 |
|
The Super Bowl was on last night, though Super Bowls have never been high on my priority list. A communal, cultural event, they held little interest for me because I neither sought or was sought after for such gatherings. Besides, I was still caught up in reflecting what happened the day before.
Saturday was much, much more than simply giving my leg a workout. Actually, I didn't have a chance to walk around, despite my intentions.
I got up early, knowing the cold was coming very soon. I walked out of my apartment and my field of vision was assaulted by an event I'd never seen before. I don't know how much of it had to do with my improved eyesight, or a willingness to turn over a new leaf, but I suddenly recognized the sheer majesty of something I never paid a moment's attention to.
There I was, standing in the chill of the morning and leaning on my cane, my mouth trying to catch flies. The bright yellow of the rising sun seared the horizon, casting off oranges and reds as the color rose into the sky. A pallet of port wine, or campfire inferno, splattered before my eyes. It was quiet, which I found rather odd I think, wondering why such a show bore no sound. I took a moment to look up and behind me, loving that crossover that I saw, the receding darkness and the jealous flickering stars.
I was standing there for probably fifteen minutes or so until the colors diluted a bit, until the blue began to bleed through and spectacle became simply morning. How many sunrises have I walked past in my life? How many have I slept through? I swear I tasted a bit of bile come up for shame.
That didn't last long, as the event buoyed my mood. I was ready for anything. Well, I was determined that the New Dean would be ready to try the world on. After all, I have to start somewhere, right?
I walked (can I still call it walk? Is there some other verb someone on a cane or crutch uses?) down the street to a little deli I knew about. I thought a bagel and some hot chocolate would be a nice breakfast before I tried walking about town. It's a good thing the new Dean is flexible!
I had my tray and was looking for a table, when I noticed an old woman leaving the other register. She had a tray herself, with a bagel and some lox to go with her coffee, but her hands were rather shaky. I paused a moment and consciously assessed what was before me and my place in it. I know I never would have given her a moment's concern more than a week ago. Hell, I probably would have been mumbling about her needing to be locked in her retirement home. Slightly disgusted, I acted.
Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
 |
|
I have no idea how to explain this, and I'm frankly pretty freaked out about it.
I have been taking walks every morning trying to work on my leg. So far, I'm still limping and as each day goes by I'm more resigned to the idea that won't change. Still, it gives me practice with the stick.
I tried a different route this morning, down ButteRoad. There are several small shops interspersed with row homes and the like. Typical Pen Argyl fare. I really don't think there's much in the way of building zoning in Pennsylvania. A person can have a beauty salon in their home, which is right next to a warehouse. There's a bit of a dirt patch between a set of row homes and a rather pedestrian antique shop.
A woman was sweeping the walk outside the shop. I watched her look me over and prepare to get out of the way of me in my hobbleness.
Absently I looked down at the dirt near the sidewalk and my heart almost stopped cold from what I saw. I saw blood, lots of it. Streaks of crimson stained the dirt, puddling in places. There were no sirens approaching, no nearby animal carcass, just blood that wasn't there before. I was seconds away from panic.
"Are you okay?" The woman had been watching me and approached with concern. I jumped at her words and looked up at her.
"Uh, no!" I pointed down at the blood to show her. "You didn't see this before?"
She looked down. "See what before?"
My heart skipped a beat.
"All this blood!" I said, pulling a spastic Vanna White.
She looked from my eyes to the ground and then back up at me. "I don't see anything, sir."
I couldn't believe it. "How can you not see all this blood??"
Her eyes widened, but not as much as her brow furrowed. She took a step back. I thought she was just going to back away entirely and then call the men in the white jackets on me.
Then, she said. "There hasn't been any blood there for five years..."
It was my turn to look at her like she had two heads. "What?"
"A man was murdered five years ago. That spot that you're looking at? That's where his body was found."
Having turned and hastily finished her sweeping, she retreated to the refuge of rickety furniture and smelly hats.
She couldn't see the blood, but I could. Someone died in the exact spot years ago, but I saw his blood like it was freshly spilt?
How the hell do I explain this? Am I going nuts?
Is it too early in the day to drink?
Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
The man's name was Tom Navelly.
It didn't take much effort to search the internet, to find an article about what happened on that small stretch of dirt. He was stabbed in the middle of the night, his blood seeping into the ground for hours until the sun rose. The killer was never caught, his wife became a widow.
That blood was still there for me to see somehow, and its not easy for me to wrap my brain around that fact. I went back a few hours later, not believing myself. I stood there, hoping the shopkeeper wouldn't come out and see me like a crazy person.
The ground was just there. Normal, brown and dirty ground. Patches of dead grass beaten into submission by the recent cold. Old soda can tabs, a penny or two, bits of paper trash in the corners. Nothing out of the ordinary. No blood.
Then, I looked because I wanted to see it again.
The earth shifts on its axis, an imaginary rod running through the planet, maybe spinning on the thumb of God. But in that moment, it felt like the pivot was on my chest. Standing there, it was almost as if the world jumped about ten degrees to the right as my eyes suddenly saw the streaks of blood once again. Brilliant red, as if freshly spilt.
I didn't hunch down to try to touch it. I'm not quite ready for that. I watched as the blood turned back into dirt and all normalcy pushed forward.
Normalcy, heh.
Further contorting what I thought was reality, some guy called me today claiming to be a hiring representative for a company. He wants to talk to me about a job opportunity. It doesn't hurt to listen, espeically as my vacation dwindles, so I'll give him a few minutes tomorrow and see how that goes. Curiouser and curiouser.
Should I consider the possibility of going to see someone about these hallucinations?
Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
I'm now covinced I either really DID die and in some sort of purgatory, or came back in some alternate universe. What the fuck? After making my apartment showable, I waited for this guy to show up. He arrived right on time, a Mr. Noah McGuff. At about six feet tall, I could look him dead in the eye. Cleanshaven and well dressed, he wore a dark pin-stripe and red tie. His hair was slicked back, but not Pat Riley-bad. He set his briefcase down on the dining table as he sat. I joined him, fine with hearing him out but not expecting anything. "I will come right to the point, Mr. Orion," he said. His voice was nice to listen to, well measured. "The company I represent would like to hire you for a unique job." As I wasn't actually seeking new employment (despite my desire to find another job), I was understandably skeptical. "What makes you think I want another job?" "Don't you?" Well, I can't argue with that, though was he shooting in the dark with an assumption? "Why me? How do you know me?" "A colleague of yours actually recommended you." "Who?" "That's not important. What is important, is that you have an aptitude for perception." That blood.... "You are a visual inspector at your plant, right?" The plant? I shook my head to dislodge the bloodstained dirt from my thoughts and concentrate more on what the guy was saying. Visual inspector, factory, "Well, yes..." "We need someone good at noticing things. Things that are what they shouldn't be." "In another factory?" "Not quite, though we do require a relocation."
|
|
Tomorrow Mr. Noah McGuff returns to my apartment and I will tell him whether or not I accept the job offer.
I have no idea what to say about it, which matches the mental tennis match that's been going on in my head the past few days.
The idea is crazy. Take a job and move to another place, a job that I really have no clue about. On the one hand, paperwork looks legit and there is such a company as Astrolabe. On the other hand, its crazy.
Did I mention its crazy?
How stupid do I have to be to accept a job I know nothing about in a town I've never been to? I could be forced to boost cars or swallow razor blades for all I know.
As crazy as it is, how stupid I'd have to be, I'm actually seriously considering it. This IS thrilling. A new job, a new place, a new life. I could leave the old Dean here in this apartment and the new Dean could move into the paid-for flat. The old Dean can continue to look at parts and the new Dean could start looking at....well, whatever I'd be looking at.
Mr. McGuff said I'm being recruited for my perception. I've figured out what I'm going to do. When he comes back tomorrow I'm going to use that perception and judge the man. I will look at him with this new eyesight and see what comes to me. Then I will make my decision.
Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
Spot on time-wise, wearing a completely different but seemingly identical suit, Mr. McGuff appeared at my door. He smiled immediately, and not the smile of Dr. Terminus either. I believed it.
We sat in our original places around the dining table, his briefcase hanging out in anticipation.
"Well, Dean, what do you think? Do you have any questions?"
Did I have any questions? Is buttered toast buttery?
Okay, okay. I have to come up with better quips than the buttered toast one. Mental note made.
"Are you in the mob?"
Mr. McGuff laughed. Or rather, Noah laughed. The laugh made it okay for me to think of him as Noah.
"If I don't like this job, if I can't do it for whatever reason, I can walk away, right? I'm not going to be fitted for cement shoes?"
Noah regarded me for a moment. "No, we are not the mob. Yes, you'll be able to leave whenever you choose."
He leaned forward slightly, his tie rising a bit under his jacket. "I realize there are a lot of unknowns for you, and unfortunately there will be for some time. There are some that will always remain, but it will get better. Both sides need to feel comfortable about this arrrangement. As that comfortability increases, so will a working relationship and with that information shared."
Yes, I definitely want to know more. I can't deny the intrigue.
"Dean, this is a unique opportunity for you, one that rarely comes along. This is a new life for you in a new place. Perhaps most importantly,"
...here it comes...
"you can make a difference with this job. I assure you."
I stood up and took a step back. Noah stood as well, buttoning his suit jacket. He stood there calmly and quietly, letting me take my measure of him.
I looked him up and down and tried to see past the packaging. I examined his hands for lies, his crisp white shirt for unseen filth. Finally, I scrutinized his face.
I don't know what perception I have, and beyond seeing his face better I have no idea what would come to me. Nothing surfaced, no shocking images of blood, to give me a better indication of things. Yet, I still think I saw what I needed to see.
So there I stood, at one of those figurative crossroads and the most important moment of my new life. The walls were quiet while they listened, the faucet drip paused for a few moments. All my old things waited for me to speak, to make up my mind. No magic 8-Ball, no fairy godmothers, no oracles, just me and my judgement. My perception, for whatever that's worth.
What the hell. "I'm in."
Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
This is going to be my last post for a little while. I need to pack up my computer for the move.
I'm excited, I can't deny it. Once I made the decision, everything that I am has been rushing toward it.
The Salvation Army just left, taking nearly everything. I have my computer stuff, a couple boxes of keepsakes and about a week's worth of clothing. The flat I'm moving into is going to be furnished and I'll buy anything else I need.
