The Prior

POV: Elliot Foster

My skin is warm again. I pop open my eyes, realizing that we’re no longer in Germany. Cassidy lays next to me, still asleep. In fact, I’m the first one awake. Birds crow above me and I take in the woods of the sweet south.

Soon, Belle stirs. I smile at her as she wakes up. She wears a blouse and skirt with pleats. Cassidy does too, but Cassidy’s colors are much brighter than Belle’s.

“Good morning,” she says, sitting up from the dirt.

“Good morning,” I reply. She stands as Max and Cassidy wake up. They both sit up, nearly in unison. We wish them good morning and Belle offers to reread the mission.

You are in October 1921. Today, in Birmingham, Alabama President Harding will give a speech. Before he gives this speech, it is essential that you provide him with a letter. This letter will appear only moments before you need to give it to Harding.

Cassidy sighs at the end of Belle’s reading. I shake my head and realize something. How was I so stupid this entire time? I’m the one queuing things. I’m supposed to que the letter just moments before we need it. I’m getting frustrated not being able to talk to Cassidy whenever I’d like. I walk over to her and lightly pinch the skin of her arm. She gives me a dirty look.

“Can I speak to you for one super fast second?” I whisper. She raises an eyebrow and nods. I nod over to a small patch of thick trees, “One second, guys.”

“What?” she whispers. I grab the front of her blouse with my left hand and glare into her eyes. Using my right hand, I hold up one finger.

Mouthing, I say ‘watch my hand.’ She scans me for a second and nods. I dramatically wave on certain words, hoping she’ll get the message.

“I don’t want to control you. But, when we have sex, we need to only do it when condoms fall, you know the sky items.” her eyes widen and her hand flies to her mouth, alerting me that she understands my message. I continue, for good measure, “I was thinking, even the last time could’ve been bad. The last thing I want is a letter when we get back telling me I got you pregnant. Or that I will have to pay child support, like a court order for it anytime soon.”

She nods and waves too, “Oh, Elliot, I totally understand. But, I have an IUD, don’t worry.” After winking at me, she turns on her heels and retreats to Max and Belle. I follow after her shortly. I just don’t know who the letter will end up with or who will see that it’s arrived. The original note clearly says that the Harding letter would arrive last minute. I don’t want Max or Belle to see it and get suspicious. Or, worse, rush to give it to Harding before Cassidy or I can read it.

I can’t believe I’m on her side. I can’t believe I ended up betraying my original mission. Maybe I wouldn’t be a good CIA agent. But, I need to do what’s right. And, right now, that’s Cassidy’s plan.

We enter the town as a group. For the first time since the first mission, I feel like I’m in a history book. The first thing we can see in the city is a restroom. The sign to my right says White Only and the sign to my left says Colored. I feel my throat closing up.

The past missions were obviously historical, the technology and the fashion told me that. But, standing here, looking at a segregated bathroom, caused the realization of history to hit me once more. I’m here. This isn’t a movie set. This isn’t a museum. I’m here. Out of bad habit, I glance at Belle, who is obviously more startled than I am. Cassidy bites her lip and Max stares off into space.

“I’m so happy we’re here!” Belle scoffs. I give her a glance of pity, but realize that not there’s not much I can say to make her feel better. Max glances over to her, too.

“So, bad time. Belle, are you black? Or hispanic?” he asks.

She rolls her eyes, but answers, “Both.” Max nods and points to a building towards our right. I glance at the building he points at. This sign is even worse:

No Negros. No Dogs. No Mexicans.

“On that note, I guess we can’t go anywhere,” Max mutters, only loud enough for me to hear him. Thankfully, I think Belle is too far to hear him. While unfortunate, it seems that everyone else is too distracted by the rawness of history to notice if a letter appears. I click the middle button on my recorder. I look up to the sky and see it falling. I squint and try to follow its path. It floats between landing on Max and landing on me. I cautiously watch it, as the other three continue to talk about the town ahead of us. It wiggles again. Max. I bite my lip, trying to figure out how to grab something right over his head. A gust of wind blows, the envelope now pushed to my other side — Belle. I follow it with my eyes, hoping for one more gust of wind. It gets just a foot from my arm’s length, still right over Belle’s head. Cassidy, who stands on the other side of Belle, finally catches a glance of the envelope. One second of eye contact communication between us tells me that we’ll be okay. It’ll either fall on Belle’s left or Belle’s right. I watch it halt against the air before finally tilting to Belle’s left. Cassidy catches the letter and places it behind her back. A wave of relief rushes over me.

