YEAR 2065: a NOVEL

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A FORECAST - A Historical Fiction, Author Unknown

INTRODUCTION: All rights reserved including the right to reproduce this book or parts thereof in any form. This book is a work of Historical Fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, it might be coincidental. There will be occasionally the mention of a real person whether still alive or not, but it will be done only when the story requires it, for in this book appears fictional characters and historic figures past and present and non-historic figures as well. Reference to real people, events, establishments, organizations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, thus these later ones are not just fictitious in many cases, but real. “2065: A Forecast” is a work in progress, in other words: In Real Time. Its completion and publishing time is up to its author. In the meantime everyone is welcome to read and witness the writing of a book, again, in Real Time, a task never attempted before. Past true History at its best plus History in the making as it occurs, not given preferential treatment to any side of the many Aisles throughout the ages, whether religious, royal or political. Equanimity is what is pursued here, a quality always absent everywhere and all of the time, past and present, Equanimity that is/.

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[Main Characters: Anacleto A. Busch-Hidalgo, Marisol Angulo Granados, Otto Busch Jones, Marcelino Angulo Castañeda, Rosario Granados de Burgos, Isabel Hidalgo Parasol]

CHAPTER 1: Part #1

January 20, 2065/. The sky was blue, not even a cloud, and even if it was cold, it was very pleasant, for the Sun shined without interruption, warming the windless day and the thousands of people to witness “The Great Transition” in the Capital of the Nation. Soon will be noon ET (1600 GMT), the hour chosen by the Good Governance for the Inauguration. It was like a beautiful and perfect Spring Day in the middle of Winter. But do not let me get too much ahead of other Historic occurrences of the last 40 years of importance, one of them being “The Great Transition”. I’m known as Anacleto and that is my first name. I was born January 20, 2025, so if you do the math: Eureka it is my birthday! That makes me 40 years old, just on the edge of middle age past my juvenile ways. My complete name is Anacleto A. Busch-Hidalgo.

This very same city is where I was born and grew up and attended school, college and university. I graduated as a journalist, a major not so popular now days simply because there were not so many jobs as such. Most of the so called “Major Newspapers” have disappeared, the also so-called Nationals, they just departed, like in dead, they died slowly but surely. My personal take is that there was not much bad news left to report or wars and other unpleasant and undesirable news consumed readily by a great number of people for whatever morbid reason, plus for years “Major Newspapers” have abused the trust of their readers. In other words, they were lying most of the time and spinning up the news the rest of the time, they were just like professional politicians back then, hoaxes were the norm, they make money, lots of money, hoaxes that is. Hoaxes were placed in 'Vogue' by the infamous last president (he hired small building contractors and then didn’t pay them), 'Trumpetilla' (Think of a 'Gasparrilla' but full of gas), of the previous “Corrupted Political System” that lasted 250 years.

The heck with it, can’t wait to tell you! This year celebration of “The Great Transition” of the Inauguration has dual significance, of great and lasting significance: Thirty years ago, Capitol Hill was not reformed, reformations never worked, it was reduced the number to 200 in the House of Representatives. Each State, 50 all together, were divided in four districts, North, South, East and West, one for each district. Oh, I almost forgot it: The Senate was abolished for good! It was decided in 2035 that the least number of persons on top will result in the best governance, and the smaller the budget that ultimately comes out of the taxpayers’ pocket will be also 'good', all 'good' and simple formulas for the 'good' of everyone in the Nation. I do like the word ''good'' more and more each passing day!

I’m a history 'forofo/buff', main you, not interested in sports. When I come across a pivotal moment in History and its good ramifications, it makes me wanna (Shout), throw my hands up and (Shout), come on now y’all (Shout)! Can y’all tell I love music too? 

I’m on a quest, an endeavor for the last few years, actually soon after my loving wife departed in 2059 and consequently becoming widower and more sadly without any children. A childless widower: Could it reside more sadness in somebody than to lose your dear wife and end up alone and being a childless widower? I don’t think so! Ask otherwise a childless widower.

The phone rang on the wall of the hallway between the living room and the kitchen. We only had that phone in the house, a line phone, a two bedrooms third floor apartment, ''Yes.'' ''Come over to the store whenever you can, darling. No rush. I would like you to see this bundle of letters tied neatly with a red ribbon that I found in this box.'' She didn’t need to tell who she was. Her sweet voice, like a 'ruiseñor anunciando la alegria de vivir', was unmistakable to my ears, just like a beautiful piece of music. ''I’ll be down there, darling you.'' The store was not too far, just two floors down in the same building, a three story building owned by Marisol’s parents in the neighborhood of Georgetown in Washington D.C. We lived on the third floor, and I still do, and her parents on the second floor. The store was, still does, at the street level.

