Displaced I: Conundrum

By Kevin Provance

"This book has captivated me from the first chapter. I have been taken to an amazing journey through intrigue, politics, mystery and awesomeness. It tickles my brain to keep up with all the jumps in time and twists in the plot. You haven't lost me yet :) I think it has been a really nice exercise for my brain to figure out which hint will bring me closer to solving the mystery next and where to are you taking me to solve it. This has been addictive!" - Pille, Inkitt reader.

"I am amazed that you were able to come up with a timeline for this story. I'm sure authors have a hard enough time keeping track of a linear story. To put the amount of detail and the amount of effort into translating the timeline into a cohesive story is very impressive.". - Tom, Inkitt reader

The year is 2006. Kev Pearson at the lowest point of his life when he accidentally discovers a quarter with the mint stamp of 2025. He set out on a mission to determine the authenticity of this coin by taking it to David DeMinte, a rare coin dealer and a friend. David declares it a fake, though his actions say differently after Kev refuses to sell him the coin. Kev now knows he's onto something more significant than his problems. He hears Dave make a covert phone call as he's leaving Dave's shop. Later that afternoon, Kev receives a message in the form of a dream. Detective Connor MacKenzie, the head of an organization that calls itself the FCA, explains that Kev has stumbled across an anomaly out of time. They’re in the process of sending someone to retrieve it. Connor also explains that they’re the ‘good guys.’ And where there are good guys, there are also ‘bad guys.’ They, too, are coming. Is Kev's discovery indeed a coin out of time? He'll come to know the answers to all of his questions, including answers to questions no one dares ask.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kevin Provance
• Release date: Sep 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463440087

Kevin Provance

Kevin Provance was born and raised in Carroll County, Maryland. He writes science fiction, the paranormal, the metaphysical, good old-fashioned suspense, and the occasional controversial rant on social media, all designed to catch your interest and keep you turning the page for more. His approach to writing is to hit hard and fast with as few spelling errors as possible.His books are a mixture of mystery, action, and humor, with plausible science fiction and mythology mixed in. Think...X-Files meets Lost. His work is recommended for those who enjoy fast-paced writing with lots of twists and turns.Kevin currently lives in Summerville, South Carolina.For up-to-date promotions and release dates of upcoming books, sign up for the latest news here: www.kevinprovance.com

Book preview

DISPLACED I

CONUNDRUM

By Kevin Provance

LICENSE NOTES

Thank you for purchasing this ebook. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given to others. If you’d like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this ebook and didn’t purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author and for your support.

The right of Kevin Provance to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted to him under the Copyright Law of the Unties States (Title 17).

Displaced is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

First published in 2019 by SVL Studios.

Copyright © 2012, Kevin Provance. All Rights Reserved.

Cover image: Copyright © A. Baumann

Second version, April 2023.

OTHER TITLES IN THE DISPLACED SERIES

Displaced II: The Exchange

Displaced III: Endgame

OTHER TITLES BY KEVIN PROVANCE

Prisoner of the Game

Scarecrow

Without A Word

CONNECT WITH ME ONLINE

Twitter: www.twitter.com/KevinProvance

Facebook: www.facebook.com/kevinprovanceauthor

Instagram: www.instagram.com/kevinprovance

YouTube: www.youtube.com/user/KevinProvance

Blog: www.kevinprovance.com

Phase one of Displaced is dedicated to the real-life Card Player’s Circle:

Bryan Waldt (RIP, brother), Andy Myer, Andy ‘Drew’ Taylor, Chief Christopher Manyette, Tony ‘Bones’ Foels, and Teresa ‘Tessie’ Manyette.

GET THE NEXT CHAPTER FOR FREE!

Thank you for your interest in the Displaced saga and for reading the first book in the series. I’d like to extend you a special offer. Would you like to read the next book, The Exchange, for free? Sign up for my newsletter at www.TheDisplacedSaga.com for details!

- Kev

When all the laughter dies in sorrow, and the tears have risen to a flood.

When all the wars have found a cause in human wisdom and in blood.

Do you think they’ll cry in sadness?

Do you think the eye will blink?

Do you think they’ll curse the madness?

Do you even think they’ll think?

When all the great galactic systems sigh to a frozen halt in space.

Do you think there will be some remnant of beauty of the human race?

Do you think there will be a vestige or a sniffle or a cosmic tear?

Do you think a greater thinking thing will give a damn that man was here?