We walk towards the city and eventually, I can pull Cassidy to the side. She leans into me and slips the letter out from the waistband of her skirt. Her thin fingers slide carefully against the envelope. She does another look to ensure that Max and Belle can’t see before opening the letter. We read it together, silently.

Dear President Harding,

My name is Anthony. I am a Congressionalist from the year 2034. It seems far from you now, but the individuals who have delivered this letter are time-travelers from my year as well. Feel free to verify with their skin brands. The goals of our organization have shifted. In the year 2001, there was a major crackdown from the existing democracy. We lost a majority of our staff, funds and technology. However, the ability to time travel remained in our grasp. The individuals that you meet today are working through history to change it, allowing the Congressionalist organization to flourish. This letter is to encourage your speech today. I understand that you have hesitations and since some details of history have already been changed, we feared that you may consider changing your speech. Please do not change it. Ensure to place as much pressure as possible on Birmingham today. It’s desperately needed for the progress of our organization, even if you and the founders can’t see it from 1921. Our travellers may have additional advice for you and feel free to ask them any questions. The trigger for them to leave is not merely giving you this letter, but by you burning it.

Thank you.

I finish reading before Cassidy does. I glance at her, while she still stares at the paper. I hear a hard swallow and she looks at me with widened eyes. Our eyes meet just briefly before she glances at Max and Belle. They’re walking over to us. I quickly fold up the letter and shove it into my pocket. She floats to meet them. Max shakes his head towards us.

“What the fuck is going on between you,” he says, in Cassidy’s face. Anger burns in my chest. Why is he so close to her? I walk closer to them and realize that she’s smiling.

“Ha, what?” she giggles. Belle raises her eyebrows at me, as if she knows the real secret… I nod at her, to encourage it.

“Why do you two keep sneaking off today? Or rather, always? What’s going on between you two? A little conspiracy is it?” he scoffs. I see Cassidy fidgeting with the bottom of her dress, gently moving the cloth between her thumb and forefinger. Belle starts laughing, clearly so happy to know our secret. And, honestly, she might save us from the real secret. Cassidy glances in Belle’s direction.

“Wow, I know a secret and you don’t,” she giggles. I find myself smiling. Cassidy winks at me while Max looks away. She gets it too. Max almost laughs himself.

“Wow, you told Belle and not me. It’s starting to look like a conspiracy against me. So, what? Are you guys like plotting to kill me or use me as bait? What’s going on? I’m not stupid,” Max grumbles, his fist in a bunch at his side.

“Calm down, Max,” Belle says, still laughing.

“Belle, you seem to get joy out of this,” I chuckle out. She nods. Cassidy just shakes her head.

“Max, no one is going to kill you. It actually has nothing to do with you whatsoever,” Cassidy elaborates. Max remains tense and looks over to me.

“What is it then? What’s this big secret?” he says, chest puffed up.

“We’re sleeping together. Literally it,” I spit, feeling a sense of satisfaction. I know that he likes Cassidy. I also know that he’ll absolutely believe this lie and we won’t have to worry about him for a while. Ah, to kill two birds with one stone. His fists relax, but his body stays tense.

“Really? You’re sleeping with him?” he directs at Cassidy, “You expect me to believe you’d be interested in him?”

Cassidy looks right into my eyes, holding my gaze for several seconds before turning back to Max.

“Yes. I mean, I have no romantic interest in him whatsoever. Fuck buddies. Friends with benefits. However you want to word it. Yes, believe it,” Cassidy spits. He narrows his eyes and looks between both of us.

