Brittle winter sunshine scattered across the damp windows of the Pleasant Pastures old age home?s covered balcony. Warm air from the central heating system made it comfortable in the midst of a storm that had deposited rain so cold it turned into slush when it hit the ground.
Two old men were sitting at a small table on the balcony, sipping at cups of coffee, staring out into the sprawling garden outside the retirement home. One of the men had only just arrived at the old age home earlier in the morning, dropped off by his disinterested family. He was called Ralph. Another old man with completely silver hair and crystal-clear blue eyes called Matt had befriended him after the attendants had finished showing Ralph to his dingy little room in the home?s west wing, and now they were getting to know each other a little bit better.
?So, Ralph, were you in the war?? Matt asked. Both knew that he was referring to World War II.
Ralph put his cup down and said: ?No. I actually spent most of the last part of it in jail. I was a conscientious objector.?
?Oh, I see. They deployed me at an RAF base near Dover, so I didn?t see much action. Saw a couple of German bombing runs, that was about it. Now, Ralph, why were you a conscientious objector??
?Because of my religion. I?m a Jehovah?s Witness.?
?A Witness, eh? Some of my family were once Witnesses. Never paid much attention to them, myself. You weren?t allowed to fight in the war because of that??
?Yeah. We were supposed to remain apart from the world, and that included fighting in it?s wars. So I landed up in jail. It?s a time I prefer not to remember, if it?s all the same to you??
?Of course. I?ve been in the clink once or twice myself. Rabble rousing, a bar fight. Nothing serious, no convictions. But I agree with you that it?s not a place you?d want to spend much time in. How long were you stuck in the stir for??
?Four years.?
?So where?d you live, before that??
?My family and I lived in New York, an apartment there. Close to the headquarters of the Witnesses, actually. They call it Bethel.?
?Oh, I believe I?ve seen that. It?s the big building with the red sign on it, isn?t it??
?That?s right. Yeah, I never went to college, just spent a lot of time riding the train out into the suburbs to go preaching after I finished school. Eventually I was employed as a house-painter, and I spent about forty years doing that, with the war in between. After that, they appointed me as an Elder, what you?d call a minister, and that?s about it. Now I?m here, and my kids couldn?t give a damn.?
?How many kids have you got??
?Only one, a daughter and her husband. The Society, that?s the Governing Body, they urged us not to have any children until after Armageddon. Sad, really. My wife wanted another baby so much, but they were very strict about it. Pregnant women were frowned upon, back in the Seventies. It was viewed as irresponsible.?
Ralph finished drinking his coffee and pushed his cup forward, then continued: ?So now I?m here. My kids hate my guts because I stepped down from the Eldership they gave me. Nobody?s supposed to step down, but if you?d seen the things I saw, you?d have done it too.?
?Things like what?? Matt asked, puzzled by the fact that this mild-mannered man seemed to harbour so much bitterness inside him.
?There was the blood thing. That Governing Body, it?s eight guys right now, about my age, they voted that people wouldn?t be allowed to have blood transfusions. I don?t even want to know how many thousands of kids died because of that rule. They?ve softened up a bit now ? you can see it in the way they present their material. But back then, it was simply a law inside the Organization. No blood.?
?I read in a newspaper that they?re having trouble with this child abuse thing, too,? Matt said.
?Oh, don?t even get me started on that. They have this rule ? if there aren?t two witnesses to an act of molestation, the pedo gets off scot-free. In fact, if the victim tells others about his antics, he or she gets kicked out of the religion, wham, bam, thank you ma?am. Just like that.?
Matt sat back, his eyes widening. ?That?s twisted. Absolutely twisted. You?re still in this religion??
?Not really. I don?t think I?ll be going to too many meetings now that I?m in here. My kids just aren?t interested in a washed-out Elder, see.?
Matt frowned, and said: ?Wow. Makes me grateful for my grandchildren, that?s all I can say.?
?At least you?ve got grandchildren. But enough of that depressing stuff. Tell me about you, yourself. Your family,? Ralph said.
?Well, I had four kids. They?ve gone on to have about ten grandkids. So I can barely keep up with them all. We?re very close. Between them and the fabric business I started, which my son?s running now, I hardly manage to get through the day. So many phone calls, barbecues, family get-togethers, that sort of thing.? Matt smiled. ?But hang on for a moment, you told me that you rode the train a lot when you were in New York. Which rail lines did you use??
?Pretty much all of the outgoing ones. There were some that I sat on every morning, at about eight. I was a pioneer, back then, a full-time servant in the Ministry, so I was preaching virtually every day.?
?Outgoing, huh? Hmm?I used to ride those same trains myself, as a young man, looking for new business. Of course, it was long ago. Maybe we rode the same train, what do you say? We might even have sat right next to each other once!?
Ralph pondered this, then said: ?Yeah, there?s a good possibility. I must?ve sat on that train for twenty years. Never did have enough money to buy a car.?
?You know, I?ve had so many cars in my life, but I never appreciated them or my houses like I appreciate my family. They really get me through the day. I love my grandkids the most?those little buggers.?
Ralph smiled sadly, then said: ?Well, let?s get back inside. This porch is starting to get chilly.?
The two old men walked slowly back into the old age home.
*
Four months before the US would take Normandy Beach, a slight man with piercing blue eyes hopped onto a train in downtown New York, near the place where, thirty years from that day, the World Trade Center towers would rear their square bulk towards the stars.
His briefcase was filled with plans and ledgers, the numbers that he would need to get investors interested in his startup fabric business. Today he was going to present his business plan to a number of different ?angel? investors, hoping to find one that would take the bait.
Putting his briefcase on his lap and opening it to review his papers one last time, he noticed that he was sitting next to a man who carried a similar suitcase. He smiled and said: ?Hey, look, we?ve got exactly the same briefcase. Where?d you buy yours??
?Oh, downtown. They were going for cheap. I?m broke all the time,? the man said, laughing. Before Matt could say anything else, the man said: ?I barely have enough cash to get on the train every day. But the work has to go on!?
?Work? Are you an accountant? That?s an accountant?s suit if I ever saw one,? Matt said, jokingly.
?Nah. I?m a Colporteur. I preach God?s word to the heathens of Jersey.?
Matt laughed hard, so hard that several other people in the train gave him strange looks, then said: ?Heathens, hehe, that?s excellent. I?m gonna use that one. My name?s Matt. You are?? He held his hand out. Ralph took it, shook, and said: ?Ralph. I?m a Jehovah?s Witness. I go out to Jersey every day, to preach to those heathens. Say, you want a pamphlet or something? We?re really just Bible Students, and we?re showing people how God?s kingdom??
?Whoa, hold up there,? Matt said. ?I?m not really all that religious, so I think I?ll pass. I gotta get off here, anyway. The investors are waiting. Hope you enjoy your preaching, Ralph!? He shook Ralph?s hand again, smiled, and got off the train.
Ralph sat, perplexed by the brusk manner of the man who?d just gotten off the train. Those blue eyes had seemed oddly familiar, in some unknown way.
Probably just déjà vu, he thought to himself, and settled back to wait out the long train ride.