- Kendrew Lascelles

Contents

Chapter I: Anomaly

Chapter II: Solicitude

Chapter III: Peregrination

Chapter IV: Fortuity

Chapter V: Corpus Delicti

Chapter VI: Perturbation

Chapter VII: Elucidation

Chapter VIII: Exigence

Chapter IX: Asymmetry I

Chapter X: Malevolence

Chapter XI: Asymmetry II

Chapter XII: Continuum

Chapter XIII: Recovery

Chapter I: Anomaly

"An odd, peculiar, or strange condition, situation, quality, etc."

Date: Friday, October 13, 2006

Location: Sarasota Square Mall, Sarasota, Florida

Age: 35 (Current)

I

I was ready to leave, but there was nowhere to go.

Rose Centeno and I sat across from each other at a white-painted steel table in the food court of Sarasota Square Mall, her eyes unfocused as she stared at the table.

The moment of truth was finally upon us.

Rose adjusted her posture, her discomfort clear in her body language. She sought to avoid this showdown after waking me from a deep sleep with a phone call shortly after 7 a.m. to cancel our lunch date. She also ended our relationship in more words than was probably necessary. Her reasons were cryptic and unsatisfying. The brief conversation concluded with Rose casually informing me there would be no reason to have further contact.

I felt if Rose was bent on ending our intense, short-lived relationship for reasons I didn’t believe were her own, she’d have no choice but to do it face to face. She may have considered our lunch date canceled. I did not.

Come and see for yourself, she said after I challenged the authenticity of her explanation. She’d also said something about an emergency meeting and bringing lunch. I then offered some sarcastic quip and hung up. I needed that last word.

Did she genuinely believe I wouldn’t call her bluff? Or did she know I’d come expecting - or wanting - a showdown? No wonder Rose looked distressed, wishing she was anywhere but here.

I arrived at the Sarasota Square Mall food court as initially planned and watched Rose from afar like the scorned lover I was. Per her earlier excuse, I expected her to meet someone else or retreat into the ‘employees only’ management offices. Rose confirmed her lies when she took a lone seat in the food court with her meal and paperwork in a folder.

That’s when I made my move. I purchased one thin-crust slice of dried out, over ‘heat lamped’ goodness that passed for Sbarro’s mushroom pizza and a small Dr. Pepper. I knew I’d not be eating this meal. It was all for show. When her head was down, I sat at the rickety steel table across from Rose with my meal and some spare change on a fluorescent orange serving tray.

Rose looked up from her paperwork. Her milk chocolate brown eyes opened wide with surprise. Kevin?

Hi, lovergirl. How are you? I asked with a smile, putting on the perfect facade as if nothing was wrong, and I was happy to see her.

Rose looked down at the table. I don’t think you should call me that. I’m not your lovergirl anymore.

"Well, that’s why I’m here. You did invite me to come and see for myself if I’m not mistaken. Here I am. Funny thing, though. You’re eating out here and not in your office at that ‘emergency meeting.’"

They canceled the meeting. Rose’s eyes dashed to the right, a telltale sign she was attempting to formulate a lie via the creative side of her brain.

Bullshit! There was no meeting! I told you when we first met that I can spot a lie a mile away!

Rose ran her fingers through her dark brown hair as she met my gaze. Okay, fine! I didn’t want to see you. Am I lying now?

I paused, absorbing that fresh wave of rejection. No, I said under my breath.

Rose quickly eyed me up and down. She subtly shook her head with a hint of an eye roll. I looked down at myself, knowing what her reaction meant. I’d dressed in blue jeans, a white-collar shirt, and a black sports jacket. The combination was one Rose once expressed as sexy. Foolishly, I believed the combination might somehow cause Rose to look upon me with more favor.

How wrong I was.

What do you want? she asked, lacing her words with a sharp, bitter edge. I could barely comprehend the condescending tone of her voice. The smile that once used to grace her beautiful face was now pruned with disdain.

I want to know what the hell happened to us. Everything was fine until a few weeks ago. Then it’s as if you pulled a complete one-eighty on me. Now you act like we’re complete strangers. What happened, Rose? Did I imagine the whole thing?

No, you didn’t, she said begrudgingly. Things change, Kevin. Dennis’s mother called me a few days ago. She asked me to give him another chance.

Here it is, I thought bitterly. That cheating bastard’s old bag of a mother emotionally blackmailed her.

