The Historian
by Roberto Sanhueza
Daylight and a cheering crowd were my first sensations after the Jump. That and the dizzying feeling of not being quite sure where I was.
The Target jolted on his seat, and for a moment I feared he had somehow felt my presence as I went inside his head.
Impossible, of course, but we Historians have always nagging doubts on the information Scientists provide. Always too little and never too specific on matters such as date or geographic location.
Not that events and locations previous to the Event are any the clear to us scattered survivors.
But then, that’s my job as a Historian. Try to bring the past back to our knowledge, and try to make that rich inheritance of cultures that spanned for centuries before the Event, part of our life. Sort of build a continuity, if you know what I mean.
The slate was almost erased clean after the Event. There were so few of us left it’s a wonder we survived as a species at all.
But we did. And little by little we are bringing our roots back with every trip we Historians make.
The trip itself is another of the mysteries of Science for me. I don’t know how it works and I don’t really care.
All I know is I give the Scientists the place and times I’m interested in, as accurately as our truncated knowledge of history will allow, and they project me there, as accurately as their knowledge will allow.
Usually the projection ends inside a human head, hopefully inside the Target.
The Target I choose is always a leader. I figure there I have a greater chance to access important information. Important to us Historians, anyway. All my Targets have been dead for centuries now.
The one I was riding relaxed, and I relaxed as well. He hadn’t felt me after all.
We were inside an open ground car, rolling at good speed and I looked through his eyes to a cheering crowd on both sides of a road.
Sitting besides the Target was a woman; his mate, I suppose.
I should know better than feel surprised by the costumes and attires women have worn through the ages but the little piece of clothing she held over her head (hat?) made me laugh.
I made the Target laugh too. I must be getting careless. He didn’t notice though.
The transfer will last another sixty minutes, more or less, I hope the ride my Target is taking is a short one and I can gather some useful information on how these people lived once he starts doing whatever it was leaders did in these long-gone times..
I know there used to be a big civilization in this upper part of the continental landmass. I even recall the name of the city I am in. I found it in one of the very few old documents that survived the Event.
So let’s enjoy the ride through Dallas.
Soon I’ll get down to business.
Copyright © 2006 by Roberto Sanhueza
