When am I? (Writer's Cramp 9/1/23 entry)

It's dark. I hear voices and shuffling feet. I don't feel like I'm falling, but I can't feel any substance under me, like a floor, bed, or table. I feel something shift. I feel a hard bang like I crashed, even though I wasn't falling. Now I'm definitely on a floor. The voices are coming from above me. Someone grabs my arms. I force my eyes open. The world is slowly coming into focus.
         There is an elderly man with a vial of something vile smelling which he waves under my nose, getting my attention.
         "Where did you come from?" A middle-aged man in dark clothing asks.
         "Sheffield." I reply, clearing the phlegm from my throat, "England."
         "I mean just now."
         I shake my head, utterly befuddled.
         "Where am I?" I ask.
         "You're on a broken down subway."
         "A what?"
         "You just appeared out of thin air." A woman in a green dress says, "Are you a magician or a wizard?"
         The elderly man puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. He gives the young woman a longsuffering look before turning his attention back to me.
         "I'm a doctor. Follow my finger," he says. He starts slowly waving his index finger back and forth in front of my face.
         "Who is the president of the United States?" he asks.
         "The what?"
         I look around. I can see a dirty wall outside a darkened window.
         "Are we underground?" I ask.
         "Yes," the kindly old doctor replies, nonchalantly, "Now, who is the president of the United States?"
         "I don't know what that is. Is that a company of some sort? Where am I?"
         I look around. We appear to be in some metal contraption underground. The people are shocked and perplexed, but seemed to be more distressed by my presence than the fact that we are buried underground.


         "Boston, Massachusetts." The doctor replies.
         "British North America?" I am aghast, "How did I get here?"
         "That's what we want to know," another unidentified man said.
         "What's your name, mister?" a little girl in a blue sundress asks me.
         "David Martindale."
         The doctor smiles and says, "Son, what's the last thing you remember?"
         "I am the captain of the Brigantine Armitage. We are on a voyage from Lisbon to Southampton."
         "Who is the current monarch of England?" the elderly man asks.
         "His majesty King William II." I reply.
         "What year is it?"
         "The year of our Lord, 1755." I am rapidly losing confidence in my answer.
         "You believe you are in a British colony."
         "Yes. The Massachusetts Bay Colony. They are under the reign of the king, but none too happy about it, I hear. But what can they do? He is the king after all."
         I'm not sure why the assembled crowd chuckles at that.
         "Plenty, as it turns out," the doctor said, "I'm Dr. Clark Partridge."
         "Pleased to make your acquaintance," I reply.
         He levels his eyes at me, "What was the last thing you did before you woke up here?"
         "There were several passengers on the ship. It was mostly cargo. One of the passengers was a very unusually dressed woman. She wore these long, flowing robes, like something a minister or a wizard would wear. She gave me this little marble. She said that if I was ever in mortal danger to hold the marble and say, 'I call upon thee to help me.' She said that I would either be provided aid, or if my situation was hopeless, I would be shown someone who I could help."
         "And then you woke up here?" the doctor confirmed.
         "The ship was in a storm. The waves threw us into a reef. The ship was going down fast and breaking up. I took the marble out of my pocket. The actual God didn't seem to be doing much, so I remember saying 'alright gypsy lady, let's see what you've got.' I held the marble, said the words, and the next thing I know I'm here."
         "250 years later," Dr. Partridge says.
         "Beg pardon?" I say, my eyebrows reaching my hairline.
         "It is 2005 and you are in a broken-down subway car underneath Boston."
         My jaw slackens and my mouth gapes open stupidly.
         "She said that if my own situation was hopeless, I would be shown someone I could help. How could I possibly help you?"
         "May I see the marble?" Dr. Partridge asks.
         I pull it out of my pocket.
         "What is it made of?" he asks.
         I look at it, "Some sort of glass, I suppose."
         "It looks metal to me," a member of the crowd says.
         "If it was metal, it would have a slight seam where it was forged. Like cannonshot," I explain.
         "It is polished," the man says, "That's not a marble, that's a ball bearing."
         "A what?" I look at the object in my hand. It looks so ordinary.
         This has to be some dream. Maybe it's the afterlife? I'm dead. I have to be. I am a shipwrecked sea captain. What kind of afterlife is this?
         Someone forces the door of the subway open and steps in. I presume based on his appearance, he is here to fix the subway.
         "One of the bearings is missing. We don't have any more, so we will have to evacuate you through the emergency exit."
         "He has it," one of the men in the crowd says.
         The repairman looks at me. I hold out the bearing.
         "What the hell are you doing with that?" He demands, stomping up to me.
         "Long story," Dr. Partridge interjects.
         I hand over the ball bearing that I thought was a marble from some woman on my ship that I thought may have been missing a few marbles herself. Maybe she knew more than I ever could. Within minutes, the subway was moving. I was horrified until I understood that was what it was supposed to do. We make it into daylight. I have no idea what to do in this strange, new world.