Marisol placed the storage file box on a table. In front of the box was written in black letters Carolina …, the following letter of letters after Carolina had been erased. ''Strange isn’t it?'' ''Why?'', I replied. ''There must be a reason why they were erased, wouldn’t you say Anacleto?'' ''Well, yeah, but the reason might be or not important, there are several thing in the box besides the Bundle of Letters.'' They were also some pictures, postcards from Sevilla and Burgos in a small separate bundle with many other postcards dated from 2023-2024 plus a few from 2025 and other years closed to those mentioned. Those years postcards were rather valuable in comparison to any other years now days, in 2065. One of the cards, dated 1/21/2025, was addressed to a Mosca from someone named Felix sent from Seville to … Carolina, U.S.A., again erased. The text read ''Who controls the present controls the past and who controls the past controls the future'', it is the moment in time, Mosca, to exercise fully what freedom we still have left in America and promote the 'Luck of the Draw Election System', before is too late!

''There you have it'' ''What’s that, Anacleto'' ''Elementary, dear Marisol. You have said it many times that the responsible person or persons that created or put together and promoted it, the 'Luck of the Draw Election System' in the early 2020s made sure that stayed under the radar, incognito, unknown even until now, 2059; a real mystery! ''You seem to be correct, but the question is: Why.'' ''Well that is your prerogative 'Solete' to continue the investigation, you’re the one that majored in History and have placed the burden over your shoulders of identified the author or authors of the utmost important development for the cause of Freedom, People’s freedom around the World, of the last 50 centuries making it possible a 'Brave New World' for the good of all. One thing I want to repeat to you if I may add, do not overdue.'' ''Well, regardless of anything and everything, my dear husband and best friend, remember: For good or bad till death do us part. I want that you extend your part on that promise.'' ''What’s that?'' ''I earnestly desire that you continue the search, the investigation of who were they, the responsible for such wonderful treaty that still on track after all these years:  The 'Luck of the Draw Election System'.'' ''Rest assured my 'Solete' that I will, I promise!'' There were reasons why I ask her not to overdue, mainly a minor 'derrame cerebral' she suffered in 2058 that kept the right part of her lip lower than the rest. Fantastically, a word use by her father frequently, he is a musician, Cello player and a very good one may I add, she totally recovered, but still under rigorous medical supervision since then.

Don Marcelino was getting the National Symphony Orchestra ready, he had accepted the direction of it for just that day, the Inauguration of the new President, the day that was recognize, every 5 years, in the Nation and around the World as the “The Great Transition” Day, this last one being January 20, 2065. Though it was a remarkable day for Winter with clear skies and lots of sunshine, my true 'sol' wasn’t shining, my 'Solete', my Marisol. She would have been 40 years young, just like me, we both were born in 2025. Don Marcelino looked at me with an indescribable smile, he missed Marisol too, his beloved daughter. Beethoven 9 - Ode of Joy – Himno a la Alegría erupted and the million or so erupted singing also in German, Spanish, Italian and other languages as a mosaic of musical notes of all colors. One note was missing, Marisol, 'Solete' my Sol, making my eyes ready to shed 'lágrimas' on my lap as I listened to the symphony, one of her favorites. As I was sitting in my chair not too far from my father-in-law, Don Marcelino, I turned my hands looking at its palms, they were empty when in countless occasion were filled with her on hands. My hands missed the warm Marisol’s hands, my heart too, my soul too, they were all empty, my whole body was empty. As I was hearing the beautiful sound of music, Beethoven 9th emanating a myriad of pure water from a spring in its way to the open arms of the Ocean. It is a blessing that music is invisible and proves that music was started up above the sky, in the heavens.

I went to the airport early in the day in my way to Los Angeles to participate in a three-day Journalist summit from around the World. Marisol wanted to take me, but I dissuaded her, it was too early and she herself had a busy day in front of her. Instead I called a taxi. I left when she was still asleep kissing her forehead. It was the morning of September first, 2059, and the last time I saw her alive, breathing in her sleep peacefully like an angel. Heaven’s took her away from me. I called her the very next day at 12:30 in the afternoon to the shop from the lobby of the hotel where I was staying and where the Journalistic Conference was taking place. When I was out of the Washington D.C. area, 12:30 in the afternoon was the best time to call her, because by 1:00 Marisol closed the store for lunch and 'siesta' and then open again at 4:00 o’clock. She was rearranging, again, some areas of the shop and sounded jovial and in high spirits. The next day, September third, was the darkest day of my life, still is.

