Finding Garfield 2
“I have had a curious interest in watching the process, in my own mind, by which the fabric of my life is being demolished and reconstructed, to meet the new condition of affairs. One by one my old plans and aims, modes of thought and feeling, are found to be inconsistent with present duty, and are set aside to give place to the new structure… It is not without a regret, almost tearful at times, that I look upon the ruins. But if, as the result of the broken plans and shattered individual lives of thousands of American citizens, we can see on the ruins of our own national errors a new and enduring fabric arise, based on larger freedom and higher justice, it will be a small sacrifice indeed. For myself, I am contented with such a prospect, and, regarding my life as given to the country, I am only anxious to make as much of it as possible before the mortgage upon it is foreclosed.”
- James Garfield 1861
Before James stood a pure white door, slightly ajar. He gently nudged it open, revealing a bedroom not unlike his own, and yet somehow alien. A wooden dresser and bed filled most of the room illuminated by impossibly bright electric lights. One wall contained what appeared to be a large glass window, but the world outside was dark. Beneath the window was an oaken desk and a high-backed chair made of flawlessly smooth black leather, on which was seated an unusually clothed woman. As she turned to look at him, James was reminded of his mother by her facial expression. Her disheveled hair lay in a limb braid on one shoulder and her face was flushed and weary. James took a step closer, sensing a familiarity in her stormy eyes.
She wore mere underclothes of oddly bright colors, but she was not ashamed and nor was James. Giving him a melancholic smile, she turned back towards her desk. Recognizing his welcome, he moved to stand behind her chair. Her focus was fixed on a miniature glass window that was propped up by a wooden stand on her cluttered table. Following her gaze, James was astonished to find that he could not see through the pane, and instead seemed to see into hell itself, as seen by soothsayers in their crystal balls. Flames licked the edges of the window and yet no heat could be sensed. Defenseless men and women of all colors fought together within, but it was unclear whom or what they were fighting. Those they battled wielded supernatural shields, weaponry, and armor. Together they watched these images of a horrific alternate reality and James wondered if it could be real. He was aware he must be dreaming, but the vision of this other world caused his heart to stir.
“Are you a soldier now?” She suddenly asked. James nodded slowly, unsure if she could see or hear him. She fired more questions. “Is this like the civil war? Do you really think things will change? Do you ever doubt whether you will win?” It did not look like the civil war he lived and breathed every day, but the passion in the eyes of the people was deeply familiar. He was unable to speak and looked helplessly into her watery blue eyes. Finally recognizing these as images of a revolting nation, he found his voice.
“Right reason is stronger than force.”
As this thought solidified in his head, James realized he was wide awake.