Noah dropped off keys and directions yesterday. I am going to be living in a town called Southern Comfort, which is apparently the residential district of this Compass Point metropolitan area. I'm pretty confused, but I plan on taking a lot of time familiarizing myself with the place. I drive out tomorrow and hope to be set up sometime in the middle of next week.
I quit my job on Thursday. Normally, people who quit on the spot instead of giving notice don't get any sort of severence or accrued vacation, yet I got both. I think it's "Don't Sue Us" money, but I don't care much. I'm going to tuck it away, just in case.
I think that's it. When I post again I'll be in a new place with a new job. I imagine Old Dean is pitching a fit but I'm ignoring him. I wonder if he'll ever show up at my new doorstep.
Signing off for now...
Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
Well, I made it. I'm in Southern Comfort, Pennsylvania. It is the southern-most berg of this Compass Point metropolitan area. Metropolitan area is probably a misnomer in this case, as they are more like towns than cities. Only Compass Point resembles a true city, with the associated skyline. I plan on more fully describing the area later.
Right now I'm sitting in Lu-Lu's, a cool little joint about a half block from my flat. I'm typing this up on one of the wi-fi computers in this cyber cafe, as my computer isn't hooked up yet. I hope I'll be able to do so soon.
Lu-Lu's reminds me a bit of that deli in Pen Argyl where I had that one wonderful day with Mary. It's simple, but cozy. The people working there seem very friendly. The customers seem very friendly. Hell, everyone seems very friendly.
The food is good and not terribly expensive. I can see making this place my dive, where I go to all the time. I've never had a dive before, but feel a need for a change. They make excellent grilled cheese sandwiches, and I just had to test their reuben (dee-licious). I am currently sitting at a little bar area overlooking the street I live on, Janette Drive.
When I turn around I see the circular tables covered with plastic flowered table clothes and bearing a small vase filled with real flowers. The chairs are all white wood, that scrape the wood flooring whenever moved about.
I need to try this place for dinner, as the menu looks to upgrade a bit. I've already sampled the desserts though, damn fine pie!
I want to describe my flat when I'm sitting in it, so that will probably be my next offering. I've had a chance to buy some more clothing to replace the stuff I gave away. I really enjoy finding and wearing an outward representation of my new inner being. Where before I wore what I called comfortable clothes (which can also be synonymous with ratty), I now wear nicer clothes that are just as comfortable. Nice jeans or khaki's, different colored t-shirts under solid or striped open button-downs. Not knowing what would be required of me for my job, I even bought some dressier clothes, like dress shirts and ties. I even now own a blazer. What is this world coming to?
Southern Comfort is a cool place, and I look forward to exploring it as well as the surrounding towns.
I'm here, most traces of the old Dean seeing fit to stay behind. I feel like I've taken that huge first step and everything is breaths of fresh air. I am truly on an adventure, for the first time in my life. I think I've smiled more in the last week than I have in the whole rest of my life.
Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
My computer is up, and I'm almost fully integrated into my new place. There's a cold Yuengling beside my monitor in celebration.
My flat, where to start. I live on the top floor of a three floor building on the corner of Janette Drive and Damon Avenue. The outside walls of my flat are really nothing but windows, so I have insane views of the street below. There's a small market diagonal from me, a quaint little hotel across from me, and a Starbucks on the remaining corner. I think I need to be marked on my scalp or something, living so close to a Starbucks, but its not like I had a choice of where I live. Well, and live free of charge.
I get to my flat via one of those chic freight elevators, and I can't get enough of riding up and down. Lots of room for carting large items and, with any luck at all, some fun extracurriculars. I mean, my very own elevator! There is a back stairwell, but I doubt I'll ever use it. I'm conveniently forgetting the fact that my limpiness would make it very difficult to climb those stairs. It's all about having my own elevator.
My flat is one big room, with the exception of my bathroom. The inner walls are built of very red brick, offset visually by crisscrossing of beige mortar. The kitchen area is close to the elevator (MY elevator...), with lots of counter space and a cooking island. My little dining table sits in the corner of the building and the street. The two connecting walls of windows provide a spectacular view of each day's sunset and should be great for entertaining. I guess I'll try to find out what its like to actually entertain more than myself. I need to eventually find some entertainees.
The back corner is where my bed is located. At first, I considered moving it to be closer to the windows, but I think I like it in the back like this, in the dark. I have three moveable screens to provide some privacy when necessary. It partitions my bed from the living area where the dark leather couches and the splendid HD flatscreen are.
Finally, I am sitting at my desk overlooking Janette Drive. I love the view, love looking down at all the goings on. People walking this way and that, all the cars filled with residents on their way...someplace.
What a spectacular view.
Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
And away we go...
I emailed Noah once I got my computer up and running and a bit more settled into my new place. I received an email back from him just a short while ago.
Dean, These instructions are from corporate for you:
Look around Compass Point and its surrounding towns. Explore, get a feel for each of the places. Don't force anything, but record anything odd you encounter. We will be in touch.
Vague, if not a bit mysterious. However, if this is what they want to pay me for I could do a lot worse. I wonder what they consider odd?
Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
I just got back from my first sojourn. I started at the heart of the area, Compass Point.
First, I have to say something about the excellent public transportation around here. A light rail system called Four-Tran winds it way through the surrounding towns and Compass Point is the hub. Of course, that hub is called Grand Central Station.
Most of the rail system is above ground running alongside major thoroughfares, but the trains move underground to Grand Central, directly under the massive Encompass Corp. corporate office building. There, it looks like a subway station rivaling anything in New York City or Washington DC.
As I rode into Compass Point this morning, it looked every bit a modern city downtown area. This seems odd, out here in the middle of Pennslyvania and virtually unknown by the rest of the country. There were a half dozen thirty-something story buildings, maybe a dozen lower buildings, and scores of surrounding buildings. It's interesting, because pretty much all of the buildings are Encompass Corp. buildings, or buildings that are necessary for the metropolitan area to exist. For instance, the local power company is named CPA or the Central Pennsylvania Authority. They have their corporate office downtown, even though it is not part of Encompass Corp. Yet, CPA came about to cater to Encompass.
I walked around the spacious walkways that sat in the shadows of the corporate buildings. There is no trash, no muck. I didn't even see any transients, which I found a little odd.
There's that word, odd. Guess I need to mention that in my report. Do I send a report? Do I send a general email to Noah? Will someone come to my door?
Everyone was dressed in suits and other assorted business attire. Every guy had perfectly coiffed hair. Every woman carried a briefcase. In a sense I watched their walking from here to there, from one door to another, and marveled at how stunning the whole scene was. I felt very, very impressed.
Then, it sort of bothered me a bit. An image formed in my head of well dressed ants scurrying about. I completely understand having a professional and uniform corporate image, but what I saw just seemed a bit much.
I looked really out of place, that's for sure. Still, I kept looking around in a general sense and getting a feel for the place. Very impressive.
I ate in the windowed canyon that was the main Encompass Corp. building lobby. There was a bustling food place catering to the ants...er...businesspeople. I had some sort of turkey wrap and chips.
I did find myself looking forward to getting back to the cozy side of life that is Southern Comfort. I think I'll trudge around there tomorrow, stick close to home.
Edit: Just found out CPA is a wholly owned subsidiary of, yup, Encompass Corp.
3 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
I live in Southern Comfort, Pennsylvania, just south of Compass Point. The more I learn about this area, the more I understand and like it.
Encompass moved here out in the middle of nowhere. They decided to create their ideal business infrastructure from scratch. Everything that has sprung up has done so because of this vision. Where Compass Point is the corporate hub of Encompass, Southern Comfort is the residential area. Sure there are small business here and there, just as there would be in any residential area, but the larger businesses are left to the other towns. Southern Comfort is essentially one huge neighborhood. From here, people commute to Compass Point or Due North or wherever. Speaking of Due North, I think I'll go there tomorrow.
I walked down to Lu-Lu's this morning and had breakfast. They serve a killer breakfast burrito. Despite the windchill, I decided to walk around as much as my gimpy leg would carry me today and catch the Four Tran back if I got too far. At least my cane gets good mileage.
I walked along smooth sidewalks that flowed beside wide streets. There are trees lining every road, and its easy to see in this wintertime how amazing they'll be in the summer, with John Houston-esque canopies and fortunate light filtering down to the uniform black asphalt.
It seems that all of the houses are in remarkable shape, and I'm sure none of them are very old. They are at once uniform but also remarkably varied. Homeowners appear free to personalize their houses and yards as they see fit as long as it looks pleasant. I didn't see any trash lying around, any cars in the front yard on blocks.
The houses are nice. The one-story types have large front window panes and long driveways to the setback garage or carport. The two-story houses are more plentiful and just as nice. They have tall double doors and nice triangular lines. I'm sure they all have basements.
The neighborhoods are quiet and peaceful. They are long in scope and deep afield. I can't wait to wander around in the springtime or the summer, and watch games of catch being played out in the street; kids riding bikes in groups just because. I wonder how many houses will have little gardens in the backyards, bursting with tomatoes or laden apple trees.
The people that passed by all said hello to me, and I answered in kind. I've never been one to interact with strangers, but it seems like the appropriate thing to do and I don't mind.
As I headed home on the train, I noticed some of those people I saw in Compass Point returning from work. They easily and comfortably chatted with each other and they seemed much less...strange...than they did before. Maybe not completely though.
I came home and put my sore leg up. I sat at my dining table, chairs situated so I could watch the sunset. I ate Spaghettios.
I give myself two goals:
-Learn how to cook
-Make friends
I'd like to make real food and I'd like to enjoy it with others. I have this splendid pad, I should use it.
4 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
 |
|
Today's mission was to poke around Due North, and the overall general feel of the place certainly made it feel like a "mission".
I took a crowded train up there this morning, along with all of the other commuters. For the most part, my guess of these commuters being more blue collar (and thus quite different from the commuters on their way to Compass Point) was spot on. I mean, they also "fit" into Southern Comfort in that they looked and felt like they belonged. Instead of wearing suits and carrying briefcases, they wore work clothes or uniforms and carried hard hats and lunches. The only thing that vaguely struck me as odd is how clean everyone's clothing was. I guess I expected worn down clothing from the various manufacturing processes that go on in Due North. Evidently sterotypes aren't always accurate.
Due North seems to be nothing more than incorporation of space, as it is the major manufacturing center of Encompass.