I called Marisol the next day from the same place at the same time and the phone was pick up after the first ring and without waiting y said: ''Hello, my 'Solete', how are you?'' After a silent moment that seemed to me like an eternity, a voice, that I recognized immediately, answer me: ''Anacleto, is me, Rosario, Marisol is not here and…'' I interrupted her, sensing that not all was right, the way it’s supposed to be: ''Where, then is she?'' ''The shop was not opened today… I must tell you the worst news a mother has to announce… Marisol is gone, she has departed… she is no longer with us… she passed away last night… apparently she passed away in her sleep, peacefully I truly believe, Anacleto.'' ''I’ll take the next fly back home.'' And with that I hang up the phone. Seven hours later I was at home. There was no one so I went one floor up to my parents-in-law apartment. I knocked at the door and Doña Rosario opened and immediately went inside and got next to Don Marcelino, I went inside as well and the three embraced at the same time with me in the middle. I said with a hoarse voice and wet eyes: ''I’m so very sorry Doña Rosario for the abrupt phone call ending early this afternoon from L.A., I’m selfish.'' ''No digas eso, Anacleto, why would you say something like that?'' ''I thought at that very moment about my own sorrow forgetting about yours and Marcelino’s, your precious daughter Marisol, your only daughter.'' ''Never mind, 'me hijo' Anacleto, or have forgotten what we said to Marisol and you in your wedding day almost nine years ago, December 1, 2051…'' ''You remember, don’t you Anacleto?'' ''Yes, Don Marcelino, we do not lose a daughter, we win a son.'' ''That’s who you are for us, yes we both of us lost a daughter last night but we still have a son and it happens that his name is Anacleto A. Busch-Hidalgo, or don’t you know?'' The three of us smiled to each other.

Since Marisol had the 'minor stroke' and when I was away Doña Rosario stayed with her overnights in our apartment, nonetheless, in the still of the night she was taken away in silence, not a sound, according to my mother-in-law, that how she found my dear wife early in the morning, eyes closed with a semi-smile in her face. According with her doctor she had a 'massive stroke' and a non-invasive postmortem examination done that consisted of a very advance MRI and a very small incision in an area of the abdomen to abstract some body fluids and send to a lab confirm it. The lab text found no foreign substances as drugs, just the medication prescribe by her doctor after her minor stroke. The Death Certificate was simple: Death by a Massive Stroke. Three days after her passing away she was buried in a cemetery close by her beloved shop. I was surprise the amount of people present at the burial. Besides friend and family there were quite many of her shop clients and one of them being the Mayor of Washington D.C., they both loved history, Marisol and the Mayor. I gave a simple eulogy just like she would have wanted. Keep it always simple Anacleto, she liked to tell me when I opened my mouth to say something.

My eulogy to the Sol of Soles, my Solete, my Marisol: ''Is that all there is? What would I do without you, Marisol. You were the sunrise and I was the rain'' Have you ever seen the rain dancing on a sunny day, my friends? She was my rainbow in the darkest days and the sunshine of my life. She was an upbeat person, but reality played a significant role in her life, that’s why 'ashes to ashes, dust to dust'' was a phrase she commonly used, and in the shop she had a place behind the counter on the wall a sign that read in Spanish and in English “Todo va a un mismo lugar; todo es hecho del polvo, y todo volverá al polvo/All go unto one place; all are of dust, and all turn to dust again.” I brought some ashes from our fireplace, so here you go Marisol, and I cast them into the grave.

We, the three of us, were back at home from the cemetery, Don Marcelino and Doña Rosario to the second floor of the three-story building and I to the third floor of my empty apartment. In our way back silence reigned among us. Here I was, alone 'en la penumbra' of my home. But wait, I said to myself, someone else is not here, and as I thought and realized who was absent, I heard a knock on the door, and I went rapidly to the door and opened. There he was Chico in the arms of Doña Rosario. The first thing I heard was a, 'miau', it was a light Orange Tabby Cat that Marisol adopted four year ago as kitten and named Chico. Once inside Chico jump down from Doña Rosario and started looking for Marisol as he continue meowing as he headed to our bedroom. ''Oh my Lord, I almost completely forgot about Chico. Ain’t that a shame on my part, Doña Rosario?'' ''Not really, Anacleto, who you are mourning and missing is Marisol, it is like mourning and missing Marisol is your entire world now but time will get you back and Chico will help you. I’m in the same world now and Marcelino too. I left him playing in his Cello Marisol’s favorite, 'The Concierto de Aranjuez' by Maestro Rodrigo. I have no doubt that I’ll heard it many of times from now on and down the road on as our life continues, for the Earth will continue rotating and there is practically nothing that could stop It nor slow It down in the entire space for now. Our 'Globe' will rotate for the foreseeable future and us with 'It' until we jump out, when our time come to leave as Marisol did.'' ''Always comforting your words of wisdom. Thank you Doña Rosario very much.'' 'With that, we embraced for a long time.

