Ellis, Sarah, and Abernathy huddled around a small table in the pastor's study, the air thick with anxiety and the scent of old books and brewing coffee. Moonlight filtered through the window, casting long shadows across their faces as they reviewed the plans for the march. Abernathy, his brow furrowed, tapped a worn Bible. "We must remember, above all else, the power of love and forgiveness. We cannot meet hate with hate, lest we become what we fight against."
Sarah, ever practical, spread a hand-drawn map of Harmony Creek on the table. "Reverend's right, but love ain't gonna stop a firehose. We need to be smart, organized. Marshals at the front, the back, and along the sides. Anyone sees trouble brewing, they signal. We got first-aid kits stationed at the church and Mrs. Davison's boarding house, escape routes planned if things get too hot. We stick together, no matter what."
She detailed specific countermeasures. Marshals, identified by armbands made from strips of old bedsheets, would be responsible for maintaining order within the marching group, trained to spot potential agitators and de-escalate conflicts before they erupted. First-aid stations, stocked with bandages, antiseptic, and cool water, would be established at strategic locations along the route, staffed by volunteer nurses and community members trained in basic first aid. Escape routes, leading down side streets and alleyways, would be designated in advance, offering protestors a means of escape if the march was overwhelmed by violence.
Abernathy emphasized prayer, moral strength, and the power of forgiveness, suggesting training in de-escalation techniques and maintaining unwavering discipline. "We need to train our folks on how to remain non-violent, even if we are provoked. We must turn the other cheek, and show them that we are here for peace and equality."
They discussed whether to inform the authorities of their knowledge of Brody's plans. Sarah was adamant. "Sheriff Brody? Tell *him*? He's the one *making* the plans! That'd be like asking the wolf to guard the henhouse." Abernathy sighed, agreeing reluctantly. "I fear you are right, child. He has shown us his heart too many times. Informing him would only serve to provoke him further, perhaps even give him the excuse he needs to crack down on us before we even reach the courthouse."
They did agree to document any violence that occurred. Sarah had enlisted a couple of young men with cameras to discreetly photograph any acts of aggression by the police or the white citizen council. "We get it on film, we can show the world what's happening here in Harmony Creek," she said grimly. "Maybe then folks outside will start to pay attention."
Ellis had been listening intently, his brow furrowed as he absorbed their strategies. The weight of his knowledge – the certainty of Brody's planned violence – pressed heavily on him. "There is another option," he said quietly, his voice tinged with a hesitant urgency. "A… a riskier one."
He outlined his plan, carefully omitting the specifics of his temporal displacement. "I will be present at the march, positioned strategically. I can… influence… events. Subtly. Disrupt the planned violence at critical moments." He outlined the risks involved: the potential for discovery, the mental strain, the possibility of unintended consequences. He emphasized that he would only use his powers defensively, to protect the activists from harm, not to initiate violence or to control their actions.
Sarah looked at him, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Influence? What exactly does that *mean*, Ellis? You gonna start throwing punches with your mind?"
"Nothing of the sort," Ellis said quickly, recoiling from the image. "I can… nudge… perceptions. Cause hesitation. Confusion. Just enough to disrupt their rhythm, to give you all a moment to react, to protect yourselves."
Abernathy steepled his fingers, his gaze fixed on Ellis. "This… gift… you possess. It is a dangerous thing, Ellis. Are you certain you can control it? That you can use it without causing unintended harm?"
Ellis hesitated, the ghosts of Eddington rising in his mind. "No," he admitted honestly. "I cannot be *certain*. There is always a risk. But I believe… I believe it is a risk worth taking. The alternative… allowing Brody to unleash his hatred unchecked… that is a far greater risk, in my estimation."
He showed them diagrams of the planned march route, pointing out potential trouble spots and explaining where he would position himself to be most effective. He would stay near the front, close enough to Sarah and the other leaders to react quickly if violence erupted, but far enough away to avoid drawing undue attention to himself. He would focus on disrupting the most aggressive officers and agitators, creating small pockets of confusion and hesitation that would allow the protestors to protect themselves.
Sarah remained skeptical, but she saw the determination in Ellis's eyes, the echoes of his own past struggles in his voice. "It's a damn risky plan, Ellis. But… I see you believe in it. And I trust you. Just… be careful. We can't afford to lose you."
Abernathy placed a hand on Ellis's shoulder, his touch surprisingly strong. "We will pray for your safety, my son. And for your wisdom. May God guide your actions and protect you from harm."
Later that night, alone in his small room at Mrs. Davison's boarding house, Ellis began his preparations. He knew that what he was planning was incredibly dangerous, both for himself and for the community he had come to care for. But he also knew that he could not stand idly by and watch Brody's plan unfold. He had to act, to use his abilities to protect the innocent, even if it meant risking everything.
He started with mental exercises. He isolated himself in a quiet room, focusing his mind and attempting to project specific emotional states onto inanimate objects. He tried to induce confusion in a flickering candle flame, fatigue in a stack of books, and hesitation in a swinging pendulum. He concentrated on the candle, attempting to make the flame dance erratically, to flicker and sputter as if buffeted by an unseen wind. He focused on the books, trying to imbue them with a sense of overwhelming weariness, as if their pages were filled with the weight of centuries. He turned his attention to the pendulum, attempting to disrupt its rhythmic swing, to make it falter and hesitate as if caught in a moment of doubt.
The effort was physically and mentally draining, leaving him sweating and exhausted. His head throbbed with a dull ache, a familiar reminder of the strain his powers placed on his mind. He pushed himself to the limit, refining his control and increasing his range, but he knew that he was still far from mastering his abilities. He could only project these emotions over short distances, and his control was still imperfect. But he had to be ready.
