The Lab Coat Man reached for his pen in order to mark an 'X' on his
clipboard, stopped, and sighed.
18. One Too Many
"A story to me means a plot where there is some surprise.... Because
that is how life is -- full of surprises."
-- Isaac Bashevis Singer
Julia never lost that feeling of uneasiness, so she and Rhonda had left
before the screening of "Bride". As Rhonda drove them past the usual
road signs and over predictable bumps, Julia became aware of the
magnitude of what had happened. She had lost her job and gotten a new
one all in one night; she had felt something that she had always
assumed was a figment of her uncle's imagination -- possibly the first
symptom of a mental illness; she had sat through one of the worst films
she had ever witnessed without finding an excuse to leave. Everything
that she had ever assumed about this dreary town, small in both size
and its collective capacity to imagine, about her life, and just about
everything else now seemed strange and unfamiliar. On top of this,
Rhonda, after shifting into third gear, was running a hand up her thigh.
"Uh, I'm, uh... I'm straight," said Julia.
Rhonda muttered something and shifted into fourth, charging through the
intersection of Central and Oak just as the light changed to red.
When Julia finally unlocked her apartment door, she found Cecil and two
messages on the machine waiting for her. Cecil purred and rubbed her
shins with his head. She picked him up and pressed play on her
answering machine.
Message number one: "Hello, this is Dr. Bernstein calling for Julia
Nelson. Your uncle Justin became dehydrated today and will be at St.
Joseph's for a while. We'll call you as further developments arise
at..."
Uncle Justin in the hospital! I'll have to call the Manager and let
him know she needed tomorrow off, she thought. Would he buy that? Oh
great, I'm going to lose two jobs in two days!
Before she could rewind, message number two began: "Hon, this is
Justin!" Julia gasped and dropped Cecil, who landed perfectly and
returned to rubbing her shins. "Don't believe any messages you get
about me unless they're from me! I shot a fella who got into my
house... well, sort of shot him. I did and I didn't. He was there one
minute and then Poof! Anyway, there's no body here, so there's no need
to call the cops, but he left behind a clipboard that said he was going
to call you and leave a message about me! I don't know what the hell
this is all about, but it's not right! Say hello to that cat for me."
The message ended, and Cecil, not contented with the action he was
getting at foot level, jumped up to the counter just as Julia began
dialing her uncle to find out just what the hell was going on.
19. The Meeting
"He that communicates his secret to another makes himself that other's
slave."
-- Baltasar Gracian
Supervising Manager Denny was stocking shelves when the Lab Coat Man
approached him.
"Denny?"
"How'd you get in here?"
"Back door."
Denny stopped shelving Snack Ramen (6 for a $1) for a moment and looked
at his fellow conspirator. "The back door? We unlock one of the most
important secrets of space and time, and you walk in through my back
door?"
"We, uh... lost a clipboard."
Denny stared for a moment before throwing the empty packing box to the
floor. "Oh, Lord. Who has it?"
"Remember Tom? He clocked Forrester at Popeye's. Took his clipboard.
Which makes a total of two that are missing..."
"Two? What was Forrester doing with two?!"
"Oh, he only had one. I, uh, almost got shot by Mr. Nelson and, uh...
well, I dropped mine."
"And you became a Hindu, I see?"
"What?" the Lab Coat Man asked, touching his forehead. "That was the
bullet! Do you realize--?"
"Just kidding..."
"Kidding! I'm almost killed in the line of duty, and all anyone can
think to do is make fun of me because at the last second I didn't die!
Am I so dispensable that --"
"All right, calm down. We need to have a meeting about this."
"Yes, I informed everyone. They'll meet us."
"Good. We also need to discuss another complication."
"What's that?"
"Not what -- who. Don't worry, I've fired her. Just a precaution."
The Lab Coat Man nodded vaguely and stuffed his hands in his pockets.
"Well if you're just going to stand there," Denny said, "how about
giving me a hand with this mouthwash?"
The Lab Coat Man frowned, but began to arrange the bottles of mouthwash
(3 for $2) on the opposite shelf. "If I had known I was going to be
shelving, I would have brought the new kid... Kurt. Why don't you
just... move them, you know? Since we've unlocked one of the most
important secrets of space and time, why not just--?"
"Not until after the final phase, I keep telling you! We don't know
who's watching! Like that Nelson. What do we know about him?"
"Zeke knows that. Brings him his mail."
"Zeke?" Denny asked.