PART #2: Marisol’s Shop Inventory

In September 1059 my life changed in more than one way. The next day after the funeral I got up early in the morning, helped by Chico who was nuzzling my face. It was 6:00 am and the light of the new day was timidly filtering through the curtains of the long window in the bedroom. I made some coffee but first I fed Chico that was rubbing against my legs insistently. I sat at the table of the kitchen that was placed next to the window and looked out. Movement was starting at the street level, and the Sun was shining and showing off already its precious golden rays as if it were the 'pavo real' of the Universe; no doubt if was going to be a sunny day in Washington D.C. Afterwards I refreshed my face without shaving and dressed up. By the time I went to the door to opened it to leave the apartment Chico was already there sitting in front of it and looking at me. Chico always went down to the Shop following Marisol where he spent the day with her, from 10:00 to 1:00 and from 4:00 to 7:00. Between 1:00 and 4:00 it was lunch and siesta time. So Chico did the trip, down and up twice from Tuesday to Saturday. The Shop was closed Sunday and Monday, and Saturday was open from 10:00 to 2:00. I was in a way surprised because Chico only followed Marisol wherever she went, in the apartment, down to the shop and vice versa. Chico was 'Momma’s Boy', but then again, all cats are regardless of its gender.

Marisol’s shop has dual entrances, the main one for the public on the street at the front. The second one was at right side of the shop internally that connected to the lobby of the living quarters that went up to the second and third floor, the second where Marisol’s parents lived and the third and last floor where, well now, Chico and I lived. The door was not locked, so I turned the knob and Chico like a bullet burst into the shop. I heard a voice saying: ''Morning Chico.'' It was Doña Rosario: ''Morning Anacleto.'' ''Morning Rosario.'' Chico still going around, smelling here and there, just like a dog would do, well almost. No doubt he was searching for his momma Marisol. It was Monday, a day that was normally closed and said: ''Rosario, I am thinking of keeping the shop close for the rest of the week.'' ''Yes, my son, whatever you consider would help you at this hour.'' ''I’m planning to do an inventory of the things that Marisol left us with. I wanted to get more familiar with all the history items in the shop at the same time that I finish, I don’t know how, the article that I was paid for by this magazine that it is almost done.'' ''I’m with you all through, whatever you needed to do, go get and do it.'' ''Thank you, you are a lovely 'suegra' and…'' ''Oh, stop that, you are a most lovely son-in-law that a 'suegra' could ever dream of, Anacleto.'' We both laughed and embrace silently for a minute, it was a confirmation that we had each other, and what a confirmation, me the unconditionally support by the woman that gave birth to the love of my live, and the unconditional support of the man that loved her daughter and her daughter loved until the early end of her life, and who knows, beyond. Chico’s meowing brought us back to the store, the store with the name of: 'Marisol’s History Hub'. I was facing a daunting prospect, to get hold of the 'shop' and run it, for that’s what Marisol would want me to do, a new life altogether, 'life after Marisol' no less.

''Doña Rosario.'' ''Yes my son.'' ''Can you produce a sign, and you know what’s best to write on the sign that says the shop will be closed until next Tuesday and place it at the door, and please take care of Chico meanwhile, I’m going up the street to see my parents?'' ''Yes, of course, you are in charge of the shop now, and please, you don’t need to address me with the 'Doña' first, plain Rosario would do.'' ''Got it, still, 'Doña' has a fine ring for me, a fine 'gracia' to me.'' With that, I left the shop to visit my parent that lived five blocks from the shop in a similar house. They lived also on the second floor, being the street level the first and that was rented for the last ten years to George, a man that opened an Art Gallery in which he also framed pictures, photos, art and other items and did some remarkable work for 'Marisol’s History Hub'; the name of the gallery was 'Art for All'. I stopped by George’s shop to thank him for the help he had provided to Marisol when she first opened her own shop. He came also to the funeral and cried with me for several minutes in all my dark despair. ''How are you navigating your great loss, Anacleto?'' ''With the help of true friends like you, Marisol’s parents and my own parents, it is like having many hands baling out water to dump overboard into the sea before the ship of my life sinks 'irremisiblemente', although, I’m not out of the water just yet.'' ''I went up on floor and knock on the door at the same time that I used the key to open, it was the apartment where I grow up, my parents’ apartment. My mother was in her way to the door and said in Spanish, always delighted to have the opportunity to speak it, ''¿Cómo te sientes, hijo mío?'' ''Bien, Mamá, bien, y Papá?'' We walked to the living room and there he was, in his favorite chair reading a book. ''Don’t get up dad.''

