The Appointment at the Snake River

“Dejame tranquilo cuando estoy orinando,” complained Snake García as his appointment came closer here at the Snake River. He continued to spray his urine onto the cactus calmly.

Irritated, Martín Baresco shouted “Hurry up!” after him. He continued chewing on his straw, his gaze drifting back into the distance, towards the small hill they would have to climb soon. It was still a long way from here, and Baresco wondered why they had chosen to make their appointment here at the Snake River, where a longer climb lay ahead.

Snake urinated in a beautiful arc against the cactus leaves, when something moved behind the stem of the prickly plant. A small green venomous snake emerged from behind the cactus, standing half-standing beside his urine arc and staring at him. It wriggled lustfully, and García should have known that things were getting dangerous.

But Snake simply pulled out his brain phaser from his belt, aimed at the split snake tongue, and pressed the trigger. The snake staggered back to the ground, not knowing where to go. Snake shook his penis and pushed his snout back into the stall. His foot stepped on the twitching snake head, and he walked over to Martín, who was still afraid of the climb.

“Come on, compadre,” tried Snake to cheer up his friend. “Alonso also made it seven months ago.” He patted Martín on the shoulder, overtook him, and began walking up the narrow path between the twisting cacti, up the hill.

“Why do people call you Snake?” he heard himself ask behind him.

But Snake only replied, “And why do people call you Baresco?” Then he went on to explain more. “The snakes just love me. Even though I’m not nice to them.” In truth, he had the reputation of being a snake killer since he once killed a fat viper with his own hands.

“Oh really?” Baresco sounded skeptical but hopeful. “Then nothing will happen to us here.”

“No, nothing will happen,” confirmed Snake. “I’m here. And besides, there isn’t a single snake anywhere around here.” He insisted on that even though vipers darted around among the cacti. “And besides, those animals don’t like your old leather skin.” García laughed.

Baresco didn’t notice his friend’s amusement. He tried to keep up with Snake, so as not to create too much distance between them. Otherwise, another animal might get between them, he feared.

Finally, they reached the hill. Baresco was a little out of breath and breathing heavily. Snake seemed not to mind the walk. He looked down into the valley on the other side.

“The Valley of Friendly Rocket Scientists,” explained García to his partner. “The once friendly Rocket Scientists,” he corrected himself. “Unfortunately, they’ve all gone completely crazy.”

Baresco still was breathing heavily when he commented on Snake. “People say you were responsible for their madness.”

“It was an accident,” admitted Snake. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

Yes, thought Baresco. Everyone makes mistakes, but not everyone can correct their mistakes. He usually could. He just had to be very careful not to make mistakes when correcting someone else’s mistake. Otherwise, things would get complicated. The continuum of space and time generally doesn’t tolerate that kind of thing.

Baresco trudels forward up a hill.

Snake and he had come up here because his machine was standing there. It was a unique machine, but still in good condition, considering everything it had gone through. He didn’t know how old it was. It was a strange question for a time machine. But it had already taken him through many time loops, and everything had always gone well. Most of the time. Except for that episode with the Eloi and the Morlocks. He was so in love with Weena back then, in the year 802701.

But now they were here, and they had a mission to complete. Well, he—Martín Baresco—had a mission to complete. And Snake García was supposed to help him. He had to help him.

Baresco pointed with his outstretched arm and finger at his time machine. “Snake, this is my machine.”

García turned around. “What kind of machine is that? And why is it standing here?”

“That’s my time machine. We’re going to travel through it to the year 1952.”

“What?” Garcia said. “Why? And what do I do there?”

“Snake, I have something very important to do there. And only you can help me.”

“Me? Why? And why should I do that?”

“It’s very important for all of humanity. I need you to be there. You and your brain phaser.”

“Madre mía, do I have to shoot everyone’s brains again?”

“Just a little boy on his sixth birthday.”

“Un niño inocente? Why do you want me to do that?”

“Trust me, Snake.” And Baresco put on his most trustworthy face.

García wasn’t sure if he could trust his friend. What horrible story was he trying to involve him in? On the other hand, it sounded like a great adventure. He had never traveled through time before.

“And does this thing work?” Snake frowned. “I mean, can we really travel through time with this?”

“Trust me, Snake.” Baresco’s most trustworthy face was frozen in place. “Get in that machine.”

He went over to his time machine and got in position in front of the control panel. Snake, full of adventure and skepticism, sat down behind him. “Okay, let’s go!” he agreed, despite his uneasy feelings.

Baresco set the destination of the time machine. It was June 14th, 1952, at noon in New York City. “Hold on tight, Snake. We’re going…”

The hill disappeared from Snake’s eyes, and the cacti whirled around wildly. The sky tightened around them, then suddenly opened up again. Trees whirled around wildly, then stabilized. A lake appeared.

“…now!” Baresco’s words echoed in Snake’s ears as they suddenly appeared in Central Park. He saw the lake, the trees, heard the birds chirping, and noticed people having a picnic by the water.

Baresco checked his watch. It was noon.

“Let’s not waste time,” said Baresco to Snake, who was still staring at Central Park. He had only noticed the spatial change so far. He couldn’t yet understand that they had traveled to another time.

They left Central Park and called for a taxi. Snake wondered about the old model of the taxi. Gradually, he realized that he had really traveled through time.

Today was the sixth birthday of their son. Fred and Mary Anne had bought a lot of things for their child. But there was still a missing part of the birthday cake. The little boy must have eaten too much cake and pies beforehand.

“You little bastard,” scolded Fred.

But Mary Anne tried to calm him down. “Let’s sing anyway,” she begged.

The little boy looked at his parents with full cheeks. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,” the voices of Fred and Mary Anne echoed. The latter sounded clear, while the former sounded annoyed. “Happy birthday dear…”

They stopped when the little bastard suddenly ran outside. “Hey!” Fred called out, but the little boy didn’t hear.

The now-six-year-old boy ran straight out into the garden and threw up. The cake and pies landed half-eaten in a bush. He wanted more than he could handle. The little bastard would never learn that lesson, not now, and never later.

Just as he wiped his messy mouth, he heard a sound from the other side of the bush where he had hidden from his parents.

“Now! You only have this one chance!” Martín Baresco sent Snake García forward. He already had his brain phaser ready. He looked at the innocent face of the little child. Should he really do it?

“Press the trigger,” whispered Baresco. “It’s about the fate of all of humanity. Your doubts are not necessary now.”

Snake hesitated. The little child looked at him in surprise. But then he decided to do it. For a better world. And he pressed the trigger.

The little child’s face took on a stupid expression immediately after being hit by the brain phaser. His eyes bulged, and his lips twisted. He stared in surprise, as if he had a chance to understand what had happened to him.

Then he ran back into the house.

“I’ll grab her by the pussy!” he heard him shout—and then his mother Mary Anne’s surprised squeal.

What mistake did Martín Baresco really want to correct? Unfortunately, the course of history shows that it was a mistake to try to correct that mistake, especially when one makes a mistake himself. The continuum of space and time became chaotic. And from a completely crazy millionaire, he became the most powerful man in the world.