Chapter 2: Appointment
Large gates signaled the driveway of 9750 Third Street, the entrance opening without a sound. Roger pulled the Griffin up to the Victorian style mansion that seemed brutally out of place within the low-rent apartment buildings that were quite visible past the wrought-iron fence clearly meant to keep outsiders outside. The gate shut as silently as it had opened as he got out of the car and headed up the immaculate white steps.
Roger pressed the doorbell with a gloved hand and waited, hands clasped behind his back. The double doors opened and a butler of undeterminable age stepped aside, waiting for Roger to step inside.
"Miss Amelia will see you in the conservatory. Follow me, please."
Roger walked inside and waited for the butler to close the door and take his place in front. As he was guided through the mansion, the negotiator was subtly impressed. The furniture and decorations were elegant but lacked the obvious opulence that came with the normal disregard that the wealthy had for money.
The butler opened a set of double doors and a wave of warm, humid air rushed out. Roger followed him in, gazing at the suddenly lush jungle of hothouse flowers surrounding him.
"Miss Amelia, Mr. Smith is here."
It was the same voice from the phone, but more delicate now that there was no technology between her vocal cords and his ears. "Thank you Franklin, Mr. Smith, I am four rows away."
Franklin nodded in the right direction and left. Roger removed his gloves as he walked down the four rows of gorgeous flowers. He found her watering a white hibiscus blossom, her thick blue-black curls falling to her waist. She stood up and turned around, the watering can in her delicately boned hands.
She was wearing a plum colored sarong skirt that had a pattern of silver-gray ivy running on it. Her halter top was the same silvery-gray and covered her chest completely, a string fastening the shirt behind her neck. Roger suddenly wondered why she wasn't married. Her skin was creamy and pale, making her blue eyes brighter. Her lips were just as exquisite as the rest of her face, pale pink and set under a sculpted nose and high cheekbones.
"Thank you for coming."
"Anything for a lady. What can I do for you Miss Julaine?"
"Walk with me, Mr. Smith."
He nodded and walked with her while she continued to water the flowers.
"I water them personally every other day. I think it makes them healthier to have such care."
"They're beautiful, but is this relevant?"
"Forgive me; I know you're a busy man. I wanted to talk to you about memory fragments."
"Memory fragments are memories about the future, why would I be interested?"
Amelia turned, her hands griping the watering can so tightly that her slim hands were white from blood loss.
"My memories are about you Mr. Smith."
Roger stared at her for a moment, and then finally replied. "Miss Julaine, how can you be sure they are about me?"
"In your Mega Deus, the Big O, when it starts the screen scrolls 'In The Name of God, Ye Not Guilty', doesn't it?"
Roger found himself speechless again at her overwhelmingly correct statement. He nodded a confirmation as she continued to water her plants, thankful that she was no longer staring at him with her intense, intent blue eyes.
"All the memories are pertaining to the upcoming eclipse." Amelia continued.
"I don't think this is a good idea, Miss Julaine."
"Call me Amelia." She walked to a spigot imbedded in the floor, filling her watering can again. "Mr. Smith, these memories haunt my dreams. I need to tell someone before I can't sleep at all. I will pay you for your time, if you could just see how important this must be."
"Miss Julaine…Amelia, nobody should know about the future."
She finally put down her watering can and walked over to him. Roger was distracted as she moved in past the normal comfort level and took his hand in her own small ones.
"Mr. Smith…"
"Roger."
Roger, please don't make me live like this. I can't sleep, not even during the day. These images mean something, and they won't let me rest until I do something about it."
He looked down at her hands which were still clasped around his, unable to hide his own which instilled a sudden strong protective feeling in him. Roger resisted the urge to stroke her silky hair and nodded his final consent.
"Thank you. I know it's warm in here, let's go into the library."
"Show the way."
Amelia wove in and out of the blooming greenery, reminding Roger of stories of wood sprites as he followed. She led him back into the house, where the abrupt change in temperature left goose bumps on her arms and relieved his discomfort. The butler was nowhere in sight as they walked up to a set of double doors made of dark mahogany, which he was beginning to notice was a trend in the mansion.
She walked inside, inviting him in with a wave of her hand. Roger shut the door and sat down in a black leather easy chair. Amelia sat down across from him on the matching love seat and smoothed her skirt.
"Whenever you're ready, Amelia."
