Chris Vega faced many more surprises when he met President Roosevelt on the fateful day after all the official ‘red tape’ was cleared. There was time as a large clock in the Oval Office displayed that the ‘now’ was slightly before noon. The Japanese attack would not happen for hours. Vega sat and joined the ‘sitting’ President. (FDR lost the use of his legs as a war hero in World War I).
Important papers, phones, files and packages of microdots covered the President’s desk. A 21-inch color TV was set-up, but was not on.
A black box stood on top that was unknown to Chris.
After the ‘Commander of the Naval Fleet and more’ was fastened into his wheelchair and a security team left the Office, the Detective could not comprehend the first important words from Franklin Delano. The words were, “We know of the attack, son.”
The quiet moment in this part of the White House was short-lived. But this meeting had to happen.
Vega, subconsciously, assumed his info had to have been wrong: Britain cannot order an emancipated colony and sovereign nation into their war if the free people of America chose otherwise.
Chris was wrong.
FDR told the young man, “The only question is…what to do in the next minutes?”
“Do we stand together as a country and fight the Military Industrial Complex which has moved to militarize the world; madness that spreads like wildfire, out of control? Where do we draw the line between forces of order and chaos?” FDR sat extremely tall and said beautiful words.
In a short pause, Chris ventured a small question, “I hope yer not askin’ a cowboy like me, sir?” He was coy, ducked his head down and smiled.
They both laughed under the tense situation at hand.
Franklin continued. He had seen the encounter with Vega numerous times and they played out differently every time. It fascinated the President to have it occur in the ‘now’ directly in front of him and not viewed on a 2D screen. President Roosevelt stated, “I’ve decided what to do, which course to choose. We do not know how it will play in this reality, at this present time. I’ve chosen the hard Road to Peace. I’ve chosen…to not fight
in the ‘European Conflict.’ European Conflict, my ass. It’s a goddamn War!
I don’t like what I’m finding out about it, Mr. Vega. Like…who’s really in command?”
FDR rambled a bit and said, “No more Oceania.”
“Something I read.” ‘Franky’ smiled with charm; at times the man was very unlike a president. “It might prove to be very wrong and costly along these lines; we don’t know yet. It will be unpopular to the extreme right. I only hope a less bloody road will be traveled.”
“They could assassinate you, sir.”
“Ha, ha…already have.”
FDR undid the lock and skillfully maneuvered the best wheelchair to a spot where he also viewed the TV screen.
“Watch.” Franklin fumbled a little with the remote, wireless control to the set.
“What is that?” the investigator was not cool
this time. Television was unknown to him.
The set was turned on when the President pressed the right button.
Chris pulled his chair closer to the screen and Roosevelt and examined the remote from a few feet away.
“This is called Betamax.” FDR pushed the first button on his recorded ‘show.’ “We’re not allowed to give this to the public in the next 40 years.”
“See these tabs on the buttons and something written on each one?”
“Yes. You have time to explain, sir?” Chris asked without an understanding of the presidential ‘movie.’
“Ha. Time…that’s funny. Imagine audio tape…”
“I use a tape recorder,” Vega added.
“Yes tape recorder, but imagine a PICTURE like a movie reel. I can go to various points on a movie, a special pre-recorded movie, made just for you to see on TV…how about that, Detective?”
Chris did not believe his entire day; this was one quality dream that couldn’t be real!
The first film clip came on the screen, which was not immediately recognized by Vega. He said, “You know, sir. I love films. You don’t really have to SHOW me. I’d believe what you say.”
President’s solemn reply was, “No you wouldn’t, Christano.”
The newsreel presented the 1939 New York World’s Fair with wild ‘Tales of Tomorrow’ and fantastic techniques and inventions and innovative processes that would change the dark/poor world and ugly remnants of the Great Depression. No more labors, drudgery or even a workforce necessary when Technology and Science will build Utopia…Just Imagine…
“If only money and resources were spent on construction and not destruction. Why not?”
“Sir, you said dey killed you?”
“Ah,” FDR pressed one of the buttons. The Beta tape jumped to a particular point.
Chris saw a wonder that could not be possible. It was the most accurate representation he had ever seen. This was an intricate, detailed Hollywood-like movie of the President’s assassination…
A black and white film displayed not FDR, but the death of President Abraham Lincoln 80 years ago!
Chris pulled his seat closer to the 21-inch screen. Lincoln was shot. “Who did this?”
