It had taken all his life’s savings, both too track the recluse down and to bargain for the use of his device.

Being swept down for anything being carried had scotched his first idea, to carry an AK-47 back with him, but the light of passion and fire still gleamed in his eyes. Even in the simple cotton clothes and leather boots he’d been permitted by the recluse—who created a machine like that just to sit on it and make rules about it?—couldn’t disguise the feeling of elation he felt. He managed to take a penny, hoping to melt it down and trade the copper for something.

Still, it was no matter. The device would send him back to the time of his ancestors, the time of his heritage, that glorious time of July 1862. He’d take up arms and fight for glory on those long-ago battlefields, and give form to his abiding love for the old Confederacy and its noble struggle.

Dispatch, Haven’s Regiment, to Headquarters, Gillom’s Division, Army Of Northern Virginia


In response to your missive from yesterday enquiring about the incident, I send this expanded description. A man claiming to be a sympathizer approached the regimental headquarters, offering to enlist. He was extremely strange in appearance, mannerisms, and affect, to say nothing of his manner of speech. For this reason, we deemed him a threat, possibly a spy. As such he was taken into custody and executed immediately.

He protested that he was a true scion of the South and that we were wronging one of our own. I don’t need to tell you, sir, that I found the thought repugnant. A Southron knows his own and keeps to them.

Nothing else of value was found other than the coin which I sent to you as a curiosity. It is clearly a visage of Demon Lincoln, though the other meanings are obscure. I suspect that they are secret coded instructions for spies, or perhaps a token of support for the War of Northern Aggression.

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