Time and Technicalities (Timewalkers Book 1) Page 2

  The application finished loading and presented a dizzying array of options and icons.

  “Yikes.” He had no clue what to do.

  Jenny chuckled at his reaction, “Don’t worry, I’ll get you started.” She sat down and took the mouse, clicking several times. “Here you go. I got you set up to start with a template face.”

  “Template face?”

  “Exactly. A face of someone that looks kinda close to who you want. I do it with pictures a bit, and it helps to get started. Did the dream look like anyone?”

  “Hmmm . . .” Who did the face most look like? “I don’t know for sure, but I remember a long time ago seeing this show, The Flying Nun or something like that, and that sorta seems close, but not exact.”

  She stifled a small laugh. “Flying Nun. Interesting.” She opened an internet browser page on the second monitor and did a quick search. “Oh, Sally Fields,” she said, recognizing the face after seeing a few pictures. “Ok, here is a page of pictures, pick one that you think is close.”

  He skimmed the page, looking for different angles and expressions, and finally settled on one of just Sally Fields, without the nun accoutrements. “This one seems good to start with.”

  Jenny enlarged the picture on the second monitor. “Nice. What is similar?”

  “Hmm . . . The shape of the face seems pretty close, and the shape of the nose, too.” Silas pointed to those features on the pulled up image.

  “Good.” She started to import and draw those shapes onto the blank digital canvas. In a few minutes she had a rough sketch that Silas approved of.

  She stood up and motioned for Silas to take chair, “Here you go. Over here you have the options for different features. If you click on one, several adjustment sliders appear that let you change the characteristics. Drag and adjust until it shows kinda what you are looking for. You’ll probably have to repeat the process several times as changing one feature can tend to cause the others to look different.”

  He sat down at the computer and grabbed the mouse. Performing the stated tasks seemed straight-forward, but he wasn’t sure how well the memory of his dream would survive having to think about so many actions for so long. “Thanks for the help,” he called out as Jenny walked away.

  He paused and tried to focus on the memory. Past dreams always faded quickly unless directly thinking about them, and his shoulders tightened thinking about losing the face. Looking at other faces accelerated the threat and reduced Silas’ confidence in what the face actually looked like. He straightened up and started by dragging eyes to the face. Setting the eyes to where they seemed most accurate, he then adjusted the eye size and spacing and shape with the many adjustments available.

  Never was Silas more unsure of what he wanted than while trying to digitize a face that only existed in the memory of his dream. Every tweak seemed to create the conflict: is this what I remember? Or is it something that looks best to me right now?

  Feature after added feature presented him with an ever growing uncertainty, but he kept working to put to paper—or screen in this case—his dream face. Nose shape, bridge shape, eyebrows, eyes, ears, cheeks, jaw, mouth, and finally hair, went onto the computerized sketchpad. Finally, after over two hours of learning-by-doing and adjusting and readjusting, Silas felt the image captured some semblance of the girl in his dream.

  Jenny noticed him stretch and stand up and walked over to the computer. “How’s it going?” she asked, examining the sketch.

  “I think I pretty much got close,” he said with a small chuckle, feeling his face warm as his work faced scrutiny from the young woman.

  Jenny leaned forward and examined the sketch closely. “Any touchups needed?” she asked, reaching for the mouse.

  “I don’t know. There were a few odd things I couldn’t figure out,” he said, standing to get out of her way.

  She sat down in the chair and for the next ten minutes worked out some of the more delicate changes needed to get just a bit closer to the actual image from Silas’ dream.

  “I think that is as close as I can remember.” Silas took a step back to get a better view, and gave a satisfied nod.

  “She looks cute,” Jenny said, clicking the Save button. “This is from a dream?”

  “It felt like more than a dream, but yes, I was sleeping,” he said. “It seems like there must be a reason for me to feel and remember this dream so vividly, I think.”

  She rolled the chair back and pulled out the USB stick from the computer. “I get inspiration from dreams all the time. I don’t think it’s odd to have dreams like that.” She patted Silas’ arm.

  “The weirdest part is that it feels like this girl is out there. Just . . .” He trailed off. That was the weird part. He was sure it all meant something. He just wasn’t sure what.

  Chapter 2

  The studio door swung shut smoothly behind Silas and he stopped a few steps down the sidewalk. He stared into the distance for a few moments, composing his thoughts for his next step, failing to grasp any resolution.

  His watch showed just after noon, so he walked to his car with thoughts about lunch as he opened the door. Looking around to collect his bearings, he decided the small deli he knew well would provide multiple solutions.

  Silas’ good friend, Noel, worked there. Noel loved meeting new people and remembered faces well. He hoped that Noel might recognize the sketch of her.

  “It’s as good as any place to start.” He thought to himself as he merged the car into the thick lunchtime traffic. Even though the dream image was clear in his mind, each look at the drawing still evoked a loss of confidence in his objectivity. Did the final picture really capture the dream image, or just how he wanted her to look?