The President informed him, “It’s not a film, Chris. No production company did this. It’s not fake…or this?” Another button was pressed on the remote device.
The ‘video’ image showed almost the same pictures at the start of the previous film.
“Sir, excuse me, but you jus’ played this. I think you hit da same button, sir.”
“No. Watch,” Franklin corrected the young man.
Lincoln was again seen in his box at Ford’s Theater with a slightly different arrangement of people in seats and things on the wall.
John Wilkes Booth barged in as before and one of the men or guards lunged and deflected the shot. The bullet missed
the President. Booth was caught; did not leap off the balcony, break his leg and shout, “Death to all tyrants!” but stood trial and was executed.
“How could dis be real and not a fake production? What ya shown me makes it more implausible: two histories, Mr. President?”
“Ha. Far from only two, Chris…one more…ah, here we go.” Another button was touched.
Onscreen was displayed an international press newsreel from 1920 with sound and Technicolor. It showed Germany won the First World War.
Chris jumped to his feet as his mind was on overload. “Okay these are real, sir. Aaaaaand so much more ya haven’t shown me, Okay…how, Mr. President? How’dja get this? How was this really done…I gotta know.” Chris was earnest, had big eyes and opened ears.
FDR suggested, “Ever read H.G. Wells, Mr. Vega?”
“I like him…ah, oh! Martians!” Then the PI asked a serious question, “You think the Martians are involved, sir?”
Franky laughed. “Good one. No, they’re not,” the President said factually. “Time Machine…”
Chris understood and then of course, he did not. “The Time Machine! Ooooh, huh! You mean that’s really real, sir?” Chris was like a boy at an amusement park or at the ’39 World’s Fair: of 2039, he thought!
“…Since the thirties here on this planet. There are many ways to time-travel with time-tunnels, vortexes, hyperspace or SEE into the past and future. The process does not have to be via machines,
even by ‘Magick’ and Witchcraft I’ve discovered, Chris. Hitler’s doing it right now.”
“Wow, Hitler. Wot’s the future hold, sir?”
“Here’s one you won’t believe.”
“Ha!” He slapped his knee. “Shucksy-loopy.”
Shown on the screen was a montage of televised news broadcasts from the 1960s. The Detective was amazed at new designs for war weapons, missiles, vehicles, jet aircraft, etc. that was employed in a country called Vietnam. The color images mesmerized him.
“Twenty years in the future, one of the time-lines I know of showed an old U.S. President named John Kennedy that also had an important decision to make between right and wrong and between war escalation and the ways of simple peace and love. He chose peace, integrity, honesty, fairness, liberty, freedom, human rights and was much like Abe Lincoln…” FDR smiled with a tear in his eye.
“Let me guess what happened to him. They killed’m.”
“You’re good. Would you like to see the death of Jesus Christ?”“You have his death on film?”
“Yes, but it’s not a good copy.”
“I will take that as a joke.”
The President gave away in his face that it was not. “I won’t show you my
death, but there are other Franklin Delanos I saw; some lasted only a term; a few 3 terms and one was a 5-term president.”
Chris asked what he thought was an important question. “What’s Hitler doin’ lookin’ into the past and future?”
“We’re all learning from occult techniques. They, the dark side and forces above them, are trying to change the future for ultimate and ruthless and secret control, eternally. We’re trying to stop them; learn from history in good ways by already seeing it before it happens in the now.”
“That’s too much. Wish I knew my part in…my role in the drama? Why did I learn all this today? Why am I here? You’ve told me everything; I’ve told you nothing, sir.”
“I’ve shown you far
from everything, Christano. That’s a flower, you know?”
The President pushed the worst button of all the ones with tabs. The TV displayed in color a large city in utter ruin as if a monstrous force, wind, fire or ‘Hand of God’ swept through and toppled buildings for many miles in all directions!
“One bomb did that damage. Our country did that to another country, Chris. We burned innocent women and children in an instantaneous flash of fire. Then we did it again
and we didn’t have to do it at all, God. I…” FDR inhaled and exhaled a big breath. “…I don’t want that to happen here.”
On cue, the color panorama changed to another vast city that was virtually leveled
and reduced to ashes. Smoke was seen and the specter of death hung over the city and inside the Oval Office. Chris was told this was the same country that was about to bomb us in an hour and a half.
“I have to understand better, Mr. President. Yer sayin’ these are separate worlds and each got a…a variety of possibilities?”