"What?" Zeke replied, filling his basket with hemorrhoid cream (2 for
$3) fifteen feet up the aisle.
"You askin' about Justin Nelson, Jr.? Oh, he's just nuts. Thought he
saw a UFO once, but it was a weather balloon." The trio converged in
the middle of aisle seven. "He asks strange questions, that's about
all."
"He almost shot me!" the Lab Coat Man exclaimed.
"Would you leave that alone for a minute?" Denny asked. "We'll have to
get him out of the way."
"And whoever has Forrester," Zeke added.
"Something happened to Forrester?!" exclaimed a black woman at the end
of the aisle, who had been comparing prices of toilet paper (2 for $5).
"Who was careless enough to let two of us be compromised?!" she
demanded.
"Keep your voice down, Shenika," Denny replied. "Forrester was in
charge of the daily operations, so he's only got himself to blame."
"And who lost the other one?" Shenika demanded. All turned to the Lab
Coat Man.
"I'm afraid I was responsible for the other mishap," he admitted,
grudgingly.
"Yeah, right before you became a Hindu," Shenika said, noticeably not
suppressing a smirk.
"Well, you can't be too hard on the old LCM, here," said Zeke, "'cause
Justin has always had a quick temper. And since he's paranoid, he's
more likely to notice something going on. In fact, I think he thinks
there was something going on before he got hold of the clipboard."
"Like what?" Denny asked.
"I dunno, I was never able to get him to tell me."
"He's a fricking nut," said a police officer, who was passing through
the store on his rounds. Aisle seven was filling up. "He reads books
on UFO's, Bigfoot, crop circles, you name it! And he listens to Art
Bell at lot..."
"But no one knows specifically what he knows?" Denny asked.
"Nobody," said the policeman. "He's never opened up to my people down
at that hospital."
"And Julia is just like him," Shenika muttered.
"Rubbed off I guess," said Zeke.
"Inevitable," the Lab Coat Man added.
"Inevitable how?" Shenika demanded.
"Well, I just thought... inevitable," he mumbled, straightening another
row of mouthwash.
An old lady turned the corner with a shopping cart. "Are all of you
going to block the aisle?" she asked. The Lab Coat Man, Denny, Zeke,
Shenika, and the police officer turned. At the sight of her, their
backs stiffened and their heels ever so slightly clicked together.
"Don't worry about Julia. There's plenty of other work for you to be
doing," she said. "All right! Meeting's over!"
The crowd, except for Denny, quickly dispersed.
"Now, young man," she asked, "I found my Depends, but could you tell me
where I might find the Metamucil?"
20. Love in Bloom
"Give me golf clubs, fresh air and a beautiful partner, and you can
keep the clubs and the fresh air."
-- Jack Benny
When Alona began to regain consciousness, she thought she saw Tom drag
the body of what looked like a mad scientist inside the trailer home.
"I'm not feeling too well," she muttered.
"How's that, dear?" Betty asked, stroking her patient's head.
"I'm hallucinating about Tom dragging the body of a mad scientist -- "
"You're not hallucinating. He just did," she replied. "Well, he might
not be mad, but I wouldn't trust anyone with that mustache!"
"Oh."
For some reason, this did not disturb her. During her blackout, she
had dreamed of a subtle shift in the circumstances that kept her
universe in equilibrium. She was too disorientated to judge whether
this was a dream or not, but at least she no longer felt like crying.
In the kitchen, Ritchie, Tom's father, had just come home from work and
was searching for a cold Pabst to drink in front of the news. He
watched his son drag the man's body into the center of the room, drop
his legs, and turn toward Alona.
"Who the hell's that?!" he cried.
But Tom wasn't listening. He was looking deeply at Alona, who was
looking back. Alona felt her heart flutter; instantly, she knew. The
trailer seemed to glow in a light she had never believed existed. Tom
kept her gaze as he stepped over the body, stood before her, and took
her outstretched hand in his.
"I did this for you," Tom said simply.
"I know," Alona said, and she did.
"Anyone care to tell me what this has to do with Kurt and that
professor?" Ritchie asked, cracking open a bottle and taking a
long-deserved drink.
Tom and Alona, their gazes locked, now holding both hands, seemed to
glow somehow in the lower-middle class splendor of the trailer home.
Betty, watching the exchange with incredulous eyes, finally sighed and
her own hands slipped together over her heart. Ritchie, noting his
wife's reaction, allowed himself an ironic smile.
