The Pole Shift

Jimmy

The wash from the patrol ship tested their bindings. They all looked at the three shipping containers bob and strain. Daniel was cursing, his eyes darting from one to another, concerned, even though they had not managed to open one of them. He shot an angry glare up at what looked like a soldier, Jimmy knew who it was. He had been asking Prophet question after question, simple things like how to tie knots, intelligence like where were most of the survivors and as the littoral trimaron appeared he had asked:

                "Do they mean us harm?" A deep voice had answered.

                "The man on the deck is Captain Grady, he has come to measure. They are fearful."

                 The weighty, almost musical note of the voice was in stark contrast the sexless tone of the AI, Jimmy sensed intent, excitement and humour in it. He also detected mischief.

                The two sets of people faced each other, the rag tag teenagers on a raft constructed from the detritus of humanity, and a set of elites on a sophisticated war ship that was dressed down for the occasion.

                "Welcome survivors!" Grady started the ball rolling. "You are saved! we were amazed when you appeared on radar and when we sent a drone to inspect you we could hardly believe it. What lucky stories you all must have! I wonder what happened to the drone? Struck my lighting I think? Fresh food and warm beds await you, climb aboard and feel welcome!" The elites were all beaming, holding out hands and lowering a gangway to their raft.

                 George  was rubbing his scar, his friend Max was smiling weakly but Tanya was skittish and Mrs. Wright was eyeing off each of the elites with grim eyes. Daniel was shifting his weight from foot to foot, riding the swells, still looking at the containers and cracking his knuckles. Helen stood by Jimmy's side and whispered:

                "Jimmy what's wrong?" Grady leaned forward at the mention of a name but Jimmy let silence have its time for a little longer, listening to water slap at the crafts and watching the fake smiles of their supposed saviours strain. Grady changed tack:

                "I see a life pod there, one of our highly designed carbon 'eels',  capable of withstanding enormous pressures and to 'wiggle' free of carnage.  I think I know a lot of your story already. Does the name Macka mean anything to you?" That caught Jimmy, was Macka around? Macka was there to help him, they owed their life to him for choosing Jimmy and supplying the life pods. He hadn't asked Prophet about Macka and was unaware if he lived or not. He knew he was good though, and suddenly he was confused.

                "Is Macka with you?" Grady was on the confusion like a rat up a drain pipe.

           "Yes back on the new Islands, we have farms and manufacturing plants, food. We have infrastructure and we have Prophet whom I suspect you know all about, Jimmy. That's what Macka did for you didn't he?"

               "If you don't know that then I don't believe Macka is with you."

               "Oh he's there, discussing random survivors hasn't been high on our list though,  Civilization has all but been destroyed, hadn't you noticed? We are the future Jimmy a future from the recent past, we are working very hard to rebuild. Join us." There was quick discussion amongst the teenagers as Jimmy held Grady's eyes, there was temptation to board the boat. Mrs. Wright had engaged in conversation with what looked like a contemporary of hers. They all fell silent as Jimmy said:

                "Prophet, what should I do?" Grady rolled his eyes saying:

                "Prophet is a computer boy, not a person. It can tell you important things but can't tell you the difference between right and wrong." Jimmy said:

                "Have you heard the deep voiced dude?" Grady became sharply interested.

                "Who?"

                "Someone who talks through the crystal, like Prophet does. You haven't got a crystal have you?" Grady shied away from that, he wanted to know more about the deep voice.

                "Who's he say he is? What does he want?"

                "He tells me you have been killing survivors, paranoid and parochial he calls you. He says the World deserves more than a reflection of the latest Age of men, that it should house many people that could make any number of civilizations."

                From behind the raft floated what looked like a coracle of pale orange.  Standing in the centre was a man holding a  staff. His curled hair glistening as if oiled. He wore blues that seemed to form one cloth that tied and looped closely to his body.  He stood erect and his eyes travelled across all of them before resting on Jimmy. He nodded with a slight smile.

                 "Spoken like a Lord Jimmy." He raised the Yew Staff and the waters suddenly heaved between the war ship and the makeshift raft, as if a whale had risen. The gangway fell and suddenly there was a growing gap of turbulent water between them. Grady watched the stranger, regretful, fearful. He had no answer to what had just happened, only to think - the World is not as I have been taught.