Paul Jones - Towards Yesterday

When he stepped out of the shower, he found a pair of Thomas’s jeans and a fresh t-shirt neatly laid out for him on the guestroom bed. His own clothes had disappeared but he could just hear the faint rumble of a washing machine from elsewhere in the house.

It all felt so normal.

Catching sight of his rejuvenated body in the mirror hanging on the back of the bedroom door, Jim reminded himself of just how abnormal his world had actually become. Gone were the wrinkles and gray hair. Back was the muscle tone and, he noticed approvingly, his hairline.

Slipping into the two-sizes to large jeans, Jim made his way downstairs.

“Has anybody tried the TV?” Jim asked as he walked back into the living room.

Surprisingly, they had not.

“You know,” said Thomas, “We hadn’t even thought about turning it on. The day has been so… earth-shattering.”

The first few channels they surfed were playing movies, reruns of old sitcoms, wildlife documentaries, a pre-recorded infomercial for cutlery, and one that just played cartoons.

“Try one of the local stations,” Thomas suggested. He told Jim the station’s channel number, but when the screen flicked over, an unrecognizable picture filled the screen.

“What’s that?” said Jessica, tilting her head to her shoulder as if it might give her a better idea. “Looks like some sort of fabric.” The screen had filled with what looked to be fur under magnification. As they tried to fathom what they were looking at, a low sobbing began to filter from the TV’s speakers.

“Is that someone crying?” Jim asked.

Faintly, as if from a distance, Jim could hear what sounded like the sorrowful sobbing of a woman. He reached over and turned the volume up and the woman’s weeping filled the room.

“It’s the back of a chair,” said Jessica suddenly after she had switched her head to the other shoulder. “See? It’s fallen over on its side and I guess the camera must be zoomed in really close…but it’s definitely a chair. You can just make out the back support up there.” She pointed to the top of the screen but her excitement wilted as another wave of mournful weeping filled the room.

It felt to the three of them gathered around the TV as though they were the unwitting witnesses to a terrible tragedy; it was at once fascinating and repulsive.

“The poor woman,” said Jessica after a minute had passed, and then she reached over and changed the channel. “Are you hungry?” she asked, glancing at Jim.

He hadn’t even given food a thought. But at the mention of it, his stomach gave a rough, loud grumble. How long had this day been? Jim gave Jessica a look of thanks and nodded his appreciation. Jessica smiled and headed into the kitchen shouting back over her shoulder “Ham and cheese sandwiches okay for you two boys?”

“Sounds great,” he replied. After she disappeared into the kitchen Jim turned to Thomas. “How you holding up?”

Thomas took just a second to consider it before answering.

“I’m afraid,” he said candidly, and continued to scan the channels for signs of life.

Jessica was fetching their sandwiches from the kitchen — thick chunks of sourdough bread with what must have been half a pig packed between each slice — into the living room when they finally found a live broadcast.

On the screen a man in his late forties, his graying hair brushed meticulously across his forehead, the hint of a day’s worth of stubble peppering his jaw, sat behind a horseshoe-shaped presenter’s desk with room for another two people on either side of him. The logo of WWN , the World Wide News network fixed prominently to the front of the desk. The man seemed to be talking to someone off camera as he rearranged papers on his desk, although he was obviously speaking no sound came from the TV. The newscaster looked vaguely familiar and it was Jessica who finally identified him.

“Norm Jones?” she said as she handed Jim his plate of meat.

“Right,” said Jim, drawing the word out to twice its length and snapping his fingers in recognition.

Norm Jones had been an anchor with the local Los Angeles WWN affiliate for as far back as Jim could remember. He had retired a few years back (or a multitude of years from now, depending on how you chose to view it). Now here he was, looking tired, looking confused, looking a helluva lot younger, but the familiar face was a reassuring sign normality had not completely disappeared off the face of the earth. This newsman had become an anchor in a much higher sense of the word.

“Did you turn the sound off?” Jessica asked.

“Nope,” Jim said, checking the volume control. “They must be having technical problems.”

A sudden burst of static from the television was quickly replaced by a strong, sonorous male voice. “— on yet? … Okay… Apparently, you can now, hopefully, hear me. ” The presenter seemed to relax a little, some of the stiffness leaving his stress-lined face as he settled back into his chair.

“ I have to apologize for the rough construction of this broadcast but as I am sure you are all aware, this is not a normal day. We here at WWN are trying to pull together as much information from around the country and the world as we possibly can. Unfortunately, we are operating with limited staff due to the,” he paused searching for the appropriate word, “…event. I must also apologize for my ability to present this segment, as it’s been ten years since I last sat in this chair and I may be a little rusty .

“ We have pulled as many news feeds from the network satellites that are operational as possible. As you can imagine, there is a lot of confusion, so we can offer no definitive conclusion on the events of today, other than they are unprecedented in the annals of human history. In summary: This does not appear to be a localized event. From the limited contact we have had with other news networks — and I must stress that it has been very limited — both here in the US and worldwide, they are experiencing similar, and in some cases far worse circumstances to our own. The consensus of opinion seems to be that there is no current explanation for the event but it does seem clear that an extraordinary occurrence has taken place. We have attempted to contact government authorities both here at home and around the world, but have received no reply to our calls. If anybody watching this broadcast is able to explain this situation then we would be most happy to hear from you .”

Norm rifled through a pile of papers on his desk until he found one he was looking for.

“ Here is what we have learned so far, and I must repeat that all of this is of course unsubstantiated at the moment: The country is in chaos. Emergency services seem to be nonexistent; most telecommunications seem to be down, although some areas do appear to have telephone service. There are reports of several large aircraft crashes throughout the state, including several within Los Angeles Airport and its outlying areas. Fires are burning uncontrolled in many parts of the city. Freeways appear to be impassable due to the large number of vehicular accidents; the same applies to most main streets throughout the city.

“ We are receiving similar reports from—” The newscaster stopped mid-sentence, his left hand moving to his ear as if listening to someone whispering to him.

“— and I’m just getting new information, so please standby… yes… Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to receive a special feed from the Whitehouse — are we ready? Do we have the feed lined up? Okay — the Whitehouse .”

The presenter’s image disappeared, replaced by one of a lacquered teak lectern ,the presidential seal of the United States of America visible on the wooden upright and echoed in a larger form on the wall of the room in the background.