“Yes, look again.” Franklin remembered it was almost the end of the videotape and what was on it. “Here’s a split screen of the same two Japanese cities and they’re fine, undamaged and the year was 1946. No Bombs.”
“And that’s the result yer workin’ toward; is that the picture, sir? Yes? I don’t wanna hold you up. Don’t you have an important phone call to make, sir?” The Detective squinted and rubbed his head.
The President laughed and rolled back into position behind the messy desk. He locked himself into place. “You won’t believe what future wonders you haven’t seen, son. I can start the ‘Age of Aquarius,’ a time of peace and love and no war…earlier,
much earlier than in other realities and one that will actually last
with a little conference call to my generals. We’re not joining Europe. We will not fight. We will rebel against war and fascism and power bosses; turn the other cheek; protect our land; one world or none. Ha. I love what Chaplin said at the end of ‘The Great Dictator.’ History will prove me right, Christano.”
“Ha, ha…saw that one and…History will prove ya’ll
are right, Mr. Lincoln, Mr. Kennedy, Mr. Gandhi and a few others don’t wanna embarrass you by namin’. But sure wish you’d make that call!
I dunno what ya’re waitin’ for, sir?”
Roosevelt answered precisely, “I’m waiting for 12:42. It’s only 12:39.”
Chris sank his head down and chuckled. Of course.
“Ha.” He walked toward FDR and shook his hand vigorously. “Been a real pleasure, sir.”
“Same here, son.”
Chris turned his back and marched toward the hallway where he entered. His arms went out that expressed the ‘lunacy’ of this famous day that won’t go down in infamy,
but was one great leap for humankind. He scratched his head.
Before he exited the Office, the President said a strange thing to him. “You’ll find what you’re looking for, Chris.”
He thought of her
, the blonde one. “Do you happen to know…?” His words stopped with her in mind. Chris smiled.
Franklin only responded with, “Where ARE you going?”
“Into a very long sleep.” Chris gave a cute salute and left.
A minute more passed and the timing was right. The Commander-in-Chief called his generals; battleships and destroyers were dispersed and deployed; the Japanese planes were shot down and millions of Americans did not die over years of Europe’s War. The New World Order Industrial Complex was fazed out of power by global popular demand: People were sick of ridiculous war. America led the ‘New Way.’ Monarchies, kings, queens, lords, governors and mob bosses in all forms were made extinct much sooner than would have normally occurred.
The greatest, most beneficial change in this
FDR’s time-line was that atomic power and nuclear weapons were never developed. Far superior alternatives and measures were created instead. Jaffe’s recommendations for atomics and particle beams (under wise fail-safes) were never conceived in this universe that begun their peace and love earlier than most. Peace survived.
But just before FDR made the timely phone call on December 7th, he was sad and said, “It won’t matter. There’s always balance; save this world, ruin that world…always balance…”
The tired detective slowly plodded his way to an arranged D.C. motel called ‘the Hideaway.’ He planned to sleep the rest of the day and not be carried by the ‘winds of fate.’ Chris inserted key, entered apartment and immediately sensed something was off. What was wrong?
He turned and spied what was thrown on a corner chair. The violet in the violet dress was of such richness and deepness in the man’s eyes. She was here!
He smelled her, her hair. The dress was an incredible calling card. Chris Vega hesitated with his normal brain functions.How could she possibly be here and have found me? Was this my ‘happy ending’ or confirmation that nothing was real?
He walked into the bedroom like a curious zombie.
On the motel bed was the sweetest, juiciest, sexiest, most beautiful blonde in the universe. And she was nude,
facedown. She kicked her curvy gams back and forth like an elongated child. Her big, red lips blew him a kiss and she seductively said, “Remember me?”
“Oh, baby.” The man dove into perfection, personified. A brilliant ‘angel’ rescued him and touched him and loved him. Vega found the energy. He made love to a purple goddess and was fabulously reborn in the process.
Hours later, he showered and wondered why he was alone under the glorious flow of warm water. When Chris returned to the bedroom, he encountered another impossible dream. Or was it a ghostly nightmare?
Rose Teegarden, in thick/black glasses and not sunglasses, casually sat on the bed.Rose Teegarden was dead.
Her words were the same as Violet’s first words only expressed differently. “Remember me?”
She pushed the eyeglasses closer to her face with an index finger. The older brunette version of Violet was still wrapped in grey clothes. Then she added, “Looks can be deceiving, Mr. Vega.”
