The dreamscape in which he found himself this time was just as real as before but Justice didn’t buy it at all this time. At least, this time, it was someone he knew. “Man, I can’t believe we gotta go to the front tomorrow, Justice. Can you believe this shit?” Justice was back in time, back in his days as a soldier, after leaving home but before any crazy scientist or smart-mouthed kid were giving him grief. “You scared? I’m scared. Gonna fill a damn flask and keep it with me in the fight.” It was skinny, ginger Smitty.

“Uh … yeah!” and Justice looked around. “Can’t believe we’re … in … uh…?”

“I know! We’re so close to New York and your folks. Y’know, you could just run. I doubt those turncoat rebels would ever make it to New York from here.”

“Oh, shit. I’m in Pennsylvania. The camp cantina.” Clearing his throat, Justice tossed his whiskey double back in one swallow. “Well, hell, if I’m back in the shit again; may as well have a little fun. Where’s that whore what got me hooked back in the day?”

On cue, like magic, there she was; the cleanest whore this side of the Canadian ballet. Red, frilly, overflowing front lumps barely contained by five pounds of whalebone. “Well, hello there soldier” she said in a brassy voice. Up close and personal, she looked unusually free of Herpes, not a single herp anywhere, and the scent! Pure floral arrangement covering up the stink of humanity. People really do stink, y’know. He stinks, she stinks, you stink, we all stink. Cram enough flowers in enough places though and it’s not so bad for a little while.

“Oh wow … Jane. Wait, was that the name?” Justice was still sorting through things.

“It’s whatever you want it to be, soldier boy.” Weird. You’d think she’d be more bothered by such a weird question. “I’m here for you.” He was trying so hard to believe in the fantasy.

“Or was it Dolly? Man, hold up, is this time travel or what?” Her hair color changed. That’s probably normal.

Jolly started to get rankled at this “Christ! Are you gonna kiss me or not?” No, wait, that's just the first two names put together. Gina?

Whatever her name was, Justice was caring less and less. “Yer damned straight I am ya rose-petal-stuffed bitch.” and he kissed her just like he did before; clumsily, with too much force and while squeezing the air out of her.

Yeah, that Jolly, she was the only lady came back for seconds with Justice; the rest all claimed the bruises were just a little too much. Jolly just liked him. Or maybe just his money? Whatever. “Subject is … licking the glass for some reason.” Jolly inflated Justice’s mouth with her strange choice of words. “Perhaps related to excess exposure to high voltage? Is it possible to shock a human being too much?” Justice’s head inflated into a balloon-like shape.

Jolly’s lips were suddenly very cold, her waist too slim to hold and she fell away, having deflated as she inflated Justice. For his part Justice fell forward, collapsing into the glass wall with some force, his body going limp with the realization that he was still alone in a tube like a mouse in Doc Black’s lab, somehow in two places at once. “Chronal Duplication” he’d called it. Those mice exploded. Justice remembered far too much from a stoned Doc jabbering as he tried to fall asleep in the cave. But, wait, reality was calling. “Oh… Shit…” muttered Justice.

“Subject expressing desire … to excrete, I believe. Translation unclear. You there, if you’re rational enough to finally converse, are you in need of facilities? A toilet can be provided to gather samples, I mean, rather … you know what I’m just going to stick with samples.”

“Aw man … this is real. That other shit … not real?” Okay, the fantasy wasn’t very convincing but still the big man was crestfallen. Having already fallen into a crumpled heap, Justice finished collapsing into a very flat position on the sterile floor.

“Ah. Pejorative. So not facilities. Understood. No worries; the translator is adapting albeit slowly.” The squid man was far too engaged for a human man who’d had no coffee yet in this universe. In short he found the squid annoying.

“What the hell, man? I mean, what is all this? What even are you?” Motivation utterly lacking Justice didn’t tense his chest to project his words, let alone using any other muscles.

Nodding in a tentacle-flopping fashion, Ran’tical put away his datapad. “Good questions all. Again, I’m a C’thulate. As a Terran I believe you’re likely to call my kind an ‘alien’ or possibly ‘space alien’. For the rest of it … to recap, I brought you here to … a space station? Like, uh, a man-made island but in space? Does this translate? You were ejected by a small craft, luckily, in near-orbit, relative to my little outpost here.”