She took a deep breath and began.
Large gates signaled the driveway of 9750 Third Street, the entrance opening without a sound. Roger pulled the Griffin up to the Victorian style mansion that seemed brutally out of place within the low-rent apartment buildings that were quite visible past the wrought-iron fence clearly meant to keep outsiders outside. The gate shut as silently as it had opened as he got out of the car and headed up the immaculate white steps.
Roger pressed the doorbell with a gloved hand and waited, hands clasped behind his back. The double doors opened and a butler of undeterminable age stepped aside, waiting for Roger to step inside.
"Miss Amelia will see you in the conservatory. Follow me, please."
Roger walked inside and waited for the butler to close the door and take his place in front. As he was guided through the mansion, the negotiator was subtly impressed. The furniture and decorations were elegant but lacked the obvious opulence that came with the normal disregard that the wealthy had for money.
The butler opened a set of double doors and a wave of warm, humid air rushed out. Roger followed him in, gazing at the suddenly lush jungle of hothouse flowers surrounding him.
"Miss Amelia, Mr. Smith is here."
It was the same voice from the phone, but more delicate now that there was no technology between her vocal cords and his ears. "Thank you Franklin, Mr. Smith, I am four rows away."
Franklin nodded in the right direction and left. Roger removed his gloves as he walked down the four rows of gorgeous flowers. He found her watering a white hibiscus blossom, her thick blue-black curls falling to her waist. She stood up and turned around, the watering can in her delicately boned hands.
She was wearing a plum colored sarong skirt that had a pattern of silver-gray ivy running on it. Her halter top was the same silvery-gray and covered her chest completely, a string fastening the shirt behind her neck. Roger suddenly wondered why she wasn't married. Her skin was creamy and pale, making her blue eyes brighter. Her lips were just as exquisite as the rest of her face, pale pink and set under a sculpted nose and high cheekbones.
"Thank you for coming."
"Anything for a lady. What can I do for you Miss Julaine?"
"Walk with me, Mr. Smith."
He nodded and walked with her while she continued to water the flowers.
"I water them personally every other day. I think it makes them healthier to have such care."
"They're beautiful, but is this relevant?"
"Forgive me; I know you're a busy man. I wanted to talk to you about memory fragments."
"Memory fragments are memories about the future, why would I be interested?"
Amelia turned, her hands griping the watering can so tightly that her slim hands were white from blood loss.
"My memories are about you Mr. Smith."
Roger stared at her for a moment, and then finally replied. "Miss Julaine, how can you be sure they are about me?"
"In your Mega Deus, the Big O, when it starts the screen scrolls 'In The Name of God, Ye Not Guilty', doesn't it?"
Roger found himself speechless again at her overwhelmingly correct statement. He nodded a confirmation as she continued to water her plants, thankful that she was no longer staring at him with her intense, intent blue eyes.
"All the memories are pertaining to the upcoming eclipse." Amelia continued.
"I don't think this is a good idea, Miss Julaine."
"Call me Amelia." She walked to a spigot imbedded in the floor, filling her watering can again. "Mr. Smith, these memories haunt my dreams. I need to tell someone before I can't sleep at all. I will pay you for your time, if you could just see how important this must be."
"Miss Julaine…Amelia, nobody should know about the future."
She finally put down her watering can and walked over to him. Roger was distracted as she moved in past the normal comfort level and took his hand in her own small ones.
"Mr. Smith…"
"Roger."
Roger, please don't make me live like this. I can't sleep, not even during the day. These images mean something, and they won't let me rest until I do something about it."
He looked down at her hands which were still clasped around his, unable to hide his own which instilled a sudden strong protective feeling in him. Roger resisted the urge to stroke her silky hair and nodded his final consent.
"Thank you. I know it's warm in here, let's go into the library."
"Show the way."
Amelia wove in and out of the blooming greenery, reminding Roger of stories of wood sprites as he followed. She led him back into the house, where the abrupt change in temperature left goose bumps on her arms and relieved his discomfort. The butler was nowhere in sight as they walked up to a set of double doors made of dark mahogany, which he was beginning to notice was a trend in the mansion.
She walked inside, inviting him in with a wave of her hand. Roger shut the door and sat down in a black leather easy chair. Amelia sat down across from him on the matching love seat and smoothed her skirt.
"Whenever you're ready, Amelia."
She took a deep breath and began.