“How can it be you? You were hacked to mulch by Red,” the puzzled PI exclaimed.
The ‘school teacher’ stood up tall and coldly asked, “You mean this one?”
Rose instantly changed appearance to red Lily.
The intense scarlet power suit and black boots were back!
Chris was speechless.
Whatever it (‘she’) was that morphed in the Hideaway Motel, it was not a human being. Lily ‘clicked’ into her character as the fiery go-getter, ball-buster of a ‘dame’ in a man’s (film noir) world…
“You want answers, kid? I’ll give ya somepin’ to talk
about, Jack! HERE’S yer answers…”
Vega watched and wondered in total bewilderment.
“…Yeah, I lied ‘bout the clone sisters, so SUE me! Ya freakin’ secretary slash receptionist was right
all along ‘bout me, son of a bitch! How’d she know? I’m EVE, 3 in 1; they’ll make a movie ‘bout me. Ya think it’s hard
to replicate DNA, in just the right amount to fool yer Keystone Cops? Ha! And a recorded phone call? C’mon, man! Love IS blind, eh?”
The sensitive investigator realized the tension in the room increased. He calmly moved closer to his black jacket. Dazed, Chris looked up and said, “So…there’s no Violet…no candle at all?”
This Violet became violent. She smashed a metal bedpost and bent it. Lily quickly pulled out a long knife and threw herself at the Detective with a crazed look in her green eyes and a scream~
Chris grabbed a gun from his jacket and FIRED!
The bullet cut through ‘her’ softness at a moment that the alien did not expect. The creature was not prepared and was caught at a time of vulnerable density.
Before the Thing melted
…she transformed one more time into sweet, blonde Violet. She shivered; appeared weak and near death with blood that poured from her heart. “Why, Chris?”
The bullet also pierced his emotional psyche.There was no Violet, yet I love her.
In this particular reality, a world had averted years of a major War and tremendous catastrophes associated with the global insanity and chose the ‘hard Road to Peace.’
The PI from 1941 had a personal and private ‘Day of Infamy.’ His world, his future, his unique hopes, dreams and desires were viciously destroyed. Was it one big Cosmic Joke on him? Chris Vega, a changed man, SCREAMED into the black abyss of the universe:
“To all other Christanos out there! I hope ya happy!”
In a parallel world that was also virtual
(higher resolution of 1080p while previous universes were 720p), the unseen Captain was now viewed and wore a silver jumpsuit. She was in a tight embrace and hard KISS with the dreamiest
guy onboard, also in a silver jumpsuit. Tongues touched again and again in a silky, tender, warm, wet flush of slow electricity.
Each of them had finally found the other one, the perfect pair of young lovers. The moment was real and magical.
The body of the ‘true Marilyn Monroe’ was first to have been revived on the Archon’s silver ‘Collector’ saucer. She was the Captain. She only had partial memories of her past on Earth and since, but she regained far more knowledge than the others. This MM was magnetically attracted to the ‘gorgeous hunk’ or ‘true James Dean.’ She knew that the minute they were alone and conveniently separated from the rest of the crew, she’d be all over him and he’d be all over her.
He knew the same.
“Mmmmm,” he said and could not get enough of the snoggin’. He wanted to stay in their lovely isolation forever. “Mm.”
“Hey, big guy; stop!
You know it’s time to find the others.”
“Ha. Do we have to?” He squinted and pursed his lips.
“We agreed on the time. Don’t you think they should know what I know, lover boy?”
He replied with a permanent smile, “How’d you get so smart, Mare?”
“It’s Mary.” She changed and blinked those big, blue eyes. “Okay, whatever. The answer is: computers, Okay? Let’s go…Jim.”
“Ha. Hey what the hell’s wrong with Jim?”
The pair went off together toward med-lab.
The Hope spaceship remained on ‘auto-pilot,’ cloaked from the rest of the world.
What began very long ago as a galactic ‘Social Engineering’ project on humans by the ancient Archons, turned into an extremely profitable enterprise on a cosmic and dimensional level.
Star systems within 50 light-years of Earth (depends on universe) had received broadcasted TV signals and human stories
that emanated from the blue/green planet for numerous decades. Countless worlds ridiculed Earthlings; laughed at Earthlings; were utterly disgusted by Earthlings; marveled at Earthlings; were fascinated by Earth (Teran) people or were completely apathetic to the ‘stage play’ frequencies in space.