“Okay, yeah, space. I remember space. How … how are we even talkin’ right now?” Justice rolled to his back to better clutch his hurting head in his calloused hands.

“Well, you see, you were hysterical for whatever reason (my computer suggests brain trauma but I have my doubts) and so, through a few dozen applications of electroshock therapy I was able to dull your fear center. Ah … what is the part of the human brain called? Amygdala.” It wasn’t entirely obvious but, boy, did it look like Ran’tical was smiling. At least his tentacles pulled back a little to expose the tip of a ragged beak.

“I … I just meant how am I alive?” Brow knitting in anger, Justice propped himself up on one elbow, meaty mitt clenching into a fierce fist. “You been shockin’ me? My brain!?”

“Yes. It was very effective.”

“How long you been doin’ this!?”

“Good question again. Ah…” querying his datapad Ran’tical quickly found the answer. “You have been here for, wait, you wouldn’t know that time unit. Here we are; forty-three hours.”

“That’s almost two days! You been shockin’ me for two fuckin’ days!”

“Oh, pejorative.”

“I should be so mad… Why … why ain’t I mad?”

“Good question.”

“Stop saying that.”

“But it is. The amygdala again. Fear and anger are very closely related, especially in Terran vertebrates.”

Heart beating at a steady pace, blood pressure nominal, Justice looked at his oddly steady hands in wonder. “So … you, basically tortured me, but you did it in a way that would make me okay with it?”

“That’s one way of looking at it, yes.” Ran’tical entered some data into his pad. Justice didn’t want to hurt him but he did want to want to hurt him, which he knew should be frustrating, but wasn’t.

Justice blinked. Once. Twice. Five in total. “Well, don't ain’t that some shit.”

“Idiom detected, pejorative embedded, meaning unclear. Since you now appear calm and the quarantine period has elapsed. Would you like to join your companion in the mess?”

“Mess? Hell yes! Aw, man, feels like I ain’t had vittles in a hundred years.”

“Well, if your story is to be believed, it’s been much longer than that.”

“Longer?” Justice asked. This should be shocking but wasn’t.

“Yes. Approximately four-hundred and eighty years.” said Ran’tical without any sense of enormity. It was just a number ot him.

In fact it wasn’t a big deal to anyone in the room! The tube lifted with a “whoosh” and Justice stepped out. “Lead the way, Rant.”

“Uh, that’s Ran’tical. I’m surprised you remember it enough even to get it wrong.” The pair exited the lab area.

“Oh, no, I remember it right. It’s just I don’t wanna twist my tongue into a pretzel sayin’ that shit. Rant’s good enough, right?” The station wasn’t actually that big and the mess loomed very close indeed, two doors down the narrow hallway of the station.

“Well when the nameless come to swallow all life and sanity you can ask them” Rant muttered.

“What was that?” Justice heard but assumed the translator was having an issue.

“Nothing. Here we are and there is your friend.” he said cheerfully.

Inside the mess, covered in a few gallons of food scraps and sauce was poor old Gentle Glen. “Gronk!” he gronked, excitedly, trying to stand but collapsing on the table in a clear fit of nausea.

“Glen!? Wait, you let the bear out before me!?” This was almost surprising. Unexpected for sure.

“He was more in control of his faculties than you were.” Man, this squid guy sure was earnest. Some might say annoying.

“And … what’d you do to him!? He can’t even move!” Justice started to feel real concern in spite of his electroshock therapy. The bear was like his own son, after all.

“Oh, no, he’s done that to himself I’m afraid. He’s been in the mess for … a day, that’s the word. One Terran day. His fingertips being covered in natural knives he’s been mashing his snout into the touch interface, seemingly with very little concern about what comes out of the food fabricator, and eating everything that does. I think he may have a problem with portioning.”

“‘More in control’ my ass.” Justice said in annoyance.

“Ass. Another Terran vertebrate?”

“You … he, wait, no, don’t you get it? He’s an animal!”

“Animal?” Rant blurted, blinking repeatedly.

“How was he not getting that word? Should be basic enough for the translator.” wondered Justice. “Yes. Y’know, he ain’t smart enough to know better.”

