I wasn't sure how long we'd been traveling when a sudden jolt woke me from what turned out to be more than just a light nap. When I'd closed my eyes, it was just past midday. Now, the purple hues of dusk were merging with the black of night as the sun set over the distant mountains. While I couldn't see what had caused the jolt, I noticed I was one of the few stirred by it. Most of the passengers were either engrossed in newspapers, books, their own conversations, or fast asleep. Jared sat beside me, arms crossed and head bowed, clearly deep in slumber. Across from us, the two soldiers were debating how their commanding officer might react to our arrival.
After several failed attempts to drift back to sleep, I decided to join their conversation.
"So, this Mustang guy. I'm assuming he's your commanding officer?" I asked, leaning forward with my elbows resting on my thighs.
"Yes. He's been in command for quite some time," Fuery replied, adjusting his glasses. "There are a few others in our squadron you'll meet when we arrive. No doubt they'll want to speak with you two."
"Before we get there—and I know we've already asked a lot—but what were those machines in the field? The ones you said you flew in? I can't believe something that big could actually get off the ground, let alone move," Falman interjected, his curiosity apparent.
I opened my mouth to respond but hesitated. How do you explain the concept of flight to someone who's never seen or heard of airplanes? Given the level of technology they already had, surely they'd grasp the basics of flight. Watching the gears turn in their heads, I decided to simplify the explanation as much as possible.
"Alright. Let's start with something simple. You know how birds fly?"
"Kind of. They flap their wings and push themselves off the ground," Falman replied.
"That's partially correct. Their wings generate lift, which is the force that allows them to fly. The two large engines on the back of our crafts do something similar—they generate power to propel us forward. As we move, air flows over and under the wings, creating lift. Once we reach a certain speed and have enough lift, the craft takes off. That's the basic concept of flight for an aircraft. It varies depending on the type, but that's the gist of it."
Falman stared at me, dumbstruck, his expression a mix of fascination and confusion. Fuery, on the other hand, leaned in, absorbing every word like a sponge.
"I think I get it—kind of," Fuery said. "What about where you're from? With machines like that, I can only imagine what other technology you have."
"Well, we have a lot of things that might seem impossible here. For instance, there are planes far larger than ours that can carry up to 200 people anywhere in the world—if you have enough money and a passport. Trains still exist, but most are powered by diesel, a liquid fuel derived from petroleum, instead of steam. Cars are advanced enough to drive themselves, and you can get the news instantly on a phone that fits in your pocket."
I paused to let them process what I'd just said. Fuery was still captivated, but Falman looked like his brain was about to short-circuit.
"Wait—you guys have phones in your pockets? How does that even work?" Fuery asked.
"Indeed," I replied with a slight grin, glancing at Jared to ensure he was still asleep. After watching his chest rise and fall in an even rhythm, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my Samsung Galaxy. I wasn't supposed to have it on me during the flight, but I'd forgotten to leave it back in my locker on base. "This is a phone. It's essentially a small computer that lets you interact with the screen. It works using invisible signals to send and receive information. Since there's no signal here, it can only access what I've saved on it. But you get the idea."
As I spoke, I powered on the device, relieved to see it start up almost immediately. Once it had completed the reboot process, I held it up so it was visible to the three of us.
"Watch this. The screen is made of glass, and it's touch-sensitive, so you can interact with it directly. For example, if you needed to get a message to your CO immediately—something too urgent to wait for paper and mail—you could use this feature to text them." I pointed to the small chat bubble icon at the bottom of the screen.
"You can use it for a lot more than just messages. Do you enjoy listening to the radio or music? You can do that here, too. And you can even watch things on it."
"Wait, what do you mean by watch things?" Falman asked, his expression puzzled.
It was my turn to look dumbfounded. "I'm not sure I understand your question. What year did you say it was? Do you not have television?"
"Our apologies," Fuery interjected. "I don't think we mentioned the year yet. It's June 3rd, 1919. And no, we don't have these televisions you speak of."
"1919?" I echoed in disbelief. "Wow. Alright then. At least you've got radios and phones—that's a start. Since we've got time on our hands, I'll explain televisions."
The rest of the train ride was spent explaining various technologies, from televisions to spaceships. While neither of them seemed to retain much of the information—it was likely overwhelming—they remained engaged and curious. Jared woke up just as we pulled into the station, sparing me from having to explain why I still had my phone. I discreetly slipped it back into my pocket.
Once we disembarked, we were greeted by several more soldiers in matching uniforms. None stood out as much as Fuery or Falman, so we didn't pay them much attention as we followed the group to a nearby building.
The transition from countryside to city was striking. The rural area we had left behind felt like something out of a Nordic calendar, but this city was distinctly European. The slate roofs, red brick facades, and grid-like layout screamed Germanic influence.
It wasn't long before we reached the imposing entrance of a military building. Fuery explained that this was the temporary headquarters for their general, as the original had been destroyed by a mortar strike during the recent civil war. The towering doors were certainly overkill, but they fit the grandiose aesthetic of the place.
Inside, the atmosphere was charged. As we walked through the halls, heads turned to watch us. Some wore expressions of worry; others looked openly confused or even startled. The balance of men and women in uniform was nearly equal—a notable detail, though not unfamiliar to us back in our barracks.
After ascending several flights of stairs, we arrived at a quiet floor sparsely occupied by a few individuals heading down. Fuery stopped before a pair of large wooden doors and knocked firmly.
"Coming in. It's Master Sergeant Fuery and Captain Falman. We've brought the guests the General requested."
Footsteps echoed from within before the door was opened by a stern-looking woman with sharp brown eyes and blonde hair that partially covered one eye. She studied the two soldiers briefly before stepping aside and motioning for them to enter. Once we stepped through, she closed the door behind us and locked it.
"This way," she instructed curtly. "The General has some questions for you. Fuery, Falman, you two wait out here."