Chapter 19
Creaking floorboards chastised me with every step I made. The room I entered was crowded with men in knee-length pants, tights, and jackets with fluffy white shirts underneath their main garment. No one looked at me as I walked in, but still, I felt like I was interrupting something important. Straight ahead of me stood a cluster of five men standing in front of a table. One man was seated and signing a piece of thick parchment.
Edging closer to the table, still checking to see if anyone in the room noticed my presence, I peered over the shoulder of the shortest man there. Near the top of the parchment were the words “The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America,” written in beautiful script.
My jaw plummeted to the floor as I realized I was watching the Declaration of Independence being signed. Funny, I’d never realized that the word “united” wasn’t capitalized in the title. Gawking at the paper, I didn’t notice the man in front of me turn around. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I recognized the face of Benjamin Franklin gazing back at me.
“Allie, are you seeing this?” came Dylan’s voice through the headset, nearly knocking me over in surprise. I’d forgotten he was there.
“Yes, I am!” I exclaimed, barely believing my eyes.
“Which one is George Washington?”
Craning my neck around Benjamin Franklin, I responded, “I think he’s the tallest one over there.”
“Amazing!” shouted Dylan, hurting my ear just a bit. “I never knew he was quite that tall.”
“Don’t you learn about American History in Oceania?”
“Yes, but we are mostly taught World History and Oceania History. America is covered of course, but we don’t learn about it as in-depth as you do.” Dylan’s voice went away for a moment and then returned as excitedly as before. “I’ve got to check every one of these people out. See who they are and where they’re from.”
Unlike Dylan, I was more interested in the document itself. I reached out to touch the single long sheet of parchment, the ink from the signatures still wet. Careful not to touch any of the wet ink, I brushed my fingers on the edge of the parchment, stroking it lightly. It was rougher than I had expected and the odor coming from the paper was something I couldn’t quite place.
Suddenly, the room disappeared and Dylan and I were propelled to a different place and time. I found myself on a beach somewhere I didn’t recognize. Darkness blanketed the land, minimal moonlight cast down from last quarter moon hanging low in the sky. I could just make out a hill rising up to my left and decided to climb it. Dirt crunched beneath my feet as I moved up the steep hill; a salty odor carried on the breeze from the sea behind me.
My feet felt awkward in the shoes I was wearing, gazing down I noticed both shoes looked exactly the same—there was no right or left shoe. Bunching up the various petticoats, I continued up the incline.
Just before I reached the top, I heard a deafening boom shatter the calm in the air. I snapped my gaze in that direction to see a ship firing up at what looked like a fort.
I wracked my brain, trying to figure out exactly when and where I was, but before I could determine it myself, a narration kicked in.
“You are viewing the first fire that caused the start of the American Civil War. Confederate forces shot upon Fort Sumter, which was held by Union forces at the time.”
“Thank you,” spoke Dylan into the headset. “Sorry, Allie, I was confused and had to ask.”
I was baffled myself because I hadn’t heard him ask. Just when I was about to say something to him, cannon fire drowned out my voice.
The program had once again moved us through time and we found ourselves in the midst of a battle during the Civil War based on the clothing of the men fighting. Pungent smells of blood permeated the air as men fired upon and stabbed one another. Cries of pain and anguish filled my ears as man after man was cut down on both sides. Standing in the midst of it, I was only a viewer and thankfully not a participant.
The battle raged on for what seemed like several really long minutes before we were once again transported to another place and time. On and on that went, jumping from one moment in history to another in chronological order. By the end of the tour, we had traveled through 500 years of history and my mind was boggled.
The screen went dark and the same female voice from before said, “I hope you found your journey insightful, educational, and inspirational. Enjoy the rest of your time at the San Francisco Museum.”
Taking off the headset, I checked the time on my omniphone. We’d been in the VRI for three hours already. Shocked, I quickly sent a message to Gran letting her know she could take her time visiting her friend and that we’d probably be there until closing in order to visit the rest of the museum.
Placing everything back the way it was before we came, Dylan and I moved on to the next room where we were each given five credit codes and directed to one of the fifty machines in the room.
“What is this for?” wondered Dylan as the robotic attendant walked away.
“It’s for the printing machine.”
Dylan cocked his head to the side and asked, “The printing machine?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “It’s a 3D printer. You can print whatever you want on it; any item commonly made up to 300 years ago. They’re pretty cool. I have some things
