God, Love and Tow Trucks

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Blurb

Genre:
Scifi / Humor
Author:
David Estrada
Status:
Complete
Chapters:
26
Rating:
n/a
Age Limitation:
18+

Chapter 1 Gospel according to Salome

This crazy chick picks me up at the Coachella music festival. My name is John, and this is an accurate account of what happened to me in the five years following my twenty-fifth birthday. I was born in 1982. I am going to say it that way because one day I was in Indio listening to The Black Keys and a cute girl starts chatting me up. This never happens to me. Most of the time I go ignored. But she just started talking to me... And the next day I was in a time machine.

“Hi, my name is Salome. ...like Shalom, it means peace.” She says staring into my eyes. “And you are John. John, what I want you to remember is that you can call me Sal.”

How she knows my name is irrelevant because I am wearing a backstage pass with my name on it. She takes my hand and we watch the rest of the show. “It is good to meet you, Sal.” I am pretty drunk.

When I started to keep this journal, I decided I would name it after Sal...

And so, a couple days later I was in the Ancient Middle East. This is the best account of what happened to me and Sal over the next ten years. Depending on the time when you are reading this, you may have heard of the Heaven’s Gate cult... they thought a comet was hiding a spaceship. Well the propulsion system on the Silver Platter works by creating a point in space heavier that the ship is pulled toward. The thing is that water and dust and so on in space followed the event horizon and these ships looked like comets, sometimes comets are spaceships, but we won’t beam you up, if you commit suicide. Things don’t work that way...

Time travel is like doing a brake stand in a muscle car then doing a donut...poof one second you were in California choking on the smog. The next second you are in Jerusalem masquerading as Salome and John the Baptist, but it isn’t a charade I am really John the Baptist...She picked me up because I have always been that person I just needed to be taken to the right time.

There is a queer paradox to time travel. The more it is explained to me, the more I think that all of time is predestined. I am not really changing anything if not going back in time would change more than what I would change if I went along with Salome’s plan. One day she tried to explain to me that the creator of the universe was the last being at the end of time that went to the beginning to start it all over again the same way it has always been. The universe is on reruns, the universe is a rerun. Just one continuous loop of life and death; creation and destruction...that is what the universe is; it is just that...the destruction of the universe is the creation of the universe and that is time travel. The more the devises were used the more they tore apart time but when the creator went on his final joy ride which destroyed the universe he created it again...poof the death of the universe...poof the birth of the universe the big implosion and the big explosion. He saw it all. People from Salome’s time know who the creator is, and they call him by name and never capitalize his title as the creator or god...he insists that there must be something greater than him and that is why he built the machine from notes that were given to him by an Air Force scientist who was just passing the note from his friends held in Area 51.

“I have a time machine...” she says.

“What like a police box?”

“No. ...it’s a spaceship too.”

“Like the Tardis?”

“The creator of the universe made it. It is a silver disk that most people see in the sky when they say they see a flying saucer.”

“The, god made your flying saucer? And Jesus built my hotrod.”

“Well, yeah but I have to find him in the youth of his life to give him the designs to build the saucer for himself.”

I must be drunker than I thought because she makes no sense. God is a time traveler.

“The creator of the universe is a human who was born and has died but since he travels through time he can exist even after his death... so right now he is both alive and dead.”

Sal makes less and less sense I just keep drinking as we walk toward the tent area.

“The 98 years of god’s life seem like an eternity to us. ...I am his legacy.”

And there was music festival because in fact we’re still on the polo fields in Indio. We make it to my tent; I lie down and pass out not before watching her switch on a little digital alarm clock. It was the best sleep I have ever had. I wasn’t groggy when I awoke...

What I came to know was that was a delta amp...it blocks the ‘treatment’. Our brains transmit and receive brain waves like wireless interface devices, hence psychics.