“But he speaks.”

Justice inhaled, finger raised in an accusing way, thought hard about his next words. “No. He … does not…?”

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“Hrram smnich!” shouted Glen, causing Justice’s eyes to become like bulging saucers while the rest of him remained frozen in place. His pointing and puckering pose would have been humorous to an onlooker familiar with humans. Not Rant though.

“The fuck was that noise just now?” In Justice’s defense it really did sound like nonsense and bears aren’t exactly known for their diction.

“Ah, well, perhaps it’s a language barrier” Rant said. “Here, let me just reconfigure my translator for … playback, put it to Terran standard.

“Ham sandwich!” the translator shouted. “Tone suggests both excitement and pain.”

“No. No, you’re just assuming that my bear is sayin’ shit because it sounds vaguely like–”

“Hrram smnich.” Glen said again, more softly, before dragging himself slowly over to the fabricator and mashing his nose into it again. Five seconds later bread and meat things started to pour out of it like from a rain spout.

“Oh. Interesting. Switching subjects.” Rant tapped his datapad a few times. “Subject selecting food items deliberately, not randomly. Correction notated … should probably … cut him off now.”

“Tell you what, Rant. He got cold. He’s a bear. Sumbitch is lookin’ forward to a good old-fashioned winter’s nap is what it is. He ain’t a cub no more, no mama’s teat to suck, so he’s doin’ whatever he can to fatten up.”

Staring Justice down in a way that probably means something but doesn’t come across, since he’s got an octopus for a face, Rant spoke slowly and softly. “Subject has caused a catastrophic error in the translator. Hard reset necessary.” Then, without a single further word, he walked away from the gibbering man and his overindulging bear.

“That dude’s gotta get him a lady squid, know what I mean Glen?” Looking over at the bear, on his side, trying to get sandwiches into his mouth using only his tongue, Justice sighed deeply.

Sensing that he should say something Glen grunted “Nn-d-ohg.” It was a clear attempt at “I don’t know”.

Secretly wondering if his pet was ruined Justice also lamented out loud. “Ah, shit, Glen, what’s happened to us, man? I kinda figured the Doc was feedin’ us a load talkin’ about spacetime this and timestream that. I just didn’t wanna die at the end of a Mormon rifle or, for that matter, with a devil in me. I was a soldier with purpose, you were a normal bear … but now look at us.”

“Hrnf.” said Glen, meaning unclear.

“Some shit is what it is…” Justice sauntered over to the fabricator, looking it up and down with some apprehension. It was about a head taller than a man, the entire front of it flashing like Doc’s control panel in the Chrono Car or the squid alien’s datapad. “Man’s gotta eat but … how’s this damn thing work anyhow?”

“Smnich!” shouted Glen, scraps of bread and meat spraying in a cone along the floor.

“Yeah, no, boy, you need to stop right now. Ain’t no hibernation for you and I ain’t touchin’ that mess you made. That was … was… Huh…” On the display screen a scrolling line of text from Glen’s last gorging. It read “ham sandwich; quantity 57”.

“That is way too much ham. Even I know that and when I make baked beans it’s more like ham in bean juice. Then again … looks like I can just tap this … eugh…” Stopping a few inches short, Justice noted all the bear slime on the machine; ham fat, snot, mayonnaise and way too much chewed food spray from the nearby megafauna. “Oh, no shit, wait, there’s a second machine.”

Determined to be smarter than a bear, Justice used the display on the ready, un-bear-marked machine and its taxonomically-inspired system to narrow his choices down. First step was planet: Terran (so Glen knew that Earth is a planet apparently), then continent, country all the way down to specifying the type of sandwich by its well-known nickname. Now a lot of these were after his time but he wound up liking his “Fiery Quesadilla Cheeseburger” quite a bit alongside a tall glass of Poke (what remained after the two biggest, and last remaining, names in the soda business merged shortly before the collapse of western capitalism. It was weird how much history a foodbox could teach a person. Kinda like having a schoolmarm who always brought cookies for the class.

Abruptly, with a whoosh of the nearby door, Rant returned. “Ah, finally, where were we? Oh! You … you figured out how to work the fabricator?”

