The Inheritance Paradox
Twenty-Four (Eugene’s Story)
EUGENE HAD BEEN traveling to other times for months. He always told the stories to Lynn, and she usually responded by saying something like, “What a strange dream.” He was beginning to think it was hurting their relationship, though. He’d begun to treat the stories like they were just dreams, but that seemed to trivialize what he felt, and Lynn liked the stories less. Worst of all, it led him to treat the people in his time travel as if they didn’t really count—or weren’t real.
Eugene had asked Lynn to marry him on her birthday in March, but she hadn’t yet answered him. He thought he’d been clever. He bought her a fancy mirror and had written on the edge, “I love you. Will you marry me.” He’d written it backwards, but he was sure she’d figure out that all she had to do was hold a hand mirror up to see it clearly. She’d been enthused about the gift, and they’d made out rather intensely that evening. But they’d pushed away slightly when it looked like it could get serious.
“I don’t think it’s quite the right time for that yet,” she’d said.
“No. You’re right,” Eugene answered. “I need to stop this insane time traveling before we go any further. Do you think I should see a psychiatrist?”
It won’t stop.
“It might help. Can you talk about it with anyone but me?”
“I don’t know. I often think it’s over and then I get snatched up in the middle of the night and I’m gone. I don’t even know any longer if it’s real or imaginary.”
“Oh, sweetheart, if you don’t stop soon, you’ll be too old for me.”
She smoothed his balding head. Of all the evidence that his travel was real, this was the most profound. Whenever he was gone for a year or more, he came back with his hairline receding noticeably farther. He resolved to question Dr. Wells and get an end date.
Wells will never willingly let go of you.
“I need to quit soon. This is destroying my real life,” Eugene said the next time he landed in the LBT. “Lynn thinks I just visit another life during meditation, or that I’m just dreaming. I’m beginning to think she’s right. I’ve been doing this for months. I’ve been getting women pregnant in the twelfth through the nineteenth centuries. What kind of man does that? And how do I even know it’s been real? Are you just a figment of my imagination, too?”
Wells took Eugene’s watch from him and examined it closely.
“You don’t appear to be near your expiration date. I thought giving you a couple of weeks between trips to ground yourself in your own time would help to alleviate those questions,” Wells said. “You bring things back from each of your trips. Doesn’t that help?”
Your wonderful collection of stuff.
“A ribbon. A coin. A button. Things I could have picked up off the street and made up a story about,” he answered.
“Let’s try someplace easier to acclimatize to and see if you can get home quicker,” Wells said.
“That’s one of my biggest concerns. No matter what my opinion of it being a dream or a past life experience, I come back older. Lynn actually said I’d be too old for her soon. I really have to stop.”
“This one shouldn’t take you more than a month or so. See how much you can spread your seed around.”
Wells strapped him back in the chair and Eugene could feel additional doses of something injected.
Hmm. Upping your testosterone. Don’t go around getting in random fights.
“This looks like a colonial American outfit,” Eugene said when he was released from the chair and went to change into his costume for this trip. “Not too well off, but a gentleman, I’d say.”
That will be new for you.
“You are headed to Philadelphia in 1775. You’ll need your greatcoat on. It’s winter,” Wells said. “Your satchel contains a change of clothes and the tools of your trade.”
Eugene looked into the satchel and withdrew a quill, an inkpot, and sheets of parchment.
“What exactly is my trade?”
“Secretary. You have some acceptable coins. There isn’t really an American currency yet. Twelve pence to a shilling, five shillings to a crown, and four crowns to a pound. You should have enough to get you meals and a room in a tavern. Possibly even bedmates. If my summary of the situation is correct, your services will be required.”
This is a risky time of history. Be careful which side of the trenches you camp on.
“They need breeders?” Eugene snapped.
“It helps not to have a conscience,” Wells responded. “You really don’t need to fall in love with every girl you fuck.”
“What a lovely sentiment.”
“You were not chosen because of your high moral character. Nor did you accept out of a commitment to save the world. You were chosen specifically because of your ability to get into a woman’s panties—if she is wearing any—and get her pregnant. And for your moral flexibility.”
That sums it up in a nutshell, doesn’t it?
“I am a disgusting turd. I find morals knocking on my door, begging to be admitted.”
“Keep them at bay. You will find few people who act out of a sense of moral purity in this world, and most are not pleasant people. They still contribute to the greater good, usually, even if they are motivated by money, power, sex, ego, or pride.”
