Me in the Superhuman World:
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Superhuman World 2011 is a work of fiction. The characters herein and the commentary about them should not be considered "real".
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Time Bounce

Part 2: 1971

Commentator: Wyatt Ferguson.

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What Has Gone Before: Wyatt was displaced from 2011's Washington-DC to the year 2014. There he found Charlie Sheen had become Vice-President. The demon-genie Vesper had been summoned to make that universe Never Was, but he needed a Witness. Wyatt refused to participate, so Vesper cast him back to 1971.

Previous Story:

Monday 12 April 1971

I have to write in a diary now. Like King's Mountain in 1780. ( But at least Mom gave me a diary. Doctor said it would help me express myself. Now I will, Mom.

This is Clermont, Indiana. My old life. Worse than King's Mountain.

Calvin shoves me around and calls me Retard. Big brothers always do that. Lauren makes Calvin leave me be. But he's right. I'm in my almost ten-year-old body. I have a big fat ass, I have to wear glasses with one red lens for Lazy Eye Syndrome, and it's hard to move my arms.

Writing is hard now. No more today.

14 April

Moving my arms is exercise. They burn the day after. My brain just gets tired.

Kids shove me at school. Like they used to. One said, "Give the 'tard the test answers! Maybe he'll pass!" Now I don't want to.

16 April

I skipped school on test day. Wasn't hard to tell Mom I was sick.

Principal summoned me today. He heard I had test answers. I showed him and said, "Give me a new test!"

Saturday 17 April

Weekends I can rest. I hide in the attic with my diary. I always wanted to see up there. I never dared.

Do people miss me in 2011? I hope so.

18 April

Mom drags us all to church, even Dad. Big wooden pew. I'd relax, but Calvin pokes me. I poke him back. Minister stopped. Outside church, Dad spanks us both. No family-friendly church in 1971.

Then big family dinner. Sunday not rest day.

19 April

Need to write Mondays for exercise. I want day of rest. Blah.

Mom says I'm so motivated now, I should address bums at city rescue mission. Whatever.

Tuesday 20 April

Principal calls me to office again. Not mad, though. Says I'm doing great and Mom says so too. I say, Whatever. Can I leave 1971 yet?

Principal says, only by growing up. I say, Okay. Check your finances. Recession in 1974.

Then back to classroom. Kids still shove me. Whatever.

21 April

Writing day. Whatever.

Thursday 22 April

I write better after day of brain rest. Arms better now too. I shoved back today, like with Calvin on Sunday. Kids so surprised they leave me alone.

Not much else to write about. Grade school always sucked.

Saturday 24 April

Good Saturday. Walked to swings at grade school. People don't care where kids go in 1971. Most kids go to park instead of our Township Public School #4.

Tried to pump swings. Arms still barely write, let alone pump. Legs let me swing, though. Whee. Then sat and wrote. At least I can write now.

Can people find me from 2011? Here I am!

... Maybe they're trying. Saw a black girl look at me funny. No one I know. No black girls in Clermont in 1971. I was too scared to go talk to her. She was older, and even girls my age can beat me up now. I left. She followed. I ran. Made it "downtown". By then, people looking at her funny. She gave up.

Did I just lose my ride? Or if someone does come back for me, will it be my friends?

Sunday 25 April

Dad's working overtime at the GM plant. So Mom takes the rest of us shopping. Sunday dinner just got worse.

And I'm blah today. At one point, I fall asleep on a mattress at J.C. Penney. Mom says Aww, Cute. Calvin whacks me later. Aww, famlee.

Monday 26 April

I got in trouble. Calvin wouldn't let me watch TV in the dining room because he was playing with plastic soldiers on the table. So I dragged TV cart in the kitchen. Some of Mom's glassware fell off the cart. Rollable TV cart... Mom? I hope future isn't going to hell while I worry about important glassware of 1971.

Tuesday 27 April

Blah. My brain will let me write and do school stuff, but I tire. During school playground time, Mrs. Henderson caught me trying to sleep behind a bush. She sent me to school nurse. I told nurse I was thinking extra hard lately. Nurse said I was fine. I had to go back to class and sit in corner. No special students in Clermont in 1971.

Wednesday 28 April

Enough. I need to try to leave this hell. Who can help me? Most heroes of 2011 are younger than me. Ellipsis barely born!

One big exception: Lucianus Autonomus. Height of his boxing career in 1971. (

I could write a fan letter like any kid, but I can't just look up his address. I do the Cute Kid thing to ask Mom. She says, check the library.

Teacher probably no help. Won't even ask.

Friday 30 April

I ride my little bike to county public library after school. Bike still has training wheels! Because parents know I'm still special. And not ridden for months. But now I can find air pump and get tires working. Until now I never went farther than around the block. This is three miles. And it's scary. No helmets or bike mirrors in 1971! But I have to do it.

Librarians totally cool with polite little kid who's a fan of famous boxer. I get address of fan club. Important letter to write tomorrow.

