By Slim Randles
“Well,” said Steve, the tall cowboy, “at least it’s Friday and we all have the weekend to look forward to.”
Doc glanced up from his paper at the philosophy counter of the Mule Barn truck stop and world dilemma think tank.
“Fastest Friday you’ll ever experience, Steve,” said Doc.
“That’s about right,” said Dud.
Steve got that confounded look on his face. “What do you mean by that?”
“Today is Saturday.”
“Well,” Steve said, shaking his head, “that flat wrecks this day all to pieces.”
“Hey,” said Dud, “it’s a pretty day. You have all day long to enjoy it.”
“But don’t you see?” Steve said, in real pain. “I was planning to spend all day Friday getting ready for Saturday and now I can’t.”
“Now that sounds kinda dumb,” Dud said, “and I realize that, but Steve does have a point. I mean, we think in terms of time …”
Doc groaned.
“ … yea, verily … time and space and the continuum thereof, henceforth and forevermore. That’s why, when our friend Steve here thought about Saturday, it was as though Saturday lay in the future, where things are to happen that we, as mere mortals, are loath to know…”
“Dud,” said Steve, “you been watching Nova again?”
Dud blushed. “It was a good show. It concerned the string theory and fusion and the way all these marvelous things come together to make up our lives and Einstein and the total something-or-other. I forget all the little stuff, but it was pretty good. Had to do with the Big Bang and all that junk. Do you realize that when you look at a star at night, it might not be there? That star might have blown up and died a million years ago.”
“So how can you tell if it’s still there?” Steve asked.
“Have no idea,” Dud said.
Steve grinned and tossed off the last of his coffee.
“Well, I’d better be getting along. I’m running late as it is.”
“So what you up to today, Steve?” said Doc.
“Getting ready for Sunday.”
Brought to you by The Long Dark, first novel ever published in Alaska.