The train took us all by each and every one of the dozens of expansive buildings. They all looked the same, with only outward signs differentiating them.
Huge, low-lying blocks of beige, sitting on the well-manicured but currently brown lawns. The front of each building has a set of doors for employees to come and go, and the east side of each building bears a massive battery of truck docks used to move raw materials in and finished product out. There must be forty docks in each building easily several hundred thousand square feet a piece.
As I'm coming to figure out from the places I visited so far, order and efficiency are mandatory and successful. Due North is definitely impressive.
There is little visible security, but I didn't seriously consider disembarking the train because I knew I wouldn't be able to just walk in one of the plants and play tourist. I did notice a security vehicle or two, and there are cameras all over the building, all pretty standard I think.
Its easy to see in Due North why Encompass is successful, and part of me is rather curious to see what goes on inside. Having spent a good deal of my adult life on manufacturing lines, I'd like to see how it is supposed to be done. Maybe I'll get the chance some day.
I've been home ever since, watching the huge snowflakes slowly fall onto Janette.
2 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
Where Compass Point is the literal and figurative center of this metropolitan area built by Encompass, Due North is the manufacturing hub and Southern Comfort is the residential area, Far East is the artistic and cultural center. I knew I was quite out of my element as soon as I stepped off the train.
The marble and slate sidewalks encircle ornate streetlamp poles and lap at theaters and art galleries. I didn't pass through any doorways, but peered in the windows. I saw all sorts of paintings, some of which I even liked. There were also sculptures and artistic glass pieces that reminded me of the ocean for some reason.
It sure seems like culture is aggressively pursued here. I walked by several travelling broadway shows like Spamalot, Aida, and Mamma Mia. There were also theaters for music performances like a local symphony and rock bands. I wonder if Far East rates high enough for the Police to stop by...
The streets were very long and wide, and I wouldn't be surprised if they were shut down entirely for a large walking population on the weekends. There's a flyer for Saturday food and crafts gatherings once spring starts up.
The alleys between these artsy buildings seem to be almost as long as the regular streets, no doubt to transfer equipment, crates and scenery. Yet, they certainly didn't convey the same warm and welcoming feeling as the normal streets. Sure they're not as wide, but it seemed to me the shadows were more persistent than what the brick and concrete that blocked out the sun cast.
It seemed every corner bore at least two high class restaurants. The smells coming out and the visions of culinary artpieces instantly made me regret walking around during lunchtime. I don't know why I didn't try one out, other than I felt really outclassed. I need to change that, and I need to learn more about food and cooking.
Far East is definitely date central. All I need is to find a date.
Which leads me to my baby step of the day. I am going to get my hair cut a little later today. I will chop off my shoulder length and incredibly unstylish brown hair into something shorter and more befitting my new look. What that means, I have no clue but I'm prepared to trust whatever my stylist may suggest.
Hopefully she won't go all poodle on me, because I plan to check out West Wind tomorrow evening and hope to hit a club or two. Until then, I need to turn up the heat in this place!
1 Comment | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
How to explain Saturday night? I wouldn't dare try to describe it to someone verbally. I doubt I have the ability. I have no choice but to try to do so here, where I can use better words with more time. I guess I'll just start at the beginning. I did get my haircut, further distancing myself from Old Dean. Ruth, the hairdresser, took a lot off. I lost my shoulder length hair and now have a much shorter crop. Its short on the sides and is "fashionably disheveled" on the top with a bit more length. It doesn't look bad, so I can live with it for now. Saturday evening I took the train out to West Wind, the entertainment and sports hub for Compass Point. They have several venues for their sports, which include a minor league baseball team, an NHL farm team, and an NBDL team. That's not too shabby out in the middle of the state, smack dab between Pittsburgh and Philly. There is no shortage of things to do in West Wind, that's for sure. If you like video games, there's a Dave and Buster's. If you like food, there are several chain restaurants you can visit, like Chili's, Friday's and others. There are coffee joints, jazz spots, and cigar bars. Then there are the clubs. West Wind seems a bit like Las Vegas, but without all the lights. It has a feel like a rush toward something, like you need to lean forward when you walk around the place. Everyone walking around is having a good time, and that feeling is catchy. Now, I know about the darker side of celebration and its venues, like drugs and shameless depravity. I'm sure that exists in West Wind, but I didn't notice any of that. Saturday night though, I was looking for a place to have a good time and unwind. How can a person go alone to such a place and have a good time? It's easy, really. Even the Old Dean could forget himself and suddenly be in the middle of a conversation with drink in hand. It's often not hard to just go out there and dance in the middle of the floor and lose yourself. All of the movement, the touching, and the urge can make utter strangers intriguing companions of many natures. And, I'm not ashamed to admit, clubs are a good place to meet women. The veritable mashing of bodies can afford pleasant happenstance. Of course it could also lead to dismal failure, but that's the chance you take. My clubbing days led to a few one night stands and a short-term relationship or two. Is that what I was looking for Saturday night? I still couldn't tell you. All I knew was that I wanted to get out into the human soup and mix it up a bit.
The past couple of days have felt so...normal. I mean muted, commonplace. I can't describe it any other way right now. After seeing what I did Saturday night, real life even in all of its beauty, is suffering by comparison.
I didn't even realize I didn't know her name until I tried asking employees of Ab Aeterno yesterday afternoon. Until I find her to ask her name, I'll simply call her the "little red-haired girl".
No one at Ab Aeterno has ever remembered seeing LRHG, though the Saturday night shift is somewhat different from a Tuesday evening shift. I might have to come back and ask some more questions.
How in the hell could someone that looked like her not be noticed, let alone oogled?? I know one thing for sure though, I''ll be keeping my eyes peeled for her wherever I go.
I wrote up a report of possible "odd" things and emailed it to Noah. I haven't heard back yet. Now I just have to wait and see what my job really entails.
2 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
I love the setup of my place, I really do. I'm sitting here, my desk right up against the huge windows overlooking Janette Drive. I can sit up here, look down and just people watch. However, there aren't that many people to watch today. They are mostly holed up somewhere, hunkering down for a snow storm that falls before me. There always seems to be 'one more snow' after you think winter's all done. This time, we're less than a week from official spring and Southern Comfort could get a few inches of freezing rain and snow when all is said and done today.
I think I'll go back to Ab Aeterno this Saturday night in the hopes of seeing LRHG again, or barring that talk to someone who may know her. If she felt what I saw, will she feel compelled to find me as I do?
I finally heard back from Noah, this morning, via email. It was simple, direct:
The state-of-the-art-library in Far East is very seldomly visited and the employee turnover is high. Please check it out.
I have NO idea of what exactly I'm supposed to check out. People don't like the library, so what? Still, its enough mystery to draw at least a bit of interest to me. Besides, its my job. They tell me what to do and I do it. But, I think I'll at least wait until the snow stops.
March Madness is underway. I think I'll move to the television and see if I can generate some interest in it.
3 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
As I sit here my new book, Cooking Basics for Dummies, silently mocks me from the kitchen counter. I'm sure it had a more positive disposition on instructing me in basic cooking, but when I read about the required equipment my incredulous tone was probably too much. Apparently I need more than a fork, a spoon, a larger spoon, a steak knife and a bowl. So, I see myself making a big purchasing trip in the very near future. I'm heartened by its abilities though. How can I not when it has instructions for how to make scrambled eggs? Sounds right at my skill level.
LRHG was a no-show at Ab Aeterno Saturday night. I can't say I'm surprised, but I am disappointed. I'm not usually one for big fireworks-inspiring interaction, but it would have been nice this time around. If we're meant for each other, then I think I'm all for that sooner rather than later.
She wasn't there, and no one I talked to remembered seeing her either last week or at all. That isn't a good sign, but I think I'm still pretty hopeful. I'm not sure I'll go this Saturday though, have to see.
I got back a short time ago from my initial trip to the library.
It's a gorgeous building. On the outside it looks very much like an old and prestigious receptacle of tomes. However, the inside is much more complicated.
There are columns of stone, surely, but there are also modern walls of glass framed by brushed metal brackets. There are books everywhere the eye can see, but there are also computer terminals for connections to the card catalog, inter-library loan systems, and the Internet. There are elegant conference rooms and functional video editing cubicles. There's even a coffee kiosk and a patio eating space.
One walks through the front, past check out and customer service. Research help and copy service are next, followed by an extensive looking periodicals section. Imposing wide marble steps lead up to the stacks...and that smell.
I'm not a library creature, I never have been. Still, even I took a moment to close my eyes and breathe in the unmistakable scent. The smell of old paper with that faint hint of mold and their many-times past dampened hardcovers. It smells like piles of dollar bills, but with more knowledge.
However I examined what I explored, there was nothing to indicate anything was wrong with the place. It was modern and functional, offering much to everyone from the weekend book-warrior to the avid researcher.
Yet, for all of its friendliness and ability, it felt quite empty. I mean I saw people, but not many. Even taking into account the day and time of my examination, it was noticeably uninhabited. I didn't even happen upon any couples getting freaky in the stacks. Isn't that what the stacks are for, after all??
The visitors to the library that I saw all seemed rather tired. I suppose I could attribute much of this to the Monday blues, and further visits might confirm that, but it just seemed a bit too much to be just that. Further, those that worked at the library all seemed worn out. I'm not sure I can be more accurate until I go again. I asked a guy that worked there for directions to the bathroom, and he acted as if it telling me would exert him to the point that he would immediately have to lie down.
It wasn't a matter of people being unfriendly. Quite the opposite. Some seemed maybe a bit short with me and each other, but nothing overbearing. People smiled at each other, but it took effort.
Nothing stood out to me and I didn't see anything indicative. I mean, there were no invisible zombies that only I could see or pep-draining machines hiding in the walls. I am however undeterred. I am going to go back and spend maybe a whole day there and see what transpires then. It's such a nice place, a great place for learning and meeting people.
I'll do what I can to figure it out.