‘They’ placed its Moon in orbit and studied Tera closer.
Teran cinema, through television signals, had also been beamed out into the galaxy at light-speed. Unimaginable numbers of alien and humanoid life forms were aware of the Earthly ‘theatre’ when one considered other Earths and infinite parallel worlds!
- Marilyn Monroe
- James Dean
- Marlon Brando
- Bettie Page
- Sylvester Stallone
…And other famous, legendary ‘stars’ were also famous and legendary across astronomical numbers of solar systems.
Archons and many omnipresent ‘lesser Archons’ (minions) have abducted Earthlings through time for a wide range of purposes. The very famous celebrity-icons were FOR SALE to the ultimate Movers and Shakers…such was real Power in the Universe.
One problem was: DNA supplies of the specimens ran out
and could not meet universal demands for the bio-products.
When the couple who were instantly ‘locked-at-the-hip’ arrived in the clean, bright, medical facility known as the Pod Room, the whole crew was there except for the ‘missing’ one. Here was where it began for the little group. All 6 were supposed to think up names
since no one knew their previous identities or much of their lives before ‘woken’ aboard the Hope saucer out in space.
‘Mary,’ leader and teacher and plugged into the computer somehow was the one ‘Marilyn’ biologically activated prematurely. She downloaded the mainframe (fried during theft of saucer) and charged or powered-up other systems. Ship’s computer designated her ‘responsible Captain’ who also restored the rest of the crew, minus one.
Everyone was dressed in the same style silver jumpsuits. The crew or what was left of the ‘collection’ consisted of:
- 2 other Marilyn Monroes
- 1 James Dean
- 1 Marlon Brando
- 1 Bettie Page (missing)
- 1 Sylvester Stallone
The ‘real’ Stallone was a very young teenager and when ‘Dean’ and Captain were the last ones into the lab, he said with a sly grin, “Hey! Hold hands you lovebirds. What were you two doin’ up in the tree?”
‘Dean’ had lipstick on his lips and his light hair was messed. The smile said everything.
The crew knew automatically that both were bonded.
And when the pair entered, they found that the two other couples, young and old, had also appeared to ‘pair off. Each couple happened to be very close to the other (arranged mates?) and engaged in conversation. The overall impression was that the three Marilyns had found their matches: ‘Brando’ with the older, brunette Marilyn and ‘Sylvester’ with the youngest Marilyn of all, a redhead with freckles.
“Have you chosen?” the Captain asked the two couples who mostly leaned against the smooth, white life-pods.
Almost all of them murmured for ‘yes’ except for the oldest guy with a bit of a receded hairline.
Mary took command and pointed to each of the special crew of prized specimens. “Tell us; speak! Sound off; don’t be shy about it. I’m Mary, that’s Jim…”
A few repeated those names at a low register along with: “Hi.”
“Or Mare?” Jim tossed in and laughed.
The Captain frowned.
The two other duplicates or other Marilyns outside of the Captain spoke:
“I’ve decided on Norma Jeane…I don’t think any of us need last names,” said the older one.
The extremely young Marilyn expressed along with a giggle, “Call me…Jayne, he, he.”
The older Italian guy, who only had eyes for Norma Jeane, popped out with, “Jane?”
“Uh, huh…with a ‘Y’”
The young Italian got right next to his partner and added, “She’s no plain Jane, yo’ know what I mean? Oh, aaaah…I want y’all to call me…”
“This’ll be good.”
Rocky asked the group with amazement, “Hey, what’s so funny?”
Virginal MM with freckles or Jayne replied, “I like it.”
The ‘true’ Marlon made hand gestures and said, “Ah, ah, you don’t look
like a Rocky, kid.”
“Whaddo you mean, eh?” he asked with sharp aggression and walked closer to the ‘old’ guy.
“Rocky’s a fighter’s
name, you know? Ya could never be a contenda. You’re too small: just a scrawny, punk kid.”
Rocky was mad as hell and yelled, “I should break yer ass for that crack, big tough guy!”
“Oooh,” The thin-haired guy mocked fear,
enlarged his eyes and made a few side to side movements and did not forget the hand signs. “Yeah I’m real scared…of a 10-year old.”
“Hey I’m not TEN!”
Norma Jeane chuckled.
“C’mon, children,” Jim joked. “I wish I hid under a cowboy hat. Dude.”
Rocky pointed at the oldest man and asked, “Let’s hear your
name, ya fat palooka? I’ll bet it’s, it’s a…ha, ha, Byron
‘r something like that.”
