Soon after the twenty-first century contingents climbed aboard Air Force One and had said their goodbyes to their compatriots from the past, the pilot attempted to fly out of this age and get themselves back to the year 2014.

Taking off in a cloud of dust and a wind so strong that our nation’s earliest citizens had to hold onto their wigs, the jet departed in a powerfully graceful assent. Aiming for that precise place over the Atlantic where the turbulence began, they were hoping to self-correct at that exact point in space. Indeed, 72 minutes later, they felt the now familiar sensation of pitching, saw the roiling clouds, experienced the same sudden drop in altitude, and again, just nineteen seconds later, all was calm again.

Best of all, radio contact had been restored, but it was with trepidation that they answered the call from Air Traffic Control.

"Where have you been, Air Force One? We lost contact with you for about nineteen seconds. Everything OK?"

"Roger," responded the pilot. " Uh, could you please read me today’s headlines?"

Thinking this was quite an odd request, the Air Traffic Controller hesitantly asked why.

"Umm, uh – because I have a bet with my co-pilot here - just read me the headlines, will ya, beginning with the entire date. Humor me, OK?"

"OK. Lemme find a copy of today’s Times. Alright - here it is. Date: March 4, 2014. So, which one of you wins the big bet on what day it is?"

Laughing, the pilot said to forget about the rest. It was just an inside joke.

Relieved, he informed the president that they had indeed returned on the very day they had left.

Circling high over New York City, they came in closer for a landing at JFK. Looking out the window to take in the always impressive view, the press secretary suddenly craned his neck forward, trying to calm the sudden lurch in his gut as his eyes saw the impossible.

Hoarse with terror, he radioed the pilot.

"Are you damn sure this is the year 2014? Is it possible we missed the present and are still in the late twentieth century???"

"No sir, my engineer has just now logged onto the CNN webpage and there it is: March 4, 2014."

"Mother of God, what is going on?!" he kept chanting out loud, until others came to peer over his shoulder to see what was upsetting him so.

As recognition of what they were seeing registered on their faces, they all fell back, thunderstruck over what to make of the vision below. Because towering in grandeur above the New York City skyline, shimmering in the afternoon sunshine, were the twin towers of the World Trade Center.

"What did we do? What did we alter??" croaked a reporter. "What the hell does this mean? And more important, why were we in France to discuss the situation in Iraq?? If there was no 9-11, then there was no Iraqi invasion!!"

All aboard Air Force One combed their memories, trying to find anything they may have done to alter the course of history. No one could think of one change they had made. No one, that is, except the physician. Could his ministrations to that small child have possibly put in motion all that would be necessary to resurrect those buildings?

Shaking his head, he simply could not imagine that to be the case. He thought about it, put it out of his mind, and got up to pour himself a stiff drink to calm his shaking hands.

But everyone aboard the plane was in a panic over not knowing why they were in Iraq.

The press secretary grabbed his laptop and signed on to CNN’s web page to read today’s headlines. The top story was "President returns from France after failing to reach a multinational agreement for sharing the spoils of the newly discovered oil fields in Iraq - enough oil to supply the world for the next century."

Looking up, he still couldn’t understand why Iraq would allow this. Whose oil was it? Who is in control of Iraq??!

Pouring deeper into the story, the history of Iraq for the past ten years was briefly laid out, apparently for those on a decade-long cruise, in a coma, or -- even for those who may have time-traveled.

In 2004, Saddam Hussein suddenly died of a heart attack. His two sons quickly assumed positions of power, but they began fighting with each other over ultimate control, which gave the elite Republican Guard the opportunity to overthrow and assassinate the brothers, and momentarily quell the terror that had covered the Iraqi landscape for so long.

Rushing in to fill the vacuum was a multinational U.N. force that "helped’ the Republican Guard re-build the infrastructure and government. With enormous incentives to disarm and disband, the Republican Guard gradually disappeared, allowing a consortium of nations to "temporarily" restore order, education and hope.

They were still there, in the year 2014, when this oil field was discovered. And divvying up the spoils between the Iraqi factions and those countries involved in the rebuilding of Iraq after decades of despotism, was the reason why the president was meeting in France.

As understanding crept across everyone’s face, there still remained the question of how all of this came about.

One thing, however, was crystal clear. They didn’t need to pledge a vow of silence on what they had experienced, simply because no one would believe them; the ridicule of public opinion would quickly laugh them out of their respective positions.

It was impossible, of course, for anyone to connect all of the dots back to that small child, just hours from death, who was treated by the physician and survived to leave centuries of descendants.

One descendent was the seven year-old child of an overseas American diplomat, nearly two hundred years later, playing in a country far from his home, when he accidently kicked his ball into the street, that was chased by his friend, who didn’t see the car coming. He died on impact.

Days later, sobbing and feeling overwhelmingly responsible for his friend’s death in this hot, arid country, he placed a note on his casket, apologizing for all the unknowable grief he surely must have inflicted upon so many.

His note was simple yet heartfelt, "I’m sorry, Osama."