William could see the confusion in Keziah's face slowly replaced with panic.  Did she think he was nuts?  Or maybe a ... what did they call a male witch, a warlock or a wizard or...?  Maybe she believed him and simply couldn't process the concept.  Hell, William was from the future, and if someone had told him then that they were from his future, he wouldn't have believed it ... and he lived in the era of great science.

He scooted forward on the stool and took Keziah's hands into his.  He wanted to say something reassuring, but what?  Soon, though, her panic began to subside, and Keziah finally spoke, [color=007236]"Tell me then. What is it like?"[/color]

William smiled a bit, asking, "What ... the [i]future?[/i]"

He released her hands and sat up taller, chuckling.  "Oh ... where do I start?"  

He contemplated for a moment, then -- instead of beginning his answer -- told her as he stood, "Wait a moment, Keziah.  We're going to need something before we begin this."

He went to and through the cabin's front door and chatted with the Guards.  It was obvious that he was negotiating, and after he'd turned over most of a berry pie and a loaf of sweet nut bread, he returned to home's main room, gesturing Keziah to join him.  He moved two chairs closer to the fire, which he stoked, then pulled out the gain from his trade, a metal flask of whiskey.  He sucked from it, wincing at the sharpness, then offered it out.  He didn't know whether [i]good[/i] women of this era imbibed, so if she waved him off he wouldn't be offended.

"The future ... where to start..." William began, smiling softly as he studied Keziah, watching for her reactions.  "Well, let's start with the war.  We win ... the Patriots ... in 1981."  He thought he saw something in Keziah's reaction to hearing that the war would go on for more than another six years.  "General Cornwallis will surrender to General Washington after a siege at Yorktown ... in Virginia.  We -- the United States -- will fight the British again in another war, the War of 1812 ... but, believe it or not, England and America are close allies now."

William went on to explain about how the Colonies became the United States of America, and about how the US spread west across the continent to eventually include 50 states, "Including Alaska ... have you heard of Alaska...?  Oh, and Hawaii, which are actually called the Sandwich Islands.  Wait, no ... not yet.  But, soon.  Captain Cook won't be there until ... oh, never mind, anyway..."

He moved onto explaining that the railroads would span the continent, then realized he had to explain what a railroad was seeing how the first American railroads were still 30 or 40 years away.  "Oh, and cars.  Thousands ... [i]millions[/I] of cars rushing this way and that on freeways ... concrete roads ... like the smoothest cobblestone you could imagine, at twice the speed of the fastest horse you've ever seen." 

William tried to avoid mention of the seemingly endless number of wars that would follow the current one, but if Keziah asked a question about future conflicts, he told himself he would answered her.  One thing he was dead set about bringing up was [i]The Bomb.[/i]  Keziah had already seen the effects of rifle shot and cannon concussion on men: the last thing about which she needed to know -- about which she needed in her nightmares -- was a single bomb that could kill millions in a single flash of light.

When the topic came around to William's [i]personal[/i] history, the man from the 21st century sat up tall in his chair and contemplated what he wanted to tell her about his life.  "Well, like I said, I was born in 1990.  I'm 27 years old.  I was born in Portland.  That's Portland, [i]Oregon[/i], not Portland, [i]Maine.[/i]  It's clear on the other side of the country ... the other side of the US, on the Pacific Coast, almost anyway.  I was an only child.  My father died in a car crash -- I told you about cars -- when I was 12.  My mom, she, um ... well, she ... she never recovered from losing my dad.  She, um..."

He glanced at the flask in his hands, which -- at about 20 ounces in size -- was by now nearly empty.  He capped and tossed it aside, then decided to skip the explanation about his mother's alcoholism, instead only saying, "She got sick and died when I was 18, just a couple of months after I went off to college."  

Even though he'd told Keziah the amazing story of airplanes, jets, and space ships, he decided not to mention drones, fearing that she would ask him about their use.  He didn't want to explain that he'd once worked as a contractor flying military drones, dropping bombs from great heights to destroy ISIS positions ... and, on two occasions, vehicles filled with innocent Syrian women and children.  William had tried for years to forget those incidents, and the last things Keziah needed was to know about that kind of warfare.

"After college, I did this and that for a living," he continued, already missing the flask.  "I had always been interested in my family's Hessian heritage, so I went back to school to get a Ph.D.--" He hesitated, not remembering whether the 18th century had had such upper level degrees, then decided he didn't care to explain it.  "I got interested in Revolutionary War reenactments, and ... that's how I ended up here."

William hadn't actually told Keziah that he'd killed a man with his ancestor's rifle.  He'd only said he'd fired at the man.  He continued, describing some of his reenactment memories before switching subjects.  "I never married.  I never found a good woman who would put up with my ... oh, lets call them idiosyncrasies.  I wouldn't put a good woman through that kind of crap.  A [i]good[/i] woman ... like yourself, Keziah."