There he was, the old career diplomat, sitting in the armchair that Marisol and I give him as a gift for his 80th birthday last year, a caramel leather chair. ''Is the same color as Marisol eyes, Anacleto.'' He said that placing the palm of his right hand on the arm while keeping the book in the other hand. ''I had many bad days in my long life, son, I had seen it all. The two worst days when I lost my parents, your grandparents, one month separated from one another, my father first and then my mother a month later. The loss of persons you love hurts the most. After that, for me at least, an extremely bad day was when a terminator appeared for the second time, he was call the 45 the first time and the 47 the second, and at the end of February 2025 he terminated my career as a Diplomat of North America in a most crucial year when two horrible wars were going on, one in the Middle East, Gaza, and Ukraine. Out of the blue came this message to our Embassy in Iraq: Urgent, Mr. Otto Busch Jones, your presence is requested in Washington, ASAP! A group of outsiders, with the blessing of 45-47, under the name of DOGE (soon appeared a funny spelling: 'Dogs of Gorging Elon') chopped my diplomatic job in pieces. But the loss of Marisol surpasses a million times, as a matter of fact, no comparison… she was like the daughter that I never had, Anacleto. By the way, what are your plans now?''

''My plans now are to take over Marisol’s shop and her last project, of which I’ll let you know with more detail as soon as I have the time, and as I told her mother, finish an article that I was working on for this magazine and immerse myself in that task of which I’m looking for very much by the way, dad.'' ''Sounds very good to me, my son, that you get a little busy especially now in the things of your wife Marisol but not overdue, a good lunch and a siesta after, have helped America tremendously for the last thirty years.'' ''Indeed, papá, Marisol and I were always fervent participants to the Spanish costume that 'nothing beats a good lunch in the middle of the day and a generous siesta', and America says: Amén!'' ''Very well, my son, you know where I am and I will be waiting for you to share 'Marisol’s Project' that seems it is your project as well now.'' ''Yes, dad, from now on I will be visiting you and mother with much more frequency, mainly because I want spend more time with you both. It is funny, when you lose a loved one, you wish that you had spend more time with that dear one that is gone, so I will be knocking at the door more, much more than before, then we will have plenty to go into 'Marisol’s Project' that as you just referred to, now it has become mine too.'' ''I know what you do mean perfectly about spending more time with the ones you love while they are alive, but it always seemed to me that Marisol and you were inseparable, in any case, the thought is well expressed by you, Anacleto.''

I went back to the shop; it will always be Marisol’s shop, 'Marisol’s History Hub', Doña Rosario and Chico were gone. I looked at the door and Rosario’s sign that tomorrow Tuesday the shop will be open at 10AM was very visible. I turn the lights on and the music that always was on, classical music mostly then I noticed on the counter several Spiral Bound Notebooks with a yellow note on top: These probably will help you, Anacleto, with Marisol’s Shop Inventory. It is all there. I had forgotten how meticulous and organize Marisol always was, contrary than me. Yes, indeed, all that was in the shop was written down in the extensive Notebooks. I couldn’t help it but say aloud, thank you my Solete! Every entry and sale were there, what a blessing. I went to the shelves around the store and look how well all was organize in the shelves and some have even the item name that was for sale including the price. I stop on one that said: Some of the best previous Historians in North America. There were two names, one was just a book left and of the other were three books and also about 10 DVD. I will have to consult with the Notebooks to see if there were more names before and if they were sold. At any rate, the book title was, the only one left: “THE MARCH OF FOLLY: From Troy to Vietnam”, by Barbara W. Tuchman, January 1, 1984/. The other Historian Author on the shelf that still has three books, and 10 DVD left for sale: “THE BLACK BOX: Writing the Race”, by Henry Louis Gates Jr., March 19, 2024/. “COLORED PEOPLE: A Memoir”, by Henry Louis Gates Jr., January 1, 1994/. “THE TRIALS OF PHILLIS WHEATLEY: America's First Black Poet and Her Encounters with the Founding Fathers”, by Henry Louis Gates Jr., April 1, 2003/. 10 DVD of Different Documentary Television Series: “Finding Your Roots with Henry Louis Gates, Jr.”, 2023-24. A well known Critic of the era has this to say: "The most compelling television you will ever see."/.