Belle giggles, “They say that now, but they’ll fall in love for sure.” her comment only darkens the red of Max’s face.

“Why him and not me?” Max asks, shaking his head. Heat flies to my face, my heart pounding now out of anger rather than anxiety.

“Taking this personally, are you?” I scoff. His fists clench up once more.

“Elliot, stop,” she berates before turning back to Max, “Max, it’s nothing serious, calm down. It’s just convenient. You clearly have some mixed feelings for me and I’m not at all interested in dealing with that. Elliot’s a nice, neutral third party,” she finishes. My heart kind of sinks a bit. Is that true? We didn’t exactly clarify much about the night in the hotel, but I at least thought that she was interested in me. Maybe it’s just a lie. Or maybe Belle’s right, that she’ll fall for me eventually. Max looks at Belle.

“And how did you know?” he rasps. She giggles some more. I’m glad someone is finding joy from this situation.

“Accidental. In the hotel, last mission… went by to talk about the plan. Remember I told you that I knocked and no one answered? Well, those two were obviously too impassioned to lock the door the night prior and I walked right in to see a naked, passed out Elliot and Cass,” she says, raising an eyebrow. Max turns back to me and narrows his eyes once more.

“Fine,” he spits, “But, I’m still watching you.” There’s several seconds of tense silence. I pray for Belle to make a joke. She’s really good at deescalating. Nothing is said.

Instead, Cassidy finally breaks the silence, “Um, are we ready to go find Harding?” Belle and I nod immediately. With just one more dirty look directed at me, Max agrees too. We walk towards town hall. No one’s really sure where Harding will be and the letter was certainly no help. I catch sight of Max walking next to Cassidy, talking to her. Hot, white jealousy pulses through my veins. Maybe I was wrong, maybe she isn’t interested in me at all. I mean, she never specified. Disappointment cools off my rage. I try to walk closer to hear their conversation.

“Really, nothing serious?” he asks her, hope evident in his voice.

She glances at him, “Nothing serious, because I’m not looking for anything at all. When this is all over, I want to forget about it and go back exactly where I was. I don’t want some messy romance with someone halfway across the world. And, Max, that includes you, too.” My throat feels like it’s about to close up. As if all the oxygen is running out from the air around me. I put myself a stride back to calm down. But, all I can focus on is that they’re still talking. My heart drags me back to where I was originally standing, within distance to hear the conversation.

“Wait, so after this is all over you want to just go back to Macedonia? Won’t you want to stay in the US? Now that you know everything you do now?” he asks.

“Of course I want to go back to Macedonia. I’ve never been this stressed in my entire life. I want to go home and forget that all of this ever happened. No offense Max, but if we finish this and I never have to see any of you again, I’ll be quite happy. Obviously, we have an unmistaken trauma bond, but I’d much rather have my peace alone. Maybe marry some nice Macedonian man who can’t fathom time travel and just exist… normally,” she says. Marry a nice Macedonian man repeats in my head over and over again. Marry a nice Macedonian man. I look at the side of her face I can see. Granted, she’s a super spy, but I like to imagine that I can tell when she’s lying. And, right now, that phrase didn’t seem like a lie. Their conversation ceases when we arrive at town hall.

We walk up the stairs. Obviously, the President isn’t here, but we hope to find him via the help of people here. At the doors, a man stops us.

“Negro business must be taken care of down the street,” he says, harshly. Cassidy turns to us.

“Two stay, two go,” Max says. Cassidy glances at me.

“I’ll stay. You two go,” she says, looking straight at me. I wave at Max and we walk up the stairs together.

The man allows us in, but gives us a dirty look, of course. Can’t wait to make it to at least the 80s. I don’t know how long I can go without punching someone. We enter town hall and approach the desk assistant.

“Do you know where we could find President Harding? An old friend of his sent us to deliver some mail,” I ask. The man at the desk smiles, revealing a poorly groomed smile.

“Well, I’d think he’d be down ’round the place where he’d be speaking later. Maybe that park, uh, Woodrow Wilson park,” he says, his southern drawl unmistakable.

