“Welcome to Eternity,” the receptionist says brightly.

 

The room is long and narrow. Modern chairs are arranged on opposite sides of the room with the receptionist desk neatly placed in the middle. No one else is in the room.

 

“Hello,” I mutter as I approach the desk. “I have this.” I hand her a red envelope.

 

She opens the envelope, removes the card inside, and scans the chip.

 

“Hello, Mr. Katongo,” she says, standing up. “Congratulations, you have a free one-hour session at Eternity. Would you like to use it today?”

 

“You mean now? I assumed I needed to make an appointment.”

 

“Of course,” she replies happily. “We can hook you up and have you traveling within five minutes.”

 

“Sure,” I reply with false confidence. “Let’s give it a go.”

 

She opens the door to a small antechamber behind her desk. I quickly browse and sign the standard release form. A man appears through another door.

“This is your guide,” the receptionist says, pointing to the man. “Enjoy your stay.” She nods politely and exits.

 

“This way, please,” the guide says. He leads me to a dimly lit room with a large leather chair. A simple tablet connected to two electrodes is poised on a table. “Please, have a seat.”

 

The guide places the electrodes on my temples and asks, “Where and when are we going today?”

 

I’ve answered this question many times in my mind. Ever since I heard about Eternity, the company that projects your mind back in simulated time. “The campus of William Jewell College, April 15, 1985.”

 

“I love specificity,” the guide remarks, smiling. He taps at the tablet. “You’ll hear a chime five seconds before your hour is complete. Enjoy!”

 

I feel my body go limp as if I’ve fallen asleep. After a few seconds, I can make out a green hue, and then red. I touch my arms and face. I feel like I’m falling. The colors become more vivid and clear. Suddenly, I’m standing on a grass field in front of a building. The plaque reads “Marston Hall.”

 

I feel the wind on my skin and smell freshly cut grass. Students are walking on the sidewalk, their voices jarring me. I walk over to two students. “Excuse me, what time is it?”

 

“9:30,” one of them calls over his shoulder as they continue to walk.

 

They can see me. I can interact with them. I’m so overwhelmed that I almost forget why I’m here. “My dad,” I say to myself. “I’ve got to find Dad.”

 

* * *

 

I lost my father twice. The first time was when his dementia took control of his brain. He didn’t recognize me anymore. His gaze went right through me, as if he were living in another world. The second time was ten months ago when his physical body died. I struggled to understand which of his two deaths was worse.

 

Although I had wonderful memories of him, I hardly knew him. My knowledge was based on what I needed to know as a selfish son. I knew where he worked, his phone number, his birthday, his favorite sandwich. These perfunctory details were enough to build a relationship on, but I clearly lacked any curiosity about his past.

 

Luckily, when I was going through his files, I found a diploma from William Jewell. When I won the free session at Eternity, I knew it was my key to his past.

 

* * *

 

I roam the campus looking at all the faces. I’m timid about asking people, but quickly realize that finding him is going to be hard. “Do you know Clive Katongo?” I ask everyone I see, but no one knows him.

 

“There he is!” I hear someone call. I turn around and see my dad walking straight at me, followed by four cronies.

 

I smile at him and start to introduce myself, but he approaches me fast and pushes me to the ground. “I heard you’ve been talking about me,” he yells, pointing at me. “Go get the truck,” he calls to his posse. “I’ll meet you in back.”

 

They run off hooting and slapping each other on the back. My father reaches down and pulls me to my feet by my collar. He pushes me into the bushes on the side of a building, out of sight.

 

“Listen to me,” he says in a forceful whisper. “We don’t have a lot of time. I need you to tell me who you are and where you come from. I know you’re not from here.”

 

“Uh, I came to find you. I came to learn about you,” I manage to say, unsure how truthful I should be.

 

“Damnit!” he says, throttling me. “I can tell you’re half Martian! We don’t have a lot of time!”

 

“I’m…what?”

 

My dad assumes a specific posture and facial expression that are completely recognizable to me; something I’ve seen many times during his lifetime. He looks at me with his steel colored eyes in a hypnotic gaze.

 

“I need your help. I’m Martian. They sentenced me to service on this planet for 90 Earth years, but I completed that sentence over 12 years ago. Help me make contact and get off this planet. Please!”

 

I stare at him in shock. My head is spinning, and I hear the sound of chimes.

 

“Dad!” I call out, “I’ll be back!” The world goes dark. I’m in the chair at Eternity.

 

“Welcome back,” the guide says politely. “You may feel a bit disoriented, but your vitals look great. You’re free to go whenever you’re ready. I hope we see you back here soon.”

 

I jump up and reply, “Oh, yes, I’ll be back.” I run out of the building.

 

* * *

 

The receptionist walks into the room where the guide is recalibrating the electrodes. She asks, “Which one did you use on that guy? He bolted out of here like he was on a mission.”

 

“The one about the family member being an alien.”

 

“Classic.”