From: aa811@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Terri M. Librande)
Newsgroups: alt.ql.creative
Subject: As It Fell Upon A Day
Date: 16 Jan 1993 05:40:49 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio (USA)
Lines: 123
Message-ID: <1j8751INNelt@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu>
NNTP-Posting-Host: thor.ins.cwru.edu


This story was originally printed in Play It Again 2.  For more
information, email author.

As It Fell Upon A Day
by: Terri Librande

Part 1

Sam Beckett looked about him in confusion.  It was dark and he was on a
hill overlooking a brightly illuminated area.  A bell was ringing.  There
was grass beneath his hands, cushioning him as he sat on the ground.  It
would have been ideal, except for the sound of voices raised in anger.
Hundreds of people were gathered in the area beneath the hill.

His vision clearing somewhat, he could make out details.  Everyone below
and passing by him was wearing blue jeans and various types of loose 
shirts and t-shirts.  They were all very young and talking very fast.
Something important was happening.

Pushing himself up from the ground, he headed towards the crowd.  Its
numbers were growing.  He figured there were nearly a thousand people
here and more arriving every minute.  What was going on?  He was in the
garb of the youth around him--jeans, loose shirt, loafers.  Comfortable
and casual.  Psychedelic seemed prominent in the wardrobe color scheme
around him.  That dated this leap in the sixties or early seventies.
Where, he didn't know.

There was a tension in the gathering, almost expectation.  Storm clouds
were gathering, but not in the sky.  There was something familiar about
what he was experiencing.  If only he knew the date or where he was.  Al
would tell him when he arrived.  He hoped that would be soon.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden shout, the voice of the kid
nearest him carried away by other clamourous shouts.  Some of teh people
had spray cans and were scrawling words he couldn't see because of teh
darkness and distance.  A chant began filtering through--"BURN THE ROTC!
OFF THE PIGS!  BURN THE ROTC!"  The crowd was moving as one--toward what,
Sam didn't know.

As they moved, Sam was carried with the flow.  It was becoming clear to 
him that this was a campus somewhere.  He remembered the anti-war 
demonstrations, but few details.  As he was shoved along, he recalled his
own sentiments during that time.  Tom was on his way to 'Nam, and Sam hated
the thought of him leaving, but held no animosity toward the war in
general.  He'd never paid much attention to the anti-war movement.  There
had been MIT and his own problems of the moment, overwhelming whatever had
been happening outside of his personal orbit.

Directly in front of them was a low, nondescript building.  A kid was 
running up to it with a stick, breaking what windows were unbroken.  There
were more shouts of "DOWN THE ROTC!" and Sam barely caught himself before
he joined the chant.

"Dr. Barry?"  A girl with long brown hair, personable features, and aqua
blue eyes, was looking up at Sam with a questioning look.  "I'm surprised
to see you here."

"I sort of, uh, got caught in the mood of things, I guess."  Sam stammered.
His name was Dr. Barry.  The next question was, doctor of what?


"Who couldn't with what happened last night?"  The girl had a disgusted 
look on her face.  "They asked for this."

"They?"  She had said the word as one would say a foul word.

"You know.  The pigs in town."  She flipped her hair behind her back as she
spoke.  "Like you say in class--all that philosophy and how each of us has a
number in the roll of life?  It's pretty radical.  That's why so many of
us respect you."

A loud cheer turned Sam's attention to the building.  It seemed to be the focal
point for the crowd.  A boy was throwing some burning rags through the
broken windows.  They were actually intending to burn the place down!  With
the size of the crowd and the hysterical atmosphere, there was little
Sam could do to prevent it from happening.

"I hope no one is in there," he heard himself say.

"No chance."  A short, heavy-set girl stood at his elbow.  "The ROTC class
is out."  She chuckled approvingly.  "Over and out."

A flag was burning in the distance, barely discernable except for the flames
lighting it.  The crowd's shreiks were too loud, making his ears burn.
Somewhere there were screams of pain, as the students filled the air with a 
hail of stones.  A section of the crowd ran toward where the bell had been
ringing, but most stayed put, waiting to see what would happen.

More fire hit the building.  Sam saw things that looked like sparklers fly
into the air and disappear into the windows.  The crowd groaned as they
saw that, in spite of their efforts, the fire was not igniting.  It seemed
they were out of their minds, wanting to burn down this structure and what
it stood for.

"Road flares."

Sam jumped as Al appeared at his shoulder.  Why did he have that annoying
habit of bipping in when he least expected?  Seeing that girl who had
spoken to him earlier had moved off to get a better look, Sam breathed a
sigh of relief.  "Boy, am I glad to see you!"

"It's May 2, 1970."  Al's eyes met Sams and saw a flash of recognition and
something akin to pain, as if the date had conjured up an old hurt.  It was
so close to the time when...  Immediately, Al shunted the thought away.
"We're in Kent, Ohio.  You're Peter Barry, a professor here at Kent State.
Tonight, the students burn down the ROTC building, and in two days..."

"What happens, Al?"  Those students near him were too distracted to notice
that Dr. Barry was talking to himself.  The whine of sirens was beginning
to fill the air.

"You don't remember."  Al frowned.  Would it be an infringement of the
rules if he told Sam what would happen?  He shrugged.  "Four students are
killed by the National Guard.  Not far from here."

Part two coming soon--to a alt:ql creative near you!

Terri Librande
-- 
Unscrupulous---But effective!!!!  
Terri Librande aa811@cleveland.Freenet.edu --Assistant Sysop
The Science Fiction and Fantasy Sig--Go SCI FI