Prophesy - Chapter 12

Liam McShane and Max Goldman were sitting soberly across from each other at the Indian restaurant down the block from Liam’s apartment. Liam seemed distracted, and Max was fidgeting with a button on his left sleeve, which had come loose.

“We’ve got to find something else to do with our lives,” Liam lamented.

“What time is it?” Max asked him.

“It’s twelve fifteen according to the clock on the wall,” Liam answered.

Liam hesitated a moment.

“That doesn’t look right,” Liam said.

He pulled an old mechanical watch from his pocket, and he opened it. On the outside face, there was an engraving of a sailboat and on the back was an engraving of the Rock of Gibraltar.

“Where did you get that old watch?” Max asked.

“It belonged to my father and to his father before that,” Liam answered. “My electric watch stopped working, so I’ve been carrying this one around with me; it’s a kind of an experiment.”

“So, tell me about it,” Max suggested.

“There’s not much to tell, really. I’ve just been testing this mechanical watch against the electronic clocks we see all around us,” Liam explained,

“So, what have you discovered?” Max asked.

“Surprisingly, the digital clocks have been less accurate. I’m sure it has something to do with the way the circuit boards are constructed, and I still think there is a fundamental flaw in the way these binary systems are designed. Look at the history of computer design, and it’s a testimony to linear history. We’re still using the computer keyboard designed for manual typewriters. The whole point of that keyboard was to slow down how quickly people typed to keep the manual typewriters from jamming,” Liam explained. “We’re still using binary code created when computers were made with vacuum tubes,” Liam noted.

“That’s always been the way that technology was developed,” Max responded.

“It doesn’t have to be that way. Think of Tesla. He came up with a completely new way of producing electricity, and it changed the world,” Liam noted.

“How many men like Tesla came along?” Max asked.

“People with new ideas are thrown aside in this system, Max. The ‘powers that be’ know their control is based upon their control of technology,” Liam asked.

“We’ve had this discussion before.” Max countered.

“And we’ll have it again. It’s the core of my argument for a change in leadership,” Liam proposed.

“Ten years from now, if we’re still alive, we’ll be having the same discussion, with the same leaders still in place,” Max argued.

“Things happen. Think of Randall, if you remember from NYU. He went out for a weekend on a camping trip, and he walked off a cliff in the dark,” Liam spoke.

“I don’t walk around at night on thousand-foot cliffs,” Max responded.

“You remember my day of reckoning, Liam. I saw my imminent death with my own eyes.”

“Who can forget?” Liam responded.

“To change the subject for a moment, I’m going to ask you again about Pennsylvania. You’ve refused to tell me a word about it,” Max said.

“I can’t talk about that,” Liam responded. “I gave my word.”

“I got the same response from Melissa before she left,” Max answered. “You’ve been like an open book to me for as long as I’ve known you, and you won’t tell me what happened in Pennsylvania. What was the name of that town?”

“I’ve never told you the name,” Liam asserted.

“Precisely,” Max said.

“I’m not going to tell you the name of the town or anything else about what happened,” Liam answered.

“Did you have a UFO encounter?” Max asked.

“If I had a UFO encounter, I’d be showing pictures and doing radio interviews; I wouldn’t be keeping it secret,” Liam affirmed.

“Are you trying to protect someone?” Max asked.

Liam did not respond.

“Alright. I’ll drop it for now,” Max conceded.

“Thank you,” Liam said.

“I have something for you. I was in the bookstore and began to browse the magazine section, and I found something,” Max told him.

Max reached into his bag and removed a magazine entitled “Archaeology Today,” and there was a front-page article about Sir Richard and Stephanie Lancaster. “Thought you might like this. I still don’t know why you didn’t take those girls up on their offer and go to Iraq to see her,” Max commented.

“I’m not going to Iraq. I’m not going to Queens. Max, I’ll be stuck on the Island of Manhattan for the rest of my days. I’ve accepted that.” Liam asserted.

“What happened in Pennsylvania?” Max asked.

Liam opened the magazine and began to read the article. A single tear slid down his left cheek as he read. He looked at the four pictures of Stephanie, included with the article, and remembered.

“I had nothing to offer her.” He spoke with sadness in his voice. “I still have nothing to offer her, which is why she is there and why I’m here. May I keep this?”

“Of course,” Max answered.

Liam rolled up the magazine and slid it into the pocket of his jacket.

“I didn’t mean to get you upset!” Max apologised.

“I’m not upset. Thank you for the magazine.” Liam said.

“Perhaps we can catch a movie tonight?” Max proposed.

“Sure, I think I’m going to go now,” Liam answered.

“I’ll stop by at seven, and we can walk to that theatre on Eighth Avenue,” Max proposed.

Liam stood up from the table and went to pay his check. He left his friend Max, still sitting in the restaurant. He was more upset than he was willing to express. But despite the obvious distress the magazine had caused him initially, he was happy to see the photographs of Stephanie. His life with her at NYU seemed like a dream.

He walked the two blocks back to his apartment, thinking about their time together, how much he enjoyed talking to her. No one, not even Max, challenged him to think as much as she had.

When he entered his apartment, he took the magazine out of his jacket and put it on a bookcase in his small living area. He slid the magazine into the case so that it was resting across the tops of the books.

“Well, Stephanie, you always loved to be close to books,” He spoke aloud,

Then a loud knock came at his door, and it startled him. He peered through the peephole, and he could see a man in a UPS uniform. He slowly opened the door.

“Liam McShane,” the deliveryman told him.

“Yes.”

“Sign here,” he told Liam.

Liam signed, and the man handed him a small package, twelve inches by ten inches.

“Thank you,” Liam said.

He slid the package open, and inside was a letter in a standard-size envelope. On the front of the letter, in capital letters, was “For Liam McShane.”

There was no name or return address. The back of the letter was completely blank. He looked at the clock on the wall, and it was exactly three seventeen in the afternoon.

Liam carefully opened the envelope, without tearing it, and then removed the letter with the same precision. He took the letter out and unfolded it.

The text seemed to be written in a feminine hand.

“Dear Liam,” it began.

“You don’t know who I am, but my name is Lillian Lancaster. I live in Baltimore.”

“I am writing to you because your friend Paula Hightower has told me all about you, and because she said you can help me organise and compile the hundred and eight hours of video I made on my recent trip across the Midwest.

I plan to be in New York at Thanksgiving to see my father and to visit Jonathan in White Plains. If you don’t mind, I hope to see you as well. Paula told me you were the smartest man she had ever met, and I’m sure we will have much to talk about. There are only a few people I would feel comfortable sharing the story of my extraordinary journey, which I have made and how God healed me from my brain cancer. Of course, I credit the instrument of that miracle as Jonathan, who arranged that I would find someone to heal me. It’s a long story, and I’d be glad to share it with you. Of course, this will be the second time together since we shared that train ride from Pittsburgh to Philipsburg, where this all began.

Your friend on the Journey,

Lillian Lancaster

Liam put the letter back in its envelope, then took the letter to the same bookcase where he had laid the magazine. He placed the letter atop the magazine, not realising, of course, that one day Lillian and Stephanie would both be together.