"Oh, for crying out loud," he muttered. "Tom!"
Tom and Alona jumped and turned toward the voice, their hands dropping
by their sides.
"Why did you just drag an unconscious scientist into my home?"
Tom turned toward the body. "Oh, him!" Tucked in the front of the
man's trousers was a clipboard. Tom extracted it and handed it to his
dad. Both parents read the top sheet, their faces turning pale.
"Does this mean what I think it means? Richie?"
He nodded slowly.
"This settles it. They were kidnapped," Ritchie pronounced
authoritatively. Tom and Alona did not hear. Their eyes and hands had
found each other's once again. Tom attempted to say something
meaningful and clever but only managed a half-swallowed: "I love you."
"I love you," replied Alona, and the room seemed to begin to slowly
revolve around a newly formed sun. Betty peeked at them over the
clipboard, but Richie raised it again.
"Aww..." she cooed.
"Now, hon'," he admonished gently.
21. How the World Works
"Courage is the capacity to confront what can be imagined."
-- Leo Rosten
Julia felt a scream building. Cecil wouldn't stop rubbing her legs,
Uncle Justin wasn't answering the phone. He shot somebody, but there
was no one there to have been shot. Rhonda, having flirted with all of
the men in Tranquil, had started flirting with her. Seeing things that
weren't there, or if they were there, things she didn't want to know
anything about. Losing jobs, getting jobs. Being caught up in a world
that she could barely make sense of, running by so quickly by that
there was no chance to catch up. Concerns of that general nature were
making it tempting to rip the phone from the wall and throw it through
the sliding glass door.
She settled for slamming the receiver down. Cecil jumped and skittered
away. Julia, for once, was going to make this a three cigarette day.
And smoke indoors. She grabbed her purse and scrounged inside for the
pack. Her old one was gone, but a new one, wrapped in a red ribbon,
was in its place. Had to be from Rhonda.
"Oh great," Julia muttered. Do I take it or not? It's not exactly red
roses or from someone I'd want roses from, so if I take them, am I
sending a signal I don't want to send, or... The debate could have
lasted longer -- on a better day, it would have, but this wasn't one of
those days. She ripped open the pack, jammed a cigarette between her
lips, and flicked her lighter.
As the flame touched the end of her cigarette, a hand smacked it from
her mouth, sending it flying over Cecil's head and onto the couch. The
cigarette suddenly burst into a small fireball, sending a cushion up
with it. As Cecil sped off for the safety of the bedroom, Julia
grabbed her least favorite throw pillow and beat it against the flames.
Whoever had just appeared next to her tossed a flower vase full of
water (and one white rose) onto the cushion. With a sizzle, the fire
died, leaving a burn mark and a pathetic flower on the center of
Julia's couch.
"Well, this is the end of a perfect day!" she yelled, turning to
whoever it was who had just appeared.
"I told you smoking wasn't good for you," Uncle Justin said, scratching
his armpit with a clipboard. Julia figured that the worst thing she
could do right now would be to have a temper tantrum, but decided to
throw one anyway.
"What -- is -- going -- on?!" she yelled.
Justin shook his head and motioned with his hand to calm down.
"Look, this is going to take some explaining. Let's sit down and --
no, I guess we can't sit there now, can we?"
"I can hear it standing up! First, you're in the hospital; then,
you're not. You shot somebody, but you didn't, and then you break into
my apartment just as -- "
"I didn't break in," he interrupted. "I just that second got here."
"Without opening the door?"
"Without opening the door."
Julia took a long look at her Uncle's face. He wasn't drunk, and he
wasn't lying.
"OK, maybe I do need to sit down," she said, sitting on the carpet and
pulling her knees to her face. Justin grunted as he managed to get his
body to sit (and not fall) beside her. They waited in silence for a
minute.
"So what's going on?" Julia asked.
"Something to do with this clipboard," Justin said, handing it to her.
"Flip to the front."
Julia read through the directions concerning Uncle Justin and the
outline of how Julia could be removed if necessary. Someone would slip
her some knock-out cigarettes.
"Knock-out cigarettes?" she asked incredulously.
"Well, from what I've seen, this isn't the most intelligent conspiracy
in the world."
"You'd at least think they'd check to see if their knock-out medicine
was flammable."
"Probably alcohol based."
"Why not just slip me a mickey, then?"
"How much do you drink?"
"Hardly at all. Occasionally when I'm with -- "
"What?"
"Rhonda must be in on this."
