We the People vol 2: Liberty or Death
Chapter 7

“I went on a field trip to one of those re-enactment type places once,” Chui said, staring around himself in awe. “It kind of looked like this, but it sure didn’t smell like this!”

“That’s the smell of money,” Montel said with a laugh. “I grew up on a farm, and that’s the only way you get used to the stench. After a week or two you don’t even notice it until a friend comes over and goes awww man!”

“Shh,” Thane said, noting the gazes that were cast their way. “There’s enough people staring at us as it is. Try not to look so...happy.”

“Yeah, no one over the age of six is smiling in this town,” Chui said.

“Have some sympathy, kid,” Montel said “there’s a war going on, and a lot of them are on opposite sides of friends and family. They have good reason to be unhappy and suspicious of strangers.”

Thane slowed her pace a bit, ostensibly to test a lace on her sandal, but in reality she wanted to walk abreast of the big man.

“Montel, how do you do it?” she asked.

“I told you I don’t really know. Maybe I create wormholes, or-”

“No, not that,” Thane said with a chuckle. “I mean, how do you keep giving everyone the benefit of the doubt when the world...when the world is so-”

“Full of a-holes?” They both laughed. “Well, there’s two kinds of them. Type A is just someone who’s having a bad day, and we all have those. I try to assume that everyone is a type A until proven otherwise.”

“What’s a type B?”

“Someone who wants to be an a-hole.” His grin was infectious. “Fortunately, there really aren’t as many of those as you’d think.”

“I don’t know. James is here.”

Montel laughed.

“So he is,” he said.

They passed by the village blacksmith. As they watched the smith dipped a glowing red bar into a bucket of water. He tilted his head away from the resulting cloud of steam, but his flinty eyes remained locked on Thane’s.

Thane turned her back on the smith. There weren’t any signs saying ‘this way to Franklin,’ and the layout of the streets was confusing. For a moment, she actually felt a bit of sympathy for city planners. It must be a nightmare to keep things organized when people keep showing up and putting up something new...

And it wasn’t as if she felt comfortable asking one of the natives. Their hard glares seemed like thorny thickets, keeping the party at arm’s length.

“I think we’re lost,” Thane said.

“Yeah.” James scanned then muddy streets with dark, intense eyes. “I’d say a tavern or inn would be a good place to get information, but we don’t have any money.”

“We need to fix that.” Thane scanned around town, looking for a likely mark. She found one in a dapper man wearing a red doublet and white hose. A powdered wig jutted out from beneath his three cornered cap. A servant helped him get down off his horse and followed him into an apothecary shop.

She tapped Montel on the shoulder and gestured at the man.

“Montel, can you filch that guy’s-”

“Purse?” He held up a heavy leather sack bulging with coins. “Already done, fearless leader.”

“Ugh. Don’t call me that.” She regarded the money in her hand and gave it back to him. “Here, these people are a little backward. You’re our resident white male, so people will assume you’re in charge.”

“How sad that we play to the stereotype,” James said bitterly.

“We’re not here to change history. We’re here to preserve it.” Thane clenched her fists as a man berated his negro slave for dropping his burden in the muddy street. “No matter how tempting it might be to take a stand.”

The tavern wouldn’t permit women, slaves, or children, so Montel went in by himself. He returned half an hour later, sour beer on his breath and Franklin’s address on his lips.

They followed his directions and ended up on a street of mud. The city smelled even worse in Franklin’s neighborhood. Faraday held her nose as they passed a butcher’s shop.

“Keep all the bad smells in one place,” Chui said “just like the industrial district.”

“All I smell are pancakes,” Faraday said.

“Oh, stop with the pancakes already!” James heaved a sigh. “Now I want some!”

“Wait a second...” Chui closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nostrils. “I smell it too! It is pancakes!”

They came upon a pair of apprentice smiths cooking griddle cakes on the backs of garden hoes. Montel was able to purchase enough of the cakes for everyone, and a cask of honey, for only one of their coins. Judging from the way the boys headed toward the center of town at a dead run, Thane figured he’d over-payed.

Still, the cakes smelled delicious. Thane almost wanted to eat one herself, but it would have been wasteful. Her stomach rejected conventional fare sooner or later. She ignored the gnawing in her belly and tried to live vicariously through her friends.

Once there was nothing left of the cakes but sticky fingers and smiles, they continued on until they found the printing press. A battered sign proclaimed it the home of the Windsor Gazette. The windows were smeared over with grease to the point of being opaque, and not a sound escaped from within.

“I don’t think there’s anyone here,” Thane said, vainly looking in the window nearest the front door.

