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Part VIII: 1896- Hate's Consequence
"I'm dreaming now of Hallie, sweet Hallie, sweet Hallie/I'm dreaming now of Hallie, for the thought of her is one that never dies…"
The rambunctious tune hammers itself out on a mechanical piano, a spool of sheet music spinning slowly, with the keys pressed by unseen hands in accord. The throngs in the saloon and around it clap their hands in rhythm with the music.
"She's sleeping in the valley, the valley, the valley/She's sleeping in the valley, and the mockingbird singing where she lies…"
A fairground has been set up on the shores of the lake. Stalls and amusements line a promenade above the quay, offering sweet-smelling food and heady cider…just the thing for a chilly autumn afternoon.
"Listen to the mockingbird, listen to the mockingbird/The mockingbird is singing o'er her grave/Listen to the mockingbird, listen to the mockingbird/Still singing where the weeping willows wave…"
Posters and pennants dot the promenade: 'Bryan – Sewell for President!', 'Free Silver!', and, most prominent, suspended above the wide cart track through the fair, a banner proclaiming: 'Maddox in Our Man!'
"Ah well I yet can remember, I remember, I remember/Ah well I yet can remember, when we gathered in the cotton side by side/'Twas in the mild mid-September, in September, in September/'Twas in the mild mid-September, and the mockingbird was singing far and wide…"
Into these festive surroundings, a young man materializes. Stogie has never had the best idea of what's going on around him, but he cannot be expected to be perfectly abreast of the current situation in any case.
The crowd is too thick, the music too loud, the merriment too contagious for any of the fairgoers to immediately notice the new arrival, which is probably for the best, given he certainly isn't dressed for the occasion.
"Listen to the mockingbird, listen to the mockingbird/The mockingbird is singing o'er her grave/Listen to the mockingbird, listen to the mockingbird/Still singing where the weeping willows wave…"
Stogie's hands remained spread out, his eyes closed shut with fear. All he remembered was a thunderclap, and some ominous wind, the sounds of which resonating with him for so long, it had taken him a minute to realize his fingers were no longer touch those of his fellow seance-ers (Stogie wasn't familiar with the proper paranormal term). Opening his eyes, Stogie discovered he was no longer in the confines of the White Castle but what appeared to be...a county fair?
"What the...?" He looked around, to find people dressed in old-timey gowns and top hats and bowties, lingering around carnival games, throwing balls into jars, clapping to a live bluegrass band, and eating fried delicacies.
There was no way he really travelled in time. There must have been something in the cheesy fries (the White Castle had a C rating from the health department, Stogie was very quick to notice that) to make him hallucinate all of this. How come he was suddenly in this place, with old honky-tonky piano music with men dressed like Mr. Peanut crawling all over the place?
"I say, I say, look at that fellow over there," Stogie heard a gentleman declare in a loud whisper to his wife.
"Oh, what funny garments he's donning," the woman whispered back. "And...well, I'll be! He must be from the Far East!"
Stogie furrowed his brow out of terrified confusion and turned around to face the couple, only to see them retreat, so as if not to startle him.
He would have followed them to ask what year this was (or to smack him to see if he was dreaming) but a bespectacled old coot tugged him by the sleeve of his hoodie. "My, my! What queer garments!" The geezer looked Stogie in the eye, curious. "Tell me, boy. Is this made with the fine silks of your countrymen?"
"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." Stogie uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhed, not sure what to say. "I got it at a Good Will."
"Good Will?" The old man repeated out of sheer puzzlement, before a stout old woman stepped behind him. "Oh, come on now, Zebediah. Don't you see? He must be associated with one of our dear missionaries. Spreading the Lord's good will. Isn't that right, sonny boy?"
Stogie blinked. "Yes." He swallowed, quickly processing the story he was going by. "Praise be the Lord." Stogie unenthusiastically raised his hands like he figured a preacher would (Through no fault of his own. He was pissing his pants out of fear.).
"Praise be!" Zebediah repeated.
"Praise be!" His wife repeated after him.
"PRAAAAAAAAISE BE!" Zebediah repeated after her repeating him.
"PRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAISE BE!" She repeated after him repeating her repeating him.
"pRAAise bE!" Stogie repeated after both of them, his voice cracking out of sheer nerves.
"PRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAISE BE!" They both declared.
This went on for about two minutes, before Stogie figured it was safe to say, "Well, it was nice to meet you fine people. Goodbye." He quickly turned to leave.
"Now hold on!" Zebediah place his arm around his shoulder. "Stay and celebrate with us for a while, hear? Reward yourself for finding the Lord's light." He signaled to his wife. "Feed the boy, Hannah."
"Right, right," Hannah extended two bags of food. "We got popping corn in this here bag and caramel corn in the other, if you have the sweet tooth for it."
Stogie eyed the bags suspiciously, before quietly taking from the caramel corn bag.
"Atta boy," Hannah encouraged him. What was he, a goat?
"Hey, you!" A carnie called over to the group. "Mr. Chinaman!"
Stogie turned to the mustachioed man standing by an old guy sitting in a chair suspended over a tank of water. "Oh, man, I'm not Chinese. I'm actually Filipino."
The old couple looked at each other in awe. "A Philly-peen! A true American!"
Stogie was tempted to reply. "Damn straight" but the carnie was already pulling him aside. "Try this here game, why don't you? Just hit the target with the bally to take Old Man Jenkins out for a swim."
A quick glance at Old Man Jenkins, a man who was likely in his 90's. He shook his fist with unspeakable resentment, Stogie was shaking in his Heelies.
"Oh, come now, Julian!" A gruff man in his middle-age approached the carnie. "No need to rob this Oriental of his coppers. It's downright humiliatin', I say, I say!"
Zebediah stepped forward. "I'll pay for the boy. I've always wondered if there were true athletes that came from the East. This here boy--excuse me, what's your name?"
"Stogie," he blurted out instinctively.
"Yes. Stoh-Gee here can help prove some hypotheses of mine." Zebediah tossed a copper to Julian, took the ball, and placed it in Stogie's hand. "What do you say, Stoh-Gee?"
Stogie glanced from the ball to the target, a pensive look on his face.
30 MINUTES LATER
SPLASH!
"26! THAT'S 26 IN A ROW!" Julian belted to the large crowd that had gathered around his once-humble attraction. "THE CHINAMAN IS ON FIRE!"
Stogie raised his arms triumphantly as the crowd cheered in his honor. "Thank you, thank you!" He feebly fought against the noise. "But again, I'm Fili..."
"Another one!" Another stranger paid for the next throw, just as the now-drenched Old Man Jenkins was getting back into his seat.
Stogie shrugged with an "Okay, I guess..." as if he had a choice in the matter.
A young woman leaned in and asked with fervent curiosity. "I must ask, where in the Orient did you learn your technique?"
All nerves wiped away with the knowledge of his triumphant victories, Stogie nonchalantly multitasked between aiming his next throw and answering. "Wii Sports." Another pitch, another dunk, another ovation from the crowd, now littered with murmurings of "We sports?" "What does he mean by 'We sports'?" "They sport in China, is what he means, I'm sure."
Old Man Jenkins was sputtering out of the water. Stogie could have sworn he heard him say, "please. enough." but he didn't think anything of it as another person paid for the next round and Stogie readied his next pitch.
"Y'know, I gotta say," Stogie said with a smile. "Even though I have no idea what's going on or who any of you people are or where I am, I'm having a really great time. Really, this is something else. I never get paid this kind of attention at..."
"Throw the ball!" A cry from the back.
"You got it, chief!" Stogie it the bullseye before Old Man Jenkins could even get back on the seat, causing him to fall into the water again, this time with a cry of, "Oh, my back!"
Stogie was ready for another round when a young gentleman rushed to the group. "It's ready! Come on now!"
The crowd cheered, swarming over to the hills, the momentum taking Stogie with them. "Whoa!" He blurted out. "What's going on?"
"The main event, my dear!" Hannah guided him along. "You'll enjoy it, I'm sure!"