“And, where is Woodrow Wilson park?” Max asks. The man chuckles.

“Well, you ain’t know where it is ’cause they just changed the name. Use-ta be Capitol Park. Ain’t it a great new name? Anyways, go over yonder, near the old bank and you’ll see it. Not too far from here,” he says. I’m not sure if I can handle a full day of 1920s Alabama accents. We turn to leave the building and meet Belle and Cassidy at the bottom of the stairs.

They both look at us. Belle’s expression is open, curious. Cassidy just stares into me.

Finally, Belle asks a question, “So, what did they say?”

Max chuckles and clears his throat, in his best Southern impression he says, “Well, now down here in these parts, he ain’t been seen ’cept in Woodrow Wilson park.”

Cassidy’s gaze drops from me onto Max. She simeotaneously giggles and rolls her eyes. Belle does too.

“So, how exactly do we get to Woodrow Wilson park?” Cassidy asks, looking only at Max now. He smirks once more.

“Just over yonder, sweetheart,” he says. I can’t help myself from smiling a bit too. Anything to ease the tension, right? We wander through the streets of Birmingham. Maybe I just haven’t adjusted to the industrialized world yet, but never did I think there would be so many factories in Birmingham. At last, we reach Woodrow Wilson park. I glance around at the park. Hundreds of people are gathered around the park. But, no President in sight. Even the crowd is segregated.

“Look!” Belle shouts, pointing to a white car pulling up to the park. Harding. We sprint across the park towards the car.

“Harding!! President Harding!!” Max shouts, as we approach. Unlike our encounter with Andrew Jackson, getting to this President is much harder. His crew pushes us away from him.

“Wait,” Cassidy’s distinct voice says, “The Congressionalists need you to read this.” My heart drops, I’m sure the recording caught that. Here we go….

The group around Harding continues to push us away. But, a man’s voice speaks up.

“Give it to me,” Harding says. His group parts ever so slightly to let him meet Cassidy. Cassidy shoves the letter to him. He opens the envelope. He walks closer towards the stage reading it. I can barely see him from the crowd, but catch a glance of his head turning to look at us.

“Wow,” Belle whispers.

“What did you say to get him to take it?” Max asks.

Cassidy just shrugs, “Anything that I could. I want to see if we can talk to him after, considering we haven’t jumped yet. I wonder if the letter told him something that we have to do.”

We strategically linger around his car. I try my best to linger as near to Cassidy as I can. God, I wish we could talk. Without the recorder. Without Max and Belle’s presence.

Harding’s speech starts, we all listen. He first speaks about Birmingham. I start to tune out, but he changes the topic to World War One. I think back to our time in Germany. Goosebumps rolls over the skin of my arms as he begins to speak about African American voting rights. I rest a hand on Belle’s shoulder. She seems equally as stunned as I am. Cassidy and Max watch intently too.

The black side of the segregated audience rallied and cheered. This is a stark contrast from the white audience just to the right who stand in stunned silence. This is the moment. The moment I realized where I was, what was happening and what it looked like. History. Real history. Harding leaves the stage after talking more about black school inequality. I’ve never been more moved by a speech. Cassidy floats back to the sidewalk where Harding walks.

“Take them with us,” Harding says to one of his men.

“Even the woman and the colored ones?” The security asks, already pushing Max towards the car. My eyes go wide: plural? I’m white passing and this morning, as well as the rest of the missions, I was able to use that to my advantage. But, this particular man seems to have picked out my native skin. All this time in the sun surely hasn’t helped my white-passing abilities either.

“All of them,” Harding says. I let out a sigh of relief. Bare minimum Cassidy or I needed to be in that car.

We all get into the car. It’s not the President’s car, though just one similar. We follow along in the President’s brigade. My heart beats because realistically we have no plan and no way to make one. I want to hang on as long as I can without leadership (or the Congressionalists, I suppose), catching on… I’ll pause the recorder when we interrogate Harding, but no other time.