“Maybe they’re scared of our whole tribe on their porch,” Chui.said

“Scared of us?” Thane chuckled. “On the off chance you’re right, why don’t you guys go wait up the street? I’ll try the front door.”

Once they’d shuffled off into the distance, Thane raised the brass knocker and clapped it against the back plate. Then she waited for a time, and clapped again.

“I’m sorry!”

Her head perked up at the muffled voice.

“I’m afraid that the Gazette ceased publication some seven years ago. Go away and have a pleasant day!”

“Hello?” Thane tried the door but it was locked. “Mr. Franklin? I really need to see Benjamin Franklin.”

She heard a shuffling, heavy tread, and then the sound of wood grating on wood. With a grunt, the speaker tossed the door open.

Thane stood back and blinked. He looked somewhat like the man on the money, but much more corpulent. She pegged him as weighing at least three hundred pounds, his body shaped like a pear. One foot was bare, wrapped in wet cloth, and he leaned heavily on a stout oak crutch. His shirt was white and simply cut, his trousers ending at his calves. Wire framed glasses perched on a bulbous red nose before twinkling, merry eyes.

“Hello my dear,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it. “What brings a lovely young woman like you to my door?”

“Uh...are you sure you’re Benjamin Franklin?” she asked.

“I don’t see anyone else about foolish enough to make such a claim.”

“Right. Can I come in?”

“My dear, I thought you would never ask!” He hobbled a step back and swept his hand out wide. “Please, enter and be welcome.”

Thane stepped onto the sawdust-covered floor and took in her surroundings. Books of various sizes and thickness were shoved into every conceivable nook and cranny. Most of the furniture was covered by white sheets, but one overstuffed chair had been cleaned off near the fireplace. Next to it sat a plate of scones and a silver tea service, sharing a small table with an oil lamp.

Thane stiffened as she felt his hand pawing at her bottom. She spun on her heel and glared at him crossly.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” he said, smiling “you had a little spider on your bum. I was trying to shoo it along.”

“Oh.” Thane relaxed. “Well, thanks then.”

She waited while Franklin lumbered to his chair and sat down heavily. His toes seemed to cause him a great deal of pain. Thane winced at the sight of the blood-red, swollen digits. They resembled hot dogs that spent too long in the microwave. His nails seemed to be almost enveloped by swollen tissue.

“Now, what can this humble printer do for you?” he asked. “I must warn you that my business here will have me gone before the Sabbath, so I hope I can assist you in such a short span.”

“A stitch in time saves nine,” Thane said with a shrug.

“Why yes,” Franklin said, nibbling on a scone and nodding. “Yes it does indeed. Do you mind if I write that down for my memoirs?”

“Uh,” Thane said, shrugging “I guess not!”

“Do me a favor and fetch me that quill and ink-pot, will you dear?” Thane followed his gaze to a small writing desk shoved against the western wall. As she turned about and leaned over to retrieve the items, she felt a hard pinch on her bottom.

“THAT was SO NOT a spider!” Thane crossed her arms over her chest and stared with incredulity at the great bulk of a man.

Is this, this lecher really one of the most important figures in American history? She thought.

“I’m sorry, my dear, but I’m afraid the goat weed I chew for my gout makes me a bit...stimulated,” Franklin explained.

He didn’t look sorry, so Thane made sure to be out of arm’s reach before she turned back around.

“Uh, listen,” she said as he stuck the end of his quill in his mouth and sucked on it until it was wet. “I need one of your inventions, really desperately-”

“Oh, you’re here for one of my stoves? There are a number of stores in New England that sell them-”

“Uh, no, not your stove. Actually I as looking for your glass Armonica.”

“My Armonica?” Franklin’s mouth closed with an audible snap, and he rose unsteadily to his feet. “I’m sorry my dear, I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

Suddenly he seemed eager to shove her out the door. Thane could have resisted, of course, but what good would that have done? They needed his willing help.

“Wait a second,” she said as he used his crutch to push her in the back. “I haven’t even told you what I’m-”

“You’ve told me quite enough. Off with you!”

Thane turned around just in time to see the door slam. She heard the bar being dropped down, his shuffling footsteps as he retreated. Shaking her head, she headed up the street to rejoin her companions.

“What happened?” Chui said as she trudged up with a disgusted look on her face.

“That guy CAN’T be Benjamin Franklin! There has to be a mistake!” she said hotly.

“Did he look like the hundred dollar bill dude?” James asked.

“More or less, but he’s a...a pervert! He totally felt me up twice in five minutes!”