But it is very hard to comprehend. The ‘treatment’ is in all electronic devices since the fifties that’s why the television became so popular. When you are asleep you are an excellent receiver; REM sleep lets the ‘treatment’ into your head. The ‘treatment’ sends these thoughts from mind to mind during the unconscious levels of sleep. Ever had a conversation with someone in your head? That night the ‘treatment’ sends them everything you wanted to say to them but did not for whatever reason. Often you are the furthest thing from their minds so you rarely get a reply.

And this is the point in the story where it is a little slow...Sal and I just hung out and got to know each other. Strangely we even met god and then she said she had to give him a note but later we would take it to the past and she would have it... delivered to him...what? Right! This line of reasoning makes no sense. It was just this ordinary guy.

“That’s god?” I asked.

“Not so loud, if he knew he was god he wouldn’t even build the machine and the universe wouldn’t be on infinite repeat.” She is babbling... incomprehensible chatter is spewing from her voice box. She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me down this dirty alley in Orange County.

“Whether you like it or not that is the creator of the universe as we know it and he doesn’t need to know that!”

“Why can’t we give him the blueprints for the time machine now? Couldn’t we just take him along with us?” I said as we got into the ‘Platter’. The ‘Platter’ is shaped like a Mercedes with an ultra-sheen glow to what some gear-nerd would mistake for a clear coat... the ‘Platter’ is indescribable. When you touch the metal, it vibrates like a joy buzzer... it shocks you but very, very lightly. Every time, I touch it, it shocks Morse code:

.. / .... ... .... . / / / .... ...

...- . ... / -. ..-

“What is it?” Sal just laughs and says.... “I love you, so does the ship. You are sofa king clueless...”

“Sofa’s don’t come in a king size and really the ‘Platter’ has been doing that since I first met you both.”

“We like that you anthropomorphize her.”

She steps on the gas and we take off.

“You told me she is like a person...”

“She likes your Doctor Who jokes.” She is in control, the ‘Platter’ that is... we zoom down the street at an even rate. In a Time Machine you don’t have to be in a hurry. “Back to your question about god...he gets the blueprints in ten minutes and we send it; another time.”

“Why is the universe being on infinite repeat, a good thing?”

“For those who can travel time the universe needs to be infinite.” She says as we park at our hotel.

“The destruction of the universe is also the creation of the universe?” I ask.

“Yes. He is god because there is an infinite number of him at the beginning of the universe.” It never makes sense when she says this.

“But if one exists at the beginning and the end of time doesn’t this create a paradox where limitless David Estrada’s and time machines exist?”

“Yes, that is why he is god.” She makes little sense, but I am sitting in a flying-time- machine thing.

The name of god has a very average sound, David Estrada; sort of anticlimactic. We are walking up the stairs to our hotel room. She is giving me the lecture about god for the third time. In our hotel room things get weirder than you can possibly imagine. She, that is the Silver Platter, exudes a paint...that expands the consciousness of the time machine, she.

She is in the hotel room because Salome thought it would be safer to sleep within the time machines control. This is a Motel 6 adjacent to the 91 freeway in Anaheim or was it Fullerton...this was unquestionably Southern California. She, the Silver Platter, grew an analog clock on the wall that always read 9:07. It is her joke; the Silver Platter is so close to human consciousness that she jokes. The joke is that it is 9:07 somewhere, sometime. What is time to someone that can travel through it? What is the air to a bird or water to a fish?

She, Salome, threw herself on the bed. A little bounce and a little jiggle, she landed with a smile on her face. She is just so beautiful... so filled with life and an odd air of wisdom that is paradoxical for her age. Tomorrow I would remove the paint by taking down the clock and make ready for the journey to the most sacred time in the Holy Land. The clock would go back into the car and the car would turn back into the saucer shaped-ship. But tonight, we have sex and fall asleep in each other’s arms.

