Merritt stood by Glady Fork, coffee in hand as the sun crept below the mountain peaks to the west. His shower could wait a few minutes while he let Emma and Hannah have some privacy.
It was their first training session without others from Blue Water present. Everything was going well; the 24 trainees aged from 20 to 30. A few seemed to have never been off pavement before.
Merritt recalled the first time he ever saw asphalt—it was not a thing in the 19 Century where he belonged.
He had been on a train bound for Memphis. He had a job waiting there, but a green and yellow glowing cloud had different plans. His seat on the train changed into a seat on what he learned was a car. With the shift came a fundamental knowledge of driving—enough to see him safely to the shoulder of the asphalt.
He exited just in time to be passed by a semi truck. At the time, he likened it to a trackless train pulling a single boxcar.
He didn’t count the number of times he walked around the shiny, red, metal car looking at it. And at the asphalt road on which he had been… driving. After returning to the car—he had no idea what else to do or where he was—he found an envelope addressed to him. The street was unknown, but Atlanta was where he had been raised.
Looking around, he saw a large, green, metal sign: Atlanta - 62 miles. Folded on the seat was a road map.
The next few days became a confusing blur, but he located his house, met versions of his parents, and learned of a job waiting for him in New York City. He had only a few weeks to get there. He figured that was not enough time to catch up on 104 years of engineering advances, but something compelled him to make the trip.
As unsure as he was about what would happen, he was equally sure he was supposed to go.
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