Fireworks in the Rain Read Free

you know, you don’t even try to keep them straight, and sometimes you realize that the image in your head of running in terror from a Civil War skirmish was actually something that happened in Gaul 1900 years ago. Now that is a strange feeling.
    And yet, really, very little of my time has been spent as a soldier. I’ve never liked being a soldier. I’ve never liked fighting. It just isn’t what I’m good at. I was drafted during World War II and sent to Europe, and I suppose you could say I saw some combat, but I never fired my carbine, and no one ever shot at me as far as I know. My keenest memory of that war is when it was over and we thought they were going to send us to invade Russia. We put together some demonstrations, though World War II historians like to forget about those. I don’t know if they did any good, but we were never sent in, and then that asshole Patton was killed by a truck driven by a guy named Thompson, who shouldn’t be blamed for it. All the witnesses agree it was a fluke accident. That’s the last time I used meddlework to take a human life, and Patton deserved it but Thompson didn’t. I wish I hadn’t done it. I never seeded any of that until now. I’m sorry, Jimmy.
    One thing about the Garden: if you spend a long time there at once, it’s hard to stay focused; the memories are just all around you, and even if you don’t specifically graze, sometimes they sneak in.
    Christ. Not my fault the guy’s name was Washington.
    Okay, Phil: Stay with it. What’s he like—this Washington, the one in the here and now? He’s patient, methodical, careful. He drinks top-shelf rum, and it is possible he could be induced to drink it to excess, if that would do any good. Have to be careful not to get the poor bastard a DUI if I do that, though.
    Hmmm. But he is methodical. He’ll arrive early, to try to get a good spot for him and his buddies. They will be expecting him to do that. I will almost certainly have a few minutes with him alone. A few minutes is all I need. Just a few minutes to work what Ren had once called magic, and gone before his friends got there and interrupted it with God knows what results. Unpredictability in the middle of meddlework is not a good thing. A few memories of unpleasant results of that demanded attention, and I told them to shut up and let me work.
    I selected the switches I’d actually use, and considered how I was going to set them up. Finding him in the park I could do—any preparation to the park itself that would require exact knowledge of where he’d be was out of the question.
    By the time I’d completed the plan, I was mentally exhausted, though physically still fine. I opened my eyes, letting the Garden dissolve. I thought about a nap, but then realized that most stores would be closed tomorrow, so any errands would need to be run today. While my resolve was still firm, I put on my cap and walked out of the house.
    It was about a hundred and five degrees outside, but it was a dry heat, so it felt like a hundred and four. In spite of the reflector, the inside of my Prius was not pleasant. I turned on the a/c and went back inside while it did its job. I drank some water, because that’s what you do when you’re about to set off into an environment in which man was not intended to survive. Funny, I remember adobe houses, and times when finding shade, or a sudden cool breeze, or a cloud felt like salvation. But now I’m used to air conditioning, and I don’t really remember how I managed to live through the 2000 years—not to mention the previous 38,000 my Primary has been around—before it was invented. Anyway, this is better. While the car cooled, I phoned some liquor stores, and managed to find one not too far away that had what I needed.
    By then I figured the car was cool enough. I got in and headed out. An In and Out Burger off the 15 tempted me briefly, but I had leftover Chinese waiting for me, so I was virtuous. It was a short trip, and I