  He concentrated on the dream, mindlessly flowing with the traffic, arriving at the deli after the lunch hour. Turning his thoughts to food, he suddenly realized that he had been listening and singing along with the radio, but couldn’t remember the last songs, or any of the drive time. “Different parts of the brain.” He laughed as he exited the car and walked toward the deli.

  He opened the glass door to let a couple of college age men step out, then entered the deli. The deli sat a maximum of sixteen people in the four booths, and one table for a group of six more customers. It had built a huge business around takeout, frequented mainly by working professionals and college students due to the convenient location and quick service. During the busy times, the line would almost extend out the door.

  Silas looked around, seeing only four people in the booths and one person in line at the counter. He joined the queue and scanned the menu. Already knowing his order, he didn’t really need to read the menu board. Of course there might be new sandwich combos or current deals he kept watch for.

  Noel looked up quickly as he dropped a tray of pickles into the ‘pickles’ slot in the sandwich lineup, and noticed Silas. The pair exchanged a quick wave and then Noel went off to get more fixins for restocking.

  Silas ordered his sandwich, a hot turkey with all the fixins. While the sandwich was built, Noel waited for him at the register to collect the payment.

  “How goes it?” Noel punched in the order.

  “Going okay,” he replied, pulling out a ten dollar bill from his wallet. “I have a question later, if you get a few minutes to stop by.”

  “Sure thing. Shouldn’t be too long, gonna be slow for at least a little while,” Noel answered, collecting the cash and giving the change back to Silas.

  “Great.” Silas grabbed the sandwich and the change. He dropped an extra penny in the “penny pot” and walked toward the booth furthest from the counter to eat his lunch, sitting by the outer window.

  He spread out the paper sandwich wrapper and made a catchall for the well topped sandwich. He slowly ate the creation, watching Noel and the other counter worker clean and organize after the lunch crowd. Noel worked fast and
thoroughly, cleaning all of the trays and counter spaces to make everything ready for the next customer and dinner rush.

  Noel looked toward Silas and gave a quick wave as he threw a towel over his shoulder and headed to the back to clean the metal pans and wash up. A couple minutes later he walked around the counter and jumped into the booth next to Silas.

  “What’s up, Silas?”

  Silas wiped his hands on a napkin and slid the last half of the sandwich to his right. “Ever had a really vivid dream?”

  “Sure,” Noel said. After a quick pause he continued. “I think everyone has.”

  “I think so too, but the dream I had this morning felt way more real than anything I’ve ever had before. I actually think I ‘felt’ the dream happening.”

  “And?”

  “And the weird thing was that the dream had this girl in it.”

  Noel looked at his friend for a few seconds, with a very sly grin on his face.

  “Ha Ha,” Silas said, tilting his head left and right, guessing Noel’s thoughts. “Not that kind of dream. We were looking for something. And I can still see her face. It was weird that her face was so clear.”

  “And you think it means something?”

  “It has to.”

  “You have been searching for your dream girl for years, bud,” Noel said. “You could be reading too much into an actual dream with this girl. Our subconscious desires can be quite strong.”

  Silas nodded to Noel. “Maybe.”

  “A lot of people think dreams have meaning, but they usually reduce to something you have been thinking about at some point. Any single dream probably doesn’t really have any metaphysical meaning, if that is what you are asking. And since you’ve spent years thinking about this dream girl, that seems a likely source for a dream.”

  “I don’t know. This didn’t fit a normal dream. It almost feels like I need to find her,” Silas said. “It sounds so weird, but man, it feels so real. So clear.”

  “I see.”

  “It gets weirder, too,” Silas said. “I actually took the day off and went to an art studio, and got a drawing of her.” He patted his shirt pocket with the printout.

  “A drawing? From an artist?” Noel asked, staring at Silas with a half smile.

  “Kinda. They had a computer program that did the police sketch type things. And I put most of it together from there.”

  Noel laughed at Silas, leaning back in the booth. “That’s dedication.”

  “Yeah.” Silas wiped his hands thoroughly with the napkins on the table, not too embarrassed to admit it to his friend. Reaching into his pocket and pulling out the printout of the drawing he unfolded it and handed it to Noel. “Take a look.”

  Noel looked at it for a few seconds, taking in the image “She’s cute.”

  “I guess, but I’m more interested in the reason for the dream. Do you recognize her?” Maybe impossibly, his search would be completed quickly.

  Noel took a longer look, as if he were considering options. “Nope, can’t say I do, dude. Haven’t seen a girl that looks like that.”

  And with that, Silas’ hopes were crushed.

  “Darn,” he sighed. “I knew you were a long shot. But if anyone could remember a face, it would be you.”

  “You should internet her,” Noel said, handing back the printout.

  “Internet her?” He put the picture back into his pocket and grabbed the second half of the sandwich. He took a large bite, waiting for Noel to explain.

  “You could scan and upload the picture, and then do an image lookup and see if she is out there. They do that on those investigation shows all the time.”

  “Hmm . . .” Silas mumbled with a full mouth. “You think that would work?”

  “It’s not at all foolproof. The search typically looks for an exact copy, not facial recognition. If you created that picture, chances are you won’t get an easy match. But you might get something.”

  “Guess that makes sense. Would facial recognition work?” That sounded hopeful.