Dennis was Rose’s estranged husband, who thought himself a master manipulator. Shortly after he and Rose wed, Dennis cheated on her with his best man’s wife, believing he could get away with it. Assuming Rose told the truth, his betrayal occurred a little over six months ago and five months before Rose and I met, although I didn’t know that when we first began dating. Rose led me to believe their estrangement was much longer, with a divorce soon. Divorce eventually became an impending divorce, which ultimately became a recent separation. Funny how lies work that way. They get all muddied as the truth trickles down.

I looked down at the change from my lunch purchase. One quarter, two dimes, and three pennies lay scattered about the surface of the serving tray. I picked up the quarter and began fiddling with it.

He cheated on you, I said, pointing out the obvious. I looked up. What makes you think he won’t do it again?

I don’t know. I cheated on him, too.

I felt my jaw drop as my eyebrows rose. What? That was after the fact! I slammed the quarter onto the tray. He’d already moved out and was living with his new girlfriend, yeah?

I guess that makes him and me even, Rose said under her breath, deliberately, not looking up from the tray where the quarter now rested. She did this to avoid eye contact with me. I felt like I was dealing with a fickle high school girl even though Rose was thirty-eight and four years my senior.

Do you know how absurd that sounds? I asked. "You said you loved me! What the fuck was that about? Another lie?"

I only said that to make you feel better, she said, her voice laced with contempt.

Genuine pain set in. What? I whispered. How could you do such a thing? I haven’t felt about anyone the way I feel about you since—

Becca.

Rose looked up at me from the serving tray with a cocked eyebrow. She may have expected me to say something she’d not take well. Since who? Don’t say your ex-wife, Kevin. We both know that wouldn’t be true. How did you once describe her to me? As the worst four and a half years of your life?

I gave Rose a disgusted sneer, my nose wrinkling in revulsion. "Well, she did cheat on me - multiple times, all because I didn’t want to share her with other men. Remember? Then there was that thing where she got pregnant, so she could tie herself to me for the foreseeable future in some sick effort to rape me financially. Lest you not forget, she totally succeeded! Now I have a little boy I barely see while she drains my bank account to fund her swinger lifestyle!"

Rose deliberately rolled her eyes. No, Kevin. I’ve not forgotten. It’s all you pretty much complain about.

I tossed my hands up into the air. What is it with getting lied to from every direction? Huh? I don’t get it!

Rose ignored the question. Who are you talking about if it’s not Marie? I don’t remember you telling me about anyone else besides her.

I looked away in disgust. No one. Forget it.

Rose didn’t know about my long-lost love, Becca Saccarelli. No one did, not even my ex-wife. Going there was a bad idea. Becca was a door to my past, one slammed shut against my will. Now wasn’t the time to open it.

Whatever, Rose whispered as I picked up the quarter again with my thumb pressed firmly against the mint year stamp. I began flipping it over and across my knuckles and then back again, a habit I’d picked up in high school when boredom ruled my world. Rose deliberately ignored the trick she once declared ‘the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.’

So you lied to me when you said you loved me? I really loved you. At least I thought I did, I said in a hoarse whisper, watching the quarter dance across the back of my fingers. I stopped playing with the coin, struggling to hold back tears I didn’t want Rose to see. Did you tell me the truth about anything?

Her eyes darted to meet mine as she flashed a weak smile. I do think you’re an awesome dad.

Awesome dad, I bitterly repeated in my head. The phrase had been one of her more frequent compliments in a series designed to placate my ego.

Somewhere amid Rose’s seduction, she’d sufficiently enamored me in allowing her to meet my six-year-old son, Spencer. Rose had no kids of her own. She’d often suggested her destiny didn’t involve biological children, believing it was her lot in life to be a mother figure to someone else’s children. Although she smiled lovingly at Spencer more than once when she made such declarations, she never explicitly suggested mine, citing what an ‘awesome dad’ I was.

Anyway, you’ll make someone very happy someday, she added. It just won’t be me.

I felt my jaw drop again. A dam of raw pain burst somewhere inside me. The tear streaming silently down my face was the overflow.

You used me, didn’t you? I asked in a whisper. You were all pissed off that Dennis cheated on you, and I was how you got back at him. Tell me I’m wrong.

You’re wrong, she stated flatly, looking to the right again. Lie.

I waited three years after my divorce to date again, I whispered, glaring at her now. Do you remember why? I know I told you.

Rose sighed with exasperation as if revisiting my reasons was a significant inconvenience. Because you didn’t want to use anyone as a ‘rebound.’