The article that am writing for this magazine, that I am almost done, curiously has to do with prices, how they went up, and again curiously one of them was everything that has to do with History in general, but curiously again the one, History of 'América del Norte' was the priciest, and it confirmed the one book left by Barbara W. Tuchman, with a tag of $250, when that book original price in January 1, 1984 was around $10-15. Marisol had several sign behind the counter and one says: 'Hoarding is not a good sign'/. Another says: 'We only sell one item of those that there is more than one of the same item: Hoarding is not aloud here, no exceptions'/. Henry Louis Gates Jr. books were priced at $250 as well and each DVD of “Finding Your Roots with Henry Louis Gates, Jr.” was priced at $350. Another sign behind the counter say: 'We do not sell copies, we sell only originals', and I’m planning to follow every rule that she established at the conception of 'Marisol’s History Hub', I said to myself. Next day, Tuesday, I went down to the shop at around 9:30 to get ready to open up at 10AM with Chico in tow and I was happily surprised to see Rosario and Gloria, Marisol’s mother and her best friend from High School with her four years old little son. Sometimes she helped her in the shop especially when Marisol went out to Estate Sales looking for things that have to do with History. Also she just to go sometimes for Garage Sales hunting trips, they were still popular the weekend. Sometimes people brought boxes to the shop and sometimes they wanted to donate but after she said thanks she told them that she was running a business, and she rather paid for the boxes. She had a flat rate of $50 per box. After a salute to everyone I looked through the shop window and there was already a small line of people, about 10, waiting for the door to open. Everything was in order in the shop, including the Romper Room in the back of the store that we have for the client’s children, which always was supervised by Gloria or Rosario and sometimes even by Marisol, so that the costumers could rummaged around the store and not be distracted nor bothered other clients. ''The art of selling'', Marisol said to me many times, ''and not any old selling, but History, Anacleto!''

At ten on the dot, I opened the door and stay holding it to welcome everybody and I was move that all of them shared their sympathies with me. I was surprised that it seemed that all knew who I was. I had forgotten that Marisol had a picture of both of us on the wall behind the counter also. They all might have been before in 'Marisol’s History Hub'. The last person to enter was the mayor of D.C., a six feet tall blond man in his mid-thirties, a very pleasant man. We both knew each other from other occasions, the last time at Marisol’s funeral and again he shared his sympathies. ''Nice to see you again, mayor, I was told by Marisol that you were a regular client at her shop and now you prove it to me.'' ''Likewise, but please, call me Roy. I took my lunch early today to have an opportunity to browse around again, always hoping to find some items on History that your dear wife had a keen eye to discover here and there. Some of them, History items, that I have purchased before have helped me in some resolutions concerning governing. My theme since I was elected is not to repeat those mistakes, and some of them were deadly, that were made throughout history. Thanks God most of the elected officials around the Nation, if not all, are of the same though.'' ''Well thank you and again welcome and happy shopping.'' We had a quite busy day. Rosario mentioned that she did not remember a busier day than this Tuesday after Marisol departure from this Earth. I went to the back small room in the shop where Marisol kept boxes and other items that she had found in her round about looking for things, historic things that she kept stored until she had the time to go over them. Casually I place a box on the table that was in the middle of the room and looking through it I found an old newspaper inside a thin transparent bag and my eyes end up fixed, almost glued to the Front-Page Headline: “January 20, 2025, a Day Which Will Live in Infamy.” The publishing date was January 21, 2025. I placed the newspaper under my left arm and placed in a secure place until later. I needed to know about the date, January 20, 2025, and who better that my dad, if I remember well, he was a career diplomat at that time, part of the State Department, and by all carrots: I was born that very same day, month and year!

