Free Fated Memories by Joan Carney

continued to interview Simon. On the surface he seemed okay, and Maggie was obviously smitten, but she was too important to let her get mixed up with a nut.
    “So, tell me more, what was your name? Do you remember it being different? Were you someone famous like a general or something?”
    “No, no, nothing of that sort. You know many people claim to remember past lives, but I've always been skeptical of those who claim they were Cleopatra or Attila the Hun or some king. In reality there’ve been a helluva lot more of us common folk than otherwise so, seriously, what are the odds of remembering to have been a famous historical figure?” Simon had a head start on the ladies and downing this second drink eased his discomfort on the subject. “My memory puts me as a rifleman-sharpshooter assigned to the infantry. I guess in today's military terms they’d be called Special Forces. I’m sure that’s why the toy gun initiated the memory. As far as a name, though, I have no idea. I can't remember knowing it or having anyone call me by it.”  
    So not General Grant riding in on his gallant steed to save the day; at least that lent credibility to his madness. Kitty still didn’t buy his story though. There’s been so much in the news lately celebrating the heroics of the Special Forces, he may have gotten it from there. “Maggie probably hasn’t told you much about me, but I’m a sci-fi nut and odd things like this arouse my interest. I’ve also read there are ancient Eastern Indian religions who believe we’re doomed to be reincarnated over and over again until we either learn all the lessons living can teach us, or until we apologize for whatever heinous misdeed one of our ancestors committed that passed the bad karma down through the generations. I'm going with the lessons learned part, since I'm clueless as to why I'd need to apologize.” She slurped the rest of her drink through the straw.
    “I thought I remember you saying you weren't a religious person.” Kitty caught the air of challenge in his voice. Okay, I probably deserve it from the way I‘ve been pressing him.
    “I'm not. Not in the familiar sense of the word anyway. Don't get me wrong, I’d never judge anyone else for their personal beliefs, it's just that science and cosmology are more credible to me.” She leaned forward so he could hear her better over the increasing level of the music. “Have you ever read any of Carl Sagan's books? He says we're all made of stardust from comets carrying organic DNA that crashed into the earth millions of years ago and spread their seed so to speak. To me, that supports the idea of a cosmic universal relationship that lives in and among all of us; as though we're spiritually connected somehow. My brain can't digest the concept of an omnipotent supreme being overseeing our lives, nor do I feel it necessary to perform the rituals or attend the services of organized religion. So no, rather than religious I guess I'd call myself spiritual.” She rested back in her seat again giving him time to digest what she’d said. Challenge met.
    Maggie had slipped away to the restroom for a minute, but now she was back and pleased to see Kitty and Simon in deep conversation and getting along so well.  
    “Okay, I'm back, you can stop talking about me now, did I miss anything important?”
    “Kitty was explaining the universe to me.”
    “Oh, well I'm glad you've been brought up to speed on that important issue. I'm ready for another drink, how 'bout you guys?”
    Through all the noise in the club, Maggie's words ‘another drink’ carried to the waitress's ears, and she magically reappeared.
    “Another round for everyone?”
    “Make mine a virgin vodka and cranberry,” Kitty said.
    “That’s just cranberry juice you know.”
    “Oh, huh, so it is. That's okay, I'm driving.”
    With the DJ taking a break, the MC for the night introduced the karaoke contest with an open invitation to take part.
    Amid the cheers