Mouth full of delicious fire and ground beef (kinda, future food seemed a little off but whatever) Justice chewed faster so as to reply in a timely fashion. “Oh, uh, cff, sorry, yeah. I figured if a damn bear can figure it out I figured I can make it go, y’know?”

“No! Unrecognized colloquial phraseology, dammit. Okay, no … we’re fine. I thought my translator was about to crash again.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that? Translator?”

Rant raised one protruding eyebrow in surprise. “So, to be clear; you’re a caveman who understands touch interfaces but not translator technology?”

“Say what now there mugwump?” Rant grunted in fear. “Just funnin’ ya. If words’re muckin’ up that ear thing you keep pinchin’ I figured I could getcha one more good time with ‘mugwump’”.

There was a beep and flashing light coming from the translator earpiece but he ignored it. “And what is this word ‘mugwump’” Rant asked, secretly thinking it wasn’t a word at all.

“Like boss. Injun word. Good folk, Injuns. Gonna miss ‘em. Lot more than Mormons. Guess that weren’t their fault either. Possessed ‘n’ all. I … I killed Brigham Young. Man… All them folk, they’re all dead. And their daddies … and their daddies’ daddies…”

“What? No. You’re counting time backwa–nevermind. At any rate it looks like you were able to get Glen under control. Good work.”

“Oh, him?” Justice chuckled. “Yeah man, uh, I just sat one table over and his gut was so full, he went comatose halfway draggin’ himself to me.” Pointing down at the bear Justice seemed not at all concerned, even though he scarcely seemed to be breathing. Also the disgusting liquid and semisolid trail he left would require many hours of labor to clean which, luckily, was the duty of the many electrified robot arms on the station. Still; disgusting. “Boy definitely wanted my cheesy hot Mexican burger, tell you what. Probably would’ve killed him at this point though…”

“Interesting. Well, let’s review a bit more.”

“I ain’t no caveman by the way.”

“Pardon?”

“I ain’t a caveman, I’m a cowboy. I mean … I worked as a cowhand before the war.”

“Cow … boy?” Rant was clearly entering the new word into his database.

“Yeah, y’know, I worked on a ranch, movin’ the cows here to there. Keep ‘em in the best grazing, make sure they moved after trimmin’ the foliage down, take ‘em to slaughter. Saw a cowboy in the circus doin’ rope tricks when I was a kid. Wasn’t as much fun as that guy made it seem but people like cowboys and they don’t like cavemen.

“So you’ve never, say, lived in a cave for any length of time?”

Justice raised his right hand unsteadily. “Now you see here…” Strange how nobody from 19th century America had ever called Justice a caveman but everybody else did. Eh, it was probably them. Couldn’t possibly be anything he was doing.

“No matter” Rant interjected when Justice didn’t go on. “Cowboy? You’re a boy who’s part cow? Minotaur? No, wait. Give me a moment.” Rant fell silent, eyes flicking left, right, up and down frenetically. He was clearly speedreading on his datapad. “Cowboy, ranch hand, cattle drive… Ah … oh, yes, okay, now I understand. You see, you said ranch without defining what a ranch was. That word wasn’t in the database either. And this was in the 19th century AD, predating space travel for your species?”

“Yessir! Sounds like you got it.” Justice lowered his hand. “My first time in space was two days ago and I did not like it.” He chuckled.

“Well, normally you would have protective gear allowing you to exist in the vacuum of space without harm. Had I not been there you would be quite dead. Either frozen to death, irradiated to death or just suffocated.” Rant kept tapping at his pad.

“Oh. Well hell.”

“But, yes, cowboy. You were a cowboy.”

“Yes. That’s right. Last job I had was soldier, before that I was a cowboy.” Justice seemed proud of his record.

“And in what way is this different from being a caveman?” Rant was entirely serious.

Justice set his jaw and narrowed his eyes. This expression would carry menace to any humanoid not made of tentacles. “We didn’t live in caves. We had houses.”

“Ah! This is significant. So, this ‘Doctor Black’ convinces you that Terran historical figure Brigham Young is possessed and in need of exorcism.

“Well, yeah, he was … eyes were all aglow and whatnot.” Justice threw his hands up for emphasis.

