The plan was to make coordinated strikes on each other until one force gave way to the other but then, a vicious plague swept through the population. It appeared out of nowhere and suddenly it was everywhere so fast that no one could figure out a treatment or cure. Within weeks more than half of the human population had been wiped out by the virus, which only took one day to ravage the host’s body. At the end, the illness led to a systematic shut down of the host’s body until their brain finally turned off a vital organ and the person consequently died.

Each member had been provided with reports from the future that described that period of human history, with special attention on the epidemiology of the illness in excruciating detail. The reports also documented the massive upheaval to the status quo caused by the rapid spread of the infection. When mortality rates reached a height of 10 persons a day in the cities, while the seven known nomadic colonies of minorities seemed to be surviving untouched by the disease, the city dwellers were forced to turn to those that they once persecuted in an effort  to fight the plague.

The minority tribes, a racial mixture of Black and Native peoples, though skeptical shared their secrets with their Aryan dominators on the basis that there would be peace between both peoples. In their desperation, the oppressors readily accepted the terms but the peace treaty was very short lived because, as soon as the Aryan majority learned the secret to surviving the plague, they betrayed the tribes by capturing the leaders and spiritual guides sent to teach them. In outrage, elders of the tribes came together to merge the peoples and find a way to change the series of events that caused the war, which led to the crippling of less powerful races and their subsequent oppression. 

Out of that union, the seven tribes pooled their remaining warriors and attacked one of the Aryan cities called WhiteHill where scientific research was conducted. It was a covert mission to use the Aryan’s technology against them and send someone back in time to create a better future for all people of color.

That person entrusted with the future of all people of color decided that the best way to accomplish his mission was to form a team. His name is Tilma Jones, and he called the group “The Black Knights Society.”

Hello, my name is Michael – Meeting MR. MIDAS

The plan had been a haphazard one at best. When Tilma appeared in the year 1889 he had nothing more than a satchel of papers outlining major events in human history, information regarding important bloodlines, all the documents they could steal from the Aryans regarding the time travel technology and one portable time travel device. He knew no one. Had little to zero idea about this period in time, its customs or where to even begin to save his future. All he knew for sure was that the coordinates of his destination would have been deleted from the travel log of the portal he just came through and that the gateway itself would be destroyed. Though he told no one, Tilma spent a few hours in quiet tears and reflection on his brave comrades who had risked their lives to make sure that he could make this journey and that he wouldn’t be followed.

“At least the institution of slavery has already been removed”, he thought, “or this really would have been rough.”

He tried to laugh but as the reality of his situation began to set in then the weight of everything began to crush his spirit.

“It would’ve been nice to have traveled to a more technologically advanced period in time.” he thought while he sat resting under the shade of a large tree. “At least I would’ve had an easier time of locating someone who would believe that I’m from the future and I’m trying to prevent a great tragedy for mankind.”

Tilma wanted to go home. At least there he knew what he was up against and what to expect but he couldn’t go back. He couldn’t even transport himself to another point in time because if he used the device again before finding a way to disable the tracking system then it would send a transmission back to the future and enable Aryan agents from the future to be able to locate him and, as much as Tilma was feeling a little homesick he wasn’t in the mood for public flaying and execution.

He sat under the tree for a quite awhile staring up at the sky. There was never a time that he had seen it so blue or the leaves on the trees so green. It was as though someone had taken the world as he knew it and given it a good scrubbing to make it fresh and new again. Though he allowed himself time to rest and reconnect himself with nature he was well aware that he couldn’t stay there forever. He had work to do and he needed to get himself organized so he could get to it.

Tilma had been so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice someone coming through the corn rows beside him. By the time he heard the crack of something being stepped on and snapped around, the person was already three feet away from him. It was a black man of average height dressed in a shabby suit that didn’t quite fit him. On his head sat a fairly wide-brimmed black hat that was too big for him so it stopped just below where his eyebrows would’ve been. The stranger said nothing but he walked slowly over to Tilma then crouched down to look him in the eye and offered their hand to him.

“They call me Michael. My last name doesn’t matter.”

“Hello brotha, they call me Tilma. — Tilma Jones.”

Michael laughed and shook his head. He helped Tilma to his feet then motioned for Tilma to follow him to a small dirt path through the trees and Tilma did so without question.

The memory of that meeting remained as vivid to Tilma decades later. There was a resonance in his spirit the moment Tilma shook his hand. It was just as his father had described to him about the moment when spirits recognized each other and Tilma knew that whatever may come that he had just made a real friend.