2 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
There definitely is something going on at the library. I went back yesterday, determined to stay there the whole day. I envisioned myself sitting in different locations throughout the day either reading or people watching. I was going to talk to a few people and employees and generally try to get a feel for the place. Moreover, I was going to look around, whatever that might mean and for whatever its worth. After doing so the first few hours I was there, I started getting a headache. Eh. I get headaches all of the time, but this one got progressively worse. I've never had a migraine before, something so debilitating that I can't function or even tolerate light. I began to worry this was going to be my first time. Though the library was bright and modern, still and nonthreatening, I was growing fatigued. Eventually I just left. The further I walked away from the library the better I felt. My headache and weariness noticeably lessened. By the time I got to the train stop I was feeling pretty normal and rather pissed at myself. I realized at that moment that I should have been watching other people as well to see if they were suffering from similar or even different symptoms. I didn't go back yesterday, mostly because I didn't want to have my head pound that way again. Still, I'm determined, so I went back again this morning.
|
|
I'm sitting here in Lu-Lu's. I've been here for a couple of hours actually. There's something about this place that feels...right.
I walked here early this morning when it was still dark out. I was treated to the ethereal subspace of fog and I can't explain why it was so energizing.
What can I say? I love fog.
It absorbs sound, so your environment is a bit otherworldly. Before the sun rises, but its influence is creeping around building corners and bluing the sky, the fog is that blanketed white that your body literally cuts through. The fog moves out of the way, and you can see the shape of your body behind you for a moment or two.
There are layers of fog, you can actually see them. In a way, they look like a biscuit, with its flaky folds you can peel off and eat. I actually held my hand out this morning and tried to take a layer. It didn't work. Still, I find the timing of the fog curious.
Not like it has ANYTHING whatsoever to do with me, but the analogy I'm trying to form holds. There are layers.
I've been trying to reflect and ponder my life with this new vision I seem to have. On the one hand it is amazing! When I found that tunnel (well, I'll assume for the moment that its real and I'm sane) I was so exhilarated. I have a purpose, a mission and I have this gift, for lack of a better term, to aid me in that mission. I used it, did something no one could. How remarkable is that?? I feel...so alive.
Yet, I looked back on how I handled things from that point through to emailing Noah, and it was quite businesslike and matter-of-factly. So, while I'm rather overwhelmed by things I'm also quite comfortable with it. It's almost as if I'm used to it already, or rather, I've always been used to it. Like that makes any sense whatsoever.
There's no control over it, and I don't know if there will ever be. Maybe I'm just going to see what I'm supposed to. It's not for lack of trying. Ever since the library I've been trying to peer through building walls and women's clothing with abject failure. Maybe the trick is accepting what happens, to perceive they layers shown to me and affect them in the best possible way.
I received an email from Noah while I've been here. He said he'd send me the library schematics as soon as he gets his hands on them. I need to think about how to tell him things without sounding like a complete loon. I can just see it now:
"How did you come across this mystery tunnel, Dean?"
"Well, I merely gazed through thirty meters of earth, Noah. How else?"
Geez.
I wonder if I should go out looking for LRHG this weekend...
4 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
Where are my directions? Which way is the way to go?
I went back to West Wind Saturday night. Yes I am pretty sad, pining after a wispy soul mate I'm not even sure exists. Saturday night did nothing to alleviate either supposition.
Ab Aeterno, along with many other party establishments, lines a huge courtyard of uneven bricks. In prime time, that courtyard is filled with people going to and fro, food vendors and various independent entertainers. The old-fashioned streetlamps give off the light and the look of once upon a time. The only thing missing is a gazebo.
There I was, out in the middle of that human soup as the bars were just letting out, leaning on my cane heavily and trying to lock in on every face I could. There were so many people and none were LRHG.
Yet, just as I was on the cusp of that event horizon of despair and second-guessing, I saw her.
She was maybe twenty five yards away, but I could see her as if she were five. It was surreal, that even though throngs of people passed between us, her face was framed unblocked. She was outfitted in some sort of party dress that could have easily been a nightgown (though she certainly wasn't going for the Stevie Nicks look. That would have had yikes written all over it) and her hands were clasped in front of her.
She smiled at me, directly at me because she was looking at me. She smiled and my heart just exploded. There is no denying she is the one. She smiled, and her pink lips welcomed me. Then, they formed words I could not hear above the din or ascertain despite my visual acuity. Another message for me I wasn't meant to hear. Her eyes were kind, certain.
Then, everyone was in the way. I couldn't see her. I took several steps forward, my cane slowing me down. I grew more frantic and still couldn't see her so I picked up my pace.
I don't know who's fault it was, mine or the other person, but I slammed into another body and was sent sprawling. I just couldn't keep my balance well enough and quickly enough with a less than responsive leg and a shiny stick. By the time I was able to get up and look back to where she was, the crowd had lessened but she was gone. I spend several minutes spinning around trying to find her, but she was gone. At the time, and even now, I'm not sure whether I feel more longing for her or certainty of her. Right now, we're just too far away.
Noah finally sent over the library specs via courier Sunday morning and I spent the day going over them. I' m no engineering expert, but I certainly didn't see anything to indicate that the tunnel should be there or there is any access to it from the library. What does that mean? I don't know, but I feel in my gut that the tunnel has something to do with the problems there. I will probably head back there in the next day or so and try to locate it again. Just because there's no recorded access doesn't mean there isn't one.
Went over to Lu-Lu's for breakfast again this morning, with my cooking book this time. I was reading about this whole alien concept of beating egg whites until there are "stiff peaks". I had no idea egg whites were so important, and can't grasp why their peaks need to be stiff to cook them.
My brow must have been sufficiently furrowed, because the waitress took my plate away, looked at me and then the book. She smiled.
"You look perplexed," she said.
I looked up into a bright face that reflected sunshine. Instantly, I could tell she was one of those chipper morning people types that oozed positivity. Not that I'm against such a thing as a matter of course, but it's certainly not me.
She had blazing blue eyes and dark brown hair that was very short in the back and longer on the top coming down the front. Very stylish. I looked down at her name tag. Lilith. That can't be good....
"I am perplexed. Cooking is perplexing."
She put her tray down on the table and plunked herself down next to me. "Of course it isn't. You probably just have never tried."
"Well..."
"See?" She was very satisfied with herself.
Standing, she picked up her tray and bounded away. "Oh," she said as she spun around, "come by some time and I'll unperplex you." Then she was gone.
If I was perplexed before, I was dumbfounded after that. Did Lilith just offer to teach me how to cook? Did she just hit on me??
I think I used up my annual quota of the word perplexed today.
Regardless, it was hard not to have a better disposition after spending just a few moments with her. I think I'll take her up on her offer.
2 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
I've been waiting at my computer most of the day, waiting and hoping for another email from Noah. The truth is, I don't know when I'll get the next one or what it will say.
Yesterday I went back to the library in Far East, determined to get somewhere. Since I don't know how to turn my vision on, I spent quite a bit of time walking around the place looking at the floor. Unfortunately, I wasn't looking through it. Even a trip to the basement didn't help (still no symmetrical book stacking...).
The whole range of emotions and thoughts were coursing through me: If I really saw what I thought I saw, if the tunnel had anything to do with the library's problems, how the hell do I begin to master this ability, what the hell am I doing in Compass Point working for some weird company.
My fingers had clumps of hair between them. It wasn't until my fingernails were scraping my scalp that I realized how much my head hurt! Perhaps my insecurities, my darkening thoughts were more a product of my environment, the poor repository of books and knowledge.
I went and stood in the middle of the spacious lobby floor, flanked by rays of light shining down through the steepled skylights. I took several deep breaths and tried very hard to clear my mind.
I wish I could describe just how things came to be for me to see. It is not entirely inaccurate to suggest that the floor peeled itself back, level upon level, until I saw what I saw but the simple fact is that everything between just sort of disappeared, visually, until I saw what I needed to see.
The tunnel was there, running right under the library, but it was different this morning. It was bright, almost too bright for me to keep looking at it. It was erupting in yellow gleaming light, and I got the impression the light, or rather the light source, was moving. Yet, the source wasn't so much perpetual as it was continuously recurring. There was more than what I was seeing in the boundaries of the library.
I took the elevator to the highest floor....couples could have been shagging up a storm and I wouldn't have noticed....and still couldn't see the scope, where it came from and where it went. I needed more distance, more height.
I left the library, looking up around Far East. There weren't any very tall buildings in the cultural mecca of Compass Point, much to my chagrin. Growling, I jumped on the nearest train hoping my vision wouldn't fade before I could get a better look.
I rode it to Compass Point, the center of this metropolitan area, and got off in front of the towering main corporate building. Running for me is forever out of the question, but I skipped with my cane as fast as I could, into the lobby, onto an elevator, and riding it as high as I could.
Luckily the third floor from the top had an executive cafeteria. I barged my way in and hobbled over to the ceiling to floor windows overlooking Far East.
My left hand gripping my cane so hard my knuckles were surely white, my right hand flat against the glass creating a fog outline, my mouth was no doubt open in response to what I was seeing.
There, under the ground but very much invading my eyesight, was a huge glowing circle. It was easily over a mile wide, making it probably almost four miles in circumference. It went under many buildings, including the library which I could see, but also wound around wooded and cleared lands.
It was so large, and seemingly so unknown.
Then, I looked over where the enormous underground circle lay. Scrutinizing, I realized a tip just barely touched the southeastern most manufacturing building on Due North.
I don't know how long I had been there before I took a step back and turned away. Maybe I didn't want to stop seeing what was going, I didn't want the proof of this ability to cease. I did eventually leave though, because my work wasn't done.
I returned home as quickly as I could and used Wiki to confirm a suspicion I had. I fired off an email to Noah:
There seems to be what I think is a particle accelerator running directly beneath the library, among other buildings in Far East. One part of the route is close to Due North. Please advise.
I shot the email off and leaned back in my chair, hands behind my head. I hadn't barely begun wondering about the implications of what I saw when my computer dinged back at me. It was a return email from Noah, surprising me with its quickness:
Good work. I will get back to you. -Noah
So I sit and wait, wondering when I'll hear from him again.
