FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Arc One, Chapter One, Tales of a Time Traveler

Sleepless in New York

By: Cimmaron Spirit

New York, 2013 AD

<> <> <>

The leaves on the trees in Central Park were starting to turn orange and red as autumn descended on the busiest city in the world. Off in the distance, magnified by the man-made metal and glass canyon's that lined the streets of Manhattan was the horns and engines of vehicles stuck in traffic as tourists stood gawking at the sights of the world famous skyline, admiring everything from the Empire State Building to the cantankerous cabby's with a mixture of childish delight and a foreigner's foreboding of misplacement, which even other Americans feel when they tour the financial and cultural capital of the Union.

The day off that Chris treated himself to here in the Big Apple was one that couldn't go wrong. After weeks of work as an attorney, he finally got a day to himself with no court cases or need to visit clients or to study for whatever lawsuit he had. After lunch at one of the innumerable bistros that lined the streets around the green jewel of the city, and a future plans to hit Broadway to see... something. He still wasn't sure. Maybe the one about that rock star that just opened?

Chris chuckled and removed his glasses, pushing his black hair back from his eyes. Didn't matter, it would be enjoyable. He looked around the unfolding autumn scene around him, and sighed deeply. No matter the sirens, the ever-present noise, the at times weird smells. New York had a fascination that just couldn't be described. It was a feeling of awe and majesty, power and humility, one that everyone felt looking on the skyscrapers and bright lights that made anyone feel they could do anything.

But after a few years here, it was starting to dull. The misery that he saw in the slums when he first came shocked him: the homelessness, the drugs, the violence, the never-ending horror that some forgotten sections of the city was, had started to pale and even slip his consciousness. But by the same margin, he forgot the beauty and grandeur of his first time seeing the big skyscrapers and handsome houses. And though he tried on days like today, that mystical feeling wasn't returning, much to his sorrow.

Chris lay back on the grass and soaked in the last rays of warm sun that New York was going to get before winter came and closed his eyes. Maybe something would show up to give the boost that he needed in his life...

The drum of hoof beats getting closer made Chris smile in his nap. One of those fancy horse drawn carriages must be going by, he thought. He took one of those the first time he came here, just because he could. The wide-eyed kid from somewhere in North Dakota was thrilled to be carried around in the style of a previous era in a city that was to be his home. Maybe he should take a ride in one of them again?

But as Chris listened longer something was off. He opened his eyes, trying to figure it out. Something was off. For one thing, it was only two hoofbeats as if running, not four at a trot. That, and some yelling. It wasn't some little kid running around and enjoying him or herself, but men shouting in anger.

He finally sat up and turned around, and fumbled for his glasses.

"What the hell?" he asked as he finally saw what it was.

A man... no, he had brown hair all over his body, with a long nose and even longer black hair whiping out behind him. A tan trench coat fluttered in the breeze behind him, and the bottom of his feet was black covered... hooves?

"What the..." Chris stood up staring at the figure running toward him, stunned at the sight. Was that... a two legged horse?

The horse was running for his life, and behind him was a half dozen blue uniformed cops, chasing after the bipedial equine.

Before Chris knew what happened, the horse had collided with him, collapsing into a ball on the grass.

"Ahhh!" Chris screamed, staring up at the panting horse, who groaned in pain from being knocked down.

"Oh shut up! These ears are sensitive!" the horse barked back, trying to get up. "Sorry about that by the way..." But before he could the police officers had finally caught up.

"Freeze!" they shouted, pulling out their guns and pointing them at the humanoid horse and Chris.

Two burly officers came up and pulled the horse off Chris, while a couple more dragged Chris away.

"What the hell is that thing?" Chris shouted, trying to get up.

"Don't move!" a cop shouted, pointing his gun at Chris.

The horse was being held up, and handcuffs where being snapped on his wrists behind his back. "Okay, you got me officers. I don't know what I did..."

"Shut up!" the officer with the handcuffs yelled, tightening them.

"Oww! Not the fur, not the fur!"

A sergeant with his gun out came closer, befoe reaching up and yanking on the nose of the horse.

"OWW! Jesus! Why did you do that?" The horse whinnied out.

The sergeant jumped back, pulling his gun up. "Why are you in a costume?"

"Costume? I wear the jacket all the time. The white shirt and black pants are new though, and my fedora fell off behind me. I don't know what your..."

One officer, hit the horse in the back of the head. "The horse costume, dumbass!"

The equine jerked his head around, surprise on his face. "I... I'm a horse?"

"Uhh... yeah, you are..." one officer replied, rolling his eyes."

The equine looked down as far as he could to see shiney hooves poking out below the pants he wore. "Huh, how about that. I didn't really get a chance to look at myself..."

The horse cut off with another blow to the back of the head. "Don't be smart with us!"

The horse grimaced. "I honestly have no idea... wait, where am I?"

"Uhh... New York City?" one of the officers asked, this time confused. "How did you not know that?"

"What year?"

"2013."

The horse paused for a moment, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He opened his eyes and smiled. "Well, then why haven't I been read my Miranda Rights?"

