Tyler wasn’t expected so many oil derricks, the immediate surroundings a sea of metal pyramids stretching north and south. They’d been hidden behind all the counterfeit storefronts.
He wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t climbed one, sitting next to Mad Dog on a makeshift perch. The quartz stone gleamed as Mad Dog pulled it out from under his shirt and held it aloft.
As shadows fell, a cluster of skyscrapers appeared to the north. They weren’t the buildings Tyler had come to know as Century City. These were taller and wider, a monorail line snaking around the perimeter.
“What do you see?” asked Mad Dog.
“Is that Future City?” asked Tyler.
“It hasn’t happened yet,” said Mad Dog. “And then again, it’s all been there for years.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean they’re no respecters of time here, and they’re already getting’ ahead of themselves. Progress can’t be stopped, they say. Everyone talks progress out here, but they don’t like sharin’ it, not with folks like me, which is why we keep to the flats. But we’re getting’ stronger and the Black Knights will claim this all one day.”
“You talking about a race war?” asked Tyler, relishing the possibility of unfiltered conversation.
“I ain’t talkin’ about no such thing. I’m just sayin’ that change is comin’, and the future they’re planning is the one we’re probably gonna get.”
“So that isn’t there?” asked Tyler, his gaze directed at the magnificent cluster of 100 story office buildings.
“Did I say that?”
“Future City? New City? What is it?”
“Call it whatever you want. Everyone else does.”
“And what do you mean they’re no respecters of time?” asked Tyler, irked by his lingering confusion.
“I mean they want it all now, and they have it all. They always did and always will. They as good as mapped out the future for years to come, keeping all this to themselves and keeping out the rest of us. We get what we’re given and we’re not supposed to ask for more.”
“That’s nothing to do with time.”
“It is when they choose the future for all of us, and when progress isn’t all the homes they promised for everyone, after all the oil dries up. You see, the people who say you can’t leave Old City are the same people inviting everyone here. But they don’t really want everyone here, ‘cause it’s the same folks on the Council as sit on the Federation and they come and go when they please, just like Murdoch livin’ large off his Daddy’s oil money and collecting beautiful women like he collects art.”
“And where does he live?” asked Tyler, reminding himself that Lauren still needed his help.
“In one of those pleasure domes I expect,” said Mad Dog, leveling a finger toward the distant hills. “But he’s never gonna let you take her away,” explained Mad Dog.
“I’ll find a way,” answered Tyler, wondering how to persuade Mad Dog to help him. Perhaps there was no saving Laurel from her mistakes.
“You can find a way, but don’t expect her to follow you because she won’t remember who you are. None of his girls remember what they were. All they care about is what they’re gonna get, and Murdoch gives them everything. All they see is the promise of the future, which is still only a promise, which doesn’t keep them from thinkin’ they’re gonna get everything they want.”
“But Laurel doesn’t belong here.”
“Everyone belongs here, including you. There’s a place for all of us, including Murdoch’s girls and you don’t get to change nothin’ unless you want a war and it’s a war we can’t win because they got all the Blue Knights they need to keep what they got.”
“And what’s this about the Black Knights claiming it all?”
“We’re bidin’ our time, and there’s a time for us though I can’t see it yet.”
Mad Dog swung his legs over a ledge, his body slumped as if he has no intention of leaving for some time.
“Shouldn’t we get going?”
“I’m not goin’ nowhere,” he answered, his eyes closed.
“You said you’d take me to Future City.”
“It’s not Future City you want. It’s a war you want and I want nothin’ to do with it.”
“But how will I find anything without the stone,” asked Tyler, gesturing to the quartz in Mad Dog’s hand.
“You don’t need it. But I do. I can’t see without it. But you can. You don’t need to hold it to see those buildings, do you?”
“Really?”
“The way I figure, you already know where to go ‘cause you can see her if you look for her.”
Tyler tried clearing his head of everything but Laurel. Oil derricks vanished, including the one he sat upon, his body dropping just as a hand grabbed his.
The oil derrick returned, Tyler’s feet kicking at the ladder and his hand in Mad Dog’s who remained perched on his lookout. With Tyler’s feet securely place on the ladder, Mad Dog let go.
“My advice,” he said. “Avoid high places if you’re gonna look at the world through a different layer.”
Tyler clambered down before scanning his surroundings, a field of tall grass covering the undeveloped lot and, beyond that, the unbroken stretch of fake buildings.