He visualized Brody's deputies, attempting to anticipate their actions and to prepare himself to counter their aggression. He imagined their faces, their expressions twisted with hatred and prejudice, their hands gripping batons and weapons. He tried to anticipate their movements, to predict where they would strike and how they would attempt to provoke violence. He focused on disrupting their intentions, planting seeds of doubt and hesitation in their minds, hoping to make them question their orders, to make them think twice before unleashing their aggression.
He spent hours in this mental exercise, pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion. He knew that he would need all of his strength for the march tomorrow. He had to be ready to act, to protect the innocent, to prevent a tragedy.
Later, as the moon climbed higher in the sky, Ellis sat by the window, gazing out at the night. Harmony Creek was quiet, but he could feel the tension simmering beneath the surface, the collective anxiety and fear of the townspeople weighing heavily on his mind.
He wondered about his own time, his lost chance to return, and whether this sacrifice would be worth it. He wondered if he would ever see his friends again, if he would ever return to the world he knew. He questioned whether his actions in Harmony Creek would truly make a difference, whether his sacrifice would be worth the cost. Was he simply delaying the inevitable, or could he truly alter the course of history? He saw birds nesting in the church eaves, finding shelter and safety in this place of faith and community. They were small brown birds, sparrows perhaps, huddled together against the cool night air. They chirped softly, their voices a comforting counterpoint to the silence of the town. The birds symbolized the sanctuary that the church provided to the black community, and Ellis hoped that his actions would help to preserve that sanctuary. He hoped that he could help to create a world where all people, regardless of their race or background, could find shelter and safety.
He felt a pang of longing for his own time, but he also recognized that his purpose was here, in this pivotal moment in Earth's history. He had been given a chance to make a difference, to fight for justice and equality, and he could not turn his back on that opportunity. He had made a promise to Sarah and Abernathy, and he would not break it. He would stand with them, and he would fight for what was right, no matter the cost.
Meanwhile, in the Sheriff's office, the air was thick with cigar smoke and the harsh smell of cheap whiskey. Sheriff Brody sat behind his desk, his face flushed with anger, surrounded by his most trusted deputies and a motley crew of civilian thugs, members of the local White Citizens' Council and Klan sympathizers.
"Alright, listen up," Brody growled, slamming his fist on the desk. "Tomorrow's the day we put an end to this damn fool march. We show these uppity negroes who's really in charge in Harmony Creek."
He outlined his plan to provoke violence during the march, using his deputies and civilian thugs to instigate confrontations with the activists. He emphasized the need to crush the march and to silence the Civil Rights movement in Harmony Creek. "We gotta make an example of these people," he said, his voice laced with venom. "We gotta show 'em that we won't tolerate their kind of trouble in our town."
He specifically targeted Ellis, ordering his men to plant a weapon near him and to arrest him on fabricated charges. "That outsider, that Langston fella… he's the one causing all the trouble. He's stirring up these negroes, filling their heads with crazy ideas. I want him taken down. I want him arrested, and I want him to rot in jail."
Brody's hatred for Ellis was palpable, and he was determined to destroy him, no matter the cost. He saw Ellis as a threat to his authority, a symbol of the changing times that he desperately wanted to resist. He was determined to crush him, to make him pay for daring to challenge the established order.
"I want you all to be ready," Brody continued, his eyes scanning the faces of his men. "I want you to be prepared to use whatever force is necessary to put down this march. We can't let these people get away with this. We gotta show 'em that we mean business."
The men nodded in agreement, their faces grim and determined. They were loyal to Brody, and they shared his hatred for the Civil Rights movement. They were ready to do whatever he asked, no matter how violent or illegal.
Brody leaned back in his chair, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "Tomorrow," he said, "we're gonna teach these people a lesson they'll never forget."
Across town, in the basement of Abernathy's church, Sarah was leading the activists in a final training session. The room was filled with people of all ages, their faces etched with determination and resolve. They were practicing de-escalation techniques, role-playing potential confrontations, and reaffirming their commitment to non-violent resistance.
Sarah stood before them, her voice strong and confident. "We know what they're planning," she said. "We know they're gonna try to provoke us, to make us angry, to make us fight back. But we can't let them win. We gotta stay calm, we gotta stay disciplined, and we gotta stick to our principles of non-violence."
She emphasized the importance of maintaining discipline, avoiding violence, and remaining calm in the face of provocation. She reminded them that their strength lay in their unity and their commitment to non-violent resistance. "They may try to hurt us, they may try to scare us, but they can't break us," she said. "We are strong, we are united, and we are fighting for what is right."
She inspired them with stories of past victories and the unwavering commitment to justice. She spoke of the sacrifices that had been made by those who had come before them, and she reminded them that they were carrying on that legacy. "We are standing on the shoulders of giants," she said. "We must not let them down."
She spoke about the importance of courage, urging them to overcome their fears and to stand up for what is right, even in the face of danger. "It's not gonna be easy," she said. "It's gonna be hard, it's gonna be scary. But we can't let fear control us. We gotta be brave, we gotta be strong, and we gotta keep fighting until we win."
As the training session drew to a close, Sarah looked at the faces of the activists, her heart filled with pride and admiration. She knew that they were ready for whatever tomorrow might bring. They were prepared to face the hatred and violence of Sheriff Brody and his men, and they were determined to win. They were fighting for their freedom, for their dignity, and for a better future for their children. And they would not be denied.