The Far Side of Forever

July 1957 

Private First Class David Ardath had finally relaxed on his bunk after turning on the radio. Buddy Holly blared over the tinny little speaker. Ardath realized that this radio was about the only remnant of the real world in this hot little hell-hole they called Fort Huachuca in Southern Arizona. He heard a commotion at the end of the aisle and looked up at the sergeant as he came towards his bunk. He sighed, wondering what the next chore would be. It had been another typically long, hard day in the field training for various potential desert combat situations. A number of aircraft had been dropping 500 pound bombs nearby, and the artillery fire had been almost constant. His nerves were jangled, his ears were ringing, and all-in-all he wondered why he had wanted to join the army in the first place. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he wanted to forget it immediately, as he knew only too well why he was here. He was now alone in the world, having lost his parents in an automobile accident only six months before. His brother had died in Korea several years back and as the final insult, his wife of two years had left him. She had run off with some guy she had met while he was on the road selling vacuum cleaners, which had been his least favorite job. So after all that, joining the army appeared the only thing left to do. 

The sergeant called out, "Ardath, David. Up front and center." He was a tall, very powerful looking individual. He looked like he wasn't used to saying things twice. To add to his intimidation factor, he was from some other outfit. He was wearing a sharply starched dress uniform, white gloves, white helmet and perfectly polished boots. The scowl on his face had clearly been practiced over many years of service to his country. He glared around the barracks at the group of new recruits. 
All Ardath wanted to do was go to sleep, not follow this guy. At least he didn't feel hungry anymore, as he had eaten a huge dinner, even taking seconds on the mystery meat they served. He sighed, jumped off the bed and stood at attention in front of the sergeant. "Private Ardath, sir," he hollered. 

"Follow me." The sergeant waited as Ardath put on his boots and then he turned abruptly on his heels and marched out of the barracks. Ardath followed him at a reasonable distance. 

As they started walking down the sidewalk, Ardath tried to ask, "Where are we going?" 

The sergeant just grunted and didn't answer. They were walking rapidly, as if their mission was urgent. The sinking sun was bright in their eyes, obscuring his vision in its glare. They continued walking for several minutes, beyond the end of the row of barracks, and further past the armory. Finally they arrived at a small building that was unmarked and isolated from the others. Ardath didn't remember seeing this building before. 

They reached the door, and the sergeant knocked on the door, two sharp raps, followed with a single rap. After a moment, a door latch rattled and the door creaked open. A guard also wearing a white helmet and gloves stood there very sternly and formally, waiting without a word. The sergeant murmured something to the guard that Ardath couldn't quite hear, and the two of them were allowed in. 

They walked down the hallway, boots echoing on the tile floor. They seemed to walk for a long distance down the hall, taking a couple of turns. Ardath realized that this building was deceptively small on the outside, and was much larger on the inside than you'd expect. 

Ardath was finally led into a small room, where the sergeant told him to have a seat and then walked out of the room without any further comment. Ardath thought, What a zombie. That guy needs to get laid. 

He started looking around the room. It was fairly small, maybe ten to twelve feet on each side, with a single bare bulb in the middle of the ceiling. It was painted an antiseptic white and had one small window. The window was covered on the inside with a grate of some sort. He looked at the grate closer and figured it had a rubbery cover of some sort, as the material on the grate was slightly compressible. When he looked out of the window, he could only see the back of the adjoining building. Overall, the room gave him the impression of a cross between a hospital room and a prison cell. He wondered why he was here, but didn't think it would be for anything good. 

The only furniture in the room was a small table and a chair placed right in the middle of the room. He sat down in the chair, and was surprised to find that it was quite comfortable. Even as he settled into the chair, he became more uncomfortable with the situation. Usually, they told you exactly what was going on, but he didn't know of anyone just taken from the barracks without any explanation. If this was supposed to be punishment, why weren't they making an example out of him like they usually did? It certainly couldn't be a transfer or a promotion either, since they didn't inform people this way. So that left him confused and disoriented. The only thing he knew for sure is that he hadn't done anything wrong. He started trying to think about everyone he spoken to recently and what he had said. Even though McCarthyism had died down, it didn't mean there were no more witch hunts for suspected communists or other subversive types. It seemed that the more he tried to think of what he could have done to deserve some obscure punishment, the less any of it made sense. He sat there dwelling on his own behavior for what seemed like an eternity. Since there was no clock in the room and he hadn't taken the time to put on a watch, he couldn't gauge how long he had been in the room. He knew it had been a long time because it was getting quite dark outside. 

Suddenly, the door rattled as it was unlocked and yet another guard came in. He was carrying a small tray with some orange juice and crackers on it. The guard set the tray on the small table, and said, "Drink all of this juice and eat all of the crackers. That will help you to relax." 

"What do you mean relax? Where am I? What am I in here for?" Ardath was beginning to feel a little paranoid, as all these people were acting very strangely. Also, not a one of them had any sort of identification other than their dress uniforms and stripes. 

"You're in a special program. Someone will describe the nature of the program to you when it is safe to do so. We don't want to compromise our national security, of course." 

Ardath blinked and said, "Well, I know we don't want to do that, but why all the secrecy to me? Now that I'm here you can tell me the scoop can't you?" 

"Sorry, you'll be OK, just drink the juice and eat the crackers, please, so I can get on to my next charge." The guard just stood there and watched, waiting to see that the articles were consumed as ordered. 

Ardath sat for a moment contemplating the orange juice and crackers and decided to just go along with it. If they wanted him to know they would tell him, and in the meantime, this was still the U.S. Army and they wouldn't hurt him on purpose.