But you thought doing that to me was somehow okay? I asked. Rose didn’t reply. She looked away. I didn’t lie to you about anything. You knew my situation. And still, you thought it was somehow okay to get all your anger about Dennis out by basically fucking me for a month? I scoffed. I guess you got it all out of your system, huh? What was it you said? You and he are even now? I chuckled dryly. I guess you told the truth that time, after all.

Her eyes madly darted to meet mine. Stop!

So now it’s okay to go back to him because his mommy played on your guilt? I asked snidely. Typical Catholic.

You know what, Kevin? Fuck you!

I pursed my lips in contempt. Truth hurts, doesn’t it, lovergirl?

Rose gathered her papers and hurriedly stuffed them into the folder. She stood up. Her chair scraping against the floor echoed across the food court as she glared at me. Don’t ever contact me again! Do you understand? Don’t call me, don’t email me, don’t come here to see me. Nothing! It’s over! Goodbye!

Rose, her face red with rage, abandoned her half-eaten lunch and marched towards the glass door leading to the mall’s operations office, leaving me in her wake.

I watched her go. I watched her walk away.

II

A recent memory of Rose and me standing on Clearwater Beach popped into my mind. We’d been holding hands, standing in the salty breeze blowing off the Gulf of Mexico. The lazy, fire-orange Florida sun was setting over the water. Rose leaned in and whispered that this spot on the beach was her favorite place to go. She then claimed she’d shared it with only one other person. Her ex-husband. And he never ‘appreciated it.’

Rose said ‘ex-husband,’ didn’t she? Only that wasn’t exactly right. There hadn’t yet been a divorce. It was one of the many lies I wouldn’t discover until the end of the relationship grew closer.

Then there was the lovemaking. Sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. What spectacular acts were they? No woman had rocked my world in such a way since…

Becca.

I sighed.

A long faded memory of the only other woman who reached into me the way Rose had filled my mind. Becca Saccarelli, standing in her parent’s backyard on a chilly September night in 1991. She smiles at me in the pale moonlight as she blows me a kiss and waves goodbye.

I never saw Becca again after that night.

That long-ago memory of her is all I have left.

It’s haunted me most of my life.

That was fifteen years ago. I was nineteen, and Becca was only sixteen. She and I were together for over a month before her tyrant parents split us apart. Becca and her soul capturing green eyes. How they told me she loved me in ways words never could. It was magic. She was magic. More than that, she’d saved me when no one else could. After losing Becca, I never thought I’d love another as I did her. And I didn’t. Not really. Every woman since Becca were all degrees of second best. I accepted this long ago; it was the only way to move on from her.

I looked at the quarter lying face down on my palm and frowned. There was no lovemaking with Rose, I thought bitterly. After all, lovemaking requires love. Doesn’t it?

I’d have no choice but to remember those days and nights with Rose as straightforward ‘fucking.’ After all, Rose declared love was never part of the equation, right? Why did I not see her deception? Did I know all along and not want to admit it? Or was she that good?

I didn’t know. I’d probably never know.

III

I remained motionless at the table, overwhelmed by the events unfolding.

Tears rolled down my face after Rose disappeared into the mall’s administrative offices. The memory of her and me standing on Clearwater Beach faded away. I dropped the quarter I’d been fiddling with onto the table, buried my hands in my scruffy blonde hair, and flopped onto the food court table. Its uneven legs provided a loud screech as it jolted out of position. The coins on the lunch tray bounced out of their places. The quarter on the table took the additional measure of sliding over the edge onto the dirty, white-tiled floor.

Dammit, I muttered. Out of all those coins, it had to be the quarter to fall. It was the only coin worth keeping. I rocked back and forth while listening to the dull chunk of the table’s uneven legs as they struck the floor.

With more effort than I wanted to exude, I leaned over the side of the table to pick up the fallen quarter. As I sat up, I witnessed the most spectacular redheaded woman hurriedly walking alongside the food court with another fellow. I thought I’d seen her lingering in the food court earlier while I stood in line at Sbarro’s Pizza, contemplating what to say to Rose.

I chuckled as she and her companion disappeared around the corner. Lucky bastard.

My father’s arrogant voice called out from a long-ago time buried deep in my memory, ‘You think you’re good enough for her? You stupid fuck up! If you ever got lucky enough to take a crack at that pussy, she’d use you up and throw you away too! Like Rose did. Like your ex-wife did. Like I did!’