“I think I remember from my biography that Franklin was kind of a—ahem, a ladies man.” Montel grinned. “He even got his wife to adopt some of his illegitimate children.”

“Why would she do that?” Faraday asked. “That would just remind you every day that your husband cheated on you.”

“What Faraday said.” Thane shook her head. “When I asked about the Harmon-I mean the Armonica, he flipped out and shoved me in the street.”

“Maybe we should go with you this time,” Montel said “and lay all our cards on the table...”

“Why, hello my dear,” Franklin said, swinging open the door wide so he could take in Faraday’s smiling face. “What brings a lovely lass such as you to my door?”

“Well, you already knew me, so...” Thane said, pushing past Farrady. She shoved her way past Franklin. “Keep your hands off of her; It’s for your own protection.”

“Wait just a moment,” Franklin said, holding his free hand up “you can’t just barge into a man’s domicile!”

“We apologize for the rudeness,” Montel said, following Thane “really we do. Unfortunately, we just don’t have any time to waste on pleasantries.”

“It appears as if I have no choice,” Franklin said darkly “as you brutish thugs are intent on forcing your way inside.”

“We’re not thugs, Mr. Franklin,” Thane said. “We need your help.”

“So you’ve said, but you haven’t said WHO needs my help and WHY.”

Franklin’s voice didn’t waver, not even a little. Despite his age and health, Franklin could adapt quickly.

Maybe there’s more to you than meets the eye, she thought.

“Should we just spill it?” Thane looked at Montel, who was quickly becoming her unofficial second in command.

“Might as well. He won’t believe us at first in any case.”

“I don’t know what vile fluids you intend to spill in my study,” Franklin said, drawing himself as much as he was able in his hobbled state “but I can assure you I will NOT be inclined to assist if you proceed!”

Thane couldn’t help it. She threw back her head and had a hearty laugh. There must have been a trace of hysteria in it, because everyone looked a bit uncomfortable when she finished.

“Uh, not literally spill...” Thane took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “We’re American soldiers from the future.”

“I see,” Franklin said, not batting an eye. “Tell me, have you been inhaling mercury fumes?”

“I told you,” Montel said.

“I don’t know how we can prove it,” Thane said through gritted teeth. “But it’s the truth.”

“Really?” Franklin chuckled. “Splendid! And I suppose you’ve come back in time to tell me we’re going to lose our war for independence, yes? Then perhaps I can write a letter or two and stop this whole fiasco. That is what you’re getting at, isn’t it?”

“Great,” Chui said “now he thinks we’re British propaganda agents.”

“If we were, would we really choose a story that you would never believe?” Thane forced her hands to unclench and laid them flat against her sides.

Franklin grew quiet for a time. He sprinkled in dried leaves from a sack of tea and added hot water from the richly engraved kettle.

“You might be shocked,” he said at length “at some of the things I believe in. But that’s neither here nor there. I believe you were going to tell me why you returned to the past?”

Thane looked up, feeling cautious optimism. There was something different about his tone. The subtle mocking quality was gone. Though quite casual in speech and manner, his eyes blazed from behind his spectacles, and for a moment he looked like the elder statesman he was purported to be.

“We’re chasing after an alien,” Faraday said

“An...you mean a Spaniard? A Frenchman?” Franklin asked, brow furrowed.

“No, an alien from outer space,” Montel said.

“As in another planet,” Chui said.

“Most intriguing,” Franklin said. “And of course you have no proof but you’ll swear to any god I care to mention that it’s true.”

“Montel?” Thane turned to the big man and grinned. Montel held out his hand, and then there was an ax handle in his grasp.

“Oh, delightful!” Franklin clapped vigorously. “I’ve seen such illusion-making before! Will you produce a rodent from your hat next?”

Montel looked askance at Thane. This was supposed to have worked, his eyes seemed to say.

“I knew I was going to have to do this,” Thane said with a sigh, walking over to the fire.

“Do what, my dear?” Franklin asked. He seemed to be having a splendid time. Didn’t believe a word they said, but he was having fun.

“This.” Thane reached into the fireplace and retrieved a thick chunk of timber. She held it out before Franklin by the unburnt end. “See? Totally legit fireplace log.”

“I see, but I fail to under-”

“Shh. Just watch, humble printer.” Thane flipped the log in the air and seized the burning end. Franklin’s mouth dropped open, his nose twitching as the sickly sweet smell of burnt flesh reached his nostrils. She released the log and tossed it back in the fire, showing her burned palm to Franklin.

“As you can see,” she said, the wound closing before his eyes “we can do a lot more than just magic tricks.”