"I bet I will!" Stogie replied enthusiastically. "The festivities haven't failed me yet. I mean, all I've played was the ball game but that on its own..."
"Look over yonder hill!" Zebediah pointed to a hilltop as the crowd slowed to a stop. On this grassy peak were a series of wooden crosses, representing the very one Jesus Christ died on all those years ago.
"Oh." Stogie raised his eyebrows. "OHHHHHHHHHHH, I get it. This is like a religious gathering. One of those evangelical deals, right? Makes sense, because the food is so good and the music is really white bread but everyone is just so nice. It makes perfect sens..."
White-cloaked figures ran atop the grassy knoll and proceeded to set those crosses on fire in stark contrast with the night sky, the crowd cheering in response to the arson. Stogie's jaw dropped in horror, as things computed in his brain at breakneck speed, revealing just exactly when he was.
"Beauty, ain't it?" Julian smacked his lips, patting Stogie on the shoulder. "Ain't it, Chinaman?" Stogie didn't respond, so he repeated with a shake, "Chinaman?"
Stogie turned sharply, his face fixed in petrified terror, attempting to speak but only mustering a strangulated yowl that sounded like a dying whale.
"Boy, are you alright?" Hannah tried to place a hand on his forehead but Stogie was quick to retreat.
"Get away from me," he uttered, his voice barely above a whisper, unheard by the cheering surrounding him.
"Stoh-gee, what ails you?" The young woman from before asked.
"Yes, Sto-gee," the gruff man sauntered over to him. "What is the matter?"
"Just get away. Get away." Stogie continued to back away, but more and more approached him.
"That's just the thing with his people. Always so easily startled by our Western customs."
"But an interesting people, nevertheless. More fascinating than some."
"He's come to help spread the good will, though. I'd say he's mixing in quite nicely."
They got closer and closer like a horde of zombies, causing Stogie to retreat faster and faster, until... "JUST LET ME GO!" Stogie did what he always did in times of trouble. No, not fight. No, not run. No, not even cry.
He wheeled. On his Heelies.
Granted, there was a fallen tree branch right ahead of him, over which he tripped quite pathetically.
The crowd gasped in shock. "What in the Lord's name?" "How'd he move so quickly?" "Those contraptions on his feet! Some sort of Asiatic mechanism, no doubt!" "Let's take a gander! C'mon!" The horde charged again, only to be dispersed by a booming...
"CEASE!"
The group grew silent and began to part, making way for perhaps the best-dressed couple of them all. A man with luscious long hair and a well-groomed beard stepped forward with his beautiful wife in his arm, an arm which the fellow withdrew to gesture to the crowd. "We should know not to overwhelm foreigners unfamiliar with our customs, curie-us as we might be. Such are the fires of enlightenment. We must be measured with our excitement, lest we let the flames get out of control and ruin the spes-E-men. Speaking of which..." He waved off his wife. "...go tend to the boy, Evangeline. Make sure he is not ill with our people's yearnin' for ed-u-cation."
Stogie's eyes shifted to the woman, body quivering with fear.
He really had no idea what he was thrown into, did he?
-Stogie et al
A pretty auburn-haired woman of uncertain age emerged from the press, slightly raising the brim of a beflowered and beribboned fantasy of a hat to lay her eyes on Stogie, "The poor youth's caught the vapors."
She clapped her hands twice, calling out like a schoolteacher addressing a class full of seven-year-olds, "He needs air and space! One of you gawkers, go and fetch some sal volatile! Shame on you all for exciting him so. And all that smoke!" she drew a gaily-colored paper fan from her handbag, opening it in an effortless motion to beat away at her face, "This is no welcome for any visitor, certainly not from so far away."
In due course, a pair of browbeaten do-gooders returned with a bottle whose label proclaimed 'Spirits of Sal Volatile'.
"Here, my boy," Evangeline coaxed Stogie's head up, "Sniff and sniff deeply. It will put you to rights, make no mistake."
She uncorked the bottle, holding the lip up to his nostrils.