“Oh!” Rocky kept up with the verbal jabs. “I know…it’s…Marion.
Maybe Arnold? Ha!”
Everyone looked to the old man, who was not that old, for his name choice.
“Well…?” Mary tried to coax it out.
The boy again picked on him with, “Yeah, I’ll bet he couldn’t think o’ one. Right, old man?”
Norma Jeane defended her man with, “He hasn’t decided yet.”
“Yeah…I ah…got one…”
The guy went into hand gestures and frustration and small gyrations and nearly exuded bullets of sweat on a ship where the environment was optimally perfect. His face made faces.
Rocky made fun again with, “Ah, c’mon!
Look at dis guy. You believe him?”
“Mm…ah, Brad, no, no, um, uh…Mar…?”
“It IS Marion.”
“What? Is that it? Was that Method Acting? Ha,” Jim commented.
“Mark, ah, yeah, that’s it. Call me…Mark.”
Rocky had his own hand gestures for the guy while another hand slipped around little Jayne. He was a smooth kid.
The silliness nearly concluded.
“Okay. Come to order, gang. I found our dossiers burned to zilch,” Mary said and got everyone’s attention. “BUT, I was able to decipher the language marked on the equipment, tables and life-pods…with the computer’s assistance. It means I know when you were born; when you were abducted and then of course we know your age when abducted, meaning your age now.”
“Abducted?” the kid questioned.
Mark volleyed a few barbs back at the boy: “Hey, Zalaam, Jamoke, Bakala, Stunaad; where you think we are, kid? We’re in space!
…I should whack you.”
Young Rocky said, “Oh…now
you come up with names?”
“Really, stop it guys. I think you want to hear this. I can’t put it up on screens for you because you don’t know the language,” the responsible Captain said. “I’ll read off what I know and anyone tell me if anything rings bells or is familiar, Okay?”
“Here goes.” Mary stared at a computer screen and read the data. “I’m 22, born in 1926. I remember a considerable amount of my life and so will you in a short time…”
“No questions. Later. Jim was born in 1936 and is 23 years old. Norma Jeane was born in 1916 and is 32.”
“Old gal,” Mark joked, looked at her and sweetly smiled.
NJ returned the smile with affection. “I can remember bits and pieces…of planet Earth.”
“Okay, what do we have here?” Mary continued. “Janey was born in…”“Jayne,”
the little girl ‘Marilyn’ insisted, adamantly.
“Okay, Jayne. You were born in 1936 and little Rocky…”
“Sorry.” Mary went on and said, “Rocky was born in ’46, which makes him 13 and Jayne is 12 years old.”
“I knew I wasn’t 10,” Rocky said calmly.
Captain read more off the screen in front of her. “I also know the gals were taken in ‘48 and for some reason the guys were taken in 1959.”
“Wonder why that was?” Jim asked his Mare as they placed ‘all kidding’ aside.
She suggested, “Well, they weren’t random. Odds are high it worked this way with seven out of seven.”
Jim was curious. “Maybe they were interested in abducting girls one year and then grew tired of them, ah, and then…wanted boys
another year? I dunno.”
Rocky expressed his heart and looked at the three girls. “Hey. Can ya blame them, whoever they are…for taking you three sistas to the stars?”
The Captain corrected him and informed the others: “We’re not sisters.”
“You’re not?” Rocky and others were confused.
Jim asked sincerely, “Who saved us?”
“Not who gathered us. Who got us outta jail? Who revived you, Cap, and who ah (looked around)…seems to be, ah…watchin’ us now, eh?” Jim winked. “Sight unseen?”
Mary glared at the 7th
Pod and attracted the attention of Mark.
Mark walked over to it and commented, “We have a seventh
little Indian, boys and girls. Hmm. You think this one did it?” he asked Mary.
The Captain’s face was very fearful and tense and then she relaxed it. “Yes and no.
Born in 1923; she would have been 25 at abduction…”
Rocky spoke without much thought. “She? Another girl should be here? Great.”
Jayne turned to him and did a ‘slow burn.’
“Heeey. The more the merrier.”
Jim said, “That woulda been a real monkey wrench.”
Mary divulged a shred from their passed lives on Earth. “I remember her. Her name was Bettie Page.”
Mark recalled and smiled and said, “Pin-up girl; she was something.”