  Noel chuckled and shook his head. “Not a chance. I don’t think most facial recognition sites are reachable by the general internet. But you could try social media. Ask users. People love a challenge.”

  Silas pondered Noel’s suggestion. “That might be a good idea. See if there is anybody out there that recognizes the face.”

  “Yeah, crowd source the facial recognition part.”

  Silas finished the sandwich as he and Noel switched to talking about the old times and future plans.

  The door opened and the bell sounded as a group of four college age students walked in. Noel shimmied out of the booth. “Time to get to work.”

  “Thanks again for the help,” Silas said, crumpling up the used paper sandwich sheet and napkins, and wiping his hands. “Always such good eating when coming here.”

  “Hope you find your dream girl.”

  Silas left the deli and walked back toward his car. A feeling of unease still lingered as he pondered how to complete the search. He wondered if his quest to find a dream girl, not in his usual romantic way, but rather the literal sense, were even possible. He started the car and turned up the radio, hoping the music would keep him from dwelling too long on the question.

  Silas returned to the apartment and grabbed his laptop before sitting on the couch. Opening the laptop, he pressed the wakeup button and waited.

  The familiar wakeup sound of his Linux distribution, with the KDE desktop sounded, and the logo flashed on the screen. The familiarity felt soothing for a second.

  He then started the browser and navigated to a popular social networking site he visited often, and clicked on the “Add new post” link. Then he plugged in the thumb drive.

  “Hmmm, what to say . . .” Silas said, talking to himself aloud. He tapped his fingers on the laptop hand rest, trying to create a good introduction.

  “Hello, dear readers...

  “This will be a strange request, but I feel I have to tell this story. I woke up today from a very vivid dream, and an image was seared into my mind. An image that I couldn’t shake, and that didn’t want to fade like all my other dreams eventually do. This image seemed to call to me.

  “It was the image of a girl—yeah, I know, this isn’t that kind of dream tho. So I did something I wasn’t sure I could even do. It was such a vivid and real dream that I had to take action. I took the day off work and created the most accurate drawing of her face that I could manage.

  “I am here now to try to see if this girl is even real, and if there is some cosmic force at play trying to send me a message, or maybe it is just the last bits of sanity leaving me.

  “Posted here is the drawing of the girl that was in my dreams. I would very much like to know, maybe just for sanity’s sake, if this person is real. And if anyone knows this person, it would be great to know who it is, and any other details that might lead to eventually talking.

  Thanks.”

  He composed the post, reread it a couple times, and looked at all the spelling. The site was notorious for attacking spelling and grammatical errors. He waited a few moments then clicked the ‘Add Attachment” button and navigated to the saved image. The status bar slowly indicated the upload progress, eventually reaching one hundred percent.

  He hovered the mouse over the “Post” icon, starting to feel his palms sweating. All he had to do was click the button.

  “Now or never!” He summoned the courage and clicked the mouse.

  The web browser loaded for a second and the “Post accepted” page appeared for the four second countdown, and then refreshed to the home page.

  “Guess that settles it,” he said, knowing that the most ardent users of the site would see his post in seconds. “The internet is permanent, and never forgets, and is absolutely unforgiving.”

  Silas knew that if
someone found any errors, that user would probably screenshot it and post it in a mocking manner. If, for any other reason, they found the post had something to exploit—good or bad—he would know soon enough.

  Knowing there was nothing else to do but wait, he slowly walked to the refrigerator for a glass of cold tea. He settled back on the couch and pulled up some videos to distract him for a little while, until the post gained a little bit of traction and any feedback.

  He spent the next hour watching random videos, then finally checked to see if anyone had commented on his post. He was greeted with a big red “M” icon at the upper corner, indicating that he had received responses to his post. At the top left of the “M” was a number, indicating how many responses had been posted. A chill ran down his spine as the number of responses registered in his brain. In just an hour—three hundred and twenty-eight!

  Now in a total panic, he paused as he tried to compose himself, wondering how to proceed. “Do I go to the post? Or start on the messages?”

  He clicked on his original post. The online community decided this post deserved much attention, receiving over 1200 downvotes in that first hour, along with 203 upvotes. Silas felt a panicked chill as he started reading the comments on his post.

  “Are you serious? Asking people to Dox this girl for you?” occurred many times in the responses.

  “Get a life. Why would she want to talk to you?” many other responses read.

  “Are you a noob? Why?”

  “You first! Post your info!” some demanded.

  There were a few encouraging comments, which the community quickly attacked as well. “I don’t think this request is too beyond the pale,” one commenter wrote. “The idea was to see if this person he dreamt about exists. Is it no longer allowed to ask a question?”

  “He SAYS it’s from a dream. How do we know that?” another commenter replied to the first. “He could be a stalker. How do we know he didn’t see this girl walking down the street?”

  Silas went back and clicked on the big “M” icon, and waded through the responses, which were the same as the direct comments to his post. On the mail page, he also noticed a blue “P” lit up, with a nine in the upper corner, indicating he had nine personal messages. He clicked the “P” and loaded the personal messages.