Modern hospital refuses wounded medieval. "We won't help those who threaten our staff with swords. Besides, they had no money"
I've taken a taxi to the place where the lion nearly slayed me. Waiting in the backseat for Gordito to show up feels a lot safer than standing alone on the hard shoulder, trembling like a leaf, essentially begging for hungry wildlife to come get me. I've brought a butter fried steak wrapped in paper and a large bottle of water. If he truly doesn't want it he can use it as bait and deterrence, respectively.
Am I being condescending? I hope he doesn't see it that way. Others would. Oh the stern talking to I once got from a blue blood lady who lives in one of those huge stone castle-wannabe's. According to her, I thought I was soo superior because of electricity and running water and all that, but I, or any woman wearing trousers had obviously long lost respect for herself. Not to mention that I didn't have a proper hat and gloves, and what was I thinking driving around on that thing, didn't I have a driver? Outraged, she stomped off, got back into her horse carriage with her nose in the air and her so called proper hat nearly falling off her head while her staff glared at me with disdain. All because I'd yelled well chosen expletives at her coachman for cutting me off, heading over to the other lane with oncoming traffic, and predictably caused chaos.
I kinda get it. She's at the top of her society, born into privilege and comparative riches. I have nothing she considers important. But then, she has nothing I value, like vaccinations, someone who truly loves her for her and not her riches, non-superficial purpose or habitual bathing. I didn't choose to be born into the modern era, but if I could choose freely I'd still go for the one I'm in. If nothing else, for the access to effective painkillers. The few times I've had severe headaches I've taken the little pills for granted. The medievals don't have that option; they'd rather die at the hands of their unreliable quacks before so much as inquiring about modern medicine. Unless they've been so badly wounded in the modern era that they can't make their way back, but that's rare.
Gordito has stepped into the road about 300 meters in front of me. He just stands there, as if he was always meant to be right in that spot, totally unafraid that someone might drive into him. He's a glorious sight, tall and fit like a professional athlete. Images of gladiator wins and wildlife hunting success pass through my inventive mind. What am I going to ask of this god-like being again? I'm momentarily lost.
Finally, I pull myself together and leave the car. Gordito is unfazed to see me, whereas I struggle to keep my grin at bay.
"Thanks for coming!" I say and hand over a drawstring bag. "I hope this can be useful for you."
He flings the bag over his shoulder only to hold it out in front of him, then open it. "What's this?"
I wait for him to unwrap the steak.
"Smells good."
"Hope you like it!" It feels like I'm about to ask him on a date. "Hey listen, I want you to teach me how to survive. Like you do."
He ignores me.
"I don't want to be lion food. Or dino food. Or impaled by the medievals. Can you teach me?" Why am I so nervous? I swallow hard.
"For lions, you need aim. For dinos you need tricks."
"Show me?"
"Why? You have guns. And drones."
"You mean others in the modern era? Sure, but I don't." I've never even held a gun and the one drone I played with way back when for half an hour was for photography fun, not hunting.
"Not my problem."
I was afraid he was going to say that. "I know. You're right. But please, I really want to learn and you're the best at what you do." Well, I wouldn't know. He's certainly good enough for me.
"Either your world or mine. You can't have both," he says and looks at me like he knows which one I'll pick already. It's not disappointment, rather the widely accepted "truth" that the eras are better off not mixing. The people, that is. Animals don't seem to care. The newspapers and internet had content for two weeks solid the time a mammoth got lost and showed up at the beach.
"That's not fair, you're using a modern hammer!" I point at the tool sticking up from his trouser wrap. "And a scrunchie!" A giggle escapes me. "Where did you get that?"
"Veggie market."
"I see." How have I missed this detail? I could have sworn I've never seen this accessory of his before. He didn't wear it in the video I saw when I looked him up, and not when he rescued me either. I think. Or did he? Suddenly I have no idea. Maybe he was wearing the scrunchie all along and I was just too captivated by his aura to notice.
Gordito looks me up and down again. "Like teaching a toddler," he says after a while.
I'm not offended. As I've concluded already, I'm out of my depth. "Yes! Exactly like that. A toddler." I nod to the drawstring bag. "Who comes bearing gifts."
"You can't learn in an instant. It takes time. Your people are not fond of things that take time."
Remarkably astute. For him to know that means he must have spent time with other modern era people. While our efficiency is debatable at times, our impatience is not.
"I know I won't learn in one day. I'll have to practice."
"Yes."
"So you'll teach me?"
"Mm." His head tilts to the side. "I don't want people looking for me if you get hurt."
"There won't be. I promise."
"You don't decide that, you're just an excuse."
My mouth falls open. How does he know this? Perhaps he's been blamed before. Maybe there's a whole lot more to the story. Either way, unless he's willing to take the risk there's little I can do to reassure him that there won't be any consequences.
After another long think, Gordito nods slowly. "Three days from now. Come here. No phone."
"Yay! Thank you!" I clap my hands together, feeling like I've accomplished something huge. Simultaneously, the weight of his decision lands on my shoulders: if I fuck up he'll pay the price.