Cassidy sits next to me. I rest my hand between us. I feel her pinky hook onto mine. After only a few minutes of driving, we arrive at a hotel. Cassidy gets out of the car first. I place my hand on her lower back, guiding her to where everyone else walks. We walk up the stairs and into a large room. A banquet. Nice. Food platters line the wall, drinks too. I link arms with Cassidy assuring a couple of things: that we’re together to talk when needed and that I pass as white to everyone else. Max and Belle walk behind us like a shadow.

Harding crosses the room and steps up to Cassidy and I.

“Let’s have a private meeting upstairs?” he requests. I agree and nod back to Max and Belle. The four of us follow him up the stairs to the second floor. He swings open a hotel suite. We sit in his cozy kitchen area.

“Is the letter true?” he asks us. I glance at Cassidy who immediately answers.

“We haven’t read it, sir. What did it say?” she asks. He smiles with his mouth open.

“Well, I think I might know one way to know it’s true. But, the letter mentioned that you’re time travelers. Based on the makeup of your group and the vociferous woman here, I can tell that you certainly don’t belong here,” he says. Cassidy smiles and nods.

“It’s true,” Belle says. It seems as if Belle’s comment caught him off guard. He raises an eyebrow.

“Apologies, but where you come from, this is normal? For a lady and a girl to speak without being prompted to?” he says, just staring right at Belle. Belle softly blushes, a minor amount of rose peeking through her deep colored cheeks.

“Completely normal,” Max says, “Cassidy here is a…diplomat with the United States Government. Women do every job a man does: policemen, doctors, lawyers, you name it.” she glances over at him and smiles.

Harding squeezes the arm of his chair, nodding, “Sorry, what was your name again, sir?”

“Max.”

“Right, and Max can the same can be said for negros as well?”

“Yes. I work for a police department. We have several black men on our team,” Max explains

“I work for the FBI. I’m not sure if it exists yet, but it’s like a federal police agency. My partner is black,” I explain, “And, um, I’m American-Indian.” I’m strategic with the labeling of my race. Something tells me he wouldn’t know what indigenous or Native American means. But, I’m hopeful that this might be the only man from 1921 that will continue to speak to me after telling him that I’m in fact, not white.

Sweat beads start to form on Harding’s face. He glances at Cassidy and I.

“Sorry, it all feels quite peculiar for me. The letter, it encouraged me to speak on race today. Why? Are you aware? Is it because race equality is normal for you all or is it to work on our ultimate goal as Congressionalists?” he asks. The sides of my chest seem to be closing in. Interrogation time! Maybe I don’t need to pause it.

“What goal do you consider to be the Congressionalist’s main goal? We have several goals now,” Cassidy plays along.

“Fascinating. Well, our main goal is still to seize control of the government permanently, of course,” he starts. I hear Max gasp ever so slightly. Cassidy’s hand, which has been resting on my thigh, squeezes me intensely. My mouth flies open to cover before Max or Belle ruin it.

“Oh, yes, that would be ours too,” I say, hesitating slightly to clue in Cassidy and even the others. She gives me another squeeze and I continue, “But, one minor question, sorry, when you say that, what are you doing right now to get there?” Harding leans back in his chair, which gives me just enough time to glance at Belle and Max. Belle’s mouth hangs open. Cassidy reaches over and gently taps her. She closes it. Max’s eyes dart from Harding to me to Cassidy to Belle to Harding.

“Well, I find it peculiar that you all are here in history because it tells me that what I am doing is not enough. But, I also didn’t consider that in the distant future we’d be persecuted. What was it now? 2001? What happens then?” he asks.

“Nine-eleven,” Belle whispers all on her own.

“There was a terrorist attack and it caused a lot of groups, like the Congressionalists, I assume, to experience hard pressure from the outside,” I cover. Cassidy continues to give me encouraging squeezes as I speak. He nods. “Sorry, but what are you doing now to achieve this goal?”

“Well, I am President. It seems that something fell through in 2001, but as of now we’re working to gain control of all three branches so that we can undo the Constitutional parts we disagree with, slowly. But, we’re also trying to gain members. That’s why I focus so much on the rights of those groups,” he says. The comment sits with me wrong. Those groups.

