UR

Robbie said about that last night? Better watch out, traffic fines double. The kid was sharp and might get even sharper, if he didn’t batter his brains out playing senseless Division Three football. Smiling, Wesley highlighted UR LOCAL and pushed the select button. This message came up:
    ACCESS CURRENT UR LOCATION? Y  N
     
    Wesley selected Y. The Kindle thought some more, then posted a new message:
    THE CURRENT UR LOCAL IS MOORE ECHO
     
    ACCESS? Y  N
     
     
     
    Wesley considered the question while eating a strip of bacon. The Echo was a rag specializing in yard sales, local sports, and town politics. The townies scanned those things, he supposed, but mostly bought the paper for the obituaries and Police Beat. Everybody liked to know which neighbors had died or been jailed. Searching 10.4 million Moore, Kentucky Urs sounded pretty boring, but why not? Wasn’t he basically marking time, drawing his breakfast out, so he could watch the players’ bus go by?
    “Sad but true,” he said, and highlighted the Y button. What came up was similar to a message he had seen before: Ur Local is protected by all applicable Paradox Laws. Do you agree? Y  N.
    Now that was strange. The New York Times archive wasn’t protected by these Paradox Laws, whatever they were, but their pokey local paper was? It made no sense, but seemed harmless. Wesley shrugged and selected Y.
    WELCOME TO THE ECHO PRE-ARCHIVE!
     
    YOUR PRICE IS $40.00/4 DOWNLOADS
     
    $350.00/10 DOWNLOADS
     
    $2500.00/100 DOWNLOADS
     
     
     
    Wesley put his fork on his plate and sat frowning at the screen. Not only was the local paper Paradox Law-protected, it was a hell of a lot more expensive. Why? And what the hell was a pre-archive? To Wesley, that sounded like a paradox in itself. Or an oxymoron.
    “Well, it’s under construction,” he said. “Traffic fines double and so do download expenses. That’s the explanation. Plus, I’m not paying for it.”
    No, but because the idea persisted that he might someday be forced to (someday soon! ), he compromised on the middle choice. The next screen was similar to the one for the Times archive, but not quite the same; it just asked him to select a date. To him this suggested nothing but an ordinary newspaper archive, the kind he could find on microfilm at the local library. If so, why the big expense?
    He shrugged, typed in July 5, 2008, and pushed select. The Kindle responded immediately, posting this message:
    FUTURE DATES ONLY
     
    THIS IS NOVEMBER 20, 2009
     
     
     
    For a moment he didn’t get it. Then he did, and the world suddenly turned itself up to super-bright, as if some supernatural being had cranked the rheostat controlling the daylight. And all the noises in the café—the clash of forks, the rattle of plates, the steady babble of conversation—seemed too loud.
    “My God,” he whispered. “No wonder it’s expensive.”
    This was too much. Way too much. He moved to turn the Kindle off, then heard cheering and yelling outside. He looked up and saw a yellow bus with MOORE COLLEGE ATHLETIC DEPARTMENT printed on the side. Cheerleaders and players were leaning out the open windows, waving and laughing and yelling stuff like “ Go, Meerkats! ” and “ We’re number one! ” One of the young women was actually wearing a big foam Number One finger on her hand. The pedestrians on Main Street were grinning and waving back.
    Wesley lifted his own hand and waved feebly. The bus driver honked his horn. Flapping from the rear of the bus was a piece of sheeting with THE MEERKATS WILL ROCK THE RUPP spray-painted on it. Wesley became aware that people in the café were applauding. All this seemed to be happening in another world. Another Ur.
    When the bus was gone, Wesley looked down at the pink Kindle again. He decided he wanted to utilize at least one of his ten downloads, after all. The locals didn’t have much use for the student body as a whole—the standard town-versus-gown thing—but they loved the Lady Meerkats because everybody loves a winner. The tourney’s results, pre-season or not, would be front-page news in Monday’s Echo . If they won, he could buy Ellen a victory gift, and if they lost, he could buy her a consolation present.
    “I’m a winner either way,” he said, and entered Monday’s date: November 23 rd , 2009.
    The Kindle thought for a long time, then produced a newspaper front page.
    The date was Monday’s date.
    The headline was huge and black.
    Wesley spilled his