Saturday Delivery

"Freedom of speech is circling the abyss of extinction. What we say is being censored today, but what if there comes a day, where speech is dictated? If you speak out of line, you will face hefty fees and possible jail time. Television shows and movies will have to stick to the required script. The power of music will be controlled, and the airwaves won't tell of rebellion or pain. We would find ourselves contained, voiceless, and marching forward into that damn abyss."

"Very good, James, but was it necessary to slip in the word, damn?"

Snickers raced through the crowded classroom. Feet scuffed across the floor. Hands tossed pens back and forth while a few held tight to their reports. Eyes darted left to right, hoping not to be called next, and chairs squeaked as its occupant sat back. And James sprinted toward the middle aisle and plopped down before his small desk.

Professor Terone glanced at the clock held behind bars. Its ticking rung inside his ears, and his gaze shifted to the sea of faces before him. Muffled voices wandered past the closed, wooden door, and a comment made him frown and shake his head. And he wondered what the world would be like in the hands of this generation. "Who wants to go next? We have time for one last person."

A sigh of relief rippled through the classroom. The ones not holding their reports sat back in ease with grins dangling from their faces. Everyone else remained tense, silently whispering not to be picked, but if nobody volunteered soon, he would choose someone to stand and approach the firing squad. And as he moved away from his desk, ready to select a student, a small hand lifted up into the air.

"I'll go."

"David? You actually did your assignment?" Another snicker rippled through the classroom. "I'm impressed." David stared at the report in his hands. "Okay. Come up, and read your report."

"It was eight a.m. on a Saturday morning, and there was a soft knock at the front door..."

"What is this? Story time?"

"Andrew, you can read first tomorrow." The students surrounding him broke out into laughter. "David, please continue."

"I opened the door to see my next door neighbor. He held a small package in his hands and said he found it on his lawn, but it was addressed to me. I thanked him for bringing it over and carried it to my room. It had strange wrapping, paper I've never seen before, and I slowly opened it. It was a book. A book about me." His eyes scanned the faces before him. "This book would not be printed for another twenty or so years, but it was my life's story. It read of my mistakes and my accomplishments, things that I never imagined possible, but why or how was this sent to me? What do I do with this knowledge?"

"That's a great story, David, but I don't see how that affects this Social Studies class."

"The topic of the report was our history and our future." The teacher nodded. "Let me continue." A few students laughed at his words. "What if you knew the life that you were going to live? What if you were going to change the future? What if you awoke one day to find yourself the most wanted person in this world, forever heinous for an act not yet committed? Would you use your history to change your future? Would you create a different life, avoiding the mistakes that you might have once made? Would your knowledge of what's to come be your greatest asset or a deadly tool in altering time?" He glanced at the teacher. "I'm done."

"You're talking about a paradox." A kid with thick glasses looked his way. "You can't alter the timelines without the risk of erasing one or both. Such knowledge especially in the wrong hands would throw the entire universe off."

"But what if you were going to do something wrong, something unforgiveable? Wouldn't you want to change that?"

"Maybe, David, but some things aren't meant to be changed." The teacher glanced at his watch. "Thank you for that interesting report."

"But what if you could kill Hitler, save Lennon, or warn of 9/11? Wouldn't you save lives?"

"But what would become of us?" One girl shook her head. "I think that history should be left alone. The more you disturb it, the more you alter your future, your life, and what happens to those, whose lives that you change? What if their time to die is altered, and someone, maybe many die instead? You can't play God."

"But if you could go back in time and change one thing, would you?"

A hush fell over those before him. Some shook their heads, but others slowly nodded in agreement. Eyes shined with wonder while others darkened with doubt, and curiosity tugged at their minds. And the ticking of the clock echoed throughout the room.

"Thank you, David." The teacher watched him return to his seat. "Okay. Those that did not read today or forgot their reports will go tomorrow." A moan rose up from the students before him. "Don't make me hold a pop quiz on chapter twelve," he warned.

A hard kick under his seat made David turn around and glare at the ogre sitting behind him. A slick comment tried to dig into his nerves, but he ignored it. And the large boy kicked his chair again, knocking his book bag over, and spilling its contents onto the floor, and David cursed under his breath. And a look of satisfaction shined across the bully's face

"Andrew," he hissed. "You can be such a bully."

The teacher hardly noticed what took place as he shuffled papers behind his desk. A few students looked his way, and others snickered and grinned. And nobody offered to help David gather the items that now decorated the floor beneath his chair, and he slowly bent down and began to move everything back into his book bag.

A small, blue book slid against the chair across from him. Shiny, black words decorated its cover. A name rose up into view, and the girl sitting in that seat bent down and picked up the book. And her eyes moved from it to David.

"David, was that story true?"

A loud buzzer bombarded the room. Students jumped out of their seat, and footsteps thundered out into the corridor. Loud voices and laughter swung through the air, but two people remained, silently staring at the other. And David snatched the book out of her hands.

"Was it true?" The teacher now looked at them. "David?"

"Don't worry about it." He moved away from her. "I won't affect your life." He glanced at the teacher, who stared curiously at him. "I know what to do."

The ticking of the clock bit deep into silence. Fear trickled down the walls of youth, and heavy, wooden doors closed on innocence. Time paused beside a locker, debating its next move, and strangers wandered by, blind to their fate. But as the sea of students parted, one remained, walking with purpose down the hall.