Chapter 3

Lunch was something that should have been familiar but wasn’t. On the surface it was classic Tex-Mex cuisine, but there were undercurrents of rich Central and South American flavors that reached Charles' nose before he saw the food which somehow changed the texture, color, and mental description of the food before he was able to try it. Having no frame of reference to attach it to, Charles decided that ‘Texican’ was a perfect name for it. The food was delicious with rich chocolate, fruit, and seafood aspects—while still being spicy with cinnamon, chili, and citrus as he was used to.

Benito was a lot sharper than he at first appeared. He had a thirsty intellect which probed each statement Charles made in a way that quickly made it apparent to both of them that there was a truth neither of them was willing to breach. For his part, Charles found himself warming up to his guide, and despite the age difference, he found himself (much to his own surprise) thinking less of Benito as a boy, and more as an equal. There was a youthful silliness to Benito that screamed a childhood not long past, but his quick wit and ability to put together pieces that were anything but obvious shattered any illusion of him being anything other than brilliant—and contrastingly—somewhat cynical.

“Senor, let’s cut the sheepshit,” Benito said. “I know, and you know, that you are a stranger in our strange land. Much like the famous astronaut from Mars, let us just say that I have grokked your dilemma. You do not need to worry, my friend. I am neither police, nor a Texican loyalist who will spill the guacamole on his neighbors for a few credits. As long as you don’t intend to kill people, you may speak honestly to me.”

Charles looked at his new friend with profound respect. The fact that Benito had put all this together on the fly, and that he was able to so eloquently express his proposal, was stunning. But more so was the fact that Benito finished his speech and directly began tucking into a gargantuan seafood taco while motioning to Charles that he should explain himself.

Charles considered the possible consequences and then mentally just said, ”Fuck it.”

“When I went to sleep last night, it was 2023. The planet was in the midst of eradicating humanity with global warming. The state I live in, Texas, was a part of the United States of America, and was not only suffering from a serious drought, but also on the verge of declaring itself independent. People were starting to call for ‘the second American revolution.’

“I woke up this morning and was going to drive into town to sign divorce papers, but instead I seem to have driven three hundred years into the future. Right now, despite the pleasant company and great food, I’m torn between thinking that I’ve lost my mind or believing that the world has ended, and I’m in some sort of bizarre psychedelic afterlife.” Charles waited for laughter, or for Benito to call him a liar. Neither happened.

Benito simply nodded and continued chewing. Charles waited. Finally swallowing the last of his huge bite, Benito said “That’s fucked up. I think you’re going to have to meet my Uncle Rodrigo. He’s the head of the Chihuahua Historical Foundation’s archives in the Mega-Complex city of Chihuahua, co-capital of the Texican Nation. He’s a pretty big deal in quantum circles, and he might be able to help you figure out how to get back to your own time.”

In a cartoon, Charles’ jaw would most certainly have been on the floor. He was, for lack of a better word, flabbergasted. Not only had Benito seemingly believed every word he’d said, but more amazingly, he didn’t seem shocked at all. Or maybe there was something else going on. Maybe Benito was simply calling bullshit by creating more bullshit on what he thought was a bullshit—er…sheepshit—story.

“You believe me?” Charles asked.

Benito nodded. “It’s a pretty crazy story; and normally, Amigo, I would just take your mone