Are you really any different, Eugene?
“So, I’m to arrive in the colonies with the cover of being a secretary—looking for work, I assume—and I’m to bed whatever woman I find who is willing, then leave her to her own devices for the future. No thought of how my progeny will be cared for? No thought of the woman’s reputation? Just bed a woman and leave?”
“Exactly. Now, Galahad will guide you and get you to the right place. If you are given an order, just follow it,” Wells directed.
Eugene sat in the chair with the satchel held tightly and his hat perched on his head. He felt a moment’s disorientation and found himself near a waterfront tavern.
“Why do I always arrive hungry?” he growled with his stomach.
You started in the middle of the night and were at least a couple of hours in Wells’s laboratory.
“Well, food and drink sound like a good idea now. We’ve arrived at nightfall,” he said.
This place looks good enough for that. Don’t flash your money around. This looks like a rowdy bunch of sailors.
Eugene entered the tavern, which happened also to be a brewhouse. It smelled of greasy dinner and unwashed ruffians. He was concerned that his modest but clean clothes would make him a target. Nonetheless, he found a corner where he could flag the barman and order a beer.
“I’m new here,” Eugene said. “I need hot meals and a room for the next week.”
“That will be four shillings a night,” the barman said.
That’s within your budget.
Eugene nodded. The barman pointed him to a table with a couple of other men at it.
“Sit there. Meal includes a glass of beer. More beers are four pence each. Patience will bring your food. Don’t bother asking her questions. She doesn’t talk.”
Probably named Patience because it’s what’s required to be near her.
“I’ll suffer her silence.”
The barman nodded and collected the daily rate. Eugene sat with the two men at the table. They were both reasonably well-dressed and smelled less of beer than the rest of the place.
“You must be the secretary,” the first man said.
“Why, yes I am,” Eugene answered, a little surprised that he’d been recognized.
“I thought you’d never get here. We need to get started. Get your materials out and I’ll start talking to people.”
Employed already.
Eugene got a sheet of paper, inkpot, and quill out.
Sharpen the quill and split it.
He found a small knife in his pack and followed Galahad’s instructions on how to prepare the quill and get ready to write. Before his companion stood to speak, the woman he assumed was Patience arrived at the table with a plate of sausage and boiled potatoes. He had a hunk of bread alongside his beer.
The other men at the table snorted and the first stood up on his chair.
“Hear you all!” he shouted. “This day, the Continental Congress resolved that two battalions of Marines be created. Care will be taken to see that no person is enlisted into these battalions save that they are good seamen, or so well-acquainted with maritime affairs to be able to serve by sea. Such men will serve during the current war between Great Britain and the Colonies. This evening of 10 November 1775, I Samuel Nicholas, by authority of the Continental Congress, will begin registering the names of those who wish to enlist. Be orderly in your approach to this table and do not come here if you are drunk. You will register your names as befits a warrior of the Continental Marines.”
Nicholas resumed his seat next to Eugene and noted he had his implements ready at one hand while he fed himself with the other. It was not a sudden rush to the table by volunteers. The men in the tavern turned to discuss the situation with each other—which was not much different than the discussions and arguments going on before the announcement.
Eventually, a man who was not staggering to the extent many others in the tavern were, approached the table.
“I want to join up,” he said bluntly.
“Leave a space at the top,” the young man on Eugene’s left directed him. “We’ll fill in the enlistment information when we have them all signed.”
“Good,” said Nicholas. “Are you presently serving aboard a ship?”
“A merchant vessel at the dock.”
“Name?” the other man next to Eugene said.
The would-be Marine turned to look at him.
“It’s all right,” Nicholas said. “Mr. Mullen is my recruiter. And Mr.…?” He turned to Eugene.
“Holbrook,” Eugene said.
“Mr. Holbrook is my secretary. He will record the names.”
“Aye, sir,” the recruit said. “Franklin Collis.”
Eugene wrote down the name, leaving the prescribed space at the top of the sheet. Mr. Mullen continued asking questions regarding age and place of birth, then his current residence in Philadelphia. Eugene wrote everything down then turned the paper and quill to the man to sign his name. He made a mark and Eugene witnessed it. The first man had been enlisted in the Continental Marines. Nicholas gave the man instructions on where to report on Monday morning at six in the morning.