“Unusual. And this is a negative, yes?” Again, earnest, not getting it.

“Uh, yeah man. He declared war on the Union and the Confederacy and … well, hell, he won, man. If I ain’t been able to assassinate the man it’s hard to say what could’ve happened.”

Rant nodded slowly, tentacles forming a tight pucker where his mouth might have been. “I see…”

“You see? See what?”

“Well, Justice, we were able to identify you, historically speaking. You are Justice Haymaker, which you were able to tell me between shockings, born June 7, 1838 AD, a Terran year. Served with honors in the Union army…”

“Yeah, okay, I … honors? Anybody who could’ve handed out honors died in the war, man. We lost.”

“This is the difficult part, Justice; the Union won. We have photographs of you, in your unit, a proper up-close portrait of you as an officer. Perfect likeness. There’s a … a death certificate, dying of old age in 1939. Shocking age of death for a human of that era…” Rant operated his datapad quickly and with purpose.

“That … that ain’t … wait…” Justice thought hard and something sprang to mind. “The Doc … he said he was gonna time jump, set the timeline to right. That I’d already exist so I … I couldn't come…”

“This is you, right Justice?” Rant extended the tentacle cluster he called a hand towards Justice, datapad showing an overly contrasted black and white photograph, state of the art in the 19th century. He had a massive handlebar mustache rather than a voluminous beard and mop of head hair but he knew himself when he saw himself.

“Holy shit. My face. Probably the age I am now but … not so many scars. So proud. The weight of losing everything … all my friends. My family. It’s gone.”

“Yes, Justice. That makes you a chronal anomaly. Which makes you of particular interest to Spacefleet.” Rant’s voice had a tone of deep concern; unsure of Justice’ potential reaction. That translator sure was doing its job!

“Spacefleet? What’s that?”

Rant pondered how to put it. “Think of it as the Union army, Justice. It’s been nearly half a millennium since you left your time period and since then your race has risen to levels unconsidered. Humans are the most populous people in the known galaxy and the core of Spacefleet. I’ve been in communication with Admiral Richie of Spacefleet since your origin was determined. You are … of great interest to him.”

“Oh?” Justice wasn’t too fond of that particular choice of words. It was almost ruining his appetite as he absent-mindedly took another bite of beef and spice.

“Yes. And they want to offer you a commission in Spacefleet. He says it’s closer to a ‘Naval’ position if you wanted to know, you’d be a Lieutenant on graduating Academy. The ship’s already picked; a science vessel; the Undertaking. There you would, ahem, you would be studied as you performed your service to the government.”

Justice was taken aback. “Studied? That sounds awful. What if I say no?”

“Well…” Rant shrugged. “You would perform no service … Spacefleet would instead lock you up in a remote outpost under constant guard and you would be less studied and more … experimented on…”

“Excuse me!? The government does that shit!?”

“It is a government, Justice. Which means that’s most of what they do. If you’re not participating in the system then you become an object to be used by the system. I’d take their offer were I you.”

Smiling mirthlessly, searching for the fear that wasn’t there, Justice decided. “Well great. Okay, where do I sign?”

“The general will be arriving tomorrow to retrieve you personally. You’ll be sworn in as a citizen of the Galactic Union, approved automatically since the historical government you were born into eventually became the world government of Terra and then the core of the Union and, so, Spacefleet.”

“Okay. Guess I’ll do that then.”

“Excellent. You and Glen, I’m sure, will do amazing in your new positions.”

“Glen? But … he’s an animal! He can’t serve!”

“Oh, quite the contrary Justice. Glen already talked with the General via Supraspace communications yesterday and accepted citizenship. It’s all done for him save the swearing-in, which you two will do side-by-side on the General’s arrival.”

“But … but he’s my pet. What the fuck, man?” Eyes wide, becoming ever more sure it was a dream, Justice looked down at his erstwhile companion; utterly awash in drying filth.

“Smnch” muttered Glen before rolling to his left side and farting loud and long like a trumpet.

Suddenly a truly scary thought occurred to Justice. “Say, uh … I’m gonna outrank Glen, right?” Justice asked with much concern. Unsure, Rant set to checking on his datapad.