4 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
It's very difficult to pace in a seething huff when you have to use a cane. For one thing, the turn isn't nearly as graceful and it's harder to set up any sort of walking rhythm. I have come close to throwing my stick at the window this morning. After days of sending multiple emails to Noah, I finally sent an email demanding he call me immediately. In a way, his even voice and apparent nonchalance was frustrating beyond belief. Yet, unless I'm mistaken I think he might be more on my "side" than he can let be known. He's just a middleman (or lower-than-middle middleman for all I know) and is towing the party line, whatever that is. I laid into him from the off. "Why the hell haven't you told me what's going on about the library and the tunnel?!" "Dean, you're on a need-to-know basis..." "Don't give me that shit. You wouldn't know anything if it wasn't for me." "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to fully disclose..." I found my in. "What can you disclose??" I think he held his phone away to sigh. "Ask me a question or two. If I can answer them, I will." That's better than nothing. "Was I right about the tunnel?" "Yes. It is a particle accelerator." I didn't know if he would answer the next question, because it would open up a whole new can of worms (worms being more questions and pestering from me). My eyes moving rapidly out the window, looking at nothing in particular, I asked, "Is it licensed?" He was ready for the question, no doubt. Still, he said, "No. It is unknown and unregistered."
|
|
Its the end of the week already, and I don't feel I've done much. This holding pattern I've been in hasn't been fun, though to be honest I've probably squandered the time too much. I could have done more, been more proactive, or even active. I rode the train twice this week to the building in Due North the accelerator runs under, but didn't get off. Still, the week had its interesting moments and even fun.
Tuesday I was planning on sitting in my flat all day, just sitting there and watching the day shine across my walls into dusk, not giving a care about Noah or the library or anything. I found some alternative on the stereo and had a huge glass of water within reach.
That lasted until about 1pm when I just couldn't stand it anymore. I got up, found my cane, and left the building. I took the train until I liked the looks of a stop in West Wind and started walking around.
I found a nickel arcade and had a blast losing time in there. I paid $5 to get in and gave another $5 for nickels. There were about 75 old arcade games from my youth and I loved standing there playing Rampart, NBA Jam, even Tron for heaven's sake. I stayed until I was out of nickels, which coincidentally was about the time my leg couldn't stand it anymore (literally). I spent four hours in there just having mindless fun.
That night I had PB&J's, getting all gourmet and risky by using the chunky peanut butter. The problem with that was, I was out of lunch fixings for Wednesday. So, I headed to Lu-Lu's.
I begged off a reuben in favor of some wild mushroom and brie soup since its been so insanely cold the past couple of days. It tasted great. I asked Lilith who made it. "I did, of course."
"I'm impressed," was what I managed to say.
She put her tray on a nearby table and sat down at mine, as simple as you please. "Oh, that's right. You're culinarily challenged."
"You have no idea. I'm out of peanut butter and jelly."
She put her smile in the hand that was supported by her elbow and furrowed her brow a bit as she looked at me. "What time is it?"
Looking at my watch, I said, "12:30."
Standing up, she replied. "Good. Stick around for a half hour." Then she was gone. I moved over to a computer to surf, but before I knew it she was yanking on my right arm. "Come on!"
Stumbling off the stool (has she not SEEN my cane??), I tripped after her. "Where are we going?"
"Shopping!"
We walked up the street to a local market and I pushed the cart (has she not SEEN my cane????) while she dumped all sorts of stuff into it. I like fruits and veggies, largely because they are easy to prepare. Step 1: Wash, Step 2: Eat.
She put a lot more things in there, things that were in boxes, containers, jars and whatever that didn't look like food but supposedly had to do with it. I guess its all part of the whole cooking thing.
We walked to the check-out line and she put all the items on the check-out conveyor. She turned back to me and held out her hand. "Cash or credit?" I can only imagine the stupid look on my face as I handed her some bills.
I carried a bag and she carried two as we made our way down Janette Drive to my place. I loved motioning for her to get into my awesome elevator, and I have to admit I enjoyed the platitudes she issued for my flat. I gave her the quick tour and we met in the kitchen where she put all of this new stuff away.
Then, she was bounding back to the elevator. "Be ready at 6 tonight."
Er...huh? "Be...ready?"
"Yup. We're going out. Dress up a bit."
So, I was going out with Lilith. At least, I thought so.
I'll finish this a little later...
2 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
After I polished my walking stick and put on my sporty blazer and Lilith was buzzing me at 6pm sharp. I took my splendid elevator down and found her in a smart pantsuit. Part of me was hoping she'd be in some sort of spring dress, but it was about 40 degrees after all. Peter Cottontail had better be warming his tiny jewel-snuggly for this weekend. We walked to the train stop and boarded for Far East. I didn't have the faintest idea of where we were going, but she did. We ended up at a restaurant called simply The T.C.. Lilith said she heard it stood for Thunderbird Contrail. Interesting, if not cryptic. She took the rather forward step of ordering for me, apparently reading my unconscious dietary desires from my face. Yet, I can't deny her choice hit the spot. I had a southwestern-prepared kobe steak fillet. Insanely good. Lilith had a seafood paella that looked good too. Somehow, I have no clue how, we got onto the subject of my outrage earlier in the week. She's so easy to talk to, and our dialogue flows like a brook. Still, I had to be careful not to say too much. I didn't know her or how she would react to my employer or my job description, let alone that I see things. "So, you are angry because the safety issue you reported isn't being corrected more quickly. Why does that bother you?" "Well," I said earnestly, "people are in danger. That doesn't sit well with me." Her face softened a bit, I think. "They say something will be done, but it has to be done at the right time and in the right way." "I can certainly understand your anger, and I hope for everyone's sake it gets taken care of." "Thanks." "As far as your other anger, you just need to let it go."
|
|
At this point in the year its strange to behold the outside world. To view it from my flat, looking out those big plate-glass windows, it is bright and inviting. The sky is so blue, brushed with watered down strokes of white as wisps hang in the upper atmosphere. Green is creeping back into play, but it's having a hard time.
I go outside and are instantly reminded why the green is having a hard time. There's a chill in the air that won't go away, and blasts of cold wind force me to pull air into my lungs in short gasps. The earth around here wants to get going in the business of spring, but weather isn't cooperating. I sure hope it relents soon though. I'm ready to get my pasty, and no longer perfect legs, some sun on them!
Lilith came over on Saturday, just showing up and seeming a bit perturbed that she needs to be buzzed in. She showed me how to boil eggs: how to gently get them into the pot, how long to boil them, what to do when they're done.
We let them cool a bit, waiting by drinking beer out of bottles and watching the Masters on my big television. Lilith sat sideways on the leather seat, her legs hanging over the edge and bouncy absently. It's very easy to talk to her, so much so that its quite often difficult to even remember what we talk about. Still I know I'll remember the important parts, and there just wasn't any that day. A little later, she taught me how to make killer egg salad. We crammed it into some pumpernickel she brought with her and ate it with relish (and with relish).
It's so nice, and quite foreign, to have someone to do absolutely nothing with. No rabbits were boiled in the making of this inauspicious day.
I got an email from Noah yesterday. He will be in town on Friday. He was very nonchalant about it, and I'm not sure how to take that. Most likely I'll learn a thing or two, probably not as much as I want, and hope to become more trusted as time goes on. Lilith was right though, I don't trust them yet either. I don't trust them enough to tell them about what I can see. Besides, I have a pretty sweet deal going on here and telling them something insane might get me booted. There's a lot going around here, so much more than I've even glimpsed at.
Take the Producers we went to see Friday night. There's all song, pomp and circumstance, mirth and tragedy (well, as much tragedy as can be mustered from Mel Brooks) on stage and in front of our eyes. Yet there is so much more going on behind the scenes. I get the feeling that most of what I've seen around town is the scenery, the pretty backdrops. I'm sure a good deal of it is real, but I also feel like there's a backstage out there where so much more is happening. Perhaps I'll see some of that some day. THAT is worth sticking around for, and getting paid for!
3 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
I think I FINALLY have internet access. The Nor'easter knocked out DSL service for the surrounding blocks since Sunday. We did get weather here, but nothing as severe as how the east coast got pummelled. We got about two inches of rain and a great deal of wind gusts, but it didn't seem they were to a degree that would knock out service. After all, I still had power and phone. Weird. I'm glad I can now write down what happened on Friday before I forget too much. Noah finally stopped by that afternoon. The gate came up on my elevator to him smiling at me holding a case of Yuengling. We walked over to the fridge where I stocked it; save the two we started with. Noah was dressed in significantly more casual attire, jeans and a button down shirt, no tie. We sat down and exchanged pleasantries. I humored him, consciously trying to let the conversation come naturally. He asked me a lot about what I've been observing in Compass Point since I've been here and told him a great deal. I left out some things, like LHRG and things I've seen, though I shared some of my observations in a general sense. I couldn't tell if he was listening more intently to those things or not. He'd take sips from his beer and toss his eyesight around the flat, responding with transient interest. I still don't have him figured out. Eventually, there was silence. It quickly filled up the room, with its loudest reverberations clinging to the corners of the ceilings. Noah leaned forward in his chair, putting his elbows on his knees. Then, he took a mighty swig of his beer, the kind men swallow with their lips apart and their tongues keeping the liquid from spilling out between teeth. Afterward, he took a deep breath. "I assume you're still interested in the accelerator and the library." Good. We finally got to it, and there was no way for him to hang up on me. "Yep."
|
|
I think I might have really screwed up...
Yesterday I was bored. Before I knew it I was on a train up to Due North.
I know, I know...the accelerator is going to be taken care of one way or another, at some future point in time. I guess that still sticks in my craw even as I've accepted it. Still, I got off the train and began walking to the building on the easternmost side of Due North, the one that I thought sat atop the particle accelerator in all of its black hole-making deviousness. (eh, to be fair there's absolutely no proof that's what the accelerator is being used for and even Noah admitted as much, but that's the worst it can get and the whole thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth).
There I was, in my dark grey sweatshirt and jeans, sporting my cane and a chip on my shoulder, at the end of a very long sidewalk that led to the main entrance of the building.
It looked very clean and quite innocent. There were uniform windows along the front of the building, with dark and reflective tint. Brown stucco and precisely manicured lawns colored my vision and soaked up the huge random drops of rain. Wind whipped around me, strong enough to noticeably tousle my short hair.
I found myself walking forward.
It's not like there was any chance in hell there would be a lobby kiosk sporting pictures of their splendid illegal particle accelerator. It's not like there would be plant tours starting every half hour.
Maybe I was walking closer to see if my shortened proximity would allow me to pierce the reflective tint. Unfortunately, my vision wasn't picking up anything extra-ordinary.
I kept walking forward, getting a little more perturbed with each step that such a innocuous looking structure was nothing more than a duplicitous facade. Before I knew it, someone was holding the door open for me. I was leaning on a cane afterall. Then I was inside.