“Those groups? You mean black people and women?” I ask. He shakes his head and chuckles.

“I don’t truly believe that negros or even your type, are people, like me and Max over here,” he says, gesturing at us. Cassidy and I make eye contact.

“So, sir, why do you speak on their behalf? If you don’t think they are people?” Cassidy asks, realizing now that Belle and I are treading in choppy waters.

“Like, I said, we need more support. If people are dissatisfied, whether it be the negros who feel left out or the Klan buddies of mine who disagree with these new rights, they will turn against the government. Towards groups like ours, like the Congressionalists,” Harding says. Now, Cassidy squeezes my leg so tightly that it seems as if her nails might rip my pants.

“Understood,” Max says, after Harding had stared at him for long enough.

“Nevertheless, even if I disagree with your existence, obviously my successors agree that you four, regardless of your flaws, are important. I want to examine your letter tonight, so I’ll give you rooms upstairs. In the morning, I’ll burn it so that you can be on your way,” he says.

Twenty Minutes Later.

POV: Cassidy Abbot

We are led upstairs, he grants us four different rooms. I walk into mine, it’s quiet and luxurious. A fluffy full bed rests against the window. A vanity sits adjacent to it, the fading sunlight glistening against the mirror. Paintings of women line the walls. I slip out of my room and go next door, to Max’s room. His room looks very similar to mine, but slightly larger. I walk all the way down the hall to Belle’s. I notice the stark difference immediately. Her bed is just a twin, with only one sheet. No paintings, no vanity. Just across from her room is Elliot’s, I push the door open and see the same. A small twin bed with little bedding and barren decor. His room doesn’t even have a window. We’re alone in the room.

“Recorder’s off. As if I just tucked myself into bed,” he whispers. I smile, a weight feels like it’s been lifted off me. As if my tongue-tiedness can just end.

“We need to sit and talk. Let’s go to my room. Leave it here,” I whisper back. He nods and walks with me to my room.

Max and Belle rush up behind us too. Looks like a group discussion… great. At least there’s no tape recorder. All four of us enter my room. I fasten the lock to ensure that no one can hear us.

“What the fuck was that?” Max says. I close my eyes and shake my head.

“I don’t know,” he whispers. Belle stares at the wall, hollow-eyed.

“So, Harding is a KKK member and he is apparently working for a terrorist group? That’s what I gathered,” I mutter.

“He? We’re working for a terrorist group,” Max says. I notice Elliot’s breathing change.

“No, I’m sorry but I think he was batshit crazy. We’re working for the CIA. Not a terrorist group,” Elliot replies.

“So, why the fuck did the letter we handed him tell him that we were Congressionalist… whatever that is… time travelers?” Max scoffs.

I take a deep breath, “The CIA used to be called the Congressionalists. I think the CIA wrote him a letter to encourage his speech of equality because it’s important for history. And, I think either the CIA didn’t realize or didn’t care that he was doing it for all the wrong reasons.”

Max just shakes his head, “I just don’t buy it.”

Elliot leans close to me and whispers in my ear, “We’re going to have to tell him or he’ll blow everything. Now, while the recorder is a safe distance away.” His hot breath lingers on the side of my face as I think.

“I know,” I whisper loud enough for the others to hear me. But, eventually I also lean into Elliot’s ear, “Let’s wait until Belle is gone. We need to interrogate him first.”

Elliot pulls away and just nods at me.

“Suspicious as fuck,” Max grumbles.

“Max, come here,” Elliot whispers.

“Belle, come here,” I whisper. Into Belle’s ear I whisper, “We’re going to go interrogate Harding. We want you to be safe to be able to tell the story of what happens if we don’t make it. Can you please go to your room and stay in there until either we come get you in the morning or until we jump years?”

She leans out of the whispers and nods. She leaves the room and shuts the door. I jump up behind her and watch her walk to her room. I call out to her to lock her door. After she’s securely shut into her room, I close my bedroom door and lock it. I slip the pocket knife out from my garter.