"Welcome to the future, Fredrick."
    The man dressed as a gunslinger lifted himself off of the table, 
adjusted
his hat and stared blankly at the four, similar-looking men in front of him.
The last thing he remembered was chasing a gang of horse thieves, somewhere
in the heart of Windsock County -- a dirty and unforgiving landscape.  This
place, however, was clean and dust free, aromatic and peaceful.
    "We saved your life, Fredrick.  Aren't you going to thank us?"
    Marshal Bill Fredrick looked at the men with curiosity, at their funny
attire and strange, oblong heads.  "You mean I'm not dead?"
 
                            *  *   *     *   *  *
 
Bill tossed a branch onto the fire as his deputy, Creb Andiss, played a
lonesome tune on his bass harmonica.
    "We'll have them in the morning," the marshal said, more to himself than
to his partner.
    Andiss stopped playing.
    "Ever wonder what's beyond the stars?" he asked, peering up into the
endless void of scattered light.  "Ever wonder if there's any life like
ours anywhere else."  He stuck the instrument into his mouth and began to
blow;  as the air rushed through the tiny chambers it captured a mournful
melody that seemed to bring some life to the plains.
    "No, Creb, I don't."  As Fredrick began to stir up the fire, sparks and
tiny flames scurried quickly to get out of the way.
    Andiss stopped again.  "Why not?"
    Bill sighed and rested his body on his knees.  "I just don't believe 
that it's possible."
    "It is possible!" Creb insisted.  "And someday our own civilization
will be advanced enough, and have the means to venture to them stars, and
they'll just prove you wrong."
    Andiss, noticeable angry, tossed his harmonica into the dirt.
    "I'm sorry, Creb," Bill said, commiseratively.  "It's just that I don't
think we will ever be civilized enough ourselves to do the things you say we
can!"
    It was a worn conversation, and Bill was sorry that Andiss had ever
brought the subject up.
    Creb raised one of his fingers for an angry response but was challenged
by a blast of light emanating from just beyond the dune;  Andiss's entire
head imploded, and then exploded in an instant, sending bits of hair and 
skin
flying everywhere.
    Fredrick held up his arm just as a wave of bloody matter flew past him,
and instinctively moved his hand to his rifle.
 
                            *  *   *     *   *  *
 
The man who had been doing the talking laughed heartily;  his banana-bent
cranium bobbed around with such a lack of control that Fredrick got sick to
his stomach.
    "No, no, no," he said.  "We saved you.  We saved you."  He began to 
laugh again, and the other three joined in.
    Fredrick was becoming very uncomfortable.  "What do you mean?  Where am
I?"
    When the heads stopped bobbing, Fredrick got his answer.
    "Oh, roughly in the same spot where you were, but more than five hundred
years later."
    Fredrick's  primitive mind had trouble processing this information.  In
the wild west there was often no near future, so the prospect of five
centuries of human existence turned him dumb as swill.
    "I don't..."
 
                            *  *   *     *   *  *
 
    "Howdy marshal!" Bikkus Gunter said, returning from a trip of 
insobriety.
He threw a bottle to his friend, Aggut, who began to laugh foolishly.
    "What's say we give Marshal Bill a good runnin' start!"
    Aggut and George Wynnat both found the humor in this, and began to taunt
Fredrick by shooting randomly into the air and at the ground.
    "You boys are drunk," Bill said at last, his voice high-pitched and
lacking authority.
    Bikkus kicked the marshal in the chin, shattering his left canine tooth,
and ripping a gaping hole in his gums.
    Bill held back a dizzy spell, and looked into Bikkus's face.  "You don't
know what you've just gotten yourself into, son."
    Bikkus pulled out his .38 revolver and pointed it in Bill's face, 
cocking back the trigger.
    "I think Marshal Bill, here, is way too tired to run," he said, causing
the others to giggle like silly little children.
    "Maybe you out'a put 'im out of his misery," yelled Aggut.
    Bikkus looked down again, and his plastery face began to slowly crack
into a smile.  "I just aim to do that!"
 