The low-lying building betrayed a rather spacious and tall lobby area. I stepped onto shiny black marble and into perfect environmental conditions. There were several sets of couches for waiting and discussions, and corridors leading away to parts unknown. I guess I was expecting to see the elevator leading down to the accelerator, but as it was supposed to be a one-story building none was to be found.
It was then I realized I was looking past a security checkpoint and through a metal detector.
"Can I help you?"
I turned to my right and saw a pretty woman sitting at an expansive receptionist desk.
"Who are you here to see?"
My eyes left her and looked up slightly. I shouldn't have done that, I just know it.
Affixed in the corners of the desk alcove, in perfect distance and symmetry from where she sat, were security cameras. I had walked inside with who knows what kind of look on my face, and I just stood there while my video and picture were being taken.
As Wash would say, I was humped.
Yet I stayed there, unable to move. I mean, how exactly does one nonchalantly walk back out without having a damn good reason for walking inside in the first place? I managed a subtle little twist around my cane and calmly walked back out and down the sidewalk to the road. With nary a care in the world, I turned up the street and sauntered to the train stop, never looking back. I boarded the very next train, not knowing where it was going. I sat for perhaps a half hour, repeating the holy shits over and over again, my chest nervously constricted.
Buy the time I got home I felt a little better. After all, they don't know me from Adam and its not like I stood in front of the corporate office in Compass Point and declared for the world to hear that the accelerator abomination existed. Having a change of heart at least for today, I was very glad that nothing had yet been done by Astrolabe about the accelerator.
Still, if the reception reports an unusual incident or the security camera guards are the least bit curious, they know what I look like.
Should I really be this worried??
4 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
I hate being sick!!
I've been laid out so long the weather went from bad to great (I could see it all pass by my windows when I felt well enough to walk about) to bad again. At least it looks like today's rain has stopped for the time being.
I think I might finally be feeling better, but still pretty weak. Hopefully that will be resolved soon as it seems like my stomach will be able to take food again. In addition to having very sore joints all throughout my body, my stomach has been making it damn near impossible to do anything all day but lay in bed doubled over. I had a bad fever from time to time, but that was never too bad.
On more than one occasion I wondered, and even worried, that I was sick due to my research at the library and being in close proximity to the accelerator. Yet, I haven't heard of any widespread illness locally.
I seriously doubt what I have is that. I probably just ate something bad.
Speaking of eating, Lilith has been trying to feed me. She'll come in, unannounced and at will, and take care of me like a put-off nurse (no sponge baths either, though I doubt I'd want one from a put-off nurse...). Then, she'd cook for me and try to get me to eat. She would be nicer and the food was good. I just couldn't keep anything down.
Then she'd be off, just like that. Seems to me the term flighty can apply to her. Still, its nice to have someone care about me...care FOR me.
There's been an email waiting for me from Noah:
Something seems to be going on in the Briar Patch neighborhood of Southern Comfort. While local authorities and the privately owned emergency services provider haven't made anything public, some cell phone transmissions got out to the point that they were noticed and a couple were even able to be listened to. There might be a missing persons issue there. Please, see what you can find out.
I'm not sure what I can find out, but I'll give a go anyway. I haven't seen or heard anything about residents going missing, so are people going missing or not? This is a good reason to try to meet and talk to more people I guess. I suppose there is also the possibility of Noah's information being incorrect.
That's my job though. Even if I don't find anything, I'll do what I am supposed to do. I think I'll take a stroll through the Briar Patch. I mean, once I can walk without needing to be within puking distance of a toilet.
2 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
I'm finally feeling up to snuff, so tonight I took a walk through the Briar Patch. I didn't go alone though.
I went to the drug store this morning to replenish toiletries and stretch my legs. I rode my elevator up with my fingers curled around the plastic bag, raised the gate....and Lilith was there.
"You weren't here," she simply said.
"Yeah, I know. What are you up to?"
"I just wanted to check on you." Having a friend is great, and having such a caring one is even better, but I wonder if I should change the code to the elevator...
I walked into my bathroom and put the bag in the sink for later. "I'm feeling much better, thank you. It's gorgeous outside."
"Absolutely gorgeous. How about we go for a walk?"
"Right now?"
"Sure. Why not?"
Thumbing back to my elevator I said, "But I just went for one."
She walked past me, trying to pull my sleeve toward my elevator. "C'mon!"
I was close to getting quite annoyed, then an idea came to me. "Listen, I'm going to walk about the Briar Patch tonight," assuming she knew what I was talking about. "Want to come with?"
"Sure," she bounced. "What do we do in the meantime?"
"Don't you have to work?"
"Oh. Yeah."
"Swing by around 5 and we'll go then."
She agreed and was off. I spent a good part of the rest of the afternoon surfing the internet for reports of missing persons or other possible nastiness in that area of Southern Comfort, but my search was fruitless. Time flew by and before I knew it, Lilith was lifting the gate to my elevator again. What's a good new code I can use?
The Briar Patch is most certainly a suburban Xanadu. The wide streets are replete with huge overhanging trees just brimming with spring buds. The sidewalks sport children on bicycles, owners walking dogs, and several scantily clad female joggers of the brunette persuasion bouncing by. We walked several blocks down the main thoroughfare, cut over a block, and made our way up.
I had no idea what to expect, or even what I was looking for. Leaning on my short experience, I decided not to force anything and hope if there is something to see, it will come to me. Nothing came to me earlier though. The populace certainly didn't act as if there was a missing persons problem. In fact, the neighborhood seemed like a throwback to the Leave it to Beaver days.
Lilith broke in. "So, what exactly are we doing here?"
"We're...walking."
"I know that, silly, but why?"
"Research."
"Ah. Research." When Lilith had asked what I did for a living I was vague but managed to tell her that I did different types of research for a company, playing it off like I was in marketing and the like. It seemed like a good general occupation that I could use on her for a long time.
"It seems like I will need to be returning here for some time," I said as absolutely nothing remarkable popped out at me. If there is something to be seen, I'll see it eventually.
2 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
Yesterday's wonderful weather drew me outside again, and I took full advantage of it. I dragged Lilith back to the Briar Path a little after noon and we walked down some different streets. While I was carrying on a strolling conversation with my companion my eyes were on everything, hoping to see something.
With nary a crack in the sidewalks we tread, my cane got a good workout. I asked Lilith to tell me who and what she knew about where we were walking, and she was more than happy to oblige.
"There," she said, pointing at a robin's egg blue ranch house, "is where Patrick Yulian lives. I had a big crush on him in sixth grade."
"Did anything ever come of it?"
"No. I guess I was in the Untouchable caste. He was something of a jock and I just wasn't pretty enough...or something."
"That's bullshit," I said earnestly.
"Wait until I show you my school pictures before you decide," though I still didn't believe her.
Some lady was watering her very green lawn. "That's Mrs. Sabia. Her husband is some mid-level management type in Compass Point. They don't live in the ritzy neighborhoods though, so he can't be too important."
"Is that how it works around here?"
"Oh, yeah. The higher up you are on the Encompass totem pole, the better your lodging. This neighborhood is populated by low or mid-level management, some levels of consultants, positions like that. It's nice everywhere, I think, but some places are nicer than others.
We turned down a cross street and she continued.
"See that house there? A friend of my brother lives there. Still." So, it seems she has an older brother. "Ernie is like twenty-six now, lives in the basement and-get this- still has others buy beer for him!"
I started laughing and couldn't stop for some time. "Does he know he's legal now??"
"I'm sure he does," she said with a snort. "I can only imagine the guy just doesn't want to grow up."
"Does he work at the movie theater?"
"Pizza delivery man."
"Of course."
There was actually a house with a white picket fence. "Ludvigs Nikolajs lives there with his wife. He's some sort of foreign national, a dissident from Latvia or someplace. Apparently he's targeted for death by his government."
"Wow."
We eased down another street, and my leg started complaining about how far we had gone. I would need to find a train stop soon.
"My friend Blanch Dayna grew up in that house. She graduated, went to college out on the west coast and to my knowledge hasn't been back since. Bit of a slut."
She described several more characters for my benefit, each with a notable fun fact. It's like Lilith knows everyone around here, and that makes her a pretty valuable resource. Unfortunately, nothing jumped out at me. I think the next walk I take I will take late at night. Maybe the darkness will help expose a clue or two.
The Kentucky Derby is on tomorrow, in HD. Maybe I need to get some of those mint julep drinks.
5 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
The air last night was warm and quiet. The sky was clear and went on forever. I looked up and after staring for several moments, I felt an invisible funnel could very likely come down and lift me up into the heavens. My senses seemed hyper last night and I wanted to take advantage of that. Lilith and I went out to stroll the Briar Patch around eleven, later than ever before but not dead-of-night late. While the night itself was quite inviting and the neighborhood seemed pleasant, last night felt different. Maybe Lilith felt it too, or maybe she felt my reaction to it. Our walk was not punctuated by frivolous discussion or cheery asides. Hmm...maybe we were just both tired. We walked down several streets we hadn't hit before, all along the smooth and level concrete sidewalks and past each idyllic home. I couldn't help but think of all the children asleep in their beds. I didn't dwell much on what the parents were doing that late at night though, but I hoped someone was getting more action than me. We headed down March Avenue, a street filled with two story houses, when Lilith broke the silence. "So, I was trying to figure out what cooking extravaganza we could undertake next. Do you have any suggestions?" "Cookies?" I asked absently. "That's a possibility. What about steaming vegetables?" "Those are those green edible plants, right?" Her voice smiled. "Oh, you've heard of them!" I got a glimpse of something, between two houses, and had to stop. Off in the dark, small pinpoints of candle light floated like tiny will o' wisps. "Do you see that?" I pointed, not taking my eyes off. "See what?" she asked, squinting.
|
|
To say that I was a little unsettled after I got home the other night is an understatement. Yet, it didn't take me long to realize that if I truly find out what's going on in the Briar Patch, I will probably leave unsettling far behind.
I keep hoping for some rational, innocent explanation but nothing comes to mind. The Briar Patch looks so ideal and yet...I don't know. There's more underneath, and I don't mean underground (though the library has taught me to not rule that out).
I emailed Noah, telling him what I found and that I thought his assumptions were true. I told him I'd keep patrolling the Briar Patch and let him know if I found anything. I did tell him I was a little worried about the current communication set-up. I can only contact him via email at the present time, but what if I need to get in touch more quickly? What if there's an emergency? I haven't heard back yet.