-Evangeline
Stogie eyed the bottle suspiciously, growing even more concerned when the lady said "sniff." "Is this..." He cleared his throat, deciding to ask in a more muted voice. "Is this crack or something?"
"Oh," Evangeline frowned, "But, boy, the bottle is intact."
-Evangeline
"Huh." Stogie nodded, realizing only now crack wasn't invented til the 80s or whatever.
"Don't fear, boy," the long-haired gentleman got on his knees. "'Tis the finest smelling salts. Will put you in the finest sleep. I swear on that, if you ain't a little yella Her-mees." He gave Stogie's Heelies a spin with his pinky finger, disturbing him very much. "Go on! Sniff!"
"If you say so..." Stogie gulped, before pressing a finger against one nostril and snorting with the other.
And he snorted it. All of it. In one go.
Stogie faceplanted in the dirt.
He did hear some voices as his consciousness began to fade. "Quickly! Take him to my manor! We'll care for him if my name isn't JOSEEPHUS AMADEUS LENNOX!"
-Stogie and Joseephus
* * * * * * *
"Be easy, now," cooed a gentle voice, pressing a cold compress to Stogie's brow, "You're alright. Might have trouble smelling anything for a few weeks, but you're in no harm."
Stogie had been brought to a poky, but well-decorated bedroom with a tin ceiling and a four poster bed, on top of whose covers he had been placed. The girl addressing him was a light-skinned teenager in a house dress and bonnet.
"Is your head heavy?" she asked lightly.
-Netta
Stogie drowsily opened his eyes, emerging from a long slumber. "Oh," he muttered. "It must have been a dream. Damn cheesy fries..." Turning to find yet another new face, Stogie realized yet again this was far from a dream. "Ack!" Stogie staggered back, nearly falling off the bed. "Who are you? Where am I? What did I snort? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?!"
"Now, get yourself settled," Netta urged, "You're going to have a fit all over these sheets, and I'm not starching 'em again."
She moved to a tray on the endtable, on which there was a light sponge cake and a glass of absurdly thick cream, as if for spreading, "Well, I am Netta, and I run Mrs. Lennox's house, which is where you are right now. You took enough smelling salts to knock out a horse. And as for that last bit..." she smiled, setting the sponge cake down before him, "Maybe you forgot to say your prayers one night, and now God's getting His way."
-Netta
"Uhhhhhhhhhhh huh." Stogie nodded, hesitantly grabbing the plate. "Maybe I wasn't asking the right question. Perhaps what I should be asking is..." He gave a great dramatic pause, as he's been waiting to say this line ever since the kooky White Castle doctor mentioned time travel. "...when am I?"
Despite everything that happened to him these past 24 hours, this was the coolest he'd ever felt.
"When?" Netta blinked confusedly, "Well, it's October. Do they have the same kind of months in the Orient? Or do you have extras?"
-Netta
"The year, woman!" Stogie took the girl by the shoulders, shaking her. "What year is it?"
Netta wrenched away, "Get your hands off me! I thought you Orientals were supposed to be polite. All scraping and bowing and what have you," she scratched the back of her neck, "It's 1896, though I don't see why it's anything to get into a frenzy about."
-Netta
Stogie unhanded her, his eyes widening in revelation. "1896. Oh my God, that's when..." He blinked. "What happened in 1896? Man, I should have paid more attention in social studies. Um..." He scratched his head, searching for something. "...one of the forgettable presidents is one office, right?"
Netta looked at Stogie as if he'd gotten a little weird, which of course he was, "Well, if you don't have much trade with McKinley, you'll fit right in around here. The Lennoxes are hard for Bryan."
-Netta
Stogie narrowed his eyes, trying his hardest to A.) not laugh at that and B.) really believe people talked like this once upon a time. "I'm sure they are." He shook his head, figuring he should get back to trying to figure out his next steps. "So I'm with these Lennoxes...why? What do they want with me? I didn't do anything wrong! I just played carnival games and wheeled around on my Heelies..." He glanced down at his feet, realizing...he was just in his socks! "MY HEELIES! OHMIGOD WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY HEELIES?!"