It was not a steady stream of men. Nicholas turned several away who were, in his opinion, too far into their cups to sign their names. When they decided to end the session, they’d received enlistments from eight men.
“A few good proud men,” Nicholas said. “We’ll return tomorrow night at four. Holbrook, bring the signed pages to the State House at ten tomorrow morning. See Chief Secretary Dennis to have your supplies replenished. Have a good night.”
With that, he and Mullen left the tavern. Eugene put his writing implements aside and waved Patience over for another beer. He gave her a shilling and she dutifully counted out eight pence in change. Of this, Eugene offered her a penny as a tip.
She scowled at him and held up three fingers. He was startled but decided to give her the three pence. She smiled and sat in one of the vacated chairs.
I think you paid for her company.
“Oh, my. For how long do I have your company?” he asked.
She held up one finger.
“One day?”
She looked horrified.
“One night?”
She shook her head.
“I see. One hour.”
She nodded, then pointed to the stairs at the back of the tavern. Eugene hadn’t really noticed them other than when the barman had pointed to indicate where his room would be. Patience took his hand without waiting for him to finish his drink. He grabbed his satchel. As she passed the bar, she handed the barman the four pence for his beer.
“Number three,” he said, as she pulled Eugene along up the stairs.
It was relatively quiet up here, though the tavern itself had quieted down in the past half hour. It was mostly only those who were devoted to their beer and were sitting silently and alone. Patience stopped at the third door and pushed Eugene inside. She quickly went to light an oil lamp on a small table.
Eugene set his satchel down and turned toward Patience. She immediately and expertly set about unbuttoning his waistcoat and the front flap of his breeches. She fished his cock out through the slit in his undergarment and began massaging him.
“This scarcely seems right,” Eugene muttered.
You paid for it. Less than the price of a beer. And you had a good day’s work as well.
“I didn’t expect to be enlisting eight Marines,” Eugene said, disconnecting his mind from what Patience was doing. Nonetheless, his member was responding. “I expect there will be more tomorrow. Saturday is still a workday.”
If you start earlier, there might be more coming in before they start drinking.
“I still have to fill in the enlistment information on each of those sheets. I certainly wouldn’t have signed one without reading what I was signing!”
Without realizing it, Eugene had come erect in Patience’s hands. She bent over the bed and pulled her skirts up over her butt.
I wouldn’t put my face there if I were you.
“Better get it done, I suppose,” Eugene said.
He positioned himself behind her and moistened his cock with spit before thrusting into her. She emitted a slight squeak, but otherwise simply accepted his thrusts until he came. He withdrew. She pulled a napkin from her apron pocket and wiped herself, then dropped her skirt and left.
“That was singularly unsatisfying,” Eugene sighed. “Can we leave now?”
Not yet sure of a pregnancy. You’ll need to repeat the performance.
In the morning, after a breakfast of oats and coffee, Eugene found his way to the State House. It was only a few minutes away and there were board walkways on either side of the muddy streets. Eugene managed the walk with only a few spatters on his white stockings. He would need to find a laundry service if his visit was more than a couple of days. He’d carefully undressed after his encounter with Patience the previous night and brushed his clothes off, so at least he wouldn’t wear clothes that looked like he’d slept in them.
Eventually, he was directed to the Chief Secretary Dennis.
“I started on short notice last evening,” he explained to Mr. Dennis.
“Ah yes. Mr. Nicholas said you’d be around. Said you weren’t very neat about the documents. Let’s see what you have,” Dennis said.
Eugene handed over the eight enlistments.
“Do you think paper grows on trees? We’re in a shortage,” Dennis scolded. “And you haven’t written out the enlistment! You will need to copy out the enlistment pledges first.”
“I didn’t have a copy to work from, or I’d have had it done,” Eugene explained.
“Sent out without the fundamentals,” Dennis sighed. “I’ll take you to a desk where you can copy out the enlistments. Then prepare today’s papers with enlistment at the top. You can collect each day’s enlistments on a single sheet. All this other is unnecessary. We just need their signatures. Be sure you have noted their correct names in your own hand as you will need to transcribe the list when you return Monday morning.”
“Transcribe them, sir?”
No copy machines or carbon paper.
