"Every last citizen and every last piece of concrete. A community
isn't an easy thing to build, is it? So we'll just bring along what
we've got."
"Including Wildcat Graham?"
"Who?"
"She's a senior at Tranquil High."
"Yes, if she's in town."
"What about Wendy Branwell?"
"Yes, her too," Denny said, placing his head in his hands.
"And --"
The door burst opened. Denny and Kurt turned to see Prof. Sigger enter
wearing a white lab coat and holding a clipboard -- a smirk borne of a
thousand cut-throat departmental meetings perched cruelly on his lips.
"Allow me," said the latest recruit. "Due to recent vacancies I was
offered a post... tenure track, of course! Let me interrogate this
capitalist."
"I'm a capitalist," Denny said, sternly.
"Oh yes, yes," Prof. Sigger replied. He turned to Kurt. "Now, when
did you first notice that you were being indoctrinated by right-wing
ideologues?"
"What?" Kurt asked, scratching his arm.
"When did you become a mind-numbed robot? Why have you become
resistant to income redistribution?"
Kurt looked at Denny, who was rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"It's going to be a perfect world with him along?" Kurt asked.
Denny looked up and stared at his colleague for a moment, who then
disappeared. The clipboard fell to the floor. Kurt stared at the
space before him that used to occupy Prof. Sigger.
"Cool..." he whispered.
23. Real Love
"Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it."
-- Song of Solomon 8:7
Ritchie flipped through the clipboard one more time before placing it
on the table between his recliner and his wife's rocking chair.
"Did you find anything useful?" Betty asked, without looking up from
her knitting. Tom and Alona sat across from them on the coach, holding
hands and gazing into each other's eyes.
"Did we ever look that stupid?" Ritchie whispered.
"Oh yes," Betty replied confidently.
"Thank God I'm getting old," Ritchie grunted.
"Now, hon'," Betty admonished gently.
"I only found one name in there that might help us at all. Any idea
where Seltsam Street or Avenue or whatever it is might be?"
"No idea. Are you sure it's a street and not a name of somebody?"
"A couple pages referred to it as a meeting place. I guess we'll have
to see if the Lovebirds birds know anything. Standby with a bucket of
cold water in case I can't get through," he said.
Betty chuckled and kept knitting.
Ritchie cleared his throat. Getting no response, he tried again with
gusto. He considered tossing the TV Guide at them, but figured that
would be too humiliating. So he settled on using his 'voice of
authority': "Hey, Lovebirds!"
The Lovebirds jumped slightly and turned toward the voice, as if
unaware that anyone else had been in the room.
"Any idea where Seltsam Street or Avenue or whatever it is might be?"
"Seltsam? Sounds German," Alona said.
"Seltsam Way?" Tom asked.
"Could be," Ritchie said.
"That's that cul de sac that ends up behind the theater."
"Oh!" Betty said. "Remember when they rezoned Doege? They put in Vine
Avenue and the library and cut off Seltsam, remember? There were those
town meetings about it -- oh my, that would have to be thirty years
ago!"
"That has been a while! I forgot all about that street. Tom, does any
other business have access to Seltsam?"
But Tom and Alona had already lost themselves again in each other's
eyes.
"Oh for Pete's sake!" Ritchie muttered.
"They make such a wonderful couple," Betty sighed.
"A couple of what is what I'd like to know... Now listen here,
Lovebirds!" The Lovebirds turned. "Whatever's going on, the people
who are working with this guy," Ritchie said, pointing to the still
unconscious Forrester, lying in the corner with a pillow under his head
and Betty's second-best afghan over him, "meet at Seltsam. If the only
place you can get to from there is that theater, then maybe that's
where they are."
Tom slapped his hand to head. "The theater! The basement! It's huge,
and the Manager never lets me go down there!"