“So, my spiritual advisor, friend, and Civil War maven, please tell me that God spoke to you during the night, and wants you to tell your commanding officer that everything is just hunky dory.”
Father Rick let out one of his famous belly laughs and said, “Hey, Captain Ashley, just because we suddenly find ourselves 152 years in the past doesn’t mean it should ruin our day.”
Ashley cracked up. She hadn’t laughed in many an hour, and it felt strange. “Whatever you eat to get such a positive attitude, I want the recipe.”
“I just eat what’s there and let God handle my attitude.”
“Have you ever heard of The Black Swan Theory?” asked Father Rick.
“Yes,” said Ashley. “Some economist came up with it. It means something big, surprising, and unpredictable that changes the shape of things. He called these things black swans because they’re so rare. I remember he used it to describe the economic meltdown in 2008.”
“Exactly, Captain. And what these events have in common is that they can’t be predicted easily, and some not at all. There are bad Black Swans, like the Tambora Volcano eruption in Indonesia in 1815, the Tunguska Siberia asteroid hit in 1808, the terror attacks of 9/11, the Great Japanese tsunami, and the perfect financial storm of 2008. There are also positive Black Swans such as the discovery of the transistor, the microchip, or the launch of Google.”
“What we have here Captain is a Black Swan, the Daylight Event. None of us saw it coming and we certainly couldn’t have predicted it. It’s likely to have a long term impact on history, although to say that we’d be soothsayers. So we find ourselves in the middle of the biggest Black Swan we could ever have imagined. Because we couldn’t predict it, we have no idea how to handle it.”
Ashley put her face close to her friend’s and looked into his eyes.
“Rick. Help me, help my crew, help my country. Tell me something to point me in the right direction.”
“Seaman Jack,” said Father Rick.
“Who’s he?”
“Seaman Jack is one of the most interesting sailors on this ship. He holds the low rank of Seaman, having recently joined the Navy, but he’s about your age. He’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and he’s written a slew of books. And there’s another thing about him that I think you’ll find interesting.”
“And just what kind of interesting information could this seaman have for me, Father?”
“Seaman Jack can explain the Daylight Event.”
Chapter 9
Ashley called Lt. Commander Karen Sobel, the ship’s personnel officer, and asked for the file on Seaman John Thurber. She wanted to learn about this sailor before she met with him. In what seemed like another lifetime she would have just Googled his name, but now she would have to settle for a paper file. She sat at her desk with a cup of coffee and opened the file of the sailor who so impressed Father Rick. It was not what she expected to see for a man who holds the rank of Seaman. John Thurber, or Seaman Jack as Father Rick calls him, graduated from Yale at the top of his class with a degree in history, after which he received a master’s degree from the Columbia School of Journalism. He’s a widower, his wife Nancy having died in a car accident in 2008. He has no children. His most recent job, prior to joining the Navy, was Feature Articles Editor for The New York Times. He’s the author of ten non-fiction books and three novels. He won a Pulitzer Prize for a feature article in the Los Angeles Times entitled, “The Tonkin Gulf Affair: The Real Story.”
Among his long list of accomplishments, a particular entry jumped out at Ashley. One of his non-fiction books, Living History — Stories of Time Travel Through the Ages, was on The New York Times Best Seller list for 48 weeks. This page of his personnel file would forever be marked by a dark liquid stain, a result of Ashley Patterson spitting coffee all over it.
Ashley called Corporal Arnold Nesbitt, her Marine aide, and ordered him to bring Seaman Jack to her office.
Seaman Jack Thurber entered the Captain’s office wearing standard fatigues, the uniform of the day. Jack was about 6’2” with broad shoulders and an athletic build. His eyes were the color of the Caribbean on a sunny day. His eyes are beautiful, Ashley thought, but they also have a certain sadness about them. He has close cropped sandy brown hair. Ashley thought that this guy is one of the handsomest men she had ever seen, quickly reminding herself that such a thought is completely irrelevant to this meeting.
“Please have a seat, Seaman. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“No thank you, Captain.”
Ashley skipped over small talk, the usual way to start a meeting. She hated small talk, wasn’t good at it, so why bother.
“Seaman Thurber, Chaplain Sampson said that I should talk to you, that you may have some information that can help us understand the strange event we’ve experienced. But first, I need to know something. I’ve read through your personnel file and noticed that you’re quite an accomplished guy, to say the least. You’ve gotten a bachelor’s and master’s degree from two great universities, and you’ve written a lot of books and articles. You even won a Pulitzer Prize. I see that you’ve also served in important editorial posts at major newspapers. Quite a distinguished career in journalism, I’d say. But what jumps from your personnel file is that you’ve just enlisted in the Navy at the age of 34, the maximum age permissible. I love my Navy and I don’t question anyone’s reasons for joining, but with your education you could have enrolled in Officer’s Candidate School and joined the Navy as a commissioned officer. Why join as an enlisted man?”
“The answer is very simple, Captain. I’m writing a book about life in the Navy from an enlisted man’s perspective. As a journalist I like to do research from an insider’s point of view. I enlisted in the Navy to do research for my book — after hours, of course.”
This explanation was one of the more interesting reasons Ashley ever heard for joining the Navy, but it made perfect sense. “I always like a straight answer to a question. Thank you Seaman.”
“I guess you’ve figured out that I didn’t call you here to talk about your career.”
Jack chuckled. “No, Ma’am, I didn’t think that was the reason.”
“Let me lay out the situation for you, Seaman Thurber. Father Rick seems to think that you will have some insights that may help us. Take a look at these.”
Ashley laid out the photographs of the Charleston waterfront taken a few months ago. They were the typical pictures of a modern city, with gleaming buildings, a modern bridge and a bustling waterfront. She then showed him the photos taken by the SEALs. Instead of glass enshrouded buildings, the structures were all masonry, no taller than four stories. She then showed him photos of the street scene with people dressed in mid-nineteenth-century garb. Referring to her notes, Ashley gave him a synopsis of the debriefing from the SEALs, including their observations about the lack of electricity, modern equipment, and motor vehicles. She also discussed Petty Officer Smith’s comparison of the city he visited five months ago to the way it is now.
“Here’s the bottom line, Seaman Thurber, if there is a bottom line to this craziness. Lt. Conroy and every one of the SEALs on the recon squad came to the same conclusion: Today is April 11, 1861, not April 11, 2013. As I said in my announcement to the crew, we are living 152 years in the past.”
Jack rubbed his face, stared at the desk, and then looked into Ashley’s eyes. “I guess you want to talk to me about my book, Living History.”