The clock isn’t just grown it is part of the paint when I hang it back in the ship she becomes fully herself...fully the Silver Platter. The paint is placed on any wall in the new dwelling and the clock is placed on that wall and there is the presence of the Platter outside of the ship controlling the electronics and other sweet things. Often a mural or graffiti art takes the form of messages to us. Before long the paint expands to every piece of the dwelling. Then we just take the clock down and it turns to dust erasing the beauty of what she made. And now it is morning...we leave the hotel room; we leave 2007 ahead of us as we travel back in time. Jism, the wet spot and dusty sheets are the only things that will welcome housekeeping in about an hour when the ladies make their rounds. We always take the soap, toilet paper and towels. Toilet paper is a rare commodity when traveling through time. I used to take taking-a-shit for granted but now I keep the Platter stocked up with soft white shit rags. The ‘Treatment’ is the way the Platter talks to you... in space it is much clearer. Away from all the other minds I can distinguish in my dreams the things Sal is telling me and the ones that the ‘Platter’ is communicating.

It is all this sort of lovey things she tells me, and Sal just tells me about my future... about Israel. It’s not like I am a total heathen I have read the stories in the bible about John the Baptist.

“I’m going to shut off the ‘treatment’.” She said. Suddenly the ringing in my ears stopped and I could focus on my thoughts.

“I need to show you something at the end of time...” She said as we sat on the bed in the ‘Platter’.

Anyone who knows anything about space travel knows that first you must become the master of time. And to show me a thing or two we set of thee the end of space and time.

“God is at the end of time...” She said with a smile on her face. “The strangest thing is that in the beginning he destroys

himselves.”

“Himself.” I correct her.

“Do you never pay attention? David Estrada is at the end of the universe and there are about a billion of him because time machine creates duplicates of him and they go to the end of time to wait for him... they don’t wait long.”

And before I could sit down the platter jumped to the end of time. Looking out into space through the platters translucent skin I could see why he was god and could be almost anywhere...We popped into a space surrounded by time machines.

“He calls his machine the ‘Chariot.’”

“Of course, he does...”

She moved us out of the field and we could see that as far as the eye could see ‘Chariots’ we clustered together. They were just floating there in space at the end of time.

“Each jump duplicates god and the ‘chariot’.

The ingredients come from the nearest star. This relieves the pressure on the star extending its life pushing back the clock when the star would normally go supernova.”

So, there we were amid an uncountable number of ‘chariots’ and duplicate David Estrada’s.

This is the end of time and a simultaneous jump will rip a hole in space/time and destroy their ships but that will be the building blocks of the universe. For your future knowledge and sanity when a flying saucer spins it is getting ready to jump in time.

“If we don’t leave before they start their jump, we will be sucked in and destroyed and scattered in the big bang.” Salome said quite calmly.

We spun and now we were in ancient Judea...god had done his job at the end of time so well... the big bang happened. Trillions of David Estrada’s and his chariot trying to exist in the same point in space was the destination of their jump from the end to the beginning. So, he is truly the light of the universe. He is the first star. David Estrada is the first supernova creating the bang that created the universe. Here I am at the River Jordan baptizing. Guess who I baptized the other day. Jesus...David Estrada...they are the same guy. He is a seditionist in ancient Israel spreading a message of love, forgiveness and dissention for the Roman Empire. An Israel governed by Israelites... So, the bread is his body... the same way a flower is his body. The river is the blood of god the same way wine is the blood of god...god is everything. We’ve spent a couple of years here in the holy land and tomorrow we leave for Roswell...For the last couple of years I have not been held prisoner by Herod in all actuality it is Salome and I who control him. But when we crash in Roswell we will be held prisoner. Herod not knowing what to say to people when we leave will just tell them the truth... Salome wants to give John the Baptist head on the ‘Silver Platter’ and then they went home. It will be a huge game of telephone that will come out like; Salome wanted John the Baptist’s head on a silver platter and then she left for Rome. And when we leave I will put this gospel in a safe place. When we leave the clock will be 9:07.

When you open up to the possibility of time travel when the reality of this thing becomes evident it opens up the universe to become far more malleable than one could imagine.

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