“I can’t see anything down here,” he told Mad Dog, his voice raised; but the oil derrick was already gone, and so were the flimsy trappings of a city that didn’t even exist yet. The fields of chaparral and grass stretched toward the undeveloped hills in the distance.
“Mad Dog?” he yelled, imagining the oil derrick to his right. And so the derrick appeared, Mad Dog still at his perch high overhead.
“What do you want?” he growled.
Tyler turned to the hills. Tyler was surprised to see two men walking away, barely fifty yards distant. The men reminded him of himself and Mad Dog.
“Mad Dog?” he yelled again. One of the men in the distance turned, puzzled by the source of the voice. It was Mad Dog.
Tyler broke into a run, noticing the other man turning to face him. The other man was himself. Tyler stood his ground, their puzzlement his own.
Tyler turned to the derrick to find Mad Dog still seated near the top. “Can you see them?” he yelled.
“What?” hollered Mad Dog.
“It’s us. Over there.”
Mad Dog raised the quartz stone to the sky. Something gave him pause and he shook his head.
“That’s not my future,” he exclaimed. “That’s yours.”
Was it their future, pondered Tyler. Had Mad Dog agreed not to leave him just yet?
“That’s two of us,” replied Tyler, gazing at the two men who’d turned their backs as they continued trudging north through the tall grass that would one day get paved over; though the layering of time meant it was already paved over and that what was visible was merely a matter of viewpoint.
Mad Dog leaped to the ground from the ladder.
“You white folk always choosing where I got to go,” he grumbled. “I chose to stay and you chose for me to keeping walkin’ when they don’t want me there.”
“They don’t have to see us, do they?”
“There’s some here there’s no hiding from. They see the past just like they can see the future. And it’s not my future, it’s theirs and they don’t want me sharin’ it with ‘em, so you’ll have to hope they don’t see me, which is possible if I cast a large enough shadow.”
Mad Dog walked in the direction of the men Tyler saw. Tyler followed. It took twenty seconds of the usual determined pace for Tyler to hear someone yell “Mad Dog” behind him. Was it the words he’d uttered a minute earlier? He turned, but saw no one.
Mad Dog was already scanning the field behind them, an expanse of tall grass replaced by a view of store fronts and paved roads.
“Either this is you or someone knows we’re here,” he remarked, turning to Tyler. “Tell me you’re doing this.”
Tyler wasn’t sure what to think as Mad Dog pressed on.
“We can see the near future?” asked Tyler as he followed.
“That’s the problem,” answered Mad Dog. “Anything’s possible when you peel back the layers. But you won’t find this girl of yours if it’s true that Murdoch keeps his collections tucked away in one of these folds o’ time.”
“I thought I could see anything that didn’t belong,” asked Tyler.
“Not if he’s expecting you,” answered Mad Dog, cryptically as they pushed north, through clusters of oak and chaparral toward another cluster of makeshift store fronts, similar to the ones they’d left behind.
“I thought Lotusland was back there,” asked Tyler.
“It’s everywhere,” answered Mad Dog before turning west. Tyler could almost see another street stretching before them, but they were still cloaked by the distant past, their feet hidden by tall grass as they pressed onward.
“And nowhere at all,” continued Mad Dog. “That’s the funny thing about New City. Not much of a city at all.”
After five minutes, Mad Dog once again turned north, trudging up a hill which appeared to be the first of many.
Forgetting to clear his thoughts, Tyler could see a car speeding past up a hillside road. It wasn’t long before the road was once again replaced by grass and gravel, tree cover thickening the higher they climbed.
Once the land flattened, Tyler turned. Oak trees dotted the dry valley they’d left behind, a thick fog rolling in from the ocean.
“Where’s the house?” asked Tyler, his thoughts crowding with images of cars and houses, a road curving around a corner. It looked like Sunset Boulevard, but without all the tree cover, the southern valley still visible, the land already parceled out into undeveloped lots, small airplanes rising from a distant landing strip.
Tyler was standing just off the curb, thankfully not in front of a speeding car.
“Do you see her?” asked Mad Dog.
“How would I see her?”
“By looking for her. How do you think? Or maybe she ain’t even here. And maybe whoever told you she was here got it all wrong.”
It was possible everyone had lied to him, including Laurel. Was there no one he could believe?
As Tyler cleared his thoughts, the woosh of traffic becoming a memory of the future, only the twittering of bird song to break the silence.
He sat down, examining the hills for anyone who didn’t belong in this world.