Outside library, bike missing! No bike racks or locks in 1971! Librarian said, black girl peeked inside, then left. (Enemy action!) Librarian called police, then called Mom.

I got grounded. Fine, I think. Just one letter to get out. And I know where Mom keeps the envelopes and stamps. Odd to lick the stamp...

Saturday 1 May

I should be blah. But Saturday is my special day here. I won't give it up.

Wish I could make a copy of my letter to Lucianus. No photocopies for kids in 1971. But I asked him if he worried about 2011, because I did too. Worrying about the future was becoming cool in 1971.

I ran for mailbox while Mom wasn't looking. Left diary behind. Back home, Mom scolded, "Wyatt Patrick Ferguson!"

"But Mom, letter! Just a letter!"

"Young man, we need to talk." Harsh Mom voice.

Mom read my diary. She thinks I'm fantasizing. Which isn't bad, but I can't go losing my bike over it. But Mom... Then I was a bad boy and went to the mailbox one block away. But Mom... And my diary has swear words in it now! Young man, you've crossed the line.

Huh? Which word? Hell, young man. Hell is a swear word, Mom? I thought hell was 1971... Mom spanks me.

Okay... Mommy, I promise not to write swear words in my diary ever again. Okay, young man.

... This must be the exact day Mom stopped thinking I was cute. ( )

Monday 3 May

6th-graders found me after my 4th-grade school. Pick On The Weird Guy Day again... They found a basement to hide in and smoke cigarettes! Uh, why? Because it's cool. So I said, $&^% that. They let me walk once I used that word.

Mommy, I'm keeping my promise to not write swear words in my diary. So there.

It's Calvin's birthday. He gets his favorite dinner: cheeseburgers, about quarter-pound, with nothing but gray meat inside. No medium-rare in 1971, especially not with Mom.

Wednesday 5 May

Still waiting for a response from Lucianus. Hey, this reminds me of when Calvin hooked me on mail-order war games and I'd wait for the UPS truck. In 1974. Hmmm...

I take two sheets of Dad's computer paper. I draw a crude map of the eastern U.S. on them. Then I swipe Calvin's soldiers. Before long, he finds out. But by then, I'm recreating the Civil War.

Heh heh.

Friday 7 May

I watch the nightly news. There must be some war. I have enemy action of my own, and I need inspiration.

In the news, a Marine brigade in Vietnam is deactivating... Oh, right. Vietnam.

I'd like to deactivate too. But like the Marines, I'll have to get home first. And whoever my grand cosmic enemies are, I'll have to get clear of local enemies first.

Saturday 8 May

So far, enemy action from one black girl. Only on weekends. She must be in school too. She must be on an agenda like I am.

She took my bike. But I can still walk. And I can call the police. Even from Mom's phone. No 911 in 1971, but I can look up the police number, and I can say I'm tattling on friends with spraypaint. Police should respond sometime, but still give me enough time to do what I need...

Only a few blocks to the oil refinery just out of town. I sit on one of the steps spiraling up a drum. Nothing to stop me in 1971. Of course, I'm followed.

I know the girl. About fifteen years old. I just ask, "2011?"

"No! 2009!"

"Okay... How?"


"That's Why. Exactly How?"

"I had someone cast you back here. Me too. So I could kill you."

"But I went to 2014 first."

"But you're here now. That's all I need."

"Exactly Why?"

"You turned my son from me! You and Corrigan!"


"You forget the Oregon Highway Incident?"

"... 2009?" I remember everything, but I often lose track when.

"Last year, dammit!"

"Which is... 1970?"

"The Twenty-Fifth of July 2008, asshole!"

"Oh. The Devil's War that year." (

"What you mean, that year?"

I would have crossed my arms, but they still don't move that well. So I just shrugged. "Your son went on another rampage the day after I met him. Vice-President Corrigan was there."

"What you mean, Vice-President Corrigan?"

"You'll have to get back to the future to find out. If you get there and you still serve the Devil, he's found six better servants." (

"Liar! I'll choke you dead!"

She crashed into me. But my arms worked well enough to save my throat.

Then a police car pulled up.

She said, "No! I'll go back! I'll see you dead then!" Then she was quiet, her body still on top of me as police came.


Police said it was just a girl from Indianapolis. Her boyfriend had dropped her off for a walk. They got her address. But I never got my bike back. Boyfriend probably sold it by then.

Mom said I'd been bad again. But Dad was there. He said I'd been a real Ferguson boy for once.

Enough Ferguson boy for one day. I melted into Mommy's arms. Waaah!

Sunday 9 May

Grocery shopping on Sunday again. I get separated from Mom, and start bawling.

Wow. Maybe I'm a real Ferg now, but I'm not stable at all. Waaah!

Monday 10 May

Calvin's Cub Scout troop has its den meeting tonight. They're going to build a cardboard tent for a fundraising stunt, to stand alongside a real Boy Scout tent to show the difference... Hmm, pretty inventive for 1971. I promise to tag along nicely. Calvin whacks me. Waaah... Oh, whatever.