"Now, enough of that!" Netta scolded, "If you mean your queer shoes with the wheels, the Lennoxes put 'em aside to have a look. They were mighty interested, you see. I know, I ain't never heard of such a thing in all my life, before. But, then, I never had much schoolin', not like Mr. Lennox. He was graduated from Loyola College!" she indicated the sponge cake, "You'd better eat that. It's already past suppertime, and around here, when the kitchen's closed it's closed. I'm no workhorse."
She folded her arms, "As for why the Lennoxes took you in, well, I'll just say you'd better mind your step around them. Mr. and Mrs. Lennox are mighty well-connected folks here in Lakewood. They're good folk to have on your side," the way she said that indicated that, however good they may be to ally with, they were not necessarily 'good' people, "I expect they'll keep you around as a guest, or until whoever you're with comes along for you, if you were with anybody a'tall."
-Netta
Stogie took a bite from the sponge cake (sugary and moist, but good, all the same) and looked out the window dramatically. "Me? I'm nobody. Just...a man out of time." He swallowed the cake. "This is pretty good cake. How much do they pay you for this?"
"Well, I thank you," Netta nodded, "But I daresay, it's not done to ask help things about wages and all that sort."
She appeared suddenly uncomfortable, fidgeting with the ends of her apron, "But if you must know, I'm kept in room and board, which is about as good as I could ex..." she eyed the tray, "But you didn't touch your clotted cream! A cake like that's good as a stone without something to wash it down!"
-Netta
"WhaAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Stogie clutched his stomach, reeling on the floor in pain. Everything he consumed back in this time period was out to kill him, it was unreal!
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, MY STOMACH! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" He tried to get back to his feet, reaching for the nightstand but ultimately knocking it over again as he fell to the ground once more. "HELP ME! HELP! HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!" Stogie begged, suffering mightily.
"Oh, stop thrashing so!" Netta moved to hold Stogie steady, "You'll choke to death!"
She held him down on the bed, pounding him on the back with her fist as if he were a cat hacking up a hairball, "Breathe! Breath, now, through your nose! You have any idea what they'll do to me if I killed their prize Chinaman!"
-Netta
Stogie winced in pain more and more. It's not like he was choking--he was far past that. He just had to digest it...but it was a boulder was passing through his intestines.
"AHHHHHHHH," he screamed in severe pain. "I JUST WANTED CHEESY FRIES AND A NIGHT IN WITH MY FRIENDS!!! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?!?!?!?!?"
"Sto-Ghee!" Evangeline appeared in the doorway, "Netta, what is going on here?"
Netta straightened up at once, instantly the picture of the upright domestic, "He was choking on the sponge cake, ma'am!"
"I don't doubt it," said Evangeline at once, "Such food is far too rich for a visitor from the East! I thought you were instructed to prepare steamed greens!"
"I know, ma'am. I'm sorry," she muttered quietly, "I just thought he might like something rich..."
"What you thought is not the same as what was asked of you," Evangeline smiled thinly, "So I do not understand the confusion."
She approached Stogie, looking down at him, "Are you well, Sto-Ghee? Everybody is waiting to meet you in the parlor!"
-Evangeline and Netta
That was rich? It was a freaking rock! Sediment, I tell you, sediment! The worst of it having passed, Stogie was able to rasp, "Meet in the parlor?...What for?"
"Why, for the big doing!" Evangeline smiled, "We're having elevenses in the parlor. But you can't present yourself before Mr. Maddox with all that spittle up and down your front! Now, if Netta could just fetch..."
-Evangeline and Netta
"There shall be no fetching!" Joseephus briskly walked into the room, his cheery manner unfazed. "Sto-Ghee is not to wear the garments til later, my sweet dan-dee-lion!"
Stogie furrowed his brow. "Garments?"
But Joseephus was already helping him up to his feet. "We must first present the Oriental in his native garments," he said, gesturing to his Hollister hoodie, "before we put him in our civilized, Western wardrobe." He then gave a delicate tap on Stogie's nose. "Come now. The guests are waiting."
"You guys are having a party? After the carnival?" Stogie sighed in exasperation. "You guys just don't quit..."