The tone of that old bastard’s voice made me shiver. It seemed to call out from the deepest, darkest places when I was at my lowest. He wasn’t wrong, though. I had an unhealthy habit of choosing women who gaslit me as he did. I’d then go to every measure imaginable to earn their love and approval, only to fail as miserably as I did with him.

I looked back toward the glass door, where Rose made her retreat. The foreboding big black letters spelling MANAGEMENT meant I couldn’t follow. No matter what little fantasy played out in my head, Rose wouldn’t reappear out that door and fall into my arms at the eleventh hour. She’d never claim she was sorry for breaking my heart and that we’d live happily ever after.

She used me. Rose used me. Jesus Christ! Why does this keep happening to me? Rose used me to make herself feel better while sticking it to her cheating husband. Marie, my ex-wife, all I am to her is a walking ATM. She uses our son as a pawn to extract as much money as possible while limiting my interaction with him. And my father, Harley? He used me to make himself feel better about his miserable life by beating on me whenever the mood struck.

What was the point of living anymore? I didn’t have the strength to go through this shit again. I could feel the tidal wave of hurt coming, ultimately leading to more depression. Once again, I wasn’t good enough, plain and simple. That hole of depression seemed to grow deeper every time this happened, and each climb out was more challenging than the last. I wasn’t sure I could do it this time.

If Becca and I could’ve run away when we had the opportunity all those years ago, life would’ve been radically different. Perhaps even better.

I was so ready to leave. Still, there was nowhere to go.

Or was there?

I picked up the quarter and used my thumb to flip it.

To be or not to be.

The sunlight through the mall’s overhead skylight bounced off the falling coin as I caught it and slapped it on the top of my other hand to gaze at the result. Heads? To be. Tails…

IV

I stared at the coin, my heart pounding as I gazed in awe. What I saw was impossible.

It’s a fake! It has to be!

I nervously glanced around the room, darting my eyes from one person to the next. People bustled from kiosk to kiosk, attempting to decide what bad mall food to eat for lunch.

I looked back at the quarter. I wasn’t sure why I suddenly felt so paranoid. Was this a practical joke? Would I catch giggling participants mocking my surprise, thus leading to my eventual humiliation?

I stood up and looked around for the closest person. If another person could confirm my discovery, it would assure me I wasn't having a hallucination induced by stress or heartache.

The closest kiosk, one specializing in cell phones and accessories, stood near the center of the food court. A young man sat behind the counter, carelessly flipping through an issue of Rolling Stone. He’d be the one to confirm my find.

I scooped up the rest of the loose change, shoved the coins into my back pocket, and walked carefully toward the kiosk.

Do you see this? I asked the scruffy-looking kid sitting behind the kiosk counter as I approached. He looked nineteen, give or take, attempting to portray himself as a professional salesperson, even with his barely shaven face and tousled hair. It was probably the geeky glasses that helped pull off the charade.

His eyes moved away from the magazine to the coin in my palm. After a moment, his eyes darted up to meet mine. It’s a quarter?

I narrowed my eyes at his sarcasm. Thanks for stating the obvious, Sherlock. Look closer.

He adjusted his glasses to compensate for a blatant case of far-sightedness, giving the quarter a closer read. He looked back at me in doubt. His face asked, are you putting me on?

It’s a novelty coin? he asked, reaching out to take the quarter for closer inspection. Instinctively, I pulled it away. I didn’t want him to have it. I didn’t want anyone to have it.

Beware of strangers who come as friends, as I once heard.

He jerked his head back as if to say, Well, excuse the piss out of me, friend, and summarily shrugged me off.

Why was I surprised? Of course, he thought the coin wasn’t real. What were the odds of casually stumbling across a quarter that shouldn’t yet exist? To wit, a United States Maryland state quarter stamped with the mint year of 2025. Also, how odd was it that the coin represented the state of Maryland, the same state where I’d spent the first two decades of my life?

If this coin was genuine, it would be a find of epic proportions.

Maybe I didn’t need to leave. There might be somewhere to go after all.

Forget Rose! This thing here? This quarter insisting it comes from the year 2025? This is much more interesting!

Hey man, is there anything else you need? the kid asked, shattering my thoughts. He held his arms out, suggesting I should move along if I had no further business.

No. Forget it.

I hurried off to a corner seat at the far end of the sparsely crowded food court where I could be alone and gawk in privacy. Closer observation and examination of the quarter revealed no cheap plastic facsimile. It felt natural in its texture, its weight, and its edging. Despite the impossibility of the situation, my intuition was steadfast. I was holding a real quarter from the year 2025.