Jim also remembered a portion. “Brunette. Yeah…bangs,
huh. But, kid?” He turned to his dream girl. “I saw terror on your face for a second, explain.”
Mary said in a whisper, “She’s dark, possessed. The computer told me.”
Captain continued softly with, “But there’s an ‘angelic’ side to her too. Maybe she’s our saving grace and Ghost in the Machine? Two in one.” She bit her lip.
Jim scratched his head and then shook it a bit. He was pleased to be under the protection of some type of ‘angel,’ good or bad.
“What a black rose,” Mark expressed and marveled at Bettie’s beauty again.
Mary quickly replied, “Funny you said that, Mark. I was just about to mention the flowers and star designations and what this is all about.”
Rocky responded, “Finally! Bottom line! I like this girl,
yo’ know what I mean, Jim?”
Jim asked his lover a serious question. “You said star designations,
Professor? I mean, Captain.”
The Captain suggested, “Maybe you should find a place to sit, because this will floor you guys.”
They did and their leader was ready to transfer to the crew what the computer told her.
“Love to learn
the way-out stuff, yo’ know what I mean, Rocky?” Jim imitated the boy and received a few giggles.
Mary inhaled and stated, “‘Star designations’ refer to whom or what ‘Cosmic Consortium’ bought us
in our stellar neighborhood. We were given flower names; we became models,
probably like butterfly specimens to a collector…”
Immature Rocky was ready to interrupt.
Mark caught it and sternly told him, “Don’t interrupt.”
No one did.
kidnapped us and have a process to duplicate us; that’s why we’re not sisters. They sell us
, like to the highest bidder!”
“Slavery,” Mark whispered.
“But there was a big problem…”
“…They can’t…hm, trying to say it so you understand: We run out
…we get used, used up and no good anymore to them, ah, and we can’t
be replicated, like bad copies.”
“This is the hard part to believe…”
Most of the crew laughed loudly,
except for Rocky who was stunned.“They go through time;
it’s what happens when Greys and Lizards and Tall Whites and others are involved…”
Jim expressed, “What a trip, man.”
The Captain explained further. “Look at my duplicates here…”
“Ya,” said the young boy.
“Apparently my model was, ah…very famous
…and the first to get used up, I mean from the original they had.”
“Understandable,” Jim remarked and smirked.
Mark nodded and sighed with a hand gesture.
Mary said, “They could go to other points in time or reality and snatch what they considered another ‘Marilyn.’ My younger and older look-alikes here are from totally different universes.”
Jim excitedly shouted, “Collect the whole set!”
“Yeah, I misspoke earlier. We were all taken from one universe in time except for my duplicates. The ‘Archon’ aliens they’re called had to go elsewhere. I was never a redhead or brunette, folks. That’s not hair dye.”
“Love it!” Jim stood up and pantomimed as if he had a lasso and twirled it a few times.
Some of the other crew members got to their feet.
Norma Jeane spoke as if more information was clearer through the haze. “I remember the First World War shown on live television.”
Mark Brando furrowed his forehead. He thought of, “I remember…December 7th.”
More data streamed to them since each were psychically
tuned to the spaceship’s computer and would completely remember who they once were in time. The other two Marilyns had distinctly different Earth histories to tell the others.
Jim moved closer to his dream girl and smiled again. He tilted his head and bizarrely stared. He suddenly recognized her
as if for the very first time. He slapped his knee.
She twisted her head and raised her blonde eyebrows. “What?”
Jim semi-screamed as a ‘Misfit’ who only now put the pieces together; Love was
She laughed and replied with a blown kiss. “In the flesh; well, one of them anyway.” She shimmied her top and her breasts swayed from side to side inside the silver suit.
A few remembered Marilyn. Soon their real Hollywood lives would flashback in vivid detail and each would be able to recall the sordid things in their past and the tremendous things.
“I still don’t, ah…understand…” Before Brando launched into more of ‘the Method,’ he decided to simply say it. “I remember the young actor. I remember this Stallone kid, here; has potential…”
“Who?” Rocky Rambo asked.
“YOU, ya big dummy.” Marlon returned to his question. “But you said the guys came from same universe, right?”
The Marilyn made Captain agreed.
“Mary, I remember him older. Doesn’t make sense; help me understand,” Marlon sincerely asked the leader.
She answered correctly, “We were replaced
…and controlled…and owned.”
Dean howled at the Moon, wherever it was.
Soon to be Sylvester expressed, “I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.”
