William Smith studied the catalog from Nassau Community College. The summary of one course caught his eye:
"Lit102 - Postmodern Man - Exploration of this Postmodern movement which started twenty years ago and continues today, focusing on how it affected workers in film, the theater, and almost every intellectual and artistic field of endeavor."
William, who preferred being called "Bill" by his neighbors, smiled and proceeded to register online. The neighbors thought him a "man of mystery" because of the odd hours he kept. He seemed to have plenty of money and drove a large car, but it wasn't clear what he did for a living. He often vanished for several days and then reappeared. Moreover, Bill frequently paused while walking, to make entries in a small notebook. Strange behavior indeed!
When asked what the hell he was doing, he would smile and say that he was simply gathering ideas for stories about life in suburban America. He always added the phrase, "I'm a harmless writer. Just call me 'Bill'. OK?"
After a while, they stopped worrying about his behavior because he did seem harmless. There were others in the Somerset Gardens apartment complex who posed more of a threat; for example, elderly Miss Tremble who muttered to herself about imaginary rapists and how she would use a kitchen knife on them. Two months after arriving at Somerset Gardens, Bill had blended in well, perfect cover for a reporter on a secret writing assignment.
On the first night of class, Bill found Room 342 in Asimov Hall and joined others waiting for Lit102 to start. It was a motley crew, which was to be expected for a group of aspiring writers.
At exactly 7:30 PM the instructor appeared. What a sight she was, even for the multispectral scanners which lay behind the blue pupils of Bill's eyes. He focused on the lovely bare body beneath her clothes, a trivial use of multispectral scanning technology. In his defense, one might argue that he'd been away from Pohl 509, his home planet, for a long time and was terribly lonely. She introduced herself as "Miss Gilhooly." Bill searched his memory banks on the topic of ethnicity, discovering that she was probably of Irish extraction, and that her red hair was consistent with the profile for Irish women - passionate and loving in nature, although quick to anger.
His civilization on Pohl 509 hadn't happened yet - a seeming paradox. Bill was on a voyage of exploration to the past, a traveler in spacetime. It had occurred to him, when he read the college catalog, that he was truly a "Post Modern man", someone from the future. Perhaps he could discover what people in this time and place knew about time travel. His editor, John Campbell, loved the idea of such investigations.
Bill could easily return to Pohl 509 and his own Galactic Time coordinate (GT 567.897.+9806) by twisting and then pulling a mole located on his neck. It was the only "defect" on an otherwise perfect human body, constructed by technicians on Pohl 509 for his mission to Earth.
He approached Miss Gilhooly after class, inquiring if she had time for a few questions. She glanced at the time-keeping device on her wrist, hesitated, and then answered, "I have some time. What are your questions?"
"I'm afraid that I may have signed up for the wrong course. I'm not a Lit major."
"No problem, as far as I'm concerned. You don't have to be a Lit major to take this course. What's your major?"
"I'm a...you'd best call it a Physics major."
"I don't know much about Physics. What's your specialty?"
"Time travel."
"Is there really a field called 'Time Travel'? I thought that was only a Science Fiction thing."
"Well, I'm in the field, and I'm quite sure that it's not fiction."
"Amazing! By the way, I like to correlate people's faces with names on the Class Roster. What's your name?"
"William Smith. 'Bill' to my friends."
She glanced down at the roster, made a check mark, and responded.
"Ok, Bill. Your other questions?"
"From the course title, I assumed that time travel was to be discussed. Since I know something about that field, I was interested in taking the course."
"What led you to such an unusual idea?"
"It's simple logic. I would call today the 'Modern Age'. That's by definition. The word 'Post' means sometime later. Hence, 'Post Modern' means a future time."
She laughed, saying, "My, that's a new one on me. By 'postmodern' we mean movements in literature that arose as a reaction to the philosophy and practices of avant garde modern literature and plays. It's a revolution of sorts. It usually involves a revival of traditional elements and techniques. Professor Cervo at NYU has written papers on postmodern developments in the theater. His papers are hard to find though. I could loan copies to you. Are you interested in the theater?"
At this point, he would have claimed interest in anything she mentioned. His multispectral scanner had detected a lovely odor from what humans would refer to as her "cunt." He'd been away from home a long time, far too long since his last sex release session at the Gratification Center.
"Yes, I'm interested in the theater," he replied. "Are his papers hard to obtain? Can I speak to him in person if questions arise in my mind after I read his papers?"
"He's a busy man, one who writes on such topics as an intellectual hobby. I've heard that he writes erotica, but that's just a rumor. He's an actor, and a director of plays. I should think he'd be hard to talk with, because he lives way out in Brooklyn, near the Gowanus Canal. Rumor also has it that he's into spanking. Of course I'm not interested in such things."
Ping! Ping! His scanner had detected a blatant lie. She was interested in spanking.
[Technical note from the Editor: The Lie Detector Option is not usually installed in scanners used on Pohl 509, to protect political figures from embarrassment. For travelers to distant places and times, the Option is enabled.]
Bill decided that she was worth pursuing, her red hair and curvaceous body being strong inducements. Besides, John Campbell liked stories with a sexual slant.
Another thing that motivated him was that spanking was the only form of sexual play regulated on Pohl 509. It went on only in private, between consenting adults. All else, including bondage and sadomasochism, was openly practiced and encouraged as forms of self-expression. Time travelers encounter wide variation in sexual practices throughout spacetime, one reason for the large number of applicants for the job of Investigative Reporter -- many apply, few are chosen.
Bill replied, "Too bad that you're not interested in spanking. I'm an expert in that area, so to speak. But that's not important. There are other things, such as literature, on which one can focus. Are you free for a cup of coffee? By the way, what is your first name?"
"It's Sheila. Maybe I'll have coffee with you tonight, but I have a great deal to do at home. It will have to be quickie, so to speak."
Ping! Ping! Another lie - she had nothing to do at home, except surf the Internet for spanking stories.
She dreamt of the day a handsome man would take her over his knee and spank her ass until it was rosy red and smarting. Then he would take her into his arms and kiss her tears away. The Irish are big dreamers.
They went to the College parking lot together.
He said, "Your must know this area better than me. I'll follow your car. Best give me directions, in case I lose your car."
"You did say that you're an expert spanker, didn't you?"