I rammed my fingers into my back pocket to withdraw the remaining coins for inspection. Unsurprisingly, they all fell within this year of 2006 or earlier. A check of the remaining bills in my wallet produced the same. This mysterious ‘FutureQuarter’ from 2025 was the sole exception.

Every thought seemed to return to the same question. How did this coin find its way into 2006? Could I trace the quarter to the individual who’d last used or lost it? That could mean meeting a bona fide time traveler. Jesus! The questions I’d have!

I stopped to realize the futility of the situation. The loose change I carried originated from Sbarro’s Pizza, courtesy of the pimple-faced kid working the cash register. I’d paid for lunch in cash and left the coin change on the serving tray. Odds were the coin changed hands tens, hundreds, or thousands of times before today, given how often money changes hands.

I frowned. Now what?

I glanced at the skylight window embedded in the food court’s ceiling. A freak burst of lightning flashed among the puffy white cumulus clouds scattered across the blue Florida sky. I tightened my lips and narrowed my eyes, anticipating the thunder that typically follows.

Nothing came.

I returned to my default composure and concluded that a mercury vapor lamp had lost control in its final throes of life, perhaps somewhere in the adjacent parking lot.

I looked at the quarter again. I couldn't bring myself to accept it was fake. After my miserable divorce and the heart-stomping experience known as Rose Centeno, I needed a new adventure. Something that wasn’t part of the doldrums my life had become over the last few years. Perhaps FutureQuarter was to be the doctor-ordered exploration. The prescription? Locate the coin’s original owner. Find out what his story is.

The next obstacle in my quest would be credibility. Who might believe my find? Or me? How could I prove the quarter was real?

I looked over at the Sbarro’s Pizza kiosk in the center-right of the food court. The hint of an early lunch rush had already begun when I stepped in line behind three other people at Sbarro’s. I sighed as I attempted to remember them. When waiting for service at a fast-food kiosk in a busy mall, how often does one pay detailed attention to other patrons? I’d venture not very often unless one is admiring an attractive member of the opposite sex.

I closed my eyes and attempted to concentrate on the man directly in front of me. He’d been entirely nondescript. Nothing about him stuck out or made him memorable, even obscurely. Next in line, before Mr. Ordinary, a rather large and poorly dressed woman stood next in line. Outside of disgust, I paid her no attention. However, I remembered the man standing before Ms. Roomy at the Sbarro’s counter best. He was tall and skinny, with a notably dark complexion. I’d place him in his mid-thirties. It wasn't his physical features that made him stand out, but the pattern of his unique shirt tie.

I’ve always fancied distinctive ties, admiring unique combinations of color, patterns, or designs. The man’s tie was off-the-chart cool. Either black or dark blue, the tie displayed off-white, gray, or light blue sequences of ones and zeros in sets of eight digits, also known as binary code. When I first gazed upon the tie, I wondered what characters those sequences of binary numbers translated to. Had I seen all the chains, I could’ve attempted an on-the-fly translation.

I stood up, re-pocketed the loose change, and returned to the Sbarro’s kiosk without knowing what to look for. How much time had passed since my purchase? Twenty minutes? A half an hour?

At present, eight people stood impatiently for service at Sbarro’s. As they approached the cash register, the pimple-faced kid quickly hammered away at the cash register. I doubted he’d know anything about my unique possession, much less the three people who stood in line before me earlier that morning. So many people passed through Sbarro’s. Any previous customer conducting business there this morning could be the coin’s previous owner. What if the quarter passed through Sbarro’s last night or yesterday afternoon? I groaned at what should be a simple task. This new adventure quickly turned into a production of a significant percentage. It brought the disillusion of reality; I’d find no answers at Sbarro’s.

I glanced around the area again, hoping to spot one or more of the folks in line before me. Common sense rapidly intruded. Knowing I was wasting time, I spent another half hour walking around the mall looking for Binary Tie Guy. I knew I’d never find the other two people in line. However, the man wearing a tie that said, ‘Look at me, I’m a geek,’ would stand out like a sore thumb.

The search proved fruitless. Binary Tie Guy was long gone.

The next step in my journey would involve the authentication of FutureQuarter. I knew exactly who could make that determination.

V

David DeMinte is the expert I turn to when I'm looking to buy or trade in antique currencies.

The hobby is one of