"I know what a lessor Sorkin is... and I want to be one."

Ark Book IV: Ghosts, Chapter 3, part 2

Charlie

It was around six o'clock when I hit the traffic mess that occurs where Route 5 meets Route 20. The bookstore was open until 8PM, so I had time. How was I going to make it seem I was at the book store for an hour and a half? Genna knows I hate to shop. She knows my idea of shopping is opening a catalogue or surfing Amazon.com. I was going to have to wing it. I parked the car behind the Ark, raced around the building and across Colters Ave. to the bookstore. There was an overwhelming selection of apparel and trinkets; almost anything they could stamp a Sunnyside logo on. I grabbed two run of the mill tee shirts, one white on blue, one blue on white (school colors, remember), paid, and raced back over to the car to throw the shirts into the trunk.

I looked at my watch. I had about an hour before Genna's predictable phone call.

There were fewer cars in the lot than I expected. I guessed during the summer, most of the business in the Ark occurred during the day. The door was open anyway, but there wasn't one of my spirits to greet me. A few students were milling around, walking across the court. I made haste toward that supply room that Slick showed me, opened the door, and there was Charlie Bennett in his clean, blue on white home uniform, circa 1971.

"Hi, John. Slick seems to think you can help us."

Before me stood the legend himself. I had never met him back in 1971, but I did meet him a few times over the years since, at banquets and Back Court functions, the booster club of which I was a member. He was not the person standing before me now. He was always gracious to old fans such as me who acknowledged his accomplishments, but he sure didn't seem happy in general. Here he was before me, in his prime, chiseled like a statue of David, yet to show his first ounce of fat, with a short trimmed beard...

His eyes gave him away. No smirk or half smile could take away their sadness. Those eyes weren't happy reliving his glory days.

"Charlie, I hope I can help you first."

He looked at me with hope. I felt badly that I hadn't a clue yet how to go about helping any of them. I thought it might be significant that CB asked to see me first. Knowing what happened to each of them 40 years into the future, I knew Charlie, for having the most success on the team, fared most poorly in later life.

Looking for someplace to start, I said, "Charlie, there's got to be a connection between your past, how you're feeling now, in 1971, and what has happened to you leading up to the real present."

"I just feel like what we accomplished as a team didn't matter. We went to the Championship, man." Charlie's head drooped and his eyes gazed at the floor. The Final Four in the NCAA tournament is the cocktail hour before the reception. It's an affirmation that your team belongs among the best, has been invited, and has arrived. The Championship means you're vying for the lion's share of the moneybag prize for the winner.

"It's like we got this far, I got them this far, we laid the foundation, but the house was never built. This place is not a refuge, but an asylum, and we're going crazy. Me and my teammates are stuck here, getting erased and replayed over and over again. Why Mega U, why do we keep playing Mega? Slick is right. This all has to have a purpose." CB glanced up at me, before staring at the floor again. He looked embarrassed. "John, I know I f****d up after my playing days. I put all my apples into basketball. It was all I was really good at, and I let everything else slide, or did just what I had to, so I could keep playing ball. I only had one dream, John. I should have had two, one to fall back on."

"Charlie, I'm sorry to see you feeling this way. These should be happy memories. They were the best time of your life. You carved out a memorable place in history for quite a few people. Most of us can only rely on our family to remember us, and some don't even have that. Despite the way you feel, you've done something very special. You're still Charlie Bennett, and what you did still means something. It's like you sent a gift that was lost in transit. I'm hoping it can still be delivered. Maybe that's why I'm here."

I seemed to get CB's attention. He straightened up, squared his head, neck and shoulders, and gazed at me with a glimmer of hope.

"I need to go now, but I'll be back to talk with the other guys, to see how they fit into this puzzle. I agree with you about having two dreams, but maybe your one was still enough. That one dream of yours made a lot of people dream they were you!" I wanted to leave Charlie on a high note. I wanted to leave with that glimmer of hope in his eye becoming an ember, where his fire used to be.

"Charlie, the other thing I want you to know is a voice is guiding me through this. Like today, I heard, as clear as bell next to my ear, that you needed to talk to me. I come here, and you, just you are waiting for me. It's like Someone or Something wants me to solve this. It gives me hope."

We shook hands, and CB seemed a bit happier, and more trustful of me than when we first met.

I got in the car, and decided to preempt Genna, giving her a call. The line was busy. A few seconds later, my phone rings. Genna is calling.

"I'm on my way home, sugar." After forty years together, this happens a lot.