Brando was quick and slapped him with, “You are.” He then put his arm around the quiet Norma Jeane. She was
out of this world.
Jayne stared innocently and blankly beyond the curved, white walls and far from the little lights and machines that she did not comprehend. The freckle faced, sweet redhead asked a profound question for her age: “Where’re we goin’?”
Much later, James Dean heard another extremely deep and provocative question from his
Marilyn Monroe when they were once again alone. She wondered, “Did we dream?
When we were locked in our chambers and asleep? I think we did. What do you
think, Jim?” It was the first puzzled look on Mare Monroe’s face.
Jim kissed her, laughed and said, “I never want to sleep again.”
Inside another (720p) alternate universe, Chris Vega was a cowboy.
In another world, he was a tormented Hollywood actor…
…And in another: a near-sighted scientist with glasses.
Probably the one realm he enjoyed the most and brought him the greatest happiness was the life as a racecar driver. Christano was never a professional in this particular ‘story’ he adored. He rode fast cars, safely. What made his ‘fast lane’ life so lusciously exciting and fun
was the passenger who rode ‘shotgun’ on his cross-country travels.
She was Violet or Marilyn or Rose Loomis or any number of ‘loves’ who had stolen the shy Rebel’s heart. Her blonde hair contained a few light brown streaks, which only made the girl absolutely real.
They were happy. Sunglasses and big smiles were on both faces. They were off to ‘see the Wizard’ at Giant Niagara Falls, East of Eden…I don’t know, “Third base.”
Bright, morning sunlight enhanced the widescreen, letterbox, Technicolor setting or time-reality where an easy,
yellow-bricked road stretched endlessly to the big horizon.
The young couple turned behind them and laughed for the cameras.
Chris Vega or James Dean or Cal Trask floored the loud, white Porsche Spyder and it blasted off at high-speed into the far distance under a spectacular, silver sky.
~ end ~Copyright 2015 Tray Samuel Caladan
~ Reasons for certain things placed in ‘Violet’ ~
- ~ Violet’s first entrance into Vega’s office mimics her early, walk-on role in the film ‘Love Happy’ with Groucho Marx. Groucho’s word ‘understand’ was changed to ‘imagine.’
- ~ With all 3 ‘Marilyns’ who appeared before the Detective, we have the ‘3 Faces of Eve’ (mentioned later) and all in one; or are there 3 different girls? Each had to look, sound and act distinctly different. Good job, MM.
- ~ The Lily persona was taken from strong female characters in old films where the dialogue was fast and furious.
- ~ Town of Cholame was not on way to LAX, but where real Dean crashed his Porsche Spyder and died. In the story, it was where Rose Teegarden was killed.
- ~ Einstein’s character was named Professor Jaffe for Sam Jaffe who played an Einstein-like role in the film ‘The Day the Earth Stood Still.’
- ~ Idea of a Dream was said by Violet & Zin to Vin, which was what reality was.
- ~ ‘Hargitay’ refers to Mickey Hargitay, Jayne Mansfield’s husband who was not fat. 12-year old MM redhead must have admired Jayne by taking her name.
- ~ We have many parallels between JFK & FDR (only presidents known by 3 letters), each with a war crisis and then throw in Lincoln for more parallels. Chris names off great men of peace (Jesus stated earlier) and weirdness of calling Roosevelt “Mr. Kennedy” when WE know the image is OUR JFK. Weird & cool!
- ~ Viewers see how hard it was for characters to remember their own names: Sly did not remember ‘Sylvester’ and went elsewhere. Brando misinterpreted Marlon for ‘Mark.’ Dean and NJ got it right and main Marilyn (Captain) went with ‘Mary.’ When Sly named names, he referred to the Duke (Marion) & Arnold and when he said “Byron,” Jim frowned. Dean’s middle name was ‘Byron.’
- ~ The overall strangeness of the world ‘Violet’ presents is that the U.S. President decided to take time off and do a film with some big stars, his friends: MM, Brando, James Dean and even young actor Sly Stallone. During credits, there’s Jack Kennedy and others flubbing their lines and giggling and we see the ‘reality’ behind the scenes during the shooting of ‘Violet.’
- ~ The fact that we get to see the real James Dean and the real Marilyn Monroe find each other and live happily in more than one reality [but not in Detective-reality]…is something EVERYONE wants to see ~ also talking about cinematic audiences off-Earth ~
2015 Tray Samuel CaladanThanks to Tray for sharing his work here