                            *  *   *     *   *  *
 
"You see," another man began.  "Humans have evolved to an highly advanced
state since the time you lived on the earth -- and we have excelled quite
well in the fields of technology..."
    Another man continued.  "But as far as ancient history goes, we are at a
loss..."
    The fourth man finished.  "...But we are extremely fascinated by it, 
none the less."
    The men nodded in unison.
 
                            *  *   *     *   *  *
 
"You're a damn coward!" Bill yelled angrily through a mouthful of bloody
tissue, streams of the stuff draining down the sides of his face.
    Bikkus began to fold:  His eyes tensed and became huge, his fingers
pulsed and his knees nearly buckled beneath him.  "What do you mean?"
    "Challenge me like a man!  One bullet, ten paces!"
    Bikkus eased.  "You're on, marshal."  He lifted his foot, releasing
Bill's hand, and staggered out into the darkness.
    Bill grudgingly got to his feet, and checked his gun!  It was fully 
loaded and ready for honorable duty.
    Although he was at an unfair advantage over this obviously drunk young
man, Bill felt that he was more than justified in killing him.  The other
two, who were probably too stupid to know any better, would be dealt with
accordingly.
    "Ready marshal," Bikkus hollered, hiding himself among the darkness and
the human-shaped cactus that decorated the normally nondescript plains.  
"One of you boys count to three."
    Aggut began.  "Uno!"
    "Wait," screamed Bill.  "I can't see where you are."
    "Dos."
    George giggled on the sidelines.
    "Wave your arms around!"
    "Dos and a half..."
    Bill drew his weapon prematurely and cocked back the hammer.
    "Tres!"
 
                            *  *   *     *   *  *
 
Fredrick's upper lip began to perspire, and he felt his entire body start to
shake.
    "Wh...What do you want from me."  For a split second, Fredrick had the
sick feeling that these men were about to eat him, clothes and all;  his
hands fell instinctively to his guns, which dangled dependably at his sides.
    "There will be no need for that," one said grabbing his arms.  "You will
not find any harm from us."
    Fredrick turned his head around quickly into the face of another.
    "We would like you to participate in a demonstration at the festival."
    Another forcefully turned around Bill's head.
    "It is in honor of our primitive past."
    "Well," Fredrick said, still unsure where he misplaced his nerve.  "What
do you want me to do?"
    The four men led Marshal Bill outside.
    The scenery had changed drastically in the past five centuries, and
Fredrick couldn't find one thing familiar about it.  Huge buildings, with
neither doors nor windows, blocked the view of the sky -- illumination came
from some mysterious source -- and the streets were paved with what looked
like solid silver.
    "You will stand here," one man said, pointing to the middle of the
street.
    Fredrick tried to oblige, but his boots found little traction, and
tended to slide uncontrollably.
    "Here?"
    "Perfect," one of men said, with a cat-like quality to his voice.
    Suddenly the air was filled with the awful noise of metal against metal
and Fredrick saw a figure approaching from where the horizon should have
been.  At first he thought that this might be the future's answer to the
stagecoach, bringing spectators from some point on the globe.
    He was wrong.
    The thing stopped at one hundred paces, and came no closer;  it's
metallic face dulled only by the fake bristles of hair delicately pounded
into it's chin by some future craftsman.  On it's head was a metal cowboy's
hat, black and perfect, capturing the light and keeping it like the black
holes Fredrick would never know about.  There was no detail missed on this
man-made creation;  at it's sides were huge canon-like revolvers, inches 
away from the machine's eager hands.
    Fredrick quickly pulled his gun and fired.  Missing by several feet, the
projectile ricocheted off of a wall and entered into a banana-like head.
Quickly pumping two more rounds in the general direction of his attacker,
Fredrick was knocked off-balance and fell onto the slippery ground as the
shock waves from the bullets echoing against the closely laid walls played
mean-spirited music on his soul.
    Desperately he tried to wriggle himself out of the way of the inevitable
shot but was blown to pieces even before his ears could pick up the monster
peal which the gun of his opponent discharged.  Tiny bits of the former
Marshal flew everywhere inertia would take them, disintegrating into atomic
building blocks after only seconds of flight.
    An instant later, there was roar from the crowd, a noise of joy and 
great elation from the uncaring beasts of the future, which was followed by the
passing back and forth of multi-colored metal chips.
    Today the stakes were high.