Martians

27 Martians First draft 4/24 6:00 PM

I opened the living room curtains. Living room. HA. It is also my dining room, reading room, and computer room. I'm getting nutty sitting in this apartment all day, day after day. I need to get out.

It looks pleasant. Blue skies with a few puffy cumulus clouds. No breeze to speak of. I'm out of here. I grabbed my light fleece jacket, the baseball hat with the Sasquatch on it, my camera, my cane, and my mask. Anyone caught out in public without a mask can be fined $1,000. A fifty-cent mask is a lot cheaper.

“Good morning, Mr. Gibson.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Sciochetti. How are you on this fine day?”

“I'm well, thank you,” she answered.

“Why aren't you wearing a mask?” I asked.

“Oh my no. Not indoors.”

“But what if one of our residents has the virus?”

“I'd know about it,” said Mrs. Sciochetti. “I know everything that goes on here.”

“I'll bet you do,” I chuckled. “Well, it's so nice, I'm going for a walk.”

“Have a very nice walk, Mr. Gibson. It is a gorgeous day the Lord has given us.”

“Yes ma'am, he did,” I answered as I stepped outside. I paused to enjoy the feeling of sunshine on my face. It's been, what, a month since I could go out? No, five weeks. Well that's about a month. A month has four weeks. Whatever.

“Good morning, Mr. Gibson.”

“Hi Richie,” I waved.

“Would you like a ride?”

“I haven't walked in a long time. I shouldn't push it, so a ride would be good.”

“Hop in!” said Richie.

“What happened to your Olds?” I asked.

“Olds. Your new '60 F85,” I said.

“Mr. Gibson, how could I own a 1960 anything when it is only 1958? Do you have a time machine or something?”

“Um... no, my mistake.”

“This is my dad's Dodge Coronet, but I am saving up for a car of my own.”

“I see,” I said. “Think about an Olds. Nice cars.”

“Where to?” asked Richie.

“Might as well make it Swayze Acres. Before the shelter-inside mandate from the governor, I walked as far as St. Mary's cemetery. Swayze Acres was just beyond my walking range.”

“Ask and ye shall receive,” said Richie as he wheeled down the Van Schoonhoven Square driveway, taking a left on Middletown Road and up the hill.

“You know what Richie? I walked as far as St. Mary's cemetery before all this virus stuff started. Would you drop me off there?”

“Can do, Mr. Gibson.”

“Pull into the first driveway at the cemetery, please,” I asked.

Richie took the first right into the cemetery.

“Drop you off anywhere special?” asked Richie.

“Down by the back. My parents are buried there.”

Richie drove down to where the driveway turned left.

“Is this OK?”

“This is great Richie. Thank you. I really appreciate these rides,” I said.

“Just...”

“I know, just doing your job,” I interjected.

Richie was laughing as I slid out of the Coronet. He slowly pulled away and took a left down the main driveway. While I'm here, I might as well visit my parents. As I passed the Patrignani gravestone, I noticed that someone put the pictures of the people buried there back on the stone, and they looked exactly as I remember them. That's nice. That's a nice thing to do. They looked like nice people.

I walked slowly towards where my parents are buried... but where are all the gravestones? There's nothing here but grass. I know this is where they are. I looked around. I'm sure I'm in the right place. I must be confused. That second concussion really messed me up. Shit. I really wanted to pay them a visit. Maybe walking a bit will clear my head.

I walked along the back driveway of the cemetery towards Swayze Acres. I heard children laughing and yelling just over the hill. Thankfully, the well worn path we kids made was still there. That's surprising. Kids today seem to stay indoors all the time.

I walked down the path to the top of the hill. The small playground that the town put in when I was a kid is still there. Nice! And kids were using it. All four swings were being used. There was a line of maybe a dozen waiting to go down the slide. Just like in my day. We kids respected protocol. At the school bus stops, the first kid there would set his lunchbox on the ground. The second kid put his behind the first, the third behind the second, and so on. When the bus arrived, each would grab his or her lunchbox and board the bus in that order. The same for waiting for one's turn on the slide. Each waited his or her turn. Orderly. I like orderly.

I shuffled down the hill carefully. It was pretty smooth, but sandy and downhill. One thing I learned on my last walk is that I don't go downhill so good. I stuck my cane in front a bit in case I started to go head over heels.

I got close enough that I could hear a couple of boys arguing.

“It was the stupidest movie ever made!” yelled one.

“Was not! It had God in it, and God isn't stupid!”

“It was supposed to be about Martians, you shithead! It was called RED PLANET MARS! There wasn't a Martian in the whole damn movie!”

“HEY! No swearing on the playground! There are little kids here!”

“I didn't swear! I said damn, not God damn!”

“Same thing!”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

“Boys boys boys!” I said sternly as I got close. “What are you fighting about?”

“I stayed in this morning to watch a space movie called 'Red Planet Mars',” said one. “It didn't have one damn Martian in it!”

“NO SWEARING!” said the other. “SAY DARN INSTEAD!”

“I'M NOT SWEARING!”

“Now boys, there's no need to fight over a movie. It's just a movie. And you, it isn't considered polite to say 'damn'. Try darn instead, like he said,” I said calmly, but sternly.

“Yeah, but I wasted the whole damn... darn morning! I could have been outside playing.”

“Well, you're outside now,” I said with a smile. “And it is a nice day to be outside.”

“OK Mister,” said the damn kid.

“It was about a scientist who thought he was sending and getting messages from Martians, and it was actually God,” said the darn kid. “I saw it a couple of months ago. Everybody on Earth learned to love God again.”

“You seem pretty intent on God,” I said. “Are you an alter boy at St. Mary's?”

“Yeah. How did you know?” said the darn kid.

“Just a lucky guess,” I said with a smile.

“Did you notice the scientist's TV Set?” asked the darn kid.

“Yeah! It looked like a picture hanging over his fireplace, only it was a TV set! That was so cool!” said the damn kid.

“Yeah! And it was rectangular. It wasn't round and big like ours,” said the darn kid.

“What are you boys talking about?” I asked. “The TV was flat and rectangular like a painting would be? What's surprising about that?”

“That was so cool,” said the damn kid. “I don't know where they put the tubes and stuff.”

“I don't know,” said the darn kid. “It must be a TV from the future.”

Don't say another word. I won't. Make sure you don't. Red Planet Mars was made in 1952. Tube TVs were just coming on the market. There was no such thing as flat panel TVs then. Well, then I wonder why they had one in that movie? I don't know, but don't interfere in the past. Do you know what year it is? Well, it's 2020. You think so? Try asking the kids.

“Boys,” I said. “I forgot what year it is. Can you tell me?”

Both boys stopped talking and looked at me strangely.

“You don't know what year it is?” asked the damn kid.

“No. Sorry, but I'm forgetful,” I replied.

“Gee mister. It's 1958,” said the darn kid.

“Oh, right. Thanks boys,” I said meekly as I turned and walked back up the path to St. Mary's cemetery.

What did I tell you? Stop talking, I'm thinking. Oh, you're thinking are you? Yes. Now please just shut up. I need to make sense out of this. OK fine. Fine.