Tom Hanks - Uncommon Type - Some Stories

Then he saw her! Not Carmen at first, but Virginia! He was crossing the bridge by the Amphitheater, where the Aquacade performed, when a multicar tram passed him, Virginia sitting on the rail and, yes, Carmen beside her! They had been among the amusement rides after all, and were now en route to the Plaza of Light. Bert checked his wristwatch. If he could catch up with that tram, he’d meet Carmen nearly an hour early! He ran.

He kept sight of the tram all along the Avenue of Labor, but lost them at the Schaefer Center on Rainbow Avenue. He just couldn’t keep up. The tram continued, passing the Court of States, then stopping at Constitution Mall to empty and take on new passengers. They had to be nearby! Sweating in that double-breasted suit, Bert checked Beech-Nut, Jewish Palestine, the YMCA, the Temple of Religion, and the Works Progress Administration, but no joy. Resigned to the singularity of the Time-Space Continuum, Bert was pivoting toward the lagoon benches when she appeared right in front of him.

Carmen was coming out of Brazil, holding Virginia’s hand. They were laughing. Good Lord, the woman laughed so much and her smile was so adorable. He almost called out her name but remembered they had yet to meet, so instead he fell in behind them by a few yards, following them across the walkway over the man-made river that fed the Lagoon of Nations. He didn’t trail them into Great Britain but headed for the bench. A few minutes later, there she was again, with Virginia. Right on time.

“Excuse me,” Bert immediately said, just as Carmen and Virginia were sitting down. “Do you ladies know if the Futurama is running today?”

“It is, but the line is very long. We spent all afternoon in the Amusements Area. What a time we had!”

“Have you rode the Parachute, mister?”

“I haven’t. Should I?”

“It’s not for the weakhearted.”

“You go up and up and up. You think you are going to come floating down slow and soft. But you don’t. You land ka-joink !”

“It’s true.”

“Have you seen the Futurama?”

“We didn’t want to wait through that long line.”

“I certainly don’t want to miss it.” Bert reached into the breast pocket of his suit. “And I have these special passes.”

Bert showed them the three heavy cards embossed with the Trylon and Perisphere and the letters VIP . “I’m told these will get us into the Futurama via a secret passage. No waiting. I have three. And I’m alone. Would you like to join me?”

“Oh, that’s so nice of you. But we are definitely not VIPs.”

“Believe me, neither am I. Not sure why I even have these.”

“Can we go, Aunt Carmen?”

“I feel like a sneaky pete. But let’s! Thank you so much.”

“Yes. Thanks! My name is Virginia and this is my aunt Carmen. Who are you?”

“Bert Allenberry.”

“Well, thank you, Mr. Allenberry. We’ll see the Future with you!”

The three chatted as they walked the length of Constitution Mall, below the huge statue of George Washington, and around the Trylon and Perisphere. Virginia told of all they had seen of the Fair in that day, most of it spent on the rides in the Amusement Area.

“Have you seen Electro, the Mechanical Man?” Bert asked. “He can add up numbers on his metal hands.”

The General Motors Building was next to that of the Ford Motor Company. Ford showed fairgoers how their automobiles were built, then let them drive a car along a dipsy doodle of a road around the building. GM took its visitors into the future, first by ascending a long ramp, one so modern they called it a Helicline, to a cleft in the architecture so majestic it looked like a gateway into the Promised Land. The line of people waiting to see Futurama looked to number in the millions.

But, flashing their VIP cards at a pretty girl in a GM uniform, Bert, Carmen, and Virginia were taken to a door on the ground level.

“I hope you aren’t tired,” the girl said. “We have a few flights to climb.”

The machinery of the Futurama bumped and whirred around them. They could hear music coming through the walls along with the murmur of a narration.

“You’ll notice the soundtrack matches exactly what you are seeing,” the girl explained. “GM is truly proud of the engineering that went into the Futurama. It’s absolutely modern.”

“Are we going to be driving a car ?” Virginia asked.

“You’ll find out!” The girl opened a door revealing the starting point of the ride—sunlight and people were streaming in through the opening. “Enjoy your stay,” the girl said.

There were no automobiles, but rather a long train of wheeled, sofa-like carts lined end to end, each enclosed in a shell. Passengers were climbing into the shells, which never stopped moving as the cars passed through the opening of a tunnel.

The three intrepid voyagers climbed into one, Virginia first, then Carmen, followed by Bert. Before they knew it they were in darkness. Music played and a narrator welcomed them to America, as it would be in the year 1960. The voice was so clear it was like the announcer was in the car with them.

A city appeared before them—a world in miniature that stretched to the horizon. The skyscrapers in the center stood like trophies, some connected to each other by sky bridges. The narrator explained that in just a few decades American cities would be planned and built to the specifics of perfection. Streets would be clear and ordered. Highways would flow with modern automobiles—GM cars, each of them—with traffic that never cluttered or jammed. The sky would be filled with aircraft carrying goods and passengers to terminals as conveniently placed as filling stations. The countryside would be scattered with farms, homes, and power stations, supplying 1960 with all the food, space, and electricity the American people would need.

The houses and towers and cars and trains and planes were filled with a happy, invisible populace that had tamed the wild chaos of the past; they’d figured out not only how to build the future but how to live in it side by side, in peace.

Virginia was riveted to her seat as the future rolled by. Carmen smiled at her and looked at Bert. She leaned toward him and whispered, “She’ll live there and likes what she sees.”

The words landed on Bert like so many soft kisses. The narration had paused, leaving only the swelling strings of violins and cellos from the musical score. He smelled Carmen’s perfume, the soft whiff of lilac mixed with vanilla. Her lips stayed close to his cheek.

“Do you think it will all happen?” Carmen asked quietly. “Just like this?”

Finding her ear surrounded by the dark curl of her black hair, Bert whispered back, “If it does, it will be wonderful.”

When they exited, the afternoon shadows had grown longer. As they crossed the Bridge of Wheels over the Grand Central Parkway, Virginia announced that she would be thirty years old in 1960. “I wish I could jump in a time machine right now and go there!”

Bert checked his watch—it was 5:56 p.m. In the past, he had been in a taxi by now, on his way back to room 1114. By 7:00 he had undressed, removed all the items that had been provided for his adventure, like the rings and the watch, had squeezed back into his compression suit, and was lying on the precisely placed bed for Progression out of 1939. He should be leaving right now; the taxi stand was just outside the gate on the other side of Chrysler Motors. Instead, he asked Carmen when the Fountains of Light show was to start.

“Not until dark,” she said. “Hey, since you are now in the presence of a couple of VIPs, may I treat you to some pie?”

“I happen to love pie.”

“Let’s go to Borden’s!” Virginia said. “We can see Elsie the Cow.”