This was originially posted in the fanzine, Play It Again 2

Sam Beckett looked about him in confusion. It was dark and he was on a

hill overlooking a brightly illuminated area. A bell was ringing. There

was grass beneath his hands, cushioning him as he sat on the ground. It

would have been ideal, except for the sound of voices raised in anger.

Hundreds of people were gathered in the area beneath the hill.

His vision clearing somewhat, he could make out details. Everyone below

and passing by him was wearing blue jeans and various types of loose

shirts and t-shirts. They were all very young and talking very fast.

Something important was happening.

Pushing himself up from the ground, he headed towards the crowd. Its

numbers were growing. He figured there were nearly a thousand people

here and more arriving every minute. What was going on? He was in the

garb of the youth around him-jeans, loose shirt, loafers. Comfortable

and casual. Psychedelic seemed prominent in the wardrobe color scheme

around him. That dated this leap in the sixties or early seventies.

Where, he didn't know.

There was a tension in the gathering, almost expectation. Storm clouds

were gathering, but not in the sky. There was something familiar about

what he was experiencing. If only he knew the date or where he was. Al

would tell him when he arrived. He hoped that would be soon.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden shout, the voice of the kid

nearest him carried away by other clamourous shouts. Some of teh people

had spray cans and were scrawling words he couldn't see because of teh

darkness and distance. A chant began filtering through-"BURN THE ROTC!

OFF THE PIGS! BURN THE ROTC!" The crowd was moving as one-toward what,

Sam didn't know.

As they moved, Sam was carried with the flow. It was becoming clear to

him that this was a campus somewhere. He remembered the anti-war

demonstrations, but few details. As he was shoved along, he recalled his

own sentiments during that time. Tom was on his way to 'Nam, and Sam hated

the thought of him leaving, but held no animosity toward the war in

general. He'd never paid much attention to the anti-war movement. There

had been MIT and his own problems of the moment, overwhelming whatever had

been happening outside of his personal orbit.

Directly in front of them was a low, nondescript building. A kid was

running up to it with a stick, breaking what windows were unbroken. There

were more shouts of "DOWN THE ROTC!" and Sam barely caught himself before

he joined the chant.

"Dr. Barry?" A girl with long brown hair, personable features, and aqua

blue eyes, was looking up at Sam with a questioning look. "I'm surprised

to see you here."

"I sort of, uh, got caught in the mood of things, I guess." Sam stammered.

His name was Dr. Barry. The next question was, doctor of what?

"Who couldn't with what happened last night?" The girl had a disgusted

look on her face. "They asked for this."

"They?" She had said the word as one would say a foul word.

"You know. The pigs in town." She flipped her hair behind her back as she

spoke. "Like you say in class-all that philosophy and how each of us has a

number in the roll of life? It's pretty radical. That's why so many of

us respect you."

A loud cheer turned Sam's attention to the building. It seemed to be the focal

point for the crowd. A boy was throwing some burning rags through the

broken windows. They were actually intending to burn the place down! With

the size of the crowd and the hysterical atmosphere, there was little

Sam could do to prevent it from happening.

"I hope no one is in there," he heard himself say.

"No chance." A short, heavy-set girl stood at his elbow. "The ROTC class

is out." She chuckled approvingly. "Over and out."

A flag was burning in the distance, barely discernable except for the flames

lighting it. The crowd's shreiks were too loud, making his ears burn.

Somewhere there were screams of pain, as the students filled the air with a

hail of stones. A section of the crowd ran toward where the bell had been

ringing, but most stayed put, waiting to see what would happen.

More fire hit the building. Sam saw things that looked like sparklers fly

into the air and disappear into the windows. The crowd groaned as they

saw that, in spite of their efforts, the fire was not igniting. It seemed

they were out of their minds, wanting to burn down this structure and what

it stood for.

"Road flares."

Sam jumped as Al appeared at his shoulder. Why did he have that annoying

habit of bipping in when he least expected? Seeing that girl who had

spoken to him earlier had moved off to get a better look, Sam breathed a

sigh of relief. "Boy, am I glad to see you!"

"It's May 2, 1970." Al's eyes met Sams and saw a flash of recognition and

something akin to pain, as if the date had conjured up an old hurt. It was

so close to the time when... Immediately, Al shunted the thought away.

"We're in Kent, Ohio. You're Peter Barry, a professor here at Kent State.

Tonight, the students burn down the ROTC building, and in two days..."

"What happens, Al?" Those students near him were too distracted to notice

that Dr. Barry was talking to himself. The whine of sirens was beginning

to fill the air.

"You don't remember." Al frowned. Would it be an infringement of the

rules if he told Sam what would happen? He shrugged. "Four students are

killed by the National Guard. Not far from here."