The officers around the horse looked at each other, and shrugged. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, and if you cannot afford one, one will be provided to you."

The horse smiled, before looking at Chris. "Say, you wouldn't happen to know a lawyer, would you?"

Chris looked at the horse and the police officers who were now all looking at him. "Uhhh... I happen to be one..."

"Oh good! I hope you don't mind being my lawyer."

Chris looked to one of the police officers, who shrugged. Chris gulped and walked up to the horse. "Alright, I'll represent you for now."

The horse nodded. "Great, I'll see you in a bit then." He turned back to New York's finest. "Alright, take me away."

Chris watched for a moment as the police officers walked the walking, talking horse to a nearby police car, before glancing at his watch. He groaned as he relized that it was five, and he was most likely going to miss Broadway tonight.

"Fuck," he muttered, before following the little parade going through Central Park. This could be a long night.

<> <> <>

Six hours later, the horse, who Chris had since found out was named Cimmaron, was finally being let go. Apparently some anonymous phone calls about a "horse man" loitering was the cause for all this, and lead to a foot chase through Central Park.

"Mr.... errr, Cinnamon Spirit, you..."

"Cimmaron," the horse sighed. "Cinnamon is a spice, not my name."

"Errr, right. Cimmaron Spirit, since you have not been charged with any crimes, you are to be released into the custody of your attorney here. Have a good night," the officer said, a bit nervous being around the equine. "And... uhh... wear a hoodie or something, okay?

The horse smiled, and walked past Chris to the door and out onto the street. It was a fairly quiet part of New York at this time of night, so very few people would see him.

Chris came barreling out a minute later. "Whoa! Where are you going?"

Cimmaron turned around. "Away. Something odd is going on, and I have to figure out why." He then turned and kept walking

Chris ran down the steps and caught up to the horse. "What do you mean, something odd?"

"Well, first of all, I'm a two legged talking horse. As far as I know, this timeline shouldn't have that, so I got to figure out why."

"Wait... timeline?" Chris asked, making Cimmaron wince.

"Damn, I wasn't supposed to mention that."

"Mention what?" Chris asked, but Cimmaron kept walking.

Chris ran, grabbed hold of the horse's shoulder and spun him around. "Tell me what the hell is going on."

The horse tried to wiggle out, but Chris' grip was too tight. Finally Cimmaron sighed. "Alright. I don't know very much, but all I do know is that... somehow I can go through time with this pocket watch," he said, pulling out a pocket watch and holding it up to show Chris. The gold watch swung back and forth, and it was mildly hypnotic. The human couldn't help but reach out and touch it...

"Oww! What the hell?" Chris cried out, holding his hand. "It burns!"

Cimmaron looked at Chris. "Really? The mugger who first tried to steal it from me was electrocuted. Odd..."

Chris looked up. "Wait, so you were nearly mugged?"

Cimmaron shrugged. "I don't know. I woke up in some back alley with some guy trying to reach into my pocket, and he grabbed this thing and it was like he touched a power line. I don't know what is going on."

"How do you know you can time travel?" Chris asked.

"Something in my mind is telling me... But I don't know! I don't know!" Cimmaron started shaking. "I don't know how I got here. I woke up, fought off a robber, and then was chased by the police. I didn't even know I was a horse until the police told me! I don't know anything before that."

"But you knew about the Miranda Rights after you found out it was 2013 in New York," Chris retorted.

"I don't know how I know that!" Cimmaron snapped. He looked away and took a deep breath before turning back to Chris. "It was like something in my mind snapped into place right there, and suddenly I knew what to ask, and how to get out of it."

Chris looked at the horse, and the horse looked back, before he broke into a grin and started laughing.

"What's so funny?"

Cimmaron finally managed to stop. "You must think I'm crazy."

Chris rolled his eyes. "I knew that from the moment you crashed into me in Central Park." He offered a hand. "Here, come to my place tonight, and we can figure this out tomorrow."

<> <> <>

Cimmaron stayed up the whole night staring at the pocket watch, while some TV show played in the background. He wasn't really listening to it, but he had a feeling that he knew what was going on with the few words he heard. It was a bit odd, especially when he started mumbling lines before the actors said them, giving him an odd case of deja vu. It was like he saw the TV show before... or maybe he was there? No, how could that happen?

Chris had fallen asleep hours before in his recliner chair, and the horse was still there staring at the gold pocket watch on the coffee table in front of him. It was gold, with a really intricate design on the back. He would pick it up, stare at it for a while to try to decipher it, before putting it down again. Once he opened it, only to be faced with an ordinary clock face, with impeccable timing: only a few seconds off Chris' iPhone, and he was starting to think his watch was the correct one.

He groaned, setting the watch down open, and leaned back on the couch. He couldn't think of anything before he woke up, yet he knew lots of things; like the reigns of Roman Emperors that never existed, in times that didn't make sense. Or the myriad of ways that Adolf Hitler conquered the world... except he didn't. Or every major disaster involving a ship named Titanic, almost all of which happened in April 1912, but not always an iceberg. But... the ship only sank once. Right?

