Wylinea stepped back to admire the ancient lawyer’s bookcase.  The smooth much polished wood glowed warm in the natural light that flowed in from the window behind her.  The glass sparkled.  It was perfect.  She couldn’t believe after all these years she’d finally found one with all of the glass in tact ~ real glass no less.  She hugged herself with delight. 

In a world that no longer valued the past prime artifacts were getting harder and harder to come by.   She carefully picked up a stack of books, timeless classics thousands of years old.  Real books with paper pages.  She was almost afraid to read them and always handled them with soft white gloves when she sat down to read.  She set the books in order on the second shelf of the bookshelf next to a 1960’s plastic alarm clock.  Sadly she couldn’t make it work.

“Nothing runs by electricity these days anyway.  No place to plug it in.”  She lifted the plug end of the brittle cord, and sighing, examined it for the thousandth time.  She tried to imagine living in a time when things were done by human hand. 

She sank into the overstuffed sofa and glanced at the can opener sitting on the side table, polished and bright, shining softly in the diffused artificial light that simulated late afternoon.  She picked it up and turned the winged crank miming opening a can.  What would food stored in tin tasted like?  Would it taste metallic?  It would certainly be odd.

“Mistress Tressa approaching,” a disembodied voice announced.  “Shall I admit her?”

Wylinea sighed again. “What if I want to answer a door myself and be surprised?” she asked.  Silence answered.

“Shall I admit her?” the voice repeated.

“Oh, of course.”  She picked a large emerald earring up off the table and lifted it to her ear.  The microscopic lock scanned her DNA, upon recognition it clicked into place.  It would stay nestled against her ear. Only by her hand, could it be removed. 

“Mom!  Where are you?”

“Back here kiddo,” Wylinea answered.

“Look what I have for you.”  Tressa leaned down, kissed her mother on the cheek and settled a gaily-wrapped box in her lap.  “Happy Birthday.” 

“Thanks Sweetie.”  Wylinea carefully untied the ribbon and folded back the paper, knowing she preserve both in her memory book and soon as Tressa left.  “I don’t know where you find all of these wonderful wrappings and always in prime condition.”  She gently peeled the tissue back and looked into the box.

“A tape recorder!”

“Battery operated and still working,” Tessa said.  “I had Jonsha clean and lubricate it and fabricate some batteries that work in it. Listen, we recorded something for you.”  She leaned down and pressed the play button.  The reels started spinning and the pliant tape wound through the machine.  Tinny strains of the Happy Birthday song filled the spacious room . . .

Hours later Wylinea sat on the plush sofa once again.  She held the tape recorder in her lap, staring off into space.  Slowly she turned the volume knob down and pressed play.  The sounds of the ancient song flowed forth softly.  She slumped back and let the tape play.  After the song finished a static-y buzz sounded in her ear.  She started to stop the machine and then voices.  She sat up and increased the volume. 

“That is Tressa.”   She listened to her daughter and an unknown male voice taking about a strange doorway.  By the time she’d reached the end of the tape she knew where to find it.  “Now I know how she found all these wonderful things.”  She leaned forward and spoke into the tape recorder.  She was sure Tressa would find it right away and know what to do.

Shaking with excitement she jumped up and ran across the room to a sealed transparent case in the corner.  She smacked her palm against the lock and heard it click open.  Bubbling laughter rippled forth as she drew a shimmering red evening dress, silk underwear, sequined shoes and a black velvet cloak from the case.  She stripped off her platstine body suit and slipped into the silken underwear.  The ties and straps felt strange and exotic against her skin.  She dropped the dress over her head and settled it around her hips.  She twirled and felt the slippery, soft fabric dance around her feet. 

She stepped into the odd-healed shoes. It took her several minutes to figure out how to walk without her ankles wobbling.  Finally sure of her step, she scooped up the beaded cloak.  It’s scratchy embellishments irritated her arm and she delighted in it. 

She grabbed a handful folded paper from another case.  Slipping the mass into a pocket, she stepped into the transporter. She gave the coordinates and dissolved into a billion atoms.

An instant later she stood in front of a vault door.  Lights flashed all around and an eerie blue glow suffused the room. 

“1945” she announced.

A whine filled the room and the color shifted. An authoritative voice dictated detailed instructions for return. 

“Oh bother with that,” she said and stepped into the rose-colored haze. 

An eternity later she woke up slumped against the side of a brick building in a very smelly alley.  A cacophony of noise assaulted her ears: horns honking, people chattering and laughing, harsh music demanding attention.  Bright neon and brash spotlights startled her eyes. Joy and excitement tumbled through her whole being.

She stood, stretched cramped muscles and shook wrinkles from the marvelous dress.  She pulled the crumpled bundle of paper from her cloak pocket. She selected an assortment of bills and tucked them in a secret pocket inside her dress and scanned the timetable.  The movie was about to begin.  Laughing she reached up to scratch her neck.

“Fleas.” She laughed again.  “I can’t believe it, fleas!” As she scratched again, her arm brushed against her ear. 

“Oh, can’t have that!” 

She put a finger over her ear, and listened for the tiny click.  A sparkling green gem fell into her hand.  She stared at it for a moment, then dropped the huge emerald into a dustbin at the alley’s end.  Joy painted a lovely glow over her entire face.  She looked centuries younger than her 320 years. 

“Wonder if I can pass for thirty here,” she mused.

Turning with a swing to her hips that set her skirts swirling, she strode purposefully toward the red, green and yellow flashing of a traffic light on the corner of Hollywood and Vine.

“Real life,” Wylinea breathed.  “I can’t believe I made it.”