“Like I said, I can’t find nobody,” explained Mad Dog, scowling. “I’ve done what you asked and more, but only ‘cause I felt sorry for you. But now I wish I hadn’t because I’ll probably never get paid and you don’t even know what you want, do you?”
Tyler was at a loss.
“If they find Mad Dog here and lock him away, it’s on you.”
“There’s no one here,” said Tyler.
“Doesn’t mean they can’t see you just ‘cause you can’t see them.”
A sudden breeze reminded Tyler of a woman’s voice.
“Mad Dog’s beginning to think he got played,” he murmured to himself. “Got lured into the lion’s den and a scruffy ol’ dog don’t stand a chance when the lion’s hungry.”
Tyler wasn’t listening to Mad Dog. It was the distant voice that interested him, prompting him to stand and seek it out. He walked north toward the hills.
“Where you goin’?” howled Mad Dog. “And don’t think I’m helping you ‘cause I’m done with that.”
The voice grew in volume the higher Tyler climbed up the hillside.
“Do you hear that?” asked Tyler.
“You crazy,” shouted Mad Dog. “You better hope I get paid, and I’m asking for double what she offered.”
Tyler continued to climb.
“Thought maybe I’d get thanked before I left” yelled Mad Dog, his voice growing faint.
Tyler turned. “I hear something,” he shouted, but Mad Dog had already turned his back to begin his descent. Tyler scrambled up the hill and peered over it.
In middle of a narrow defile separating two hills sat a woman, seemingly suspended some ten feet off the ground, a dress concealing her legs as she sat at an imaginary desk. She appeared to be talking to someone, her voice agitated.
“I can’t …” were the words he heard, followed by something to the effect of “never.” The words came in bursts, their context unclear.
The woman turned, her eyes fixed on someone or something he couldn’t see. It was Laurel, her hair falling in waves over her shoulders, her dress accentuating her cleavage.
“Laurel?” he shouted.
She stiffened. Had she heard him?
“Laurel,” he shouted, even louder.
She turned in his direction, but failed to see him standing atop the hill.
He approached, calling her name as she stood up, puzzled by a sound she couldn’t place.
“Can I help you?” asked a man.
A freshly-trimmed hedge now blocked Tyler’s view of Laurel. He turned to find a gardener, shears in hand, standing before an impeccably manicured lawn. The man was slender, and his face wrinkled and gaunt, his body too narrow to fill out his uniform.
“I’m looking for someone,” said Tyler.
“You looking for the front door?” asked the man with an accent Tyler couldn’t place.
The gardener pointed to his right.
Tyler turned. A palatial home towered above the hedge, a small path leading forking right and left. Porticos flanked balconies, glass windows reflecting the sunlight.
“Thank you,” answered Tyler as he took the path, following it through a small gate and into another garden planted with flowers of varying description and color.
A gravel driveway curved toward a shaded colonnade, stairs leading to an imposing Spanish colonial edifice, topped with red tile and encircled by cypress trees. It was sizeable enough to be home to someone powerful.
Tyler heard gravel footsteps. He turned to find the gardener following him. It seemed he was expected to climb the steps and ring the doorbell, but he hadn’t come to visit, he’d come to steal someone away.
He needed time to formulate a plan, because he didn’t have one yet. Could he enter the house without being seen; and even if he could, would he be able to find Laurel before anyone found him. If someone were to call the police, it might mean a trip to Twin Towers, and there was no telling what that would entail.
“I thought I saw her walk back there,” he said, as he framed an excuse to leave. “I wanted to say bye, but I’ll be on my way. Thanks.”
Tyler walked in the direction of the front gate, the gardener still following him.
“Are you looking for me?” shouted a man, his voice clipped and precise.
Tyler turned to find man with grey at the temples leaning over a balcony, a tan suit framing a narrow chest, a cigarette dangled heedlessly from his apathetic fingers.
“Are you Mr. Murdoch?” asked Tyler.
“Depends on the reason for your business,” answered the man before taking a drag from his cigarette and exhaling.
“It concerns a woman,” he said, wishing he’d lied. But Murdoch seemed pleased by the answer.
“I’ll meet you downstairs,” he replied before disappearing inside.
There was still time to leave, but when Tyler turned to the gate, there were already two men in suits guarding it, hands under their suit jackets as if ready to pull out guns and shoot him down once an order were given.
The Rubicon had been crossed, and the only way out was in.