Tuesday 11 May

Mom's won a shopping spree at J.C. Penney! She insists on replacing all of Calvin's pants except his best pair. I'll get his old pants. I always do. The staff there gives us all free ice water. Golly.

Thursday 13 May 1971:

Principal called me to office again. Lucianus Autonomus had sent a letter to me! But he'd sent it to my school, for the principal to read...

"Young Mister Ferguson, I can tell you're special. Your letter has made me think about the future. I know you think about the future too. Your spirit can go there now. I hope to meet you there."

I said, "What? That's it?"

Principal said, "It's unusual he'd send you this mail at all. And he found your school, so someone could know he sent it to you."

"So... what?"

"So What, Wyatt? You've just gotten a personal response from a famous boxer, and everyone knows it, and you say So What?"

Uh... He's right. I tried to free myself, and I got a response from the universe! This must mean something.

Lucianus became a mystic around 1971! Maybe he'd just gotten his message from the future! Maybe I'd just caused that!

So maybe this letter had a pointer to the future embedded within it. As a software engineer, I can track down embedded stuff. Once I find it, I can go home via Hyper-Body Hyper-Transfer Protocol. I'd transferred that way into this body, against my will. I had a way out now. But it wasn't, blink your eyes and you're back...

I did my best Lost Little Boy impression. "You must be right, Mister Bainbridge. This letter is important. Can I think about it for a while?"

"Not here, Wyatt. You have duties as a student. You have to go back to class now... But Wyatt, you are special just because you worry about the future. You know how bad it could be if we don't fix it now."

"Uh, yeah... So can I get some time to worry about the future? Like, today?"

"What do you mean, 'like'? But I can make you stay after school today."


"Are we buying things, young man?"

"Sorry, sir..."


After school I got privacy, in the school gym. I moved up on the stage, where people give convocations. There I found a teacher chair, and thought.

I had a letter from someone of 1971, who had 2011 contact... Good enough. I could just fling myself back that way, and probably make it. I'm ready to. But if I do, what happens to me back here? The black girl was practically lobotomized when her future self went back.

Now I have to think about the Hyper-Body Hyper-Transfer Protocol, or HBHTP. It always makes my brain hurt. ( )

Plain old Body Hyper-Transfer Protocol will get me home - in my ten-year-old body. Just Hyper-BHTP will get my spirit home to my regular body - if it still exists there. I'll take that chance. But my ten-year-old-self will have to come too. I don't know any variation of HBHTP which divides the travelers once they're merged. I have divided myself before - but only when I had cosmic power. Which led to the Chancellor Wyatt. ( )

Can I leave a copy behind? I'm messing with the past if I lobotomize my younger self. I'll try not to... but if I have to choose, 1971 is on its own. So I'm going...


Principal Bainbridge says, "Time to go home, Wyatt."

"He's gone."

"Who's gone?"

"Uh... I don't know. Can I go home now?"

"... Are you all right, Wyatt?"

"I guess. As good as ever."

I'm going home to Mom and Dad. I love the future, but I know I'll only get there the usual way now.

But I still have my diary. I know Mom will read it again. But maybe other people will read it some day too.

Author's Notes:

Phew. Writing my favorite character who now inhabits a body whose brain is untrained and whose body hates writing, is hard - at least at first. This is getting to be like "Flowers for Algernon". I am intentionally not correcting my mixed tenses, by the way.

There's one advantage: the writer eventually redevelops nearly the full writing powers of Wyatt Ferguson. But there's one drawback: he still has the life of a child. If Wyatt has to live through it, the reader does too. Fear Wyatt's Diary!

To do this story right, I had to figure out what days were what in 1971. For instance, was 18 April really a school day on which I could take a test? No, but 15 April was. An online calendar from helped.

It is important to the plot that Clermont, Indiana have a public library within about three miles in 1971, no matter what size. It doesn't have one now - but given modern-day budget cutbacks, that doesn't say much about the past. So I've assumed a library where I needed it.

Wyatt Ferguson has family details at . Remember, Wyatt's family is fictional and not necessarily like my family.

Wyatt might always have been a manic-depressive on a two-day cycle. Here we find out how he learned to fit that in a seven-day week.

I won't comment on how much of the story was like real life. But some parts that weren't actually made me cry. Waaah! Perhaps it is not my role to say, but I was proud of my Britannia Beach story (, and I might have just written better now.

For those of you who would for some reason like to visit the 1970s or bring the Good Old Days back, I hope I've given you an impression of the real thing.

As ever, this story is online. You may want to navigate there through to get the full power of web site formatting.

Crusher Joe Corrigan is a character created by Joe Fucile. All other characters herein are copyright 2011 by Eiler Technical Enterprises.

(signed) Scott Eiler, 27 Aug 2011.


Various characters in this fiction may have been created by various people. These are noted in credits where already claimed. But absent claims from these people, all characters in this fiction and the phrase "Superhuman World 2011" are copyright © 2011 - present by Eiler Technical Enterprises.