"Well, we are celebrating a great man, today. A great man. Ab-so-loot-lee fantabulous fellow. Wait till you meet him!" Still beaming, Joseephus signaled to Evangeline, "Tell Netta to clean up that mess, will you, Poppet?"
-Joseephus and Stogie
"Of course, my darling," Evangeline smiled syruply, turning to Netta, "Netta, clean up this mess."
"Yes, ma'am," answered Netta automatically.
"As for Sto-Ghee," she turned back to him, "I endeavor, that everyone will just love you! You'll be the man of the hour. I daresay, even Mr. Maddox will be upstaged!"
-Evangeline and Netta
"Maddox?" Stogie questioned instinctively. "Wasn't he, like, the mayor?"
"Oh, the poor child must be confused by the posters he's seen across town," Joseephus explained to Evangeline before returning his attention to their new guest. "'Soon-to-be mayor, to be exact. You'll meet him in due course. But first...WE MUST IN-TRO-DOOCE YOU..."
The head of the house exploded through the doors into the parlor, revealing a whole ensemble of guests. "Lay-deez and gen-till-men, we present to you our very own pearl in the Orient...STO-GHEE!" He pushed the boy forward, prompting an uproar of "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"s and "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"s.
Not more of this, Stogie dreaded. What do they expect to get out of me? A goddamn fortune cookie reading?
-Stogie and Joseephus
"See now, his posture!" Evangeline gestured like a gameshow floor model, "The way he holds his carriage, heavy and submissive, indicating his blood is not that of the ancient Qing kings."
"I daresay!" exclaimed a man in the crowd, offering no elucidation as to this comment.
"And yet, Sto-Ghee is possessed of remarkable dexterity, and skills great and small that have, until now, been hidden beyond the misty veils of the mysterious Oriental mountains," she gestured broadly, "Truly, he is a remarkable specimen of human being."
-Evangeline
"Uhhhhhhh..." Stogie raised his hand sheepishly. "Hey, how you doin'?"
The crowd erupted in applause, astonished that he said words.
"They love you, Stoh-Gee," Joseephus whispered into Stogie's ear, urging him forward.
"Yep," Stogie said as someone tugged at his sleeve, examining its fibers with a magnifying glass. "I guess I'm a crowd pleaser."
"What an acquisition, Joseephus! What an acquisition!" A hefty fellow approached the two of them, dressed in top hat and monocle!
"Ellis!" Joseephus clapped his hands together. "Salutations, good friend! I agree, he certainly was a good find!" He pushed Stogie forward. "This is Ellis Maddox, Stoh-Gee. The soon-to-be mayor of Lakewood."
"Boy, it is a pleasure to meet someone of your peculiar race," Ellis shook Stogie's hand overenthusiastically, nearly tearing his arm from its socket. "Tell me, Sthoh...?" He trailed off, confused.
Stogie realized the (stupid) problem. "Gee. Stoh-Gee."
"Yes! Stoh-Gee!" Ellis nodded, very curious. "Where did you get such a peculiar namesake?"
Stogie never disclosed the origin for his nickname, not even to his best friends (it was a story best saved for another, perhaps more intimate day). So he had to improvise. "I, er...was named after a mystical dragon. The protector of my homeland."
"And what is your homeland, Stoh-Gee?" Joseephus inquired, stroking his goatee.
"Uhhh..." He gulped, trying his hardest to think of Chinese places but failing (he was Filipino, for God's sake). "...White Castle?"
"Do you hear that, Ellis?" Joseephus beamed. "A castle of ivory! I've never seen such a thing in all my years of exploration in the East! I must seek it out on my next voyage!"
"White Castle! White Castle!" Ellis bellowed, clearly liquored up. "We could only hope for such a thing here! My God, my God..."
"Mother! Mother!"
Stogie turned to see a young boy, maybe 10 or 12, dressed in a sailor suit like Donald freaking Duck approach Evangeline, tugging at her dress. "Can I do my performance now, mother?"
-Stogie, Joseephus, Ellis, and Donald freaking Duck (???)