Operation Make Ronald Reagan a Star

2032. Two spies infiltrated the federal forbidden technologies storage facility in Ottumwa, Iowa disguised as maintenance workers. They dispatched the night watchman. Then, using a stolen map, the quantum physics graduate student from Turkey and his accomplice, a young woman from Spain, located a device whose function had never been determined, though its builder, Dr. Simon Loud was known to be a proponent of the theory that time travel was possible. As a precaution, the US government had impounded Loud's laboratory and all his research materials, labeling his work "dangerous to the moral fiber of America and heresy in the eyes of God."

It took Abdul twenty minutes to get Dr. Loud's devise up and running. During that time, Sophia changed into a knee length red dress with a plunging neckline and shoulder pads. She slipped on seamed stockings and shoes with stacked heels. Her dark hair was already piled high atop her head. She added crimson lipstick.

"How do I look?"

Abdul glanced up from the circuit board. "Like Ida Lupino?"

Sophie glanced out the window. "The god squad is here. Are we ready?"

"Almost."

Three blond men wearing black suits with clerical collars burst into the room, their weapons drawn, just in time to see Sophie disappear, though not all at once. Her image seemed to stutter, now here, now gone, now here for a split second more, then vanished forever.

As one, the three turned their weapons on Abdul. "Where did she go?"

The graduate student began readjusting dials at random.

"Stop that!" the most senior of the three ordered. He advanced on Abdul menacingly, his weapon aimed at the student's chest.

The young Turk raised his chin defiantly. "Shoot me. It won't matter. Once she's done, none of this—" he waved his arm "—will exist."

The squad leader lowered his rifle. He shot the Turk in the knee.

"This isn't real, this isn't real," the wounded student muttered over and over again.

***

1942. Jack Warner had fallen hard this time. If he was not careful, his second wife was going to divorce him, and that would cost a pretty penny.

Oh, but baby, that Sophie had some moves. And all the right curves. No one filled out a corset and garter belt like that sweet little Spanish senorita.

And talk about smart. That girl must have grown up watching the picture shows. She knew every one of his movies backwards and forwards, could tell whose star was rising and whose was falling. She had predicted which films were going to bring in the gross during their opening weeks and which would flop.

Now, she was telling him to go with Dutch Reagan for the film version of Everyone Comes to Rick's. They had talked about using Reagan for the lead. But then Dutch got called up for service, and they decided to go with Humphrey Bogart. Sure, he was shorter than his costar, but that was what boxes were for.

Jack leaned out the window to get a better looked at Sophie, who was sunning herself beside the pool. She wore a swimsuit that was positively indecent. A woman like that could be raking in the dough, and yet she would not take a cent from him. She was only interested in his work. Brains and beauty. What a combination!

His hand hovered over the phone. He hesitated. Through the window, he caught a glimpse of Sophie's creamy thighs as she rolled over on her chaise lounge.

He picked up the phone. "Gimme Hal Wallis. Hal, it's me, Jack. I want to use Dutch Reagan for the new picture. Yeah, I know we agreed on Bogart, but he's shorter than his co-star. We need someone the GIs can identify with. Yeah, I know they called up Reagan, but the Army's only using him for training films. I'll get the military on the phone, tell them Casablanca is going to be worth a hundred training films for sheer propaganda value. 'American saves European refugees from Nazis in Northern Africa.' They'll love it"

***

1943. Lately, Sophia's feet hardly seemed to touch the ground when she walked. And her reflection in mirrors had grown dim. Abdul had warned her Victory means suicide. If you change the past—-your own past—-there is no guarantee that you will even be born in the new future.

It was a chance she had to take. Operation Make Ronald Reagan a Star was too important. Too many people had sacrificed to make this possible. They had studied the history of the American Theocracy, and they had decided that the one pivotal moment was the 1980 presidential election, when Reagan beat Carter, and the Federalists began stacking the courts with judges who would later begin dismantling the US Constitution. If Ronald Reagan could be steered away from politics and back towards acting, then the future might change for the better. And so, Sophia had been chosen to go back in time to make sure that Reagan got the role of a lifetime, the role that was almost his, Rick in Casablanca.

Now, she could only wait and see if the substitution of actors had worked. Last night, the film had made its nationwide premiere. She smoothed her blouse and joined Jack in the breakfast nook of his Hollywood bungalow, where he was reading the morning papers.

"How are the reviews?" She poured herself a glass of juice.

"Variety 'splendid anti-Axis propaganda'. Oh, and you were right about Dutch. 'Lives up to the promise shown in King's Row. Performance should be considered for an Oscar.'"

The tingling in Sophia's feet began to rise. Now her legs were numb. She held out her hand. The tips of her fingers were transparent.

"I'm going to have them fix him up another star vehicle. A fly boy film, army will love —what's that?" He lowered his paper.

The glass of juice lay shattered on the floor. Sophia was gone.

Go back in time to give Ronald Reagan the lead in Casablanca->megastar, stays in movies, never goes into politics.

Find more by McCamy Taylor in the Author Index.

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