I postponed my visit to my father to inquire about the newspaper ''The Wall'', the very same publication that published in January 21, 2025: “January 20, 2025, a Day Which Will Live in Infamy.” in the Front-Page Headline. I needed to replenish the 'shop' that was ransacked, in the good sense of the word, almost to the bone, 80% of all items, all of them having to do with History, were sold. I think we are going to be busy, a told my mother-in-law Rosario, responding: Very busy indeed, Anacleto! We both went into gear in the back room going through box after box, and being who she was, she always consulted with me about every single item saying: Is your shop now, you decide which one is worthy to be displayed and sold as a serious Historic item, my son. She was a real Lady of Spain might I add, it never disappeared that quality in her after almost half a century in the United States. I found a book and exclaimed: ''Look at this Rosario, the book that’s always on the little table next to Marcelino’s favorite armchair in your living room.'' ''Oh my goodness, I don’t know how many times he had read it, he said that is one of the best Historic-Fiction book about Spain and I understand why he say so: Because the protagonist of the 'Historic Novel' is the Bow of a Cellist.'' ''Well, Rosario, you want to keep it?'' ''Oh no, my son, what for, we already have one at home, and I rather follow Marisol’s profound saying: 'Hoarding is not a good sign'. And I believed that 'Hoarding History' and not sharing it with other was for her the worst sign of decadence.'' ''Then, is all yours, Rosario, go for it and price it, it is your call.''

That night, Tuesday night, we stocked and priced half of the emptied shelves, two-thirds of all shop items were sold. Tomorrow we will continue, we want the shop to stay as Marisol intended and became, 'oh-so-perfect shop' where people felt the seriousness of History. In the center of the shop we have, as she had it, an antique round table where a good side of fresh bouquet of flowers was placed on it always. Before we left the shop at 10PM I looked at the price of the book about the Bow of a Cellist that Rosario estimated value, it was priced at $295 and the title was: “The Spanish Bow”, by Andromeda Romano-Lax, first published January 1, 2007. In the process of restocking the shop, I found another Historic book, a true History book with the name of “The HAUNTING of AMERICA: From the Salem Witch Trials to Harry Houdini”, by William J. Birnes and Joel Martin, first published January 1, 2009. Before I place this last book, “The HAUNTING of AMERICA: From the Salem Witch Trials to Harry Houdini”, for sale, I will read it and if I find it correct, no hoax in it, I’ll price it at $395 with my eyes closed. In a couple of days more the shop was replenished and sales equalized back to it was before more or less. It was time to visit my father the diplomat. He still was a very diplomatic person after all these years. I had this urgency to learn more about that day, January 20, 2025. Friday after the shop was closed, I walk up the street to see the 'diplomat' with the newspaper ''The Wall'', under my arm, January 21, 2025: “January 20, 2025, a Day Which Will Live in Infamy.” Before walking up the second floor I ring George’s store, 'Art for All', he was still there getting ready to leave. ''How things are in the art’s world, George?'' He was my reference to the fluctuating values of art over all. He was my living reference value/pricing in the art industry, my main subject in my journalistic reporting career, value/pricing in general. ''Stable, Anacleto, I don’t know if you are well verse in the Market Crash of 2026, even art in general suffered, well in my opinion went down to the real value more or less. Your father most likely knows a bunch about it, I was in my childhood and he lived it, and in a way he was in the middle of the conundrum by being a career diplomat all over the World for years previous to the economic earthquake.'' ''Well, precisely, I’m going up to ask him about this newspaper edition of that very same era. I showed to him and his eyes opened like an owl.'' ''Darnedest, where have you found that?'' ''At 'Marisol’s History Hub', where else of all places my good friend George!'' With that I went upstairs to visit with my mother and father.

My mother welcome me in Tagalog, teasing me knowing that I’m not proficient in it, she is proficient in Tagalog because she is originally from the Pilipinas, though is also proficient in Spanish and in English. We are a polyglot family, my father is proficient in six languages and I in four, English, Spanish, Italian and German. She had dinner ready since I called her that I was coming to visit and spend some time with them. We had a very pleasant dinner with candles and what not. Mother serious when it came to dinner, and we had a bottle of Rioja red, one of the favorite wines of Marisol. ''How things at 'Marisol’s History Hub'.'', my father asked. ''Excellent, tomorrow Saturday, Rosario and Gloria will open the shop and take care of everything because I’m going 'yard sales', you know, 'garage sales'.'' ''Oh, how much I would like to go with you, son'', my father said, ''I always had a good time and when it comes to History, it is amazing what you could come across with, I have some of it in my office and down the road you might want to take a look at it some time.'' ''Yes, indeed, Marisol just to say so, though she preferred 'state sales', that’s what the treasures are, when it came to History.'' Father was not in such a good health, if going out he would have to do it with a walker, though here at home with a cane was sufficient, going down the stairs was the biggest problem, that’s why he was not present at Marisol’s funeral, mother did go. ''It’s called age, Anacleto, age'', he always says, ''nothing more, just plain age.'' He was 84 but his mind functioned well and his memory like he was 25.