He got up, and started walking around the apartment. He read the back of every DVD case haphazardly stacked in one corner, and instinctively knew the plot of it once he heard the name of the characters or the place it happened. How? He never watched The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers or Fast and Furious 4. Or... he was sure he hadn't.

Was he suffering amnesia? Maybe, but then how could he remember everything?

"And how am I a time traveler?" he mumbled, looking back to his watch. "Why am I looking like a horse?"

He walked to the entrance way and grabbed his jacket. Maybe there was something....

Ticket stubs to the Hindenburg, a letter from 1805 with a bullet hole and dried blood on it so he couldn't read it, an ancient Egyptian gold earing, a jade Chinese sculpture of a horse, coins in Russian with Lenin on one side, with a hammer and sickle and 2010 on the other.

"God damn... how did I get all this?" he mumbled, before reaching into an inside pocket, and touching something cold and metallic. He pulled it out and held it up. Despite it's gold color and some of the images on back that reminded Cimmaron of the pocket watch, it looked a lot like the iPhone Chris had, but... different...

Of course I'm different! I can't make a damn phone call! A voice shouted to Cimmaron, making his jump and drop the thing.

Ow! Why did you do that? You know I can feel pain right?

"What... who... are you?" Cim asked.

A long pause. You're kidding me.

"Why... why are you talking to me?"

You seriously don't know what I am?

"No, because you're not telling me!" Cim barked.

Okay, maybe you hit your head or something. But I'm your Chronobook, a special electronic device that can for any paper, and can give you any information you need on anytime and anyplace in the multiverse.

"Wait... multiverse? So I can time travel?"

Wow, you are thick sometimes, you know that? The Chronobook or whatever replied.

"Okay, Chronobook thing, listen: I woke up in a dumpster in New York City in... Fall 2013. I have no idea why I'm here, and I have no idea how to get out of here. Just tell me how to get out of here, and you can help fill in the gaps, okay?"

Huh, so this is more serious than I thought. The Chronobook replied. Alright, that gold watch is actually a Chronodevice. It will take you anywhere in the Space-Time Continuum you want to go.

"How does it work?" Cimmaron asked, carefully picking up the Chronobook from the floor.

I'm getting there, pony boy! There was a pause. Wait, you're a horse now? That's... surprising. I didn't know you could do that.

"Wait, I was different before?"

Of course you were! All well, we can figure that out later. Anyway, that Chronodevice works mostly on psychic commands, but you need to click the fob at the top to work. It can do other things to, but that's the most important thing.

"Alright, great!" Cimmaron grinned, walking over to the pocket watch. "So I just imagine where I want to go, and push the thing up here, and it goes, right?"

_Whoawhoawhoawhoa!_The Chronobook cried out, but Cimmaron had already grabbed the pocketwatch and pushed the fob, but nothing happened.

"What? Why didn't it work?"

Because you didn't listen to me! It needs energy which builds up over time, and there is a guage on the side. Not to mention, there seems to be a time lock on you at the moment.

"A... time lock?"

Time Lock: Noun: a Multiverse related McGuffin that prevents a time traveler from time traveling either backwards or forwards because of some reason.

"Uh... English please?"

Goddamnit, you must have hit your heard hard on something. Anyway, something is going on here, and you can't leave until you figure it out. I don't know what it is, and my records don't indicate something happening right now.

Cimmaron sat on the couch, looking at the open pocket watch in his hands. "So... I'm stuck here."

I guess so, Einstein. So... get comfortable, or else you better try to figure out what is wrong, and fix it.

"But how can I do that? I don't know what is wrong!" Cimmaron cried out.

"Cimmaron... what are you yelling at?"

The horse turned around to see Chris looking at him.

"I... couldn't you hear the Chronobook talking?"

"The Chronowhatnow?" Chris replied, cocking an eyebrow.

Only you can hear me, dumbass, the device said.

"Why?"

"Why what?" Chris asked, getting out of his chair.

Cimmaron dropped the Chronobook on the table beside the dud pocket watch with shaking hands.

"Nothing... nothing." Cimmaron sighed. Before looking back to Chris. "Something is going on Chris. Something. I don't know what it is, and I don't know what it is."

Chris took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes before looking at his iPhone. "Well, it's five in the morning, would you like something to eat?"

Cimmaron sighed, and flopped back in the couch.

"I'll get you some oatmeal."

The horse didn't reply, but just stared at the two gold colored objects in front of him: one a all powerful pocket watch that could, but couldn't, time travel, and a sarcastic talking tablet that only he could hear.

"Well, I guess I am crazy," Cimmaron mumbled.

Chris poked his head of the kitchen. "Who are you talking to now?"

Cimmaron was about to answer when hurried, aggressive banging on the front door echoed through the apartment.

"Open up! FBI!"

The human and the horse looked at each other in shock, both mouths wide open.

"You didn't try to blow up a building, did you?" Cimmaron questioned a dumbfounded Chris, who could only frown at the failed attempt at humor.