Maybe after sitting here, mulling over the internet and getting some thoughts down I'll be able to get back to sleep. I'm also considering returning to Ab Aeterno tonight to see if LRHG is there. I have no hunch either way, I just woke up feeling like she was there with me, sitting just outside the edge of my dream.
2 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
After last night, my disappointments of not seeing LRHG Saturday night vanished. After last night, I'm very glad I asked Noah for speedier communication.
Last night, I decided to walk about the Briar Patch alone. I didn't want to make excuses to Lilith if I needed to investigate something further. Yesterday had been cooler than previous days, though the wind had eased considerably. I walked in dark jeans and my dark grey hoodie though I suppose I neither looked like I belonged nor did I fade into the backdrop. Still, I had walked around so much in the recent past, I found myself saying hello to some familiar passersby.
I had tried a few more streets I hadn't before, but my scenery didn't change much. Such is the long and the short of the Briar Patch. Still, I found myself walking a little faster last night, a little more on edge. I don't know if I was more distracted, preoccupied, or worried.
The source of all of those feelings finally hit me square in the face.
I had stopped, directly in front of number 1934 on Victoria Way. There wasn't a fence, but a nice shortly cut lawn that smelled of recent trimming. The walkway ended before the double doors of the blue-trimmed two story house. The exterior was white or near-white, a color that was impossible to ascertain at night under the illumination of yellow-tinged street lamps.
All of the windows were dark, but the light above the front double doors was on. Then, I blinked.
The light was still on, but suddenly there wasn't any illumination. It was as if the source of the light was still there, but it shed nothing onto the house itself. Despite the light being on, the house was cast in an oppressive shadow that trickled down the walls, around the window sills and eventually onto the ground. The black didn't coalesce where the house met the earth though. It was as if that dense and liquid black seeped into the ground. The hairs on the back of my neck rose like tiny icicle daggers and I shivered despite my physical warmth.
I shook myself a little and glanced around to see if anyone was glaring at me. I was thankfully all alone, and my eyes moved back to the house. The light was still there, but it cast away the shadows like it should. I took two and a half steps to get close to the mailbox. The side of it bore a name: Hendershot.
My train ride home was spent looking at every shadow in the car, waiting to see if they would make a move toward me.
I sat alone in a chair for some time last night before finally heading to bed. I don't know if that house had anything to do with the disappearances, but it certainly had to do with something. I am determined to find out what it is.
Noah gave me a second email address, one that he said would get to him immediately and he would immediately respond to. I almost used it to relay this information, but finally decided to wait for more important communications. So I sent him a regular email, telling him that I thought I had a lead and gave the address and name to him. Maybe he'll be able to dig something up on a Hendershot living at 1934 Victoria Way.
3 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
Just got back from Lu-Lu's a little while ago. Lilith was working, and while she didn't seem to have any problem with me throwing her on the train the other night...I don't know...she just seemed off a bit. She was very nice though, and my reuben was exceptional.
I lifted the gate to my elevator and took a step inside. I had left the windows open when I left earlier and there was a nice breeze going through the place. Still, things didn't seem right. It was as if something was out of place. I took another step or two into the room, looking over everything and trying to ascertain the source of my unease. I came up with nothing.
Then I noticed a note on my kitchen counter:
Dean, sorry I missed you.
The Hendershot in question is Alvin Hendershot and he lives alone. He's a quantum physicist who, according to official Encompass biographies has recently joined a protoscience division within the corporation. He has an office on the University of Central Pennsylvania campus in Far East. He also works out of a laboratory in Due North from time to time. I don't see anything suspicious in his background. Let me know if you find any more leads.
I restocked your fridge with Yeungling. Enjoy!
Noah
I'm beginning to think that everyone has my elevator code...
Wikipedia defines protoscience as science in search of new methods for the study of aspects of the universe that have so far avoided scientific analysis. I guess that means, what? He's a kook? Noah doesn't seem to think he has anything to do with the disappearances, but he doesn't know what I saw. I think I'm on the right track.
Now, what am I going to do about it?
5 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
I've spent the past few days in pretty hard thought, trying to figure out what I should do next.
Noah had suggested that Hendershot wasn't involved in any disappearances, but I just can't ignore what I saw. Not that what I saw screamed, "This guy is taking people!", but I have come to accept it as an indication and one I can't ignore.
So, once I decided that I had to pursue this lead, I had to decide how to do that. I don't know too much about Astrolabe's resources, but Noah surely isn't inclined to Bond me up at all. That coupled with his suggestion that Hendershot isn't involved leaves me to think I'm pretty much on my own until I find something of substance.
Yesterday I took my first step. I got up extra early and hopped the train to the nearest station to Hendershot's house. I dressed in as professional attire as I could muster (I never thought I'd wear a blazer this much in my life!) to try to blend in with the daily commuters. I walked a little past his house and tried to not look like a stalker or child molester as I waited for him to exit his house.
Sure enough, the guy walked out his front door at precisely 8:15.
Well, the guy doesn't look like someone who kidnaps people. Yet, aren't those usually the ones who do? Mr. Hendershot is only an inch or two taller than me with short, slightly unkempt dark blond hair and a bald spot in the back. He wears thick, unstylish glasses befitting a scientist I suppose. I don't know why, but I half expected him to walk out with a lab coat on. He didn't, of course but did wear a standard white dress shirt and some sort of ugly tie to go with his Dockers.
I followed him back to the train station and boarded his bus. I walked past him after he sat down, but didn't look at him at all. On the ride in, he did absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. He took a newspaper out of his briefcase and read during the commute. I watched him almost the entire time and not once did he try to grab anyone or leer in a condemning manner. Still, I can't help but think this is the guy.
3 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
I think Lilith is mad at me, or something else. It's like she doesn't want to hang around much with me these days. She hasn't been over since we started taking walks in the Briar Patch (or rather, the night I sent her on her way on the train without me). She's pretty much the same person when I go see her at Lu-Lu's, and as kind and cheerful as usual. Yet...I don't know. It's like she's sad about something. Anyway, I went over this morning for some huevos rancheros and talked with her a bit about nothing in particular. She even sat at my table for a few minutes. I miss her. I headed back to my flat and walked in the lobby. I stood there, in front of my elevator, and got sideswiped by a revelation. How many times in the past week had I gone up to my flat and not realized I was gaining access to it by using a keypad! In fact, mine was almost identical to the one guarding Hendershot's garage door (though really, how wide can the variations be with those things). The problem I have is that I know the code to get into my flat. I don't know Hendershot's garage door code. I can't just stand there and poke at numbers all day.
|
|
Well, there's no going back now. This morning I made my trek to the Briar Patch. I timed my excursion so that I would be at Hendershot's house mid-morning, hopefully at a time when the neighborhood was at a lull. Children would still be at school, adults would be at work or in the middle of internal chores or external errands. I left my cane at home, thinking I wouldn't stick out as much (pun intended). At 10:21 I stood in front of the house. I knew once I took steps up the driveway that I was committed (and if caught I'd be into a whole other kind of committed). My surroundings were quiet. The only people within interloping range was a UPS guy and the woman nonchalantly inviting him into her house. They wouldn't notice me. Taking a deep breath, I began walking up the driveway. I pulled out a plastic glove I lifted from the food preparation area of Lu-Lu's and put it on my right hand. WAY before I knew it, I was suddenly looking down on the garage door keypad. It was nestled in the white wood trim, it's green illumination barely noticeable in the daylight. Not daring to look over my right shoulder to see if anyone was watching, I began staring at the keypad. I tried to repeat the same actions I made in front of my elevator, silently speaking my mantra in my mind, and willing it to happen. Moments passed, incredibly long moments. I felt like a marching band could have passed by in the time I was spending in front of a stranger's house looking to break in. It wasn't a twinge, or a tickle. There wasn't a timer bell going off in my head or a gong sounding in the garage. Yet I knew when I was successful, even before I could actually see it. There wasn't a color change to red, just a brighter green. I watched as the numbers played over and over across the keypad: 6 0 2 2
|
|
Tomorrow's the day.
Tomorrow I go back into Hendershot's house, that warm, stale air that gives me the shivers. I'm going to pick the lock and see what's on the other side of the door.
I can't help but draw a parallel between going down into his basement and the rabbit hole. Of course, I've also thought of the Alice in Wonderland derivative in The Matrix (were that I were Neo...).
Mostly though, I'm second guessing everything. Will it be that much easier to break into a man's house a second time?
Picking the tester lock was easy, I came to find out. I can look into the lock and see when the tumblers line up. Assuming there are no more locks to negotiate and armed with my pilfered lunchmeat-handling gloves, tomorrow's the day.
I'm also second guessing what I think I will find. I've been so sure I'll find horror beyond that door, something that will justify my frankly impulsive pre-judgment. Even worse, what if I not only find nothing in this guy's house, but I get caught in it? I've been rushing so headlong I haven't thought much about the personal risk.
Perhaps it is too late to consider it. I now need to know, more than anything.
So, how exactly does one spend the eve of such activities on such a day? I'm not sure, but I do know it involves Yuengling...
3 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
I'm sitting in a cybercafe at West Wind called Zephyr and looking over my shoulder much more often than I ever thought I would. I can't be on long. I'm here because I can't do this in my flat and probably not at Lu-Lu's later. I feel a need to document as much as I can, just in case. Okay, deep breath is over with. Time to get on with it. I went back to Hendershot's house last Friday morning under almost exact conditions. I was there at the same time with the same kind of weather. There was that same lull in the neighborhood, that same feeling of the whole area being just about ready to exhale. There was even the same UPS guy being invited in by the same woman down the street. I casually walked up the driveway and entered the code to the garage with my plastic gloved finger. I stood in front of the door to the kitchen as the garage door lowered behind me. Once again I had broken the law.
 |
|
Zephyr didn't feel right to me yesterday, and it didn't today either, so I left Compass Point altogether. Believe it or not, there are something of suburbs outside of the Compass Point metropolitan area. I went southeast to a nice little berg called Baxter Hollow. I'm sitting in Sally's Laundrette and Wifi, where there are a couple of computers to use too. Okay, where was I? Oh yeah, in the dark and scared for my life. The reddened outline of those shoes were all I could stare at, there in the dark of Hendershot's basement. Looking over my left shoulder, I could see them. All the person had to do was look a bit to their left to see the lock dangling there, silently screaming that I was down there. Those footprints didn't move. I couldn't get myself to count the seconds he stood there, but it seemed like at least a minute. My fists were clenched and ready to flair into the pitch. My throat and eyes were dry, my bum leg twitched. My heart was excruciatingly loud in my ears. The waiting was killing me!