“The list of recruits will need to be forwarded to their commander. He will sort them out starting on Monday. Make sure the recruits all know where they are to report. Now sit at a desk and transcribe your first day’s accomplishments. Use this enlistment pledge as your guide and copy the names below it. Prepare additional sheets for your work next week.”
“I understand.”
“Try to be neater in your penmanship!”
“Yes, sir.”
Eugene took the enlistments and the copy Mr. Dennis had given him to one of the desks in the secretarial chamber. Five other men were at desks busily copying from papers.
“Wonder if those are other recruiters,” Eugene mused as he pulled his writing materials together. He began copying the enlistment pledge at the top of each page.
We the Subscribers, do hereby severally inlist Ourselves into the Service of the CONTINENTAL CONGRESS of AMERICA, to continue in that Service ’till the End of the present War with Britain, unless sooner regularly discharged. And each of Us do engage to furnish and carry with us into the Service, a good effective Fire-Arm, and also a Bayonet, (if to be obtained), Cartridge-Box and Knapsack; and if no Bayonet, in Lieu thereof, a Sword, Hatchet or Tomahawk. And we severally consent to be formed by such Persons as are, or shall be appointed by the Continental Congress for that Purpose, into a Company of Marines, under the Command of such Officers as the Said Congress or said Committee shall appoint; and when formed, we engage to be under the Command of the General Officers of the Forces of the Continental Marines; and faithfully to observe and obey all such Orders as we from Time to Time shall receive from our Officers; and to be under such Regulations, in every Respect, as are or may be provided for the Continental Marines.
“I suppose this grammar and spelling are proper for the time. I’ve never seen so many words randomly capitalized in English.”
More common in German. The writing is neat.
“Can you give me a hand controlling my hand?”
I can only make you see it in your mind. Copy it from there.
Eugene copied the pledge on each of the signature pages he had collected and added ‘Dated this tenth day of November A.D. 1775. Then he created a single transcription with the names of all eight men who had signed the document the previous evening. He had to puzzle over a couple of the names to be sure he had some reasonable spelling of the name. At the end of the list he wrote, ‘Witnessed by E.W. Holbrook, Secretary.’
Once the first set of documents were complete, he began copying the pledge on a clean sheet. By this time, his handwriting had improved and took on more of the stylistic character of the boilerplate he was copying. He simply let the words flow from his eyes to his fingers. He finished his copy work and turned the previous night’s list in to Mr. Dennis.
“That’s much better. I suppose it was being taken by surprise last night and having a rough bar table to write on that made your handwriting so terrible. This is mostly legible,” Dennis said. “Here is your pay. Eight signatures, eight shillings.”
He handed Eugene the coins.
“Are all these other secretaries copying recruitment lists?” Eugene asked. The men seemed to be working on larger stacks of documents and not be near to finishing.
“No. I expect we’ll get more recruitment lists next week. These are copying minutes from the meetings of the congress and its committees, and correspondence between the congress and the army. It was a direct request from General Washington that established the secretarial agency. He said, ‘We are undertaking a great work. It is only proper that we preserve and record our task for the betterment of future generations.’ Quite the man, General Washington is.”
“So I’ve heard,” Eugene said, wondering if he would ever actually meet the father of our country, or even the people sitting in a meeting room nearby, debating the pursuit of the Revolutionary War. He was waved toward the door where he found Mr. Mullen waiting for him.
“Well, Mr. Holbrook, are you ready to sign on more Marines?” Mullen asked.
“Yes. I found today very educational.”
Too bad this wasn’t a class in your school. You’d already have known this.
“It would be hard to make a school course out of this,” Eugene mumbled.
“Yes, isn’t that the truth?” Mullen said.
“Do we have time for food before we start signing?” Eugene asked.
“Should have. Blokes will start wandering in as soon as we set up. Nicholas is sending a drummer up the street to point out the location. He plans to open three more recruiting stops next week.”
“He wants to fill the ranks quickly, doesn’t he?”
“Plans to take as many ships as we can pull together with Marine companies aboard and head for Nova Scotia as soon as possible. Brits are using it as a supply depot, and he wants to destroy it. Maybe capture the gunpowder, too,” Mullen said.
“Sounds smart.”
They sat in the pub and ordered their dinner. Eugene noticed the fare was a bit better than the sausage and potatoes he had the night before, but he’d eaten his share of cabbage stew on his travels. He was thankful he had a good constitution. He ate quickly as people were already milling about the table before he and Mullen finished their meals.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