"Are you still hanging out with her? She's bad news. Her family owned
Tranquil's only brothel about eighty years ago, and --"
"No ancient history lessons, please," Julia said.
"Well it wasn't ancient to my grandfather, who -!"
"All right, pax, pax! Sorry for using that word. So how did you get
in here?"
"That's the gray section, towards the end."
Julia flipped through and tried to read them. "This is worse than
'Finnegans Wake'."
"You don't know the half of it. But as I was reading that, I got
blipped to Wildwood Park."
"Blipped?"
"Pinged. You know, there one second, gone the next. Zap! All the way
from Arizona to Wisconsin!"
"That's what 'blipped' is. OK, so what were you doing in Wildwood
Park?"
"Hard to say. I was reading this over, trying to remember all the math
I knew ten years ago, thinking about how I used to come up with ideas
for class while I walked Roosevelt, about how we used to walk through
Wildwood Park on Sundays, how I used to sit on that bench across from
the swings, and next thing you know, I'm sitting on that bench looking
at the swings!"
"So, you're saying that if I went through these pages and thought of,
say, Nova Scotia, you would have blipped there instead?"
"Sort of. It's a set of equations that tells you how to travel
anywhere instantly. It took a few more tries to get it to work again,
but in the last few minutes I've been over half the globe."
Julia closed her eyes so Uncle Justin wouldn't see her roll them.
He tapped her on the arm, and when she opened her eyes, he handed her a
brochure in French.
"From the Louvre," he said.
"I thought they'd be closed by now," she muttered.
"They are," Justin replied.
"You realize the damage this will do the economy," she said, flinging
her hands in the air in mock exasperation. "No more gasoline, cars,
airlines --"
"I don't need sarcasm right now, Jule," Justin said. "I need some
help. Now."
"So," Julia sighed, "my choices are: either accept the possibility
that you may have done the impossible, or ostracize you like a kook
along with the rest of humanity despite the evidence of my senses.
Right?"
"I think," Justin said, "you've finally figured out how the world
works."
22. The Plan
"If life doesn't offer a game worth playing, then invent a new one."
-- Anthony J. D'Angelo
Denny walked into the interrogation room to find Neoldner and Kurt
giggling inside a cloud of smoke.
"Oh cripes," Denny muttered.
When they heard Denny in the doorway, they stopped moving, slowly
turned toward him, and starting giggling again.
Denny clenched his fists and exhaled slowly. "OK, Neoldner, why don't
you take five?"
Neoldner nodded in agreement and stepped into the hallway, giggling all
the way out. Once he had left, Denny gave Kurt a quick stare, and
suddenly, Kurt's giggling stopped.
"Whoa, what did you do?" he asked.
"I had to remove whatever it was you didn't inhale from your
bloodstream," he said. His legs suddenly felt limp, and his steadied
himself against the wall. "It takes something out of you to work that
precisely." Slowly, he moved toward the other chair and sat down.
"When am I going to learn to do that?" Kurt asked.
"If we had a clipboard, we'd start ASAP, but we're kind of screwed
right now. Forrester's taken, along with his copy; Justin Nelson has
another. We were making more, but our copier ran out of toner."
Kurt pondered this for a moment.
"What kind of organization is this?"
"The shoe-string kind."
"Well, if you can't get your hands on some toner, how do you expect to
take over the frigging world?!"
Denny gave Kurt a dark look.
"Sorry..." Kurt muttered.
"As it happens, we're not trying to take over the 'frigging' world.
We're trying to create our own."
Kurt guffawed and slapped his knee, and stopped when he noticed that
same scowl on Denny's face.
"OK, so, you're trying to create your own world..."
Neoldner, stumbling his way past door, and still giggling, shouted:
"Planet Wisconsin! Woo-hoo!"
Kurt covered the smile on his face with his hand. Denny sighed, stood,
and shut the door.
"Not a new planet, a new world. There's a lot we can do, now that
we've figured out the secret. Moving from point A to point B in zero
time is just one aspect. Moving from one alphabet to another takes
organization."
"I'm lost."
"OK, follow the metaphor. You're in the restroom, then you're here.
Point A to point B."
"Uh-huh."
"You're here, and then you're in a new world. Not another planet,
another level of existence. Somewhere you normally can't get to from
here. You've gone from point A to point µ. That's where we're trying
to get to. Got it?"
Kurt thought about this.
"So why this conspiracy?"
"It'll take a concerted effort if we're going to take the town with us."