The third bedroom of the house acted as Otto office, a quasi-dominion space where to enter it needed his presence. My father preferred to be there always, though lately was less intransigent. I guess he was more open to share some of the collected information and the History of his years in the 'diplomatic corps' corridors practically around the World. That is where my father and I end up after dinner, in the 'third room'. When I was a little 'chaval' I loved to hide in it, the secretness of the room portraited always by him attracted my inquisitive nature, I love to play detective, though in my innocence never found the smoking gun, it was never a crime to be hidden in the 'third room', maybe a few State Secrets that I wouldn’t know they were so, today probably aren’t worthy to be called State Secrets. ''Here is, dad'', showing him the front page of ''The Wall'': “January 20, 2025, a Day Which Will Live in Infamy.” What do you know about that, and also I like to know more about the 'Market Crash of 2026' and the main reason for it to happened that year and not other year.'' ''… that year and no other year, always being yourself, extending what information you want to get. I definitely know why it was in '2026'. ''Why in '2026', dad?'' ''Because of the 47th.'' ''And why no a year or two after, dad?'' ''Because in my estimation, and I’m not a economist, not even close, by 2027-28 WWIII, atomic this time around, was certain, some said, at least it was looming, meaning it was foreseeable. In other words: At the end it was preferable a 'Worldwide Market Crash' in 2026 than WWIII in which nobody knew who could have survive it. Again, that was my estimation according to my knowledge at the time of those events. One think that exacerbated those National and International events from 2025 on was the way 47th governed, by shock and awe, as if getting ready and closer to what a dictator was all about. Sad, my son, it was a very sad situation: Only chaos, confusion, and fear.'' Mother in the meantime brought us coffee and a snifter with a little of my father’s favorite brandy: Gran Duque D’Alba. That’s how we spent a couple of hour, me asking questions and Otto, my father, answering them very openly, saying to me at the end: ''Any time, son, this room, your favorite room in your childhood, the 'third room', is open to you if I’m gone, meanwhile, and I know now you are busy, but don’t forget to have your daily 'sienta', come to see us more frequently and we’ll chat.''

I left my parents’ house with some gifs, anything now that has to do with History was a gift for me, I could pass it to others at 'Marisol’s History Hub' by purchasing them, it was my only way now to make a living: Selling pieces History, and people were eager to acquire them. It was almost like the new art: People wanted to know how we got here, to 2065, a time of prosperity and peace for all here and around the World, not an utopian world by any stretch of the imagination, but tenfold better than before the “The Great Transition”, after 2028-2030. My father was at the time, 2025-2028, familiar with ''The Wall'' and he had saved several copies of different days, and one of them was 'The Market Crash of August 2026' by ''The Wall''. A copy of ''The Wall'': “January 20, 2025, a Day Which Will Live in Infamy”, he didn’t have, though he agreed that day was 'a truly day of infamy'. One of the gifts, besides all ''The Wall'' copies, the he gave me was a book with the title: “ROGUE STATE: A Guide to the World’s Only Superpower”, by William Blum, January 1, 2000. He said to me: ''Read it, my son, before you put it for sale at your shop, 'Marisol’s History Hub', and next time you visit us we’ll talk about 'The Market Crash of August 2026', meanwhile read it as well.'' I placed for sale the edition of January 21, 2025 of ''The Wall'': “January 20, 2025, a Day Which Will Live in Infamy” the very next Tuesday for $425, it didn’t last long on the shelf and the buyer was no other than Roy, the mayor of Washington D.C. He had another year to go, next year, 2060, was election year all around the Nation for every governmental office, from president, congress, governors, mayors, down to county assemblies, all elections under the 'Luck of the Draw Election System' that has been held since 2030, every 5 years; only one term and never to be elected again in future elections.

The week went well in all aspects and sales were up on daily bases. I had the opportunity to go to several State sales to replenish again the shop. Doña Rosario and Gloria were doing a great job taking care of the shop when I was absent and Gloria accepted the job on a part time bases with $45 an hour which helped tremendously Gloria and her husband since he was in a wheelchair due to an accident at his work and was on Social Security Disability, much improve since the “The Great Transition”; the official minimum hourly living wage was $40 an hour and the official weekly minimum living wages was $1,700, $88,400 yearly with three weeks paid vacations. Doña Rosario rejected any salary: ''How could I accept pay, Anacleto, when I can spend time in my favorite place, 'Marisol’s History Hub', the shop of my children, you and Marisol'', she says constantly to me, ''this is the closest I can be to both of you and being delighted by Chico as well, not just that, Marcelino will kick me out of the house and I love that man to much'', she said once smiling. Wasn’t I blessed to have a family like this, them and my parents, I though with frequency. {Go to Page 2: Chapter #2}