“Man, these guys are short,” David said, and it was true. The average male during the Roman Empire stood about five feet tall. The Flashback Four towered over most of the people on the street.
The timer counted down: 116 minutes.
The kids stood and watched the action swirl around them for a few minutes. Everything seemed so much more colorful than it had been the first time they were there—bright whites, deep reds, vivid yellows. The mosaics and paintings on the walls of buildings looked fresh and new. At the intersection, street fountains bubbled with water.
“E pluribus unum,” Isabel said to a smiling old man pushing a cart.
“E pluribus unum,” the man replied.
“E pluribus unum,” she said to a lady carrying a large jug on her head.
“E pluribus unum,” the lady replied.
“Why are you saying that to everybody?” asked Julia.
“It’s the only Latin I know,” Isabel replied. “It means ‘Out of many, one.’”
“Where did you learn Latin?” asked Luke.
“I didn’t. It says ‘e pluribus unum’ on the back of every quarter.”
“Who reads the writing on quarters?” asked David.
“Me,” Isabel replied.
“You don’t need to do that, you know,” Julia told her. “We have the Ear Buddy, remember?”
“Oh, yeah!”
The Ear Buddy that was in each of their ears took a little getting used to. The Flashback Four sidled over near two men standing on the corner in order to eavesdrop on the conversation.
“I fear the heat may ruin this year’s harvest,” one of the men said to his friend, in Latin.
A millisecond after he said that, the kids heard those words in their ears—in English.
“Be hopeful, citizen,” said the other man. “I feel the cool winds will arrive this evening.”
“It works!” Isabel whispered to the others. “Did you hear that? They’re talking about how hot it is today.”
“I can’t believe grown-ups made small talk about the weather back in the year 79,” said Julia.
“Some things never change,” David remarked.
Emboldened, Julia skipped off down the street, making meaningless chitchat in Latin with every passerby she encountered.
“Nice day we’re having,” she said to a bearded man with a cane.
“Lovely,” he replied.
“They say it may rain on Friday,” she said to another man.
“That would be good for the crops,” he replied.
Luke, David, and Isabel rushed to catch up with her. They weren’t about to let Julia get too far ahead. She had a history of running off to go on little adventures of her own.
“Latin is fun!” she told them.
“Hey, check this out,” Luke said. He walked over to a bald man carrying a dog and asked him, “What do you think of the Red Sox?”
The bald man looked at his feet, and then back at Luke.
“The color of my socks does not much matter to me,” he replied.
The Flashback Four cracked up.
“Whew, you should have smelled the breath on that guy,” Luke told the others. “These Romans need to invent toothpaste, fast.”
LUKE JUST ASKED A GUY IF HE LIKED THE RED SOX! Isabel typed on the TTT.
Miss Z replied a few seconds later with a smiley-face emoji.
“Y’know, we should make sure we got here on the right day,” David told the group. “Remember what happened in Gettysburg.”
Ah yes, Gettysburg. Due to a typo by Miss Z, the Flashback Four arrived in Gettysburg one day early, the day before Abraham Lincoln’s famous speech. That caused all kinds of problems.
“We need to find a newspaper,” Julia said, looking around for a garbage can. “You can always find one in the garbage.”
“They don’t have newspapers in the year 79!” Luke told her, rolling his eyes. “I don’t even know if they have garbage cans.”
David took matters into his own hands, walking up to a man with a dog on a leash.
“Excuse me, sir,” he said politely, “is today Tuesday, August twenty-fourth, in the year 79?”
The man looked at David blankly for a moment. Miss Z had told the kids that ancient Romans used a calendar similar to ours. Saturday was named for the planet Saturn. Sunday was named for the sun, and Monday for the moon.
“It is certainly the twenty-fourth day of the month August,” the man replied. “But what do you mean by the year 79? This is the first year of the reign of Emperor Titus Vespasianus Augustus! Hail Emperor Titus!”
“Hail Titus!” chanted a few passersby.
“Okay, okay, chill,” said David.
AUGUST 24 CONFIRMED, Isabel typed into the TTT.
The timer counted down: 113 minutes.
The first time they were in Pompeii, the streets were just about bare. Museums had snatched up most of the statues and artifacts that were found when the city was dug up. But this time, statues were all over the place. Every few yards was another large marble representation of a Roman god, emperor, or hero—Jupiter, king of the gods and guardian of the state. Venus, the goddess of love. Mars, the god of war. And of course, the emperor Titus.
As the Flashback Four meandered down Via dell’Abbondanza, they could see there were cracks in the walls of many of the stores and houses. Seventeen years earlier, in the year 62, a violent earthquake had swept through the region and reduced much of Pompeii to rubble. The town was still getting back on its feet.
Also on the walls were lots of advertisements, political campaign posters, and graffiti. The kids couldn’t read the Latin words, but they stopped to examine them anyway. . . .
A copper pot went missing from my shop. Anyone who returns it to me will be given sixty-five bronze coins.
Health to you, Victoria, and wherever you are may you sneeze sweetly.
Cruel Lalagus, why do you not love me?
Let him perish who knows not love. Let him perish twice over whoever forbids love.
“I wonder what they say,” David said.
“They look sort of like