4 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
Baxter Hollow is a nice place. It is similar to Southern Comfort with its nice living environment and very pleasant people. It is unlike Southern Comfort because it doesn't feel or look like there is some lurking underneath just beyond perception. I hope this town is truly blessed without that affliction. I'm back at Sally's, but might try Zephyr's next time, if need be. But, why am I here? Why have I been afraid of my flat? I'm getting to that. I sat in my flat after returning from Hendershot's quite shocked. First, how could anyone do something that awful? Second, I immediately wanted my power turned off. I didn't want see anything like that anymore. If that left me working a McDonald's Drive-through, so be it. I don't think the benefits outweigh the burdens, things I see. Then I got angry. Even if it meant I needed to keep using my vision, I was going to nail this guy to the wall. I'd get him thrown in prison for the rest of his life (though I'd be tickled if he gets the death penalty), or if he got away....well I'll swear he won't get another chance at his experiments. I had a new email all ready to start and send to Noah, but I had to stop. I mean, what was I going to say? Noah, it's Dean. Listen, I've broken into this guy's house twice and saw a phantom book that proves he's a serial killer! Get over there now and have him arrested! No, I still really had nothing to act on. I needed that book.
I didn't spend much time in my flat that weekend, instead I chose to take walks and the like. I went to the movies a couple of times, walked the mall, and snoozed in the park. There were two things everpresent in my mind: Keeping a hopeful eye out for LRHG, and figuring out my next course of action.
(Unfortunately, I didn't see her.)
Last Monday was something else...
It didn't take me long to find Dr. Alvin Hendershot in the university directory. I found out his schedule, office and office hours. I got to the physics building around 9:30, during one of his classes. The office was locked, and I couldn't get around an actual key lock. But, I had a backup plan.
3 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
I hung out at the university, alternately sitting or walking around the shady quad. I felt I had to piece it all together very soon, because I didn't want there to be another victim.
Victims...twelve of them. Poor innocent souls....
Heh. Souls. Those poor people who wouldn't give up their souls so easily to Hendershot. I'm not a religious guy but I do believe in souls and it just saddens me so much to think their only crime was being at the wrong place at the wrong time.
I sat on the concrete bench. I got up and walked around the fountain. I sat down on the soft grass. It was like the solution was in my head somewhere, I just had to bring it to the top. I was getting frustrated.
I wanted to bring Hendershot down, and give the families of those victims some peace. I have no doubt their bodies are gone, probably cremated, but if I could find the tissue samples the victims could be positively identified.
I got up and walked around the memorial union. Maybe the authorities would find them. Maybe they wouldn't. Would Noah be able to convince anyone to go after Hendershot with just the book? Perhaps I was overstating my importance.
No, this was my job, my quest. I needed to finish it myself. I went and sat down by the fountain.
5 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
Its strange how easily I've adapted to the notion that I'm being listened to by...whomever. I'm still not using my home computer for anything other than video games, and I haven't had anyone over to conduct spoken conversations, I've settled into a sort of uneasy truce with the bug under my lamp and the probable surveillance of my computer.
After everything went down I wanted to stop by Lu-Lu's and celebrate with a reuben and a great conversation with Lilith, but I feel reluctant and even a bit scared to talk to her. Is she the one who bugged my flat? I need to get tangible proof of who's doing this so I can confront them (or get help or hide). Perhaps if I hired a tech expert to take a look at my computer, he might be able to tell me who's doing this to me. I'll try to find someone in the next couple of days.
Not much has happened since I turned Hendershot in. I haven't heard back from Noah, other than he said he would get on it right away. But the story could no longer be silenced. I believe in addition to getting the FBI into Hendershot's home and office, Noah also arranged for some national television coverage.
It was wonderful, so satisfying to see that footage on my television. I watched as men wearing the blue FBI windbreakers, carting boxes out of Hendershot's university office and a short time later, of Hendershot himself being dragged out of his afternoon lecture in handcuffs.
I watched, as his house was flooded with lights as well as activity that night. I wondered if any trace evidence of the victims would be found in the basement. I did hear a day or so later about the beer cans. I was right. How awesome is that?
I wasn't surprised when none of the victim's families had any statements that first day. However, I wasn't quite expecting what I saw the day after Hendershot was carted off.
A family member or two for every victim made public statements the day after, but they were all eerily similar. Basically they all said they didn't want to say anything public before Hendershot's apprehension for fear of angering who had abducted their family member (despite the fact that no ransom demands were ever given) but are glad they can finally put the tragedy behind them now.
Obviously, someone got to them. My money's on Encompass, though I doubt I'll ever know if Hendershot was carrying out his experiments in accordance with them, or if he had gone Rogue. Maybe Encompass simply wanted their idyllic mirage to remain so.
There was one thing I saw though, the next night when the family members were all speaking. Coincidentally, the Alvena family was in front of the camera. Her father was front and center, speaking a close variation of the same words I'd heard many times before that day. However, Sarah's mother was several steps back, surrounded by other women (I assume sisters and friends). They were essentially holding her up, arms locked and providing support. Her eyes were down on the ground, red and swelled. It was probably pure luck I was watching her when I did, but I'm thankful. For a moment, she looked up and straight into the camera. As if she knew I was watching that second, I watched her silently mouth, "Thank you."
That was all I needed. That made everything worthwhile. "You're welcome," I whispered.
3 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
The last week just flew by, but I couldn't even speak to anything of importance that I accomplished. I did go back to AB Aeterno on Saturday night, but LHRG wasn't there. I might be losing hope on ever seeing her again. I did walk around the Briar Patch Thursday evening and Friday morning. It wasn't as if I noticed any discernible difference. The Briar Patch was still idyllic on the surface, but...I don't know. To me, it just seemed like the trees were breathing a bit easier. The only place that gave off a bad feeling was Hendershot's house. I also noticed two new "For Sale" signs on his street. Yesterday, when I was checking my email at Sally's, I read an email from Noah. He said he had some news for me and would be stopping by Monday morning to give me the scoop. I buzzed him up around 11 this morning. Noah was ebullient, shaking my hand and slapping my shoulder in congratulations. I allowed myself a bit of crowing and expressed not only relief but satisfaction. We were soon sitting in the living area, and yes, we were drinking some beer. I guess Noah takes the whole male-bonding conventions seriously.
"What if I don't want to go for a ride?" I asked, wishing I could run, or beat Noah to a pulp, or anything to keep from going with him. "I would then have to insist." "How would that make a difference?" "I can be very persuasive." Well truth be told, he was very persuasive. Of course, it didn't help that I started wondering if Noah was armed or had henchmen downstairs. Hell, he could have the whole damned building wired to blow for all I knew. In the end though, I was still holding onto the hope that I pegged him right. So, I grabbed my cane (one that is woefully inadequate for melee combat) and joined him in my elevator. A nice black car (the kind I imagine the mafia use, or spies) with a driver was waiting, and Noah and I sat in the back. We ended up going east on the interstate and drove for almost two hours. Not a word was spoken. I almost made a crack about having to take a leak (which I did) but I figured the last thing I wanted to do was come off like an annoyance.
"Yes, I know." Naturally, I quickly formed a perfect response to such an unexpected comment, one that measures the depth and breadth of my being. "Huh?" Edward laughed a bit, even as he was still examining me closely. "I guess I should be more accurate. I mean to say, I thought there might be something special about you. Of course, I didn't know what specifically..." "Why did you think there was something special about me?" "We," he said, choosing his words carefully, "came across your vision results when your optometrist posted them on the database.
|
|
I was all packed for my vacation, but knew I had to talk with Lilith before I left. Picking a time when I knew the diner would be slow, I walked in and sat down at the counter close to her, forgoing my usual table.
Maybe she was surprised to see me because she had a brief look on her face of non-recognition. Then she put down the menus she was stacking and walked over. I knew I had to get the apology out there as soon as possible so I didn't start with any chit-chat. "Do you have a minute? There is something I need to talk to you about."
As soon as Lilith nodded, I started into my prepared spiel. "I haven't been around much lately, but I didn't want you to think it was because of you. Quite the opposite, and I'm sorry if I hurt you. I've missed having you around."
Before I knew it the whole story was pouring out. I blurted on and on about my accident, the change in my eyesight, being hired by Astrolabe, the particle accelerator under the library and the Hendershot investigation. It took a while, and I doubt I spoke more than one run-on sentence and barely stopped for air. I have no idea how crazy it sounded, this onslaught of incredible truth, and I didn't really look at Lilith while I did it. I concentrated on the pies in the case behind her, the little golden flecks in the counter, even the sun shining outside on the street. I imagine my brow furrowed and my face whitened sometimes, for it pained me to acknowledge actions I took or didn't take that hurt this friend of mine.
The only thing I didn't mention was the flat bugging and who I suspected. For now, I will bear that guilt in silence.
Finally, I got to the end and stopped to take a breath. It was then I finally looked at her face. Her eyes showed me her grace, and I knew whatever caused our division was gone.
She leaned forward on the counter in interest and put her chin in her hand. I got the feeling she was scrutinizing me, though to what depth I could not tell. "Do you see anything...different now?"
"Right now?" I said.
"Yeah."
"No, nothing strange." I almost laughed at the disappointed look on her face.
Then, she stood straight and shrugged. "So, what are you going to do with all of this?"
"The first thing I'm going to do is take a short vacation. As soon as I get back though, I'm going to make things up to you."
"I like the sound of that," she smiled. She walked around the counter, put her right hand on my left cheek and gently kissed my right. Those big saucery eyes, full of kindness and sparkle, hit mine. "Have a good time. I'll be here when you get back."
You couldn't pry the smile off my face with a crowbar, something passersby noticed on my way out of Lou-Lou's, down the street and finally out of town.
4 Comments | Post A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
Outward bound on my little sojourn of a vacation, I stopped by to visit ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) sean_d_allen . We are having a bit of a discussion about my predicament. There's plenty of Yeungling in the fridge if you want to join us.
Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
|
|
|
|
|
