are you talking about?”
The guy shook his head. “Wow,” he said. “Just wow.” He took a drink, and seemed to think for a minute.
“So,” he said, “In about twenty hours, this city’s going to be absolutely leveled by an earthquake. Eight-point-nine, right under the city.”
“Um.” Dave glanced at the guy out of the corner of his eye. Being able to predict earthquakes was one of those Sure Signs Of Lunacy, in his experience.
The guy waved again, this time an all-encompassing two-handed thing. “Huge disaster, massive damage. Just wrecks the city. And there’s a fire afterwards, too, though it’s not as bad as the, the quake itself, right? So the city’s just wrecked, everybody’s feeling like shit, power’s off, water’s off, for days, weeks some places, while the utility crews figure it all out...”
Dave watched the guy, beer at his lips, not wanting to take his eyes off the guy. “Uh huh,” he said.
“But get this, this is the amazing thing. When they get through tallying up all the damage, all the... the losses, it turns out nobody died. Nobody but one guy.”
“One guy. The city’s leveled, and only one guy dies.”
“That’s what I’m saying. And this one guy, he managed to die right in front of a security camera. Right at the best angle, too, because... well, so, how it happens is, there’s this mini-mart over on Fifth, it’s not really, like, anything special, just this run-down hole-in-the-wall, but when the earthquake hits it’s full of people.
“And the steel grate on the front of the door, the, uh, the security gate they lock up at night, it slams shut and sort of wedges, because the whole building has sort of shifted, and there’s a fire that starts in the back room, the shop owner’s mother was cooking something back there, right? So there’s all these people trapped in the store, and it’s on fire.
“So right when it looks like it’s hopeless, the grate goes flying off the front of the building; somebody’s ripped it right off the hinges. A second later, there’s a guy standing in the doorway, just perfectly framed, wearing a uniform, gesturing for everybody to get out. Heroic as fuck, just framed there, backlit...
“Anyway, there’s this little kid, goes running back into the store for something. A cat, I think. And everybody else is out, and the guy’s standing in the doorway yelling for the kid, and the building sort of shifts, starts to come down, and here comes the kid, and the doorway collapses, except that the guy’s standing there, both hands over his head, and he holds it up, for a good thirty, forty seconds, while the kid goes running out, clutching the cat.
“And then the doorway comes down, completely crushing the guy in uniform. He managed to hold it just long enough for the kid to get out.”
“Wow,” said Dave, “That’s amazing.” He stared at the guy, blinking, remembering that this was a crazy story from a crazy guy, that was supposed to be taking place in the future.
“So that security video, it makes the rounds, right? All the websites and whatnot, and it changes everything. Just, like... overnight. Because everything worked, right? Like, all over the city, things worked the way they were supposed to, maybe by luck as much as anything else, and just that one guy died.
“And all of a sudden, people remembered that it’s great when everything works, and got really... interested in making everything work right, like happened during and after that quake. And that guy, that video, was like... a symbol of how everything can work, if everybody does what they’re supposed to, and how... you know, knowing what you’re supposed to be doing and doing it can be meaningful and...
“Anyway, everybody wears a uniform, in the future. Every job has a uniform, everybody has a job, even if it’s only part-time, and everything just works. It’s like a, a renaissance of shit working, because this one guy in a bread company uniform held up a door for thirty seconds.”
Dave blinked, four or five times. “That’s... I’m not sure...” He felt like he should say “It was nothing, anybody would do it” or some other such aw-shucks bullshit, but he really *hadn’t* done anything.
“So what,” he said, “It’s all sciency and they make time travel, and you came back in time to buy me a beer?”
“More or less,” the lunatic said.
“Well, listen, I’m not sure I’d do it,” said Dave. “I mean, I can see taking a risk like that, in the heat of the moment, but... knowing I’m going to get killed? I don’t know...”
“Yeah,” said the guy, “I know, which is why I have to go fix it. I’m going to go back and have a talk with myself and set the timeline right, so we won’t have had this conversation, so things will just go back to how they were.”
He stood up, a little unsteadily. “Shit,” he said, “I really have to work on my drinking if I want to do more time traveling.” He waved the bartender over.
“Leave the tab open,” he said, “I’ll come get the card in the morning.” He winked at Dave, and walked out of the bar.
“Huh,” said Dave. The bartender was looking at him and his empty beer. “Another,” he said. He looked back at where the guy had just walked out the door. “As long as the lunatic’s paying.”
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