Chapter One

The bravery of dogs matters

America is far in the past. It doesn't feel like anyone remembers this transition and spinning pivot, which forced a sharp turn toward a dictatorship. He could remember the better times, but no one he knew ever mentioned them. It was as if they were unaware of how free and vibrant the country had once been. His memory was clear. It must have been. He didn't know how this dark shell of his past had become the enduring future wholly transformed into a Fellini-esque shallow movie of a dream which only missed the black and white to reassure him that "Fin" would come, which would allow him to step outside into a technicolor night full of bright lights, laughing people and an entirely free country. He knew that "Fin" wasn't coming to Save anyone, not even him. He hoped and fantasized it was only a movie, but reality's harsh cough of blood was the only real thing he knew. The country had gone to hell, and he would also find his way to hell. Cancer held him in the comforting, understanding that the current living hell would end shortly. He didn't know how long. It was a waste to go to the doctor’s visits anymore. He had nobody to keep his attention on staying alive longer than required. He found himself still alive.

Folks, it's not just ROM. There are others. Those that have different goals, technology, and motives. Who is to say they are the bad guys? The reality is their action is at cross purposes to ROM. So, if there is a bad guy, perhaps an actual boogeyman or super ultra villain, then it is the other tech-savvy group.

Everything would have been just perfect and excellent if there was just ROM. We were observing matters of our world, watching over and fine-tuning occasional events when necessary. We were keeping issues of our world in order and correctly in place, ensuring a smooth and catastrophic disaster-free continuum.

Unfortunately, we are not alone. So many people ponder about contact with aliens. Imagining where they come from, they may be, but the origin, at least the source of our adversary in this current existence, is apparent to those on ROM. They are similar to us in appearance. They could pass for any one of us.

Most folks never imagine the scope and breadth of catastrophe. They plan for the bad times. Putting away a stock of food to last a few days during an emergency, and maybe some bandages, a tube of antibiotic ointment in case they scrape their knee. They never dream of absolute disaster, war, and carnage.

The young woman's right arm was missing. She sat in a puddle of her blood. The white first aid kit, open beside her, had the contents clumsily spilled. The bandage she held to her stump wouldn't stop that gushing blood.

Snackler knew she'd be gone shortly. He could feel the sweetness of the poor young human.

When she saw him, she thought what a handsome dog he was. "Maybe you can bring me some help?"

Regrettably, he would not have the ability to help her. He may come this way again. He made a mental note to remember her and have her move out of the way if this scene played out again before him. It wouldn't help the instance of this creature, but another certainly exists. She was undoubtedly destined to power through the same scenario over and over again. He'd likely be this way again somewhen, and he'd do what he could to save her then.

Kindness manifests and grows exponentially into good things. ROM could sort it out if she weren't meant to be saved. Snackler wasn't going to overthink it. Others with higher pay grades and AIs with more throughput than his genetically enhanced canine brains would deal with the repercussions of a save made in error. They had before, and they would again. At least he knew they wouldn't invite him along to fix something he already fixed. That is the crap of reality for an agent of ROM. ROM fixes the timeline, and ROM fixes the fixes to the timeline. Forever and ever and ever it seemed.

Snackler would not worry over it. He didn’t dwell on the consequences of his actions. He always did his best. He was a good boy, and Laqueesha, his full-time human and the most important person in his life. Who may be, out of all of ROM, the only person whose feelings he really cared about.

She was the only person whose praise he lived for. She sniffed his fur and breath when she stroked the base of his ears with her fingers. Usually, some disjointed sentence would come from her lips during these intimate inter-species moments.

"Stinkler! You're so smelly. I love you so much. Give me a kiss."

This middle-aged woman was anything but stupid. Even though her small talk when she petted him was retarded. He always obliged her with a big slobbery lick across her face.

The typical response to this overly enthusiastic shower was, "Yuck!"

Followed by a warm and robust hug. He hoped she'd never let go.

Laqueesha would always be his forever. In this world, throughout ROM, anywhere, anywhen, or anywhy. Snackler was bonded to that woman emotionally, and physical chains could not hold him to keep him away from her.

He knew when time latched on to his mind and body thoroughly that he would lose the flavor and scent of Laqueesha. For all of the fun he had at work, this was the part he hated. He wanted to keep her close to him all the time.

His ancestors were veterans of bloodsports. Their bravery flowed through his veins. He didn't understand it exactly, but he could feel it when his genetic memory kicked in. His fearless primitive ancestors swam around inside his soul.

Soul? Some say dogs don't have one. Souls are assigned only to humans. The Animal Kingdom held the distinction of being assigned to humans as servants. They were just food and entertainment.

Not all humans were this ignorant. Snackler, although genetically modified, knew he had a soul. His ancestors too. All the way back to that prehistorical split, when canines left lupine and with that split changed the path of humans. Homo sapiens would never have been successful without their canines.

Humans and dogs formed a symbiotic relationship, unbreakable through time. Occasionally Snackler would have a lucid dream. Some people called it astral projection. Snackler didn't believe in the spiritual mumbo jumbo of the events. He knew God was real. He knew God was recognized by his ancestors. They may not have had his enhanced IQ, but they were not stupid. Being dumb to a human did not mean they couldn't communicate. Snackler was fully telepathic with some telekinesis ability. He had felt the emotional intellect of these old dogs. They had priorities and pride. They loved. There was hate and indifference. Their life revolved around these emotions. Happy, living for each moment as it happens with fantastic humor and fantastical loyalty and bravery. They lived through both joyous and hellish times.

None of his ancestors were cowardly. Bravely, they stood up to giant bulls. Dumb monsters that were easy to trick. It was a pleasure to taunt the evil, protecting their humans from the certain pain and death they could bring onto them in just seconds. Many a dog met his destiny, saving their humans from certain death. Those bulls were so dangerous.

The bravery of dogs matters. The stupidity that got the human and dog into harm's way was unimportant. What was of merit is that dogs stood against the terror, the violence, the danger. They knew, just like the old line says. "All dogs go to heaven."

Snackler knew it was true. Just like the song he'd heard Laqueesha playing the other day. "There's a heaven for a chief." Heaven has a place for dogs, too.