The rhythm of time, p.15
The Rhythm of Time,
p.15
Rahim ran across the street. He remembered what Kasia had said, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to make sure his dad was okay.
“Are you all right?” he said. Omar was lying on top of the other Rahim. He got to his feet, brushed off his pants, and adjusted his tie.
“You saved my life, Ronald!” Omar said, extending his hand.
“You’re welcome,” they both said in unison. The other Rahim got up off the ground. He had a small cut on his hand, but otherwise he seemed okay.
“You have a twin brother?” Omar said.
“I—”
“Hi, I’m Reginald. Could I talk to my brother for a minute alone?” Rahim said.
“Uh-oh,” his other self said. He was staring at the ground.
Rahim looked down, but he didn’t see anything. “What are you looking at?” he asked.
“My phone. I dropped it when we fell. I think it went down there.” He pointed at a storm drain.
Rahim smacked himself in the forehead. “Are you serious?”
His other self didn’t respond.
“You lost the magic phone? How are we gonna get back in the house?” Omar said.
“Never mind that. How am I gonna get home?” Rahim’s other self said.
Rahim/Reginald pulled out his phone. “You have to go back. You have to go back right now and you have to get rid of this phone.”
“What?” his other self said.
“This is how we make everything right.”
“If I go back, what’s gonna happen to you?” Rahim/Ronald said.
“Go back to the day before you got the phone. Stop Kasia from giving it to us. Then get rid of this one. I think that will make it so that I never came here. I’m thinking it’s gonna reset everything.” He handed his other self the phone.
“I don’t know. I feel like I’m leaving myself behind,” Rahim/Ronald said.
“Trust me on this. Things are really bad back home. This is the only way,” Rahim/Reginald said.
Omar was looking worried. “What about me? How am I gonna get home?”
“If he does what I tell him to do, it will all work out,” Rahim/Reginald said. And turning to his other self: “Do it. Do it before something else happens and we’re both stuck here.”
Rahim/Ronald looked at Rahim/Reginald, then at Omar. “It was fun hanging out with you. You should follow—”
Rahim/Reginald held up his hand and said, “Nope, don’t say that.”
His other self shrugged. “Okay. Here goes nothing.” He entered his address and the date he wanted to arrive.
Then he pressed enter.
A bright bluish-white light began to envelop his other self.
It also enveloped Rahim.
He wasn’t in the movie this time. He was floating through what seemed like a cloud of light. Red, green, purple, blue lights. Rahim could hear voices in the light. His father, his mother. His grandfather, his grandmother. Kasia. His sister. Then he was falling down into an illuminated tunnel. He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t make a sound.
Something was gripping his right hand. He turned his head. Not something. Someone. The figure in the fencing helmet. Someone else was grabbing his left arm. He didn’t recognize them, but they were wearing a similar helmet to the person on his right. The two figures raised their free arms and pointed them upward. Rahim felt his descent slowing. The sensation of falling was replaced by the feeling of ascension. The multicolored cloud became blindingly bright. Rahim couldn’t see anything but the light as it surrounded him.
I hope we fixed things. Even if I don’t make it home, I hope we made things right, he thought.
Then everything went black.
* * *
Rahim opened his eyes.
He was back in his room. His real room. He was lying on his bed. His book bag was in the corner. He got up and looked out his window. The sky was overcast and the window felt cold.
Please let it have worked, Rahim thought. He ran downstairs to the living room.
“We don’t run in this house,” his father said. He was in his recliner reading a book.
“Sorry, Dad.” He walked over to his father and wrapped his arms around him.
“What is this show of affection for? I don’t mind it, but I have work to do, Rahim.”
“I wanted to let you know I’m so glad you didn’t become a rapper,” Rahim said.
His father was staring at him. “Okay. That’s a bit of an unusual statement, but all right. I mean, once upon a time, I enjoyed the odd rap album,” Dad said.
Rahim hugged his dad again. “Dad, would you be mad if I said that I wanted to be a famous rapper?” he asked.
His father closed his book. “Rahim, I’m your father. I’ll support you no matter what you want to do. If that means you want to be a rapper, then that means I’ll support you. However, that also means you’ll get a degree in music theory or sound engineering.”
“So I have something to fall back on, right.”
“No. So that you have the tools to give yourself the best chance to succeed.”
“That’s a good idea, Dad. Can I go see Kasia now?” Rahim asked.
“Why? You want to use her computers?” he said.
“No. She’s my friend, and I just want to talk to her,” Rahim said.
“Have you done your homework?”
“No, but I promise I will do it as soon as I get back. Something big happened at school today and I want to tell her.”
“All right. But I’m going to check your homework when it’s complete.”
“All right. I love you, Dad. I love you just the way you are,” Rahim said.
His dad patted Rahim on the head and smiled. “I love you too, son. We’ll start talking about colleges with good music programs when you come back. Maybe you and Yasmine can go to the same school?”
* * *
Kasia was sitting at her desk. Iago was flying around the room. He landed on her shoulder as she turned to face Rahim. He was holding out the bright blue phone to her.
“You really saw the beginning of time?” Kasia asked.
“And the end. And I saw two people in space helmets who I think saved my life,” Rahim said.
Kasia eyes widened. “Were they aliens? Did I solve the problem of time travel and make first contact with an alien civilization?”
“Slow your roll, Stephen Hawking. I don’t know who or what they were. The only thing I know is that we need to get rid of this phone,” Rahim said. “Take it apart. Grind it up. Whatever.”
“Are you sure? I mean, are you really sure that’s what you want to do?”
“Trust me, you do not want to get chased by a rabid dodo bird,” Rahim said.
“Suit yourself.” Kasia touched her tablet. Iago whirred to life and plucked the phone from her hand with his pincers. He flew in lazy circles to the trash can. Then, using his pincers, Iago crushed the phone before dropping it in the trash.
Rahim let out a sigh. “Well, that’s the end of that.”
“I could rebuild it in the dark with my eyes closed if I wanted to.”
“Let’s not. I just want things to go back to normal,” he said.
“Whatevs. Hey, speaking of normal, you want to go get your notebook so we can work on a song?”
“Why don’t we just freestyle and see what happens?”
“Look at you, all fearless and stuff!” Kasia said.
“Oh, one other thing. Can you help me set up an account to start posting my songs?”
“Really?”
“Gotta follow your dreams,” Rahim said.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about something. What do you think about me going to school next year?” Kasia asked.
“I mean, it would be cool having another friend besides Harris. But aren’t you, like, way, way past all the stuff we’re doing?”
Kasia scrunched up her face. “Yeah, but they have accelerated classes. And I think . . . I wanna get out of this room. Expand my understanding of social dynamics. It’s good research.”
“Well, I got your back. I don’t know how much good that’s gonna do with Man Man, but I gotcha,” Rahim said.
“I don’t know why you’re afraid of him,” Kasia said.
“He’s big, he’s mean, and he likes to hurt people. That’s all.”
Kasia laughed. She spun back around and touched her tablet. A funky beat filled the room. She handed Rahim her wireless mic.
As Rahim was just about to drop a lyric, the lamps in the room began to flicker like strobe lights. Then Kasia’s computers and tablets and equipment began to flicker on and off too. Iago landed on the table and shut down with a soft buzz.
“What is going on? I thought we fixed everything by getting rid of that dang phone!” Rahim said.
“I don’t know! All my stuff is offline!” Kasia said.
The two figures that had been following them now appeared in Kasia’s room. They seemed to glow and were somewhat transparent, and both wore helmets and brightly colored coats. Rahim thought they looked like ghosts.
“Rahim. Kasia. There are forces moving against you. Against the very nature of time itself. Forces that are . . . dangerous. Wheels have been set in motion; bells that can’t be un-rung. They want what you created, Kasia, and what you have seen, Rahim. They have kidnapped Dr. Evelyn Jackson and are moving to shape history in their image. We know this sounds frightening, but this is the path you have set upon, and we know you are brave.
“We need your help. Pieces on the board are being manipulated. Pawns are being moved by invisible hands. You, Rahim, and you, Kasia, are the only ones we can trust. The only ones who can help us set things right. Time is like a song. There is a rhythm to it that has been disrupted. If it can’t be corrected, all of existence could end in an instant.”
The figures spoke in unison. Kasia and Rahim looked at each other, then back at the glowing figures.
“You’re holograms!” Kasia said.
“What is going—” Rahim asked.
“We will transmit new schematics for you to build a new, improved time-displacement device. Then, once that has been completed, we will explain everything,” the figures said.
“Who are you guys? Who’s Dr. Jackson?” Kasia asked.
The figures turned their heads toward each other. Then, without saying a word, they removed their helmets. One of them was a clean-shaven Black man. The other was a Black woman with long, luxuriant braids.
“Dr. Jackson is the key to stopping all this. And we’re—” the woman said.
“We’re you,” the man said.
About the Authors
Academy Award-winning filmmaker, drummer, DJ, producer, director, culinary entrepreneur, New York Times best-selling author, and member of The Roots—Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson, is the unmistakable heartbeat of Philadelphia’s most influential hip-hop group. He is the Musical Director for The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon, where his beloved Roots crew serves as house band. Beyond that, this 6-time GRAMMY Award winning musician's indisputable reputation has landed him musical directing positions with everyone from D'Angelo to Jay-Z. Questlove recently made his directorial debut with the Academy Award winning feature documentary Summer of Soul. The movie broke the record for the highest selling documentary to come out of Sundance and it has since gone on to win “Best Feature Documentary” at the 2022 Academy Awards, “Best Documentary” at the 2022 British Academy Film Awards (BAFTA) and “Best Music Film” at the 2022 Grammy Awards, as well as a Peabody Award. In addition, Summer of Soul was named the “Best Movie of 2021” by The New York Times and was named one of the best of the year by The Los Angeles Times, The Chicago Tribune, Entertainment Weekly, The Washington Post, TIME Magazine, The Hollywood Reporter, Rolling Stone and more. Outside of Summer of Soul, Questlove partnered together with Black Thought of The Roots to launch a production company, Two One Five Entertainment. Together, in 2020, the pair announced a first-look deal with Universal Television to develop scripted and non-scripted programming. In 2022, Two One Five Entertainment is set to executive produce Sam Pollard’s The League, a documentary centered on the tumultuous journey of Negro league baseball and also produce an upcoming documentary on the legendary Sly Stone, as well as various projects with partners such as Disney Jr. This year the company will executive produce Descendant, a feature documentary on the historic discovery of The Clotilda, the last known slave ship to arrive in America illegally transporting enslaved Africans. The documentary, which made its world premiere at Sundance in 2022, was acquired by Netflix. Higher Ground, President Barack Obama and Michelle Obama’s production company, will present the film, alongside Netflix. Questlove has written multiple books including the New York Times bestsellers Mo’ Meta Blues and Creative Quest, the GRAMMY nominated audio book Creative Quest, Soul Train: The Music, Dance and Style of a Generation, the James Beard nominated somethingtofoodabout, Mixtape Potluck, and the newly released bestseller Music Is History.
S. A. Cosby is an Anthony Award-winning writer from Southeastern Virginia. He is the author of the New York Times bestseller Razorblade Tears and Blacktop Wasteland, which won the Los Angeles Times Book Prize, was a New York Times Notable Book, and was named a best book of the year by NPR, The Guardian, and Library